#but instead i was like ‘nah i’m overthinking’ and KEPT TALKING ABOUT IT

[number-1-crush]

so. we win some we lose some

[navalcriminalimagines]

Better than me

This is my very first Joel Miller x Reader work. And I completely got carried away. I may do a series, if you guys like it? Joel deserves all the love in the world 🥺Please, let me know what you think!

Summary: You live across the street from Joel. Every night, you watch him play the guitar on his porch and one night, you find the courage to go out and talk to him.

Songs: Future days ; Better than me

Warnings: Smut, oral, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, a bit of roughness

Words count: 5k

Jackson, Wyoming

Just like every night, your neighbor Joel Miller was sitting on his porch, playing his guitar. Just like every night, you stood by your window, listening to whatever he’s playing, tonight he settled on ‘Future days’. You remembered this song from a long time ago. And just like every night, you hoped you’d find the courage to go out and talk to him.

But you never really talked to him. You crossed paths every now and then, barely exchanging two sentences. It’s way much easier to talk with Ellie, the teenager living with him. One day, you were actually talking with Ellie inside the house and when he got home, you found a stupid excuse and disappeared pretty quickly.

You haven’t been able to find the courage to talk to him. Until that night. It was 2am, and you could still hear him play. He was trying to be silent, even though that’s not really possible. You quickly checked yourself in the shitty small mirror of your bathroom and got out of your house. Joel noticed you only when you were standing right in front of him.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” he gently asked.

“Nah, don’t worry. Couldn’t sleep,” you waved off. “Thought I’d enjoy the music from closer,” you were thankfully it was dark outside, so he couldn’t see you profusely blushing.

“Take a seat,” he offered, showing off the chair next to him. “I’m not sure we’ve ever been properly introduced?” he said, after you settled next to him.

“Yeah, me neither,” you smiled. “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m from Nevada, I’ve been in Jackson for a few months and well-- what else can we say?”

He chuckled. “Fair. Joel Miller,” he said, extending his hand to you over his guitar and you shook it. “I’m from Texas. And I play the guitar,”

“Noticed. You actually have been my personal radio for the past months,”

“As long as you enjoy it. Do you play?”

“Unfortunately not. I used to play violin though,” you confessed. “Long time ago,”

“I wish I could find one, just to hear you play,”

That night, most of the conversation turned around music and instruments. You were a teenager when the virus appeared, and you were a music junkie. You didn’t know why but you confessed to Joel that your dream was to be a rockstar and tour all around the world with a band. He told you about his favorite artists back then, and how he started to play the guitar. He confessed about writing songs when the inspiration hits. Which hasn’t for a while.

The next day, you happily joined him again. This time, you talked less about music and more about yourselves. Joel told you about Ellie, how he met her and how that teenager made her way to his heart. For a moment, he considered telling you about Sarah, but what would be the point? You don’t know each other enough, and he didn’t want to look like the man stuck twenty years prior. Even if you all are, somehow. You told him about your family, that you lost a while ago and how you ended up here in Jackson.

For weeks, meeting Joel on his porch became a thing. You were there almost every night, even when there were some sorts of events in town. You enjoyed his company way more than you should and so did he. But neither of you would say so. Some nights, he didn’t even pick up his guitar, it was just you and him, right there, talking. Falling.

One night, Joel’s heart rushed into his chest as he saw you walking with a limp, up to your house. He put his guitar down and jogged to you, right before you slammed your front door. “Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, clearly worried.

“Huh, yeah, yeah. My knee didn’t appreciate today’s patrol,” you told him, motioning him to join inside your house.

“Were you attacked or something?” he asked, watching you collapsing on your couch.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m just a klutz,” you tiredly giggled. Joel wanted to laugh too but he was still very worried. He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your leg to put it under.

“I’ll be right back in ten minutes, okay?”

You didn’t have time to overthink. Joel left your house in a rush and true to his words, he came back ten minutes later with something in his hand. You hadn’t moved a bit, and you watched him approaching. What he had in his hands was ice. “Do you mind if I bounce back your pants?” he asked and you nodded.

Ever so gently, Joel freed your injured knee and put the ice on it. You hissed at the cold and thanked him anyway. “I’m gonna let you rest,”

You didn’t want him to leave. Not just yet. “You know, the pain will probably keep me awake for a while. I wouldn’t mind a private concert by my favorite guitarist,”

Joel chuckled at that, trying to avoid how it made his heart melt. “Fine. I’ll be right back,”

That night, Joel played ‘Future days’ over and over after you asked him to. He kept playing and singing until you fell asleep next to him.

It took a few weeks for your knee to heal, during which Joel had been nothing but an angel. He was over your house every day, checking on your knee to make sure it was properly healing. He made sure you have enough ice and he brought your meals to prevent you from going to the self. Even while being on a patrol, he found a way to have your meals being brought to you.

“Must be nice to be Joel Miller’s favorite,” Jesse joked as you opened the door. He was holding your dinner in one hand and some ice in the other. “God I wish someone would home delivered for me,”

You let your friend in, and settled back on your couch with your leg up. “I can injure your knee for you,” you offered with a grin.

“Wouldn’t work. I’m not cute enough to get Joel’s attention,”

“Shut up!”

Jesse sat next to you. “His guitar’s here. Is he living here? Oh my god, are you guys dating?”

“No! We’re just friends,” you explained. “We just share the same love of music. So, yes, he does come here and plays,”

“Wow, you really think I’m gonna buy this?” Jesse raised an eyebrow at you.

“Jesse, I swear. Nothing is happening between me and Joel,”

“But you wished,”

“Just leave already.” you retorted.

“Y/N, be careful, okay? The man is broken,”

“Yeah, so?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Right. Cause you surely stopped loving Dina when you found that she was a lesbian!”

“I’m just saying, Y/N.”

“Thanks for the home delivery,” you don’t want a cold to stand between you and Jesse, “If I had money, I’d tip you,” you smiled at him.

“You know, you could pay me in nature,”

While that sentence made you laugh, Joel didn’t have the same reaction. He was standing right behind Jesse, his arms crossed over his chest. Your friend didn’t see him at first, still waiting for you to say something, “Hi, Joel,” you said, embarrassed.

Jesse didn’t turn around immediately. He knew Joel would kill him if he could. “I’m just gonna go and avoid your eyes, Joel,” he said, leaving the house in a rush, his face buried deep in his shoulders.

“Good call,” Joel muttered.

“It was just a joke,” you said as soon as you heard the door closing.

“I wouldn’t be sure about that, Y/N. He was just waiting for you to say yes,” Joel was still standing with his arms crossed.

“So, what if I agreed?” you teased him, hoping it would make things move forward a little. But it didn’t.

“Do you want me to call him back? He isn’t far, yet,”

“Just come here and give me my hug, would you?”

Joel’s anger - and obvious jealousy - evaporated as soon as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He isn’t much of a hugger, but you are and you managed to make him addicted to your hugs. He loves being intoxicated by your scent, he loves how you hold him tight, he loves how your fingers always find their way to the small hair in the back of his head. And you love how he buries his head in your back, how his strong arms wrap you so perfectly, how his hands sometimes grab your clothes in a fist.

A few weeks later

Your knee was completely healed and you were back on patrols. Things were moving in Jackson and you and Joel spent less late nights together. You were missing him and he was missing you.

One night, a ball was being held. Everyone here needed that every now and then to cheer up and have some good time. Jesse, Dina and Ellie convinced you to come. You did and as predicted, you spent the entire night waiting for Joel to appear, but he never did.

You were walking back to your house around 3 in the morning. As you approached your street, you could hear the music. Instead of going home, you stopped in front of Joel’s porch. “You said you’d come,” you told him.

“I know, I shouldn’t have. Those aren’t my thing,” he apologized. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you said, lying just a little and sitting next to him. “Just disappointed. It was really nice,”

“No doubt. I’m sorry,”

“I’ll accept your apology with you show me how to play,”

Joel chuckled and handed you his guitar. Then, he moved his chair closer to yours. His chest was literally against your back, his face a few inches from yours. You tried to focus on the instrument, but he made it really hard as his hand covered yours in order to show you where to put your fingers. He started with the easiest chord, E.

As you played violin, it wasn’t completely new to you. But you’d have played dumb if needed, as long as he stayed right where he was. When E sounded good, Joel turned his face to the side to look at you. You were already staring. His lips were so close to yours, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your eyes.

It was now or never. You took your shot and crashed your lips on his. Thankfully, he eagerly responded to your kiss. One of his hands moved to your neck, his beard was gently tickling your skin and he parted his lips, letting his tongue out. You happily welcomed his tongue into your mouth and moaned. The kiss was passionate and intense, Joel couldn’t get you close enough to his liking.

But eventually, he broke it off. You whined, and when you opened your eyes again, you couldn’t see it caused him physical pain to break the kiss. “Don’t you want—“ you start to say.

“I do,” he cut you off. “God, how I do,” his nose was brushing against yours, his hand still in your neck.

“Then why aren’t lips on mine anymore?” You gently nipped his bottom lip and that made him chuckle.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” He had to ask.

“Fuck, Joel. I’ve been simping over you for ages,”

“Simping?”

“Right, sorry I forgot how old you are,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m gonna show you how old I am, babygirl,” he groaned.

In a flash, Joel grabbed his guitar and your wrist. You’re actually not sure which one he was holding the softest. He put the guitar in the living room and took you to his bedroom. As soon as he kicked the door shut, he spinned you around, holding you against the door and his lips crashed on yours, roughly.

He didn’t kiss you long enough, though. He quickly drifted south, and assaulted your neck. You moaned in his hair, and you could feel the obvious bulge in his jeans against your thighs. His hands traveled under your top and you tried to palm his erection, but he immediately stopped you.

Joel grabbed your wrists into his hand and pinned them above your head. He just stared for a moment. Stared at your swollen lips, at the marks he already made in your neck and in your eyes. You were looking at him with both killing desire and love. It confused him for a brief second but he shut his brain and kissed you again.

You were desperate to touch him, undress him, feel him. But he was strongly holding your hands, all you could was grinding your center against his thigh. “So needy,” he whispered in your ear before nipping the lobe. You swallowed thickly and let out a loud moan.

“Yes, I need you Joel. Please,” you begged him. When was the last time someone beg for him?

“It’s been such a long time, I probably won’t last,” he breathed out, shamefully.

“We have a lifetime ahead of us, who cares,”

That sentence didn’t have the impact you were shooting for. In a second, you were completely free from Joel’s grip as he took a big step back. He was panting. “That’s not—“ he whispered, trying to put his thoughts into words.

“Aw baby, did you already come?” you teased him.

“That was a close call, but that’s not my point, Y/N,” you could see he was getting angry. But why? At who?

You took a step forward, your hands tenderly cupping his bearded cheeks. “Then what is your point?” you asked, genuinely concerned.

“This—is a bad idea,” Joel struggled. He leaned into your touch but frowned as he knew he couldn’t enjoy it too much. “You—you should leave,” he wrapped his hands around your wrists, forcing you to let go of his face.

“Not until you give me one good reason, Joel.” Now, you were getting angry. Hurt. Frustrated. All of that.

“You deserve better—“ he whispered. “Better than me,”

“That’s not a good—“

“That’s good enough for me. Please, Y/N.” He begged you, pain clearly written all over his face.

“You’re making a big mistake, you know that?” Joel heard your voice cracking and you had barely finished your sentence, that his thumb was softly brushing your lips.

“That’s my jam,” he sadly tried to joke.

You have no idea what happened in his mind in a brief period of time but for whatever reason, Joel wanted you to leave. He had changed his mind and you’re not the kind of person to force people. If he doesn’t want you like this, if he doesn’t want you around him, you’ll let him be.

You left his house. Leaving you both broken-hearted.

A year later

Avoiding someone in Jackson isn’t an easy task, but somehow, Joel managed to do it pretty well. He always disappeared when you showed up, no matter where it was. He managed to never stare at you from afar when you were definitely staring. The only moment you could’ve walked to him and asked for explanations was at night, as he kept playing the guitar and all of those songs you kept talking about. But he asked you to leave and never apologized. Why would you be the one to make the first move?

As Joel checked his next patrol, he noticed he’s set on a patrol with you the very next day. Completely pissed off, he bursted into Tommy’s office and slammed the door behind. He planted his fists on the desk and stared at his younger brother. “Why the hell am I teaming with Y/N for tomorrow’s patrol?” he barked.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tommy asked, genuinely curious as to why Joel was that mad.

“Nothing,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I just don’t want to team up with her,”

“I’ll consider making some changes, if you give me a good reason,” Tommy stood up and got closer to Joel.

“I--I almost had sex with her,”

“Almost? Couldn’t get through with it, brother?” Tommy teased him.

Before answering, Joel threw himself on the worn out couch and Tommy sat on the armbar, waiting for explanations. “We were--at it. But I had to stop,” Joel admitted, growling at himself.

“Couldn’t get it up?”

“Tommy, fuck off,”

“I honestly don’t understand how in the world you couldn’t have sex with one of the most beautiful women in Jackson,”

“Cause-- she deserves better than this. Better than me,”

“Bullshit!” Tommy shouted.

“Listen, I’m an old grumpy and lonely guy--” Joel trailed off.

“Cut the crap, bro. I’ve always wondered what her deal was, since she’s turning down all the guys around, but now it makes sense. She clearly wants you,”

“She shouldn’t,”

“Don’t you think that’s on her to decide? So, please, get the hell out of my office, go on that patrol with her tomorrow and take things back where you left them,”

“You’re the worst brother ever,” Joel rolled his eyes.

“I know. I want my brother to get laid, how horrible of me,” Tommy sarcastically answered, before giving his brother a tap in his back.

The next day came way too fast for Joel.

He was late and people were pressing you to do the patrol. You took the two horses with you and walked up to his house. You knocked and let yourself in immediately, “Joel, you’re late,” you called out for him, “I know you don’t want to spend the day with me but we don’t have a choice,” you spoke loudly, not knowing where he was. As you walked to the kitchen, you saw Ellie packing her bag. “Oh, hey El!” you greeted her, hoping you weren’t blushing.

She smiled at you. “Joel’s in the bathroom. He should be down in a minute,” she told you before walking out. “He brought some coffee. Help yourself,”

“Oh, nice!”

Upstairs, Joel couldn’t decide what to wear. Why did it matter anyway? Why did he want to look...good for you? He didn’t have much clothes and all of them were used and dirty. But he settled for his green shirt, as he remembered you telling him it looked good on him. He checked his hair and beard one more time, he even checked his breath before cursing to himself. And he joined you downstairs.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee in Joel’s used mug and started to look around, waiting for him. You hadn’t been there in a year, you hadn’t even approached the porch. You missed this, you missed Joel.

A paper on the coffee table grabbed your attention. You took it in your hand and started to read what was on it, but you heard Joel’s footsteps coming down. You only had a glimpse of it

“The bed I'm lying in is getting colder

Wish I never would've said it's over

And I can't pretend

I won't think about you when I'm older

'Cause we never really had our closure

This can't be the end

I really miss your hair in my face

And the way your innocence tastes

And I think you should know this

You deserve much better than me”

You recognized Joel’s handwriting. This really sounded like a song, but no time to analyze it, as he took the paper from your hand and folded it in his back pocket. “Is that a song?” You asked.

“Really don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go,”

“Haven’t finished my coff—“ you didn’t have time to finish either your sentence or your coffee. Joel grabbed the mug from your hand and drank the rest of the brown liquor.

“There. Finished.”

“Wow, it’s gonna be a long day,” you mumbled in your teeth as you were walking out.

“What?” Joel asked from behind.

“It’s gonna be a wonderful day!” You sarcastically exclaimed.

It was indeed a long day. You and Joel barely talked, only exchanging about your ride of the day. You tried your best not to look much at him, but it was hard as he was looking this good with his green shirt. The worst was when he rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong and veiny forearms.

On the other hand, Joel spent the entire day looking at you. Most of the time, you were riding the horse in front of him. He had a perfect view on your ass and he loved how it bounced. You were wearing an old tank top, letting him see your tattoo on your shoulder. He wanted to press his lips against your skin again. He missed you like hell.

“Are you mad at me, Y/N?” he asked, while the two of you had gone down from the horses. You turned around to face him.

“Mad?” you sounded angry but somehow, your body language and the sadness on your face said otherwise. “No, I’m just--lost. I still don’t understand, Joel.” you shrugged. There was something in your expression, on your face, that broke his heart all over again.

“I told you.” he just answered.

“Well okay, let’s say that it doesn’t make sense to me,” you corrected yourself, “We spent so much time together, and every second was amazing. Then we kissed and--you took me inside your house, you pinned me against your door, I thought it was going really well and all of the sudden, you backed off. And--and you spent the past year avoiding me, but somehow, you still play your fucking guitar on your porch, knowing that I can hear you. Hell, you spend a serious amount of time playing ‘Future days’— and what you wrote—”

You hadn’t realized you were rambling until his lips crashed into yours. Rough but tender at the same time, his beard tickled your nose. He was holding your face in his hands, making you as close as possible to him. It stayed a chaste kiss until he pulled back. “And now you’re kissing me again,” you said, a bit shaken in a beautiful way.

“I just wanted you to shut up,” he smirked.

“Please, make some sense, Joel,” you pleaded him. “Because I really don’t understand and it prevents me from moving on,” you paused, “Not that I actually want to move on,”

“You never shut up, do you?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t stop kissing me,”

Back at your house

This past year was long forgotten when you and Joel reached your house. You locked your door behind and basically ran to your bedroom, taking him with you. You were so fast, Joel almost tripped in the stairs. Once in your bedroom, you threw him on your bed and straddled him. You were not going to let him escape this time.

You crashed your lips on his, and you kissed him feverishly. You never unbuttoned a shirt this fast in your life. Joel’s hands got under your tank top and quickly got rid of it, along with your bra. Joel cupped one of your breasts in his hand and brought his mouth to the other. He played with your nipples for a moment, while you freed him from his jeans and boxers. You stroked him a few times, feeling some precum on your fingers. Joel let out the biggest moan he ever had. It’s been so long. So fucking long, he couldn’t stand the foreplay, “I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Like, right now,” he growled.

You got off his lap just to take your pants and panties off. Joel’s eyes darken at the sight of your naked body. He could’ve come just from the sight.

You pushed his shoulders so he was completely laying on the bed. Joel felt your wetness when you started to grind your center against his hard cock. It was killing him.

“Just for my peace of mind,” he managed to say, “You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips.

“Would it change something if I was?” you answered, pressing your body against his.

“Yes. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I would take my time with you,” he gently said, planting soft kisses around your mouth.

“I’m not a virgin. It’s been a while though, does hymen grow back?”

Joel laughed at that, but his laugh quickly turned into a deep growl as you made him penetrate you. You slided onto him so slowly, it took everything in his power not to shove his length as deep as he could. You felt his fingers digging so hard on your hips, you’ll probably wake up with bruises in the morning. It’s been such a long time, it almost felt like it was indeed your first time.

As he bottomed out, Joel kissed you roughly. He’s not going to last. This is too much. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so tight,” he groaned in your ear, holding your hair in his fist.

You pulled out slowly and got him to bottom out again. You rode him with this killer pace, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He made you roll over and pinned you down onto the mattress. Again, his fingers dug into your skin, and his lips crashed on yours in a rough and sloppy kiss. Joel quickened the pace, fucking you relentlessly. He could hear you cry his name and it quickly became a blur to him. It was so much for him, he completely forgot about your pleasure and after a few quick and hard thrusts, Joel came deep inside your pussy, crying your name out loud.

This was too quick, you didn’t have time to cum too. But you didn’t mind, you knew he was going to get even. Plus, seeing him falling apart on top of you like that was the most sexy and erotic and amazing thing you ever witnessed. That image only could get you soaking wet. Pretty much like you were at this moment.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing on you.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, stroking his hair and kissing his temple. He was sweaty as hell, but you loved the taste of him on your lips.

“God,” he panicked, “I came inside you,” he looked at you with wide eyes, realizing the risk it was. He should have never come inside you. This is way too risky. There are no birth controls and no condoms. He can’t do that again. The panic washed him over, but you stayed pretty calmed under him. “Why are you not freaking out? Yelling at me?”

“Is there anything we can do about it?” you asked, steady.

“Well--” he trailed off. Obviously, there’s nothing you can do about it. He came, it’s too late.

“I’ll be careful next time, I promise.” he apologized and kissed you.

Once the panic disappeared, Joel remembered that you didn’t come. He got carried away by his own pleasure, he completely forgot about yours. “Don’t move,” he ordered you and made a trail of wet kisses down to your core. You moaned when his lips reached your clit and he smirked. He licked and sucked on your clit for a moment, one of his arms around your waist to keep you still. When he felt your hand running through his hair, and your nails digging on his scalp, he moaned himself. “Fuck, you’re tasting yourself,” you breathed out.

“I couldn’t care less.” he muttered.

As he kept eating like a starving man, Joel surprised you with a thick finger entering your core. “Jesus, Joel! Yes!” you cried and he didn’t waste time adding another finger. His fingers were curling inside you, hitting exactly where they were supposed and he remained sucking hard on your clit. “Just like that, yes! Fuck!” he felt your body shaking under him and his free hand immediately rushed to your breasts, pinching your nipples between his thumb and index. He didn’t stop, not even slowed down until you came hard on his face, crying his name so loud, all Jackson probably heard you.

As you were catching your breath, Joel got back on top of you and wrapped an arm around your neck. He held you so tight, you almost couldn't breathe but you loved every second of it. You were surprised by his length teasing your oversensitive entrance, “I’ve never recovered this fast in my life.” he growled in your ear. “Can I?” he asked for your consent, gently kissing your temple.

“Yes please! Give it to me, baby. Fuck me!”

That was all he needed. He didn’t need his hand to slide inside of you again. In one thrust, he bottomed out and cursed. “You were made for me,” he said, huskily, before kissing you, all teeth and tongue.

As he thrusted hard and deep inside your pussy, you grabbed his ass and squeezed. He chuckled against your mouth and quickened his pace. He fucked you relentlessly again but this time, he took his time. There was less urge, he was thinking about your pleasure too.

He finally let go of your neck, and got on his knees, lifting your hips a little. Your ass was resting on his thighs as he kept thrusting. That angle drove both of you crazy. While one of his hands was holding your hips hard, he furiously rubbed your clit with the other. He could feel you're losing it. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” you told him. “Fuck, you feel so good!” you cried his name again, coming and creaming on his cock.

“God, I’ll never get used to that sight,” Seeing you losing it under his touch sent him over the edge. He managed to withdraw just in time to come on your stomach, he didn’t even have to give himself a few final strokes.

He collapsed on top of you again, not caring about the sticky mess between your bodies. “You’ll be the death of me, Y/N,” he said and you chuckled.

“I love you, Joel. There’s no better than you,”

[maxyrussell]

for @whatdidwejustdo 🦑 you have me. you’ll always have me - piarles

Pierre had been quieter for the past couple days and while it made Charles a bit sad, he wasn’t worried yet. Everyone had days that were not that great and sometimes it was just better to let the bad feeling wash over you without a bigger fight.

But even if Charles wasn’t worried, he was still doing his everything to get small smiles out of Pierre.

Like cooking Pierre’s favorite dinner and letting Pierre pick the games they played and shows they watched. He made sure to touch Pierre every time he passed him, sometimes stopping to give him a hug or a kiss to his head, sometimes only running his fingers on his arm quickly. And whenever he caught Pierre looking at him, he gave him a soft smile.

All these things made Pierre smile and Charles’ heart beat a bit faster.

He also thought he was being very sneaky with all these gestures till he placed a takeaway bubble tea from Pierre’s favourite place in front of his boyfriend.

“I know what you’re doing”, Pierre smiled softly and instead of grabbing the tea, he grabbed Charles’ arm and pulled him to his lap. Charles squealed from surprise but happily cuddled into his boyfriend. “And I appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing anything”, Charles tried to play innocent which only made Pierre laugh at him. “What? I’m not doing anything! Just wanted tea myself and got you some. It’s called being a good boyfriend.”

“Nah you’re better than just a good boyfriend”, Pierre squeezed Charles’ waist tightly. “I see all these things you’re doing for me and they mean a lot.”

“Well I like it when your smiling, you have a very beautiful smile by the way, so of course I did those things for you… I figured you didn’t want to talk about whatever it is that is on your mind so this could help.”

“And it does help… There isn’t really anything to talk about. Just feeling bleh and overthinking stuff. I think I’m just kinda tired but it will pass.”

“Yeah it will. Whatever it is that you’re stressing about, just remember that you have me. You’ll always have me.”

Pierre smiled softly before placing a soft kiss to Charles’ lips. He pulled him just closer to him and Charles leaned his head on Pierre’s shoulder, feeling content and happy. Pierre meanwhile took his hand to his and started to play with the left one’s fingers.

“What’s so interesting about my fingers?” Charles asked with smile when Pierre had moved his fingers around long enough.

“Oh I’m just measuring your ring size”, Pierre said casually like it wasn’t a big deal. Meanwhile Charles sat up right away and looked at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Pierre just kept on smiling.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” Charles asked excited almost jumping up and down on Pierre’s lap. “A ring for me?”

“Well you did say always have me… But don’t get too excited. This isn’t the official proposal.”

“But there is official one coming?”

Instead of answering Pierre only gave Charles another soft kiss.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [8]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, guns, anxiety

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god sam stans how are we feeling djkghdfjkhgdf. no thoughts only sam wilson in ep1 of tfatws <333

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Hey, I’m just going to step out for today.” You looked up from the doodle you were making on the corner of the paper. “Catch you later? Just find me if you need anything.”

“You okay?” You automatically sat up straighter, blanket creasing under you. Something was amiss in his body language.

“Yeah, just-” He seemed like he was struggling for words. “-Brooklyn.”

You didn’t get what he was making a reference to until it suddenly dawned on you.

It was the codeword he had suggested right at the beginning of your time in the house. If he was in danger you were sure he’d tell you, at least an inkling of information.

But no, this was for some time alone, further confirmed by the distant look in his eyes.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if you need.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, turning around and leaving the room.

You were left staring after him, the drawing you were making of the house layout discarded on the bed. You were working on strategies, vantage points- anything that could help in case something went wrong.

Was it because of the dumb ‘moment’ you had shared two days ago? It didn’t seem like it because he hadn’t brought it up at all and God knows you would never. Was it something else that had happened, something you did?

Stop overthinking. He probably just needs a day to himself.

You had spent almost a month in each other’s company and he had never once complained. He had a tendency to be petty about minor inconveniences, like you trying to watch a movie when his favourite segment on the local news channel was going on. He liked the cooking show they hosted.

He had never made it a point to specifically tell you that he needed some time to himself, much less use the word.  

“Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself, shaking off the nagging feeling you had.

If he had an issue, he would have voiced it. He never shied away from doing that before and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

You forced yourself to think about something else, grabbing the copy of American Gods you had already gone over once before but were subjecting to a reread. Opening the page you had last left it at, you were determined to distract yourself.

Nearly twenty minutes later and exactly zero pages since you had started, you realised that no matter how much you forced yourself to get into it, you went over the same line over and over again, not a single word registering in your head.

“Motherfucker,” you groaned, letting the book fall on your face. You took a long look outside the window, mind drifting.

It was a nice day out. Maybe some sun would help.

You lifted your legs off the bed, taking your book with you to the kitchen. You could get a nice sandwich-- the same as the last three fuckin’ weeks but you digressed-- a glass of water, and you could sit outside for a while. A mini picnic.

You opened a new packet of sliced bread, taking two out before stopping. You pondered over whether you should make him a sandwich for when he returned, knowing that he didn’t eat lunch before he left.

You thought about it for a good minute before rolling your eyes, pulling out two additional slices to make him one as well. It was just a sandwich. It wasn’t a big deal.

Tucking your book under your arm, you carried your lunch and a glass of water to the patio around the back.

The wind rustled the leaves and the sun wasn’t harsh. The low buzz of insects was the only sound that kept you company.

The air was crisp and you instantly felt better than you had all day in the room.

Setting your stuff down on the bench, you sat down, inhaling deeply.

The book suddenly didn’t seem so impossible to complete as you tried once more, slipping into the pages easily. Even after you finished your food, you continued to lounge about there, too engrossed and content to move.

You didn’t notice the afternoon go by, evening coming and going just as swiftly. You swatted at the occasional fly but nothing else bothered you.

It felt like summer break. At least what you thought it would feel like. You never had one, being homeschooled about things from various people in the organization. There wasn’t a singular, long break. You were just forced to adapt.

You didn't know how to deal with the suffocating realisation of knowing there were so many things you missed out on. It grew the longer you spent time away. You just shoved it away, forcing yourself to deal with it another day.

He comes back when the sky is slipping into shades of orange, a backpack on his shoulder. There was a patch of sweat around his neck and his head was hung low as he walked.

“Hey,” you hoped it didn't look like you were waiting for him. It could easily be taken as you camping out there, waiting for your husband to return from a hard day in the fields.

Sam looked up at your greeting. You noted that the bruise on his nose was starting to change colour but the swelling had reduced from how bad it used to be.

“Left you a sandwich on the counter if you’re hungry,” you added. He nodded in acknowledgement, making his way up the stairs and into the house without another word.

You let out an exhale, feeling a little better knowing that he was at least back in one piece. No reason to believe otherwise other than the anxiety you had developed over imagining the worst case scenarios.

You picked up your book again, intending to finish off the last bit before you went back inside for the day.

About half an hour later Sam re-emerged from the house, your attention snapping to him as the door opened and shut. He had changed into a new pair of clothes, looking a little cleaner like he was fresh outta the shower. He had a sandwich in his hand that he had already taken a few bites out of. You wondered if it was the one you left for him.

You didn’t expect him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He didn’t look at you or open his mouth to talk so you followed suit. You continued reading, or at least tried to, as he just sat there, finishing his sandwich without any kind of other interaction.

There was a strange tension he wasn’t addressing. He instead leaned back, arms crossed behind his neck to support his neck and closed his eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floor and rather than getting annoyed, you found solace in the repetition.

“They recruited me on this day,” Sam said to no one in particular. His eyes were still closed and his feet still tapped against the ground. “Parents died when I was a kid, I got shifted around orphanages and homes a lot. Finally Ransone had someone pick me up.”

You closed your book softly, setting it down beside you. That’s what was bothering him.

Secret adoption is what they called it officially in the business, but around the organization it was just known as the recruitment process. Every record of Sam being alive would have been destroyed to maintain anonymity.

To the world he just… disappeared.

It was a day that clearly brought with it so much pain. You were too young to remember when you joined, and no one had kept track either. You supposed it was for the good.

It was supposed to be a happy day, one filled with new beginnings. Maybe that’s what he would have thought when he got picked. It’s what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not having anything else to offer. You relieved your memories everyday in your head. Having a morbid anniversary of sorts would no doubt drain the life out of you; remembering one singular day that would trigger the rest of the decisions you made in your life.

He didn’t say anything in return. You turned your attention to the sky, finding it easier to look at that than the disturbed look on his face.

“Do you regret this?” he asked out of the blue.

“All of it,” you replied, without skipping a beat.

“Every single one, huh?” Sam’s one eye opened to peer at you.

“It wasn’t up to me to take someone’s life away.” You were just a child. You knew nothing other than what you were taught; so then why was it so fucking hard to forgive your past self for straying into this. “Even once I realised that I couldn’t leave.”

You didn’t form any relationships while you worked with Ransone. Whoever you did allow yourself to care for ended up dead or worse, sometimes as a cruel lesson to not make friends in the organization you worked in because all they served as were distractions and liabilities. Others were plain scum; people who you knew were using you but you didn’t care. The loneliness hurt worse.

“What about you?”

“I’d give anything to go back and change things,” he admitted. He didn’t have a say either. It didn’t make things easier.

“You regret all of ‘em too?”

“Mostly,” he said. “One of them I don’t.”

“That one must have deserved it then,” you deduced. It was the only logical explanation you could think of; the worst of the worst.

“Nah. I let him go.”

It took a while to register what he said.

“What?” You twisted your body to look at him.

“First mission I ever did.”

His hands were shaking lightly, barely holding on to the gun. This wasn’t what he was taught. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

He had already managed to get his way into the house through the back. His partner had taken care of most of it and Sam only had to knock people out. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet.

But now his partner was injured outside the door. Quick shot to the leg, a punch in the face and he was out cold. Sam was already in the master bedroom by the time it happened. He had no idea about where his partner was, only the crippling fear of being left alone and the nerves from the threat posed to him if this didn’t go right.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He had only a few minutes to kill him and get out of there before his family returned.

The man itself was sitting at the study table, his back towards Sam. Just pull the trigger and get out of here. It was deadly silent.

“I know you’re here to kill me,” the man said suddenly. Sam nearly jumped but instead tightened the grip on the gun.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded confident.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” His chair swiveled around, letting him face Sam. His hair was white with a beard that matched. He was dressed down in his pajamas, a robe covering him. He didn’t look nervous.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re younger than what I expected,” the man observed, not paying heed to what Sam was in. He was a considerable distance away. “You’re not even legal yet, are you? I got kids, I would know.”

Sam didn’t say a word, only lifted his gun up to align with his forehead. “I said, stop talking.”

“I’ve made mistakes. Several, actually,” he mused, “It’s why your boss sent you here. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Then it should be easy.”

“Oh, it never is,” the man chuckled. “It doesn’t get lighter. You learn to ignore it but it’ll weigh on you for the rest of your life.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It would get easier. It had to.

“I doubt that’s what you heard, however,” he continued. “Ransone’s a bit… unstable. It’s in his blood, but you- you don’t look like you could live with it.”

Ransone’s history was well known enough that rival gang leaders knew it too, apparently. The man would have been delighted at his infamous reputation.

Just shoot him. Just shoot him and end this.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, taking a sip from the tumbler he had in his hand. “You’re going to be the last person I talk to. It’d be nice to have a name.”

“Sam,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself.

“Sam. That’s a strong name,” the man said, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Sam?”

It wasn’t.

“I don’t have a choice.” He hated how defeated he sounded. It was a weakness.

“They want you to believe that. It takes away your freedom. I would know, I’ve used it.” The man smiled, setting down his glass. “I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

“Stop talking, man.” Sam pulled the safety off.

“Once you go down this way, there’s no way you can escape. Someone will always have to die; either him or you.”

“That’s not true.” He could leave at any time. He just needed-

“You’ll see for yourself.” The man leaned back on his chair, resigned. “But for now, go ahead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He simply closed his eyes and sat back.

You waited for Sam to continue.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Son of a bitch got in my head and I knew what he was doing too. Told him to get the fuck out before my partner shot him in the face.”

“Does Ransone know?” You were still reeling from the incident he recounted. You didn't know what else to say.

“Holds it over me every damn day,” he scoffed. “Some fucked up way of saying that I owe him one.”

To be frank, you were surprised Sam was still alive to tell you. Everyone knew that Ransone forgiven the first mistake someone made, but this was huge. If it were anyone else, he would have had someone try out a hundred different ways to push Sam to the brink of death and back; having him begging for the release that death would bring.

“He hasn’t ever cashed in that favour?”

“He did. Had me take out the leader of the Ten Rings after that.”

“So then why did you still continue?”

“I did something extremely dangerous a couple of years ago that he found out about recently. Used that to get me to come for this mission.”

He didn’t elaborate what he meant and you didn’t ask him to. You supposed it was a story for another day. This was heavy enough.

“He wants to get rid of me as much as I want to get away from him, trust me. We’re the weird, toxic relationship those self-help Instagram pages warned you about.” Trust Sam to make a dumb joke during a conversation like this. “Probably the only time someone from the gang let their target go and not died.”

That wasn’t as true as he thought he was but you didn’t want to seem like you were one-upping him. You didn’t want him to think you were making this about you.

“You remember the big break you were talking about?” you tread carefully, gauging his reaction before you continued. “The one that pushed me up the ranks or whatever.”

He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, bringing his hands from behind his head to fold across his chest.

“Similar story, ‘cept Ransone doesn’t know.”

“What?” His eyes shot open. “How?”

“I was so tired of him treating me like a child. Everyone around who joined after me was out there doinghardcore missions and I was stuck with petty shit.” You didn’t know any better. You wished you had. “So he told me if I made it through this one, he’d send me on more.”

This wasn’t your first mission. You had handled hits before, mostly in the shadows, from a distance.

This was different. It was broad daylight, waiting behind a wall near the gated entrance of the house for a car to pull up.

A challenge, Ransone had posed, with strict instructions to do it in broad daylight. If you got out of this undetected, he’d consider sending you on more sophisticated missions.

“Highly stealthy. They’re dangerous,” you were warned. “You won’t know what hit you if you’re caught off your game.”

The low rumble of the car outside the gate alerted you of your target’s arrival. The gates weren’t going to open, the guards were dead.

The car stopped, waiting for the path to open up. When it didn’t the car’s engine slowed to a stop. The man in the driver’s seat got out to open the gate, giving you a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut for a second before taking aim.

The body hit the gravel and you quickly made your way to the car. You could see the woman in the backseat gaping at where the man was standing a few seconds ago. She was struggling against the door, trying to escape.

She finally succeeded, the door opening suddenly as she stumbled over herself trying to get out.

“Stay there,” you commanded. She slowly looked up at you, face white as a sheet.

“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt us.”

“I’m sorry.” You truly were.

Her face changed, dropping the facade immediately. She just looked on in acceptance, not making an effort to move. Manipulative. She almost had you convinced

You held the gun over her, pulling the trigger. A single shot. Her body slumped over.

You stared at her in silence, expressionless. You let out an exhale, tucking the gun back into the waist of your pants, stepping over her body to leave.

A small, staggering breath made you stop in your tracks. It was so slight you barely heard it. You took a step back, trying to trace where it came from.

You ducked your head to peer into the car, your heart stopping. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

“What the-” you muttered, facing a boy who looked only a few years younger than you. He was staring straight ahead, muscles in his jaw tight.

The son wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be abroad, according to the case file. Unless there were two of them you didn’t know about, this boy wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Listen,” you began, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, body trembling. He was scared. He didn’t show it.

“Show no mercy,” Ransone’s voice rang in your head.

“He’s a child,” you murmured to yourself. Your gun felt heavy in your hand.

Show no mercy.

You could only imagine what would be in store for you if you returned to Ransone with some tale of sympathy. This boy was only a few years younger than you. He didn’t have anything to do with this.

Show no mercy.

“Kid,” you called out. He slowly turned his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Leave. You can’t be seen if someone comes back,” you urged. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

When he didn’t shift, you slammed the hood of the car, scaring him enough to pull at the door and stagger out of the car.

You turned your back to him, not waiting to see where he was going. The more deniability you had, the better.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“And Ransone doesn’t know.”

“There’s no record of this kid. He thinks he was at boarding school.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t going to correct him either.”

“If he did find out-” Sam trailed off.

“I’d be dead,” you concluded. “Being his favourite wouldn’t matter.”

“Why was it such a big deal, this mission?”

“She was a part of a major gang that Ransone was losing to.”

Sam just nodded knowingly, looking ahead again. You knew he’d done missions like this as well. Things like this were common so it didn’t need further elaboration.

“This job sucks,” he let out.

You gave a short laugh. That was an understatement.

“I want out. Can’t keep doin’ this for much longer,” he continued, however, to your surprise. “Don’t wanna keep doin’ this.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows knitted in concern. “You will.”

“How?” You hadn’t seen him like this before, this hint of desperation in his tone that left as quickly as it came. “I’ve tried, everything just comes up short.”

“I’ll help you.” You wanted to, God you did.

“You gonna kill him for me?” He looked at you. “‘Cause that’s really the only way out of this.”

If you were pushed to the limit, if he was on his knees in front of you and there was a gun in your hand pointed at him; would you be able to pull the trigger? Would you be able to kill the only constant you’d had for more than half your life?

“I can’t,” you muttered, dejection making its way into your thoughts.

“I know,” Sam said softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to either.”

You took a moment to observe him. The sun did him good. There was a soft glow to his skin, the colours of the sunset dancing in his dark eyes. Laugh lines were becoming more prominent around them, only adding to its charm.

He was a good man. He deserved better.

“I’ll find a way,” you sounded determined, “I promise.”

You didn’t say that very often. Your word didn’t mean a lot to people in the business, but it seemed to, to him.

“Thank you.” He appeared taken aback but didn’t show it in his words.

You simply sent him a smile, a reassurance. You knew what you had to do, just weren’t sure how.

He was right. There wasn’t a way out of it other than the one he proposed, but it wasn’t an option. You had to find another.

You would. You’d figure it out.

“It’s Cinnamon, by the way,” he said without any context.

You looked at him in question.

“My embarrassing nickname.” This was not where you saw the conversation heading but you were delighted all of a sudden. “My ma used to call me that all the damn time. Mortifying.”

“Cinnamon and Buttercup.” You didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across your face. “World’s best assassins.”

“If that name ever leaves this conversation, I’ll know who to murder.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” you said playfully, nudging his shoulder.

He shrugged, face relaxed. “T’was worth a shot.”

An unintentional pun you snickered at. You didn’t tease him any further, just filed the name away as a memory. Maybe you’d use it later.

“Have you ever let anyone go after that?” You didn’t want to keep coming back to this conversation but you liked having someone to relate to.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Me too.” One had been enough. You lived in fear for so long, waiting for someone to pull the plug and tell him what you’d done. That fear only grew everyday, finding a place at the deepest corner of your mind to fester.

“It’s what I meant when I said Serpentine had a motive to want me dead,” Sam said, piquing your interest once more.

“Huh?”

“The man I was supposed to kill- he was their old head. He disappeared after that and no one heard from him but it pissed off everyone, right from Ransone to their stupid gang’s janitor,” he explained, your eyes going wide with every word. “So the irony is, if we’re right, I might have led us into this situation. They’re looking for revenge.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered under your breath.

“I just assumed he died of old age if someone didn’t get to him first. He looked like he was one birthday away from the grave anyway.”

“How are you still alive, Sam?” you asked in wonder.

“I’d do it again.” He laughed, a deep one from his stomach.

He was reckless, clearly. Happily and unashamedly so. And if you continued to hang out with him after this was over, he’d probably get you killed in some stunt or two.

But maybe you’d deal with that if the time came. 

He leaned back again, this time no creases on his forehead from stress. He looked at peace.

You sat together in silence. You occasionally stole glances at him as the sun set in front of you, a small smile on your face.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tentatively. You could feel him tilt his head to look at you and you prepared to have him ask you to move.

It never came. Instead, he scooted closer to you, letting you rest against him more comfortably. Your heart skipped a beat; barely but surely. 

A realisation quickly hit you, suddenly before consuming you. Your stomach sank.  

“Fuck.”

Next part

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties - here is part 6! We are officially halfway through this fic! Part 6 sees friendships blossom, situationships struggle, and cheeky intercontinental facetime chats! I hope you all are enjoying it as much as i am! I love hearing from you after you've read it! Love always, Steph xx

Part 6 | parte sesta

warnings; a couple of tugs on the heartstrings (in both the best and worst ways)

word count; 2301

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 06/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Amelia had been back in Turin for a week or so, settling back into her city apartment had been more difficult than she anticipated as she was now alone for the first time in more than 2.5 months. It wasn’t very often, but sometimes she did miss the companionship of having a boyfriend. She missed someone to have breakfast with, to watch movies under the covers, to bring to official events. She still did all of these things, with a date, that was a friend, that sometimes maybe crept beyond the friendship zone and into the we shouldn’t be doing this but it feels so good zone.

Fede was someone that hung around Amelia like a fly to sugar. She enjoyed the attention most of the time. She appreciated his friendship, wisdom, talent and intellect. He could hold a conversation, talk to her about the arts, sell her the dream. She even didn’t mind it when they did cross that line a few times. Long afternoons and even longer nights spent wrapped up together in his bed sheets, her bathtub, his kitchen, her lounge room...you get the point. It was almost as though the two were in a committed relationship - committed being the operable word.

Fede wanted Amelia all to himself, and she was just that - available to him and for him whenever he wished, which was often. That’s what confused Amelia most, he didn’t want to label their situationship. He was happy to be ‘friends’ outside the four walls of their respective homes, but lovers when the curtains were drawn. She would maybe understand if he was elusive, always going out and on his phone but he wasn’t. He spent all of his time with her, there wouldn't have been enough hours left in the day if he separated those he spent with her from those he spent alone.

The Juventus players noticed this behaviour early on, seeing a noticeable difference in the way their number 33 paid attention to their tactical sessions. How he was turning up to the training centre early, with an extra piccolo for the english member of their coaching staff. Federico claimed he was helping Amelia brush up on her Italian, but having an Italian-born mother who insisted on sharing her culture with her kids, meant she was pretty much fluent in the language before arriving in Turin. His teammates weren’t stupid and neither was she.

This was the one area of her life where Amelia felt comfortable to go with the flow, she didn’t need to prepare or overthink anything to do with the charming Italian boy from Firenze. She let him take it at his own pace, she was in no need to rush. She let him take her home to meet his Nonna, she spent quality alone time with his dogs when he’s running late from training, and that’s a rare occasion being that it’s normally her there after him and he hangs back to drive them both home.

Everything was progressing at his pace, and the moment Amelia just asks for some clarification on the situation, he would get visibly stressed. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And for a long time he could, he had Amelia's attention and affection at Juve, he even had it during their european campaign. At the end of the tournament, when they all broke up for their summer breaks, Fede conveniently waited until their final round in the shower, if you know what i mean, before pulling her into bed and having a heart to heart with her.

Amelia thought that she was finally getting the clarification that she was after, which in a way she did. Fede spoke whimsical words about how she makes him feel wanted and understood, and in turn he told her about the affects he knew he had on her. It was a conversation that would turn Shakespeare to a pile of rose petals. In the end, he told her that he wanted to continue what they had just how they had been doing it. And so, that's exactly how they left it. No labels. Friends outside of the four walls of their apartments. That was all Amelia needed to be able to enjoy her family holiday in Mykonos, guilt free, not missing the man that became the equivalent of her shadow.

The constant company she had in Mykonos compared to what she was experiencing in Turin made her more eager to return to work than she had previously. Of course, there are group chats and facetimes and phone calls throughout the days that kept her occupied, but she was missing the boys and her brother. Her friendship with Kyle was back to its old ways, memes being shared across the european continent, long phone calls to talk about their problems. Kyle knew all about the Fede x Amelia situation, Amelia having given him the sparknotes version over a wine filled zoom session one evening that same week. Their pre-seasons hadn’t gone back yet so they were able to indulge in a bit of vino, guilt free.

She was surprised about the constant contact, or lack thereof, that some of the boys had maintained with her. Ben Chilwell hadn’t once messaged or instagrammed the girl, despite being active in their group chats and liking her holiday pictures on instagram. He even made the rookie error of liking a picture so far down on her instagram, there was no way to explain his need for being there. She messaged him a couple times, assuming he just got busy with whatever he was doing, but there was radio silence on the other end.

A friendship she was surprised had blossomed so well, considering their flirtatious start to life, was with that of Jack Grealish and Tyrone Mings. There had been more facetimes than she could count between herself and the two villa boys. Whether it was Tyrone telling her about a book he had finished that he thought she would enjoy, or Jack asking her how to cook dinner, maybe even them both cooking dinner together - of course she had to have a later dinner to be able to do so, with the time difference and all...and there was no way Jack was going to be having dinner an hour early “athlete’s schedule an all tha ya’know” he would smirk down the camera, brummie accent on full display.

She met Tyrone through Jack, he facetimed the girl for outfit advice one night before going out with the tall defender and the pair hit it off. Both giving Jack the fashion advice he needed but didn’t want to hear (a Gucci two piece tracksuit set is never the answer). Tyrone immediately noticed a certain attention to detail being applied by his fellow number 10, to the tactics that were being put forward by the girl that was far too good at her job. His training was improving, his set pieces having a certain amount of flare. There was also a lack of attention being paid from Jack to other girls. Instead, much preferring to spend the evening at home watching the same netflix series as Amelia so that he could discuss it with her the next day, or better yet, at the same time.

As pre-season had commenced, Amelia had been applying the same tactics that she developed (and that obviously worked) throughout the European campaign to her Juventus club level. Having faith in the four men that were with her and the Azzurri to ensure that their other teammates were completing them accurately. It appears that her skill was widely recognised, having a few missed calls and voice messages left from English telephone numbers that she was yet to listen to. In all seriousness, she was nervous to listen to them. Worried that they would make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. A wise person once told her that you shouldn’t make any decisions whilst you're at the top of your happy, or the bottom of your sad. You should make important decisions when your life is at its constant. It's very easy to accept things that you wouldn’t normally when you're at the peak of your mood, just as easy as it is to forget the bigger picture when you're down. Who knew Kyle Walker was so wise.

“So, i’ve got a bit of a dilemma” She spoke down to her facetime camera one evening in early August.

“Hit me with it darlin’” Jack spoke back to her, getting his dinner utensils out so that they could cook together again. He didn’t like not being prepared for her tutorial, he got stressed if she added pepper and his pepper was still in his pantry. Each afternoon, when it was agreed upon what they would be cooking together that evening, she sent him a list of what he would need out on his bench to complete the meal.

“I’ve missed a few calls from English teleco numbers this last week or so”

“Ok? Do you think they’re scams? You’re beautiful Amelia but I don't think it's actually an Egyptian prince on the other end that wants to offer you 250k in exchange for your paypal info…”

“Ha ha very funny - that was one time ok and he wasn’t a Prince, he was claiming to be an investment banker and wanted to help me start up my portfolio-ANYWAY JACK I WAS 16! God just forget I even told you that story” Amelia barked down facetime, now pausing what she was doing to point at the British boy with her wooden spoon, the same way her mother would to her when she was being cheeky. All she was met with was boisterous laughter.

“Nah i’m only joking, continue with your story.”

“I began to listen to the start of one and it was a talent acquisition manager for one of the premier league clubs, offering me a job” Amelia said as she continued to stir her pasta. Tonight they were making penne arrabiata. She received no reply from the boy. Looking down to her camera to check the call was still active, she saw him looking at the camera with a serious expression.

“Are you going to tell me what the problem is before I start to get excited that you’re going to be living within driving distance from me? Oh god i’ve just realised - was it from Villa? You could be even closer than I imagined” Jack started to ramble, getting over excited with the prospect of being so close to the girl that he could physically hang out with her, instead of virtually.

“Jack calm down, I didn't listen long enough to find out what club he was from. I have 5 more just like it waiting in my inbox.”

“What's the problem then Mils?” Jack could see the girl had apprehension written all over her face.

“I’m just nervous that they're going to tell me everything I've always wanted to hear. That they’re going to make me an offer I can't refuse and I have to leave my life here.” Their pasta was ready to be dished up now, so the girl poured herself a glass of red wine and got herself comfy on her couch.

“Come on, play the messages and i’ll listen to them with you, be your voice of reason,” Jack offered the girl.

“I should probably call Tyrone, you’re just going to reject every club that isn’t Villa.” she laughed before switching facetime to her laptop, moving to the floor of her lounge room and resting her elbows on her coffee table. With the phone near the screen of her mac, she began to play the messages.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hi Amelia, Shaun here from Newcastle United-” “As if you’d waste your talents at Newcastle”

“Jack! That's horrible! At least i know i already look good in the black and white striped kit”

“No, not happening. Next”

“Amelia, Hope you don’t mind but I got your number off of one of my players who knows you. Long story short, we have a position here are Arsenal” “Bloody Bukayo, needs to keep his silky mitts off ya”

“Jack, give it a rest or i’m calling Tyrone”

“Amelia White, Greg here from Aston Villa Football Club” “Get in Greggles!! That's it, stop listening, you’re taking this one”

“I need to listen to them all Jack”

“So, you’ll consider Villa?”

“I’ll consider all of them”

“You’d really go to Arsenal? Aren’t you a Spurs supporter? Shocking stuff”

“Ok maybe not all of them”

“Ciao Amelia, Mario here from Chelsea Football Club - I’ve heard nothing but good things about you. We could really use you here at Chelsea next season. Give me a call when you get a spare moment to discuss the opportunity”

“What? Nothing to say to this one, Jack?”

“Nah, sounds ok. You deserve to showcase your skills at a big club like Chelsea. And besides, you’ll have Jorginho there to look after you. Come on, next one”

“It’s the last one actually”

“Amelia, we’ve got a fantastic opportunity here at Manchester City for someone with your skill set. It would be a massive advantage to have your tactical insight to the game coupled alongside the fantastic leadership we’ve already got at the club”. “Holy shit, Pep called you himself? Kyle Walker really knows how to pull strings when he wants something”

“I am overwhelmed”

“Hey, you don’t need to make any decisions right now. Sleep on it, talk it over with your family. Speak to Jorgi, I know you’re close with him. And just let me know when you decide to pick Villa so i can start house huntin’ for ya”

“Night Jack, speak soon”

“Sleep tight darlin’, speak to ya tomorrow”

Part 7. | settima parte

[ndiecity]

idk ur still doing the confessions thing but anyway. it's not really wild or anything, i just needed to get it off my chest lol (you can ignore this if you want this gets pretty long and confusing i think so buckle up)

also shoutout to the 6th grade anon, i had a similar 6th grade exp. middle schoolers are the worst. i literally had little no friend AND was bullied lol.

anyway there was this one girl in my class that was like a sorta popular girl i was friends with. so during 6th grade, i had no friends except for her (i dont think she saw me as a friend tho or were even friends in the first place?? idk) and i would always crave her attention. i didn't know i had a crush on her i think.

(side note: i would rate the girls in my class based on how pretty and nice to me they are, (i think i put her on 2nd lol))

so then whenever she was absent for the day i would feel sad and all that shit. whenever she was around i always do anything to please her or make her think im cool or something (i was not cool, i was a loser). we would talk endlessly on messenger, talking abt random shit, how shitty her mom was, how shitty my mom was etc. one time during our first class for the day (which was about 5am i think) she was acting weird, i asked her about it, she said her stomach hurt. so me, being all lovesick and shit gave her my lunch ( i didn't have lunch money and only had sandwiches lol) when she thanked me for it, and said she felt better, i felt so proud. idk i just felt so happy then

fast forward to end of 6th grade, we were graduating. by that i mean transitioning from 6th grade to 7th grade. anyway. so we graduated, kept in touch, still messaged her on messenger, and then school got in the way and my phone got taken away cuz i failed sum classes in the 2nd quarter. never had it back since. so we didnt talk for about 4 years.

so back in 2020, my parents got me a laptop for school, and i made a new mess. acc. i reached out to her again. we talked, talked abt shitty moms, i found out she's bi and i told her im a lesbian. after a few days i asked her if she'd ever had a gf or bf or whatever (like the idiot i was) and said she didnt have to answer if she didnt want to obvi. she said yes she's had bf's before. i said, cool. then she asked me why i was asking i told her i was just curious.

then came out of nowhere, she said, "wanna try?" so then my brain shut off and i didnt reply for minutes then she just sent a "haha"

and she was like, "oh sorry was that weird? sorry😬"

but i said it was fine and shit. we didnt talk about it for about a day.

then we were talking again and i was like, "so this is gonna sound weird but do you ever like, like someone and would want a romantic relationship with them but wouldn't like, mind being their friend instead? like youre in the middle?"

and she said "yeah, i have" so then i was like "oh cool, cool"

then she asked, "why? have you?" and i said yes.

then she asked who. and my brain shut off again lmaoo so i was just like "you" the speech bubble appeared multiple times lmao then i followed up with like, "sorry! that was weird! please just forget about it!"

then she was like, "no no, it's fine. i feel the same way" (and i beliived it. how naive was i?)

so then i was like, "really?? cool cool cool" (im a really awkward person okay)

then after a few minutes of talking again (you know when you're like flirting as a joke but then it's not a joke anymore? lol) she was like, "so wanna be my gf?"

my brain shut off again. i didnt answer for a few minutes cuz my brain was dead. then she was like, "um was that too fast? that was too fast sorryy"

by the time i read that my hand was shaking lmaoo (from nervousness or shock i dont know) so i hastily replied with, "nah its fine. i would love too" after overthinking it and shit

does dating count when your just talking over text? what is dating????

anyway we flirt a lot, saying goodnight, i love you's and shit. she said i was her first gf, i said she was my first relationship and what not. i was genuinely happy. i had a person who understood me, and liked me, and i was happy. she even said she saved my bday on her phone

so then like about a week and a before my bday was when shits started to go down.

i messaged her, said a quick goodmorning cuz i had classes and how i wanted to kill myself and shit like that (dont worry, im not actively suicidal and she already knew this) she replied and i quote "Good morning, love. I love you."

then like after classes, i messaged her, asked how her day was, told her about my day etc. i waited about an hour. (she doesnt typically reply for about 10 - 15 minutes cuz duh she does have a more eventful life than mine) so i thought none of it. thought she was just busy. so it was nighttime and still no word from her. so i said good night and wished for her to be safe.

morning came, i checked my messages, still nothing, she didnt even see it yet. i went on with my day thinking nothing of it. told myself she might have some problems at home and all that. by the 3rd day, i was pretty anxious and i couldnt think properly. my brain conjuring up scenarios where her mom found out, and her phone got taken away. anything just to convince myself what the dreaded truth was.

it was the 5th day was when i gave up. i saw she changed her pfp, and captioned it like she would normally caption it. replied to the comments, that kind of shit. so then i was so mad by then so i commented too. ofc she didnt reply. i spent days worrying over her safety, when in reality she's just an asshole. and i really thought she really like me you know? i really thought she'd at least considered me as her friend, i guess not

my bday came, we had a party but i wasn't really feeling it ya know? by then i'd already spent the past week crying myself to sleep. no one noticed a thing.

a few months ago i saw she had a bf, and by that time i already felt like my old self again, no longer the broken pathetic shell she left. i was back to square one. so i cried again.

present day, i still see her posts, her ig stories, (i dont think she blocked me). and i cant bring myself to block her either. like idk on one hand i'm so mad that she just left me hanging, that her relationship with her new bf lasted longer than we were together and on the other i knew if she ever reached out again, i would latch on to every inch of her. (that's probably bad lol)

anyway have a nice day/afternoon/night!!!! i hope i havent troubled you too much lol sorry!

Damn that's a lot to take in, I'm sorry 😔

[averykedavra]

i keep to myself (i want to break through)

Uh, hi! It’s been a while. Again. But I’m here to deliver content before vanishing once more! To get back in the writing groove, I brushed off an older story, one I started right after FWSA. I wrote the first few pages, dropped it for months, and now I’ve cobbled together an angsty mess from the remains. Yay! This is also my first time writing c!Thomas’ perspective, so I hope it turned out alright!

(Title is from Prom Dress by mxmtoon. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Logicality and also Thomas

Words: 9937 (i swear this was meant to be short)

Warnings: crying, a detailed description of a panic attack, overthinking and spiraling, anxiety, self-deprecation and self-esteem issues, identity crisis, maybe a bit of disassociation

Thomas should have been excited.

All afternoon, he’d been thrilled. He’d barely remembered to eat dinner. He’d composed sappy tweets and sang Can You Feel the Love Tonight? until his neighbors told him to stop. He’d smiled so much that his face hurt, flapped his hands until they ached, and danced around in dizzy disbelief.

Nico. Nico, who was a poet and who was funny and who had the nicest smile and wanted to meet up again.

Thomas was overjoyed. Thomas was ecstatic. Thomas couldn’t believe this was real, but after pinching himself five times, he’d confirmed it wasn’t a dream.

Nico.

He had a date.

Thomas should be excited.

And he was, and then very abruptly, he wasn’t.

He’d felt it approaching even before dinner. He’d sang louder to drown it out. He’d grinned almost forcibly, dragging his thoughts back on track, thinking this is a good thing until he could almost ignore the creeping numb clouds in the back of his mind.

And his happiness soured. He ran out of energy. He collapsed on the couch, turning on the Parks and Rec bloopers before a voice told him to watch something educational. He turned on a nature channel instead. Swans mated for life. Wild.

Thomas was feeling, slowly, more and more terrible.

He should do something to stop it. He should call a friend, eat some good food, focus on the positives. He could feel himself inching closer to a cliff, and there was still time to turn back, there was still time--

He got up to microwave some pizza. Maybe eating would make him feel better. He’d exercised today. It was fine.

Everything was fine.

Why did he feel so weird? This had been a good day. Maybe one of his best. He’d gone to that mall directionless, and now someone wanted to date him, a lovely someone who made him feel itty bitty butterflies in his chest and sunshine in his heart.

Except for now. Now the butterflies felt soaked in ice, and the sunshine burned through him and made his eyes prickle.

The microwave hummed away and he bounced back and forth waiting for it. Just a minute until pizza, and then pizza and nature channels and a long evening, maybe video games and soda and a friend on the phone. He’d give himself a self-care night. He deserved it.

Thomas waited for the pizza.

The microwave coughed, scraped, and whirred its way along.

It was dark in the kitchen. He ran a hand along the counter. It was so cold and smooth that it felt like he was touching nothing at all. The moon hung low outside the window, accompanied by the ugly yellow glow of streetlights. He’d forgotten to turn on a light in the kitchen.

Thomas shuffled towards the light switch, decided not to bother, and grabbed a plastic plate for the pizza instead. It was one of the bad plates that could reasonably be a frisbee. A chip and dent combo on the edge nicked his fingers. He winced. Maybe he should get another plate.

Nah, why bother? This plate was fine.

The pizza should be done by now, right? It’d been five minutes. Had it?

The TV was playing in the background. Thomas had forgotten to turn it off. That’d waste electricity--why did he always forget stuff, stupid--

Thomas took a deep shuddering breath.

In and out. This was fine. No matter that he could feel tears clustering at the edge of his vision, no matter that his breath struggled in his chest like a living thing, no matter that the kitchen was dark and still and quiet and made him feel like he was drowning.

There was no reason to be upset.

He should be excited.

Ding!

Thomas almost cried in relief, throwing open the microwave. He grabbed the pizza and opened the box.

Frost clustered on the edge of the crust. It needed more time in the microwave. He’d done the wrong amount of minutes.

Of course he had.

Of course he had.

Thomas let the pizza fall, and a swell of tears rose up to meet him. He grabbed the plate and took it back to the couch, which accomplished nothing but he needed to do something, he couldn’t wait in that stupid kitchen for a second longer--

Thomas collapsed on the couch again, and tried to make himself very small in the corner, like his impending breakdown wouldn’t notice him if he hid.

He pressed a hand to his eyes.

“Come on,” he told himself, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It wavered and was itchy and staticky, grating at his ears. “Come on, get it together, come on--”

His phone beeped.

Someone was texting him.

Oh, no. Now he had to open his eyes, get the phone, text them, be funny and nice when he texted them, help them if they needed help--too many things, and Thomas was frozen, because he’d meant to microwave the pizza, and the TV was still playing and casting shuddering light over his blanket, and the world was dark and there were too many things to do--

Panic.

He was panicking, wasn’t he?

Thomas took a deep breath. And realized he hadn’t done that for almost half a minute. The air was a relief, and he almost cried right then and there, sunk in one dark corner of the couch.

“Virgil,” he forced out. “Virgil, are you--”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t find the words. What would Virgil do, anyway? Virgil would just make this worse--that wasn’t nice--he couldn’t breathe--Virgil was clearly not okay, and--

And Thomas was going to cry, and there was no reason for that, and logically speaking he should be fine--

He was terrified.

Logically speaking, he was terrified, because logically speaking, he’d made a huge mistake.

Thomas choked on a sob. He sent out a summons--anyone, please, anyone, Logan or Patton or Virgil or De--Janus. Hell, he’d take Remus at this point, Remus could knock him out so he wouldn’t have to stay in this itchy dark room with a million things colliding and the TV still on and the pizza cold and the lights off and his phone probably blowing up with texts as everyone slowly started to hate him--

“Kiddo?”

Thomas jerked his head up and kicked wildly at the noise.

“Oh! Sorry,” Patton said, his voice soft. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Can you breathe for me, kiddo?”

Thomas took one deep breath.

“That’s great! I’m proud of you. Can you do it again?”

Another deep breath.

“Good job,” Patton said, and Thomas’ vision cleared enough to see tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You--” Thomas started. But he lost his sentence as soon as he found it.

“Shh, don’t try and talk just yet, okay?” Patton’s eyes were achingly sympathetic. “Can I touch you?”

Thomas thought about it. He nodded jerkily.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” Patton’s hand slipped into his, warm and soft, reminding Thomas oddly of his actual dad. “Keep breathing, kiddo. You’re doing amazing.”

A simple instruction. One thing. No other things, no other things around him and no past and no future and no friends or family or Nico. Just him. Just Patton. It was dark and still and Thomas had been told what to do.

Thomas kept breathing.

Patton smiled at him, and the snarled mass in Thomas’ chest lessened, bit by bit by bit. He tried not to think. He tried just to see, to see and hear and touch.

What was it Logan taught him?

Five things he could see.

The glow of the TV over the couch. The moon outside the pale window. The blanket over his legs. His hand in Patton’s. Patton’s face, streaked with tears and so incredibly soft.

Four things he could touch.

The couch. His blanket. His clothes. Patton’s hand.

Three things he could hear.

The murmur of the television--the channel had moved on to flamingos, apparently. The rustle of the blanket when he shifted. The hum of the fridge.

Two things he could smell.

That cold pizza. A vague smell of sweat which was probably him, thanks to all the running around from earlier.

One thing he could taste.

Dinner. Chicken pad thai.

Thomas closed his eyes, opened them, and found himself sitting on the couch, watching TV, with Patton holding his hand.

He was here.

He’d always been here.

“It’s okay,” Patton whispered, and Thomas realized he’d been talking this whole time, murmuring words of encouragement. “It’s okay, you’re doing amazing, just let it out.”

Thomas squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

Patton’s face lit up. “No biggie,” he said, “who would I be if I left you on your own?”

Reasonable, Thomas didn’t say. Normal.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “It means a lot.”

Patton gave him a long, unreadable look, before patting his hand and standing up. He looked around and clucked his tongue. “It’s so dark! Wait here, I’ll turn on the lights.”

“I can do it,” Thomas protested.

Patton didn’t roll his eyes, but he huffed a bit, and Thomas sank back into the couch with a sigh. Patton was right. Thomas’ limbs felt like jelly and if he tried to move, he’d probably fall right off the couch.

Patton milled about the room, turning on the kitchen light and the light by the stairway and the lamp behind the TV. When he saw the frozen pizza in the microwave, Thomas braced himself for a chiding. Patton was always critical of his cooking skills. Instead, Patton quietly closed the microwave and punched in several numbers. The microwave whirred to life.

Thomas looked down at the plate on the couch cushion. He picked it up and noticed his hands were shaking. “Do you--”

Patton glanced back. “I’m getting you some water, kiddo. Don’t worry, just get yourself cozy, okay?”

Thomas nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No need to thank me!” Patton sent Thomas a smile that was marred by the tear tracks on his cheek, the redness of his eyes, and--Thomas suddenly realized--the cat hoodie pulled tight around him. He couldn’t remember the last time Patton had worn the hoodie. It must have been when Logan had first given it to him. Right after--

“I’m a part of you,” Patton continued, his voice a softer version of his usual chipper one. “I want to help you, no matter what.”

Thomas leaned further into the couch and pressed on his eyes to stop the tears. Was he really so pathetic to cry over a part of himself wanting to help him? It was Patton’s job. It didn’t mean that Thomas was a good person, it didn’t mean anything, it just meant that his morality didn’t want him panicking in front of a documentary about flamingos.

“Here,” Patton said, and Thomas almost jumped. Patton had reappeared next to the couch. He handed Thomas a glass of water. Thomas tried not to drop it. When he took a sip, he realized his mouth was dry.

“You can sit down,” Thomas offered, after a few seconds of Patton silently standing nearby.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to--” The microwave dinged behind them, and Patton looked relieved. “Be back in a hop, skip, and a jump, kiddo!”

Thomas laughed a bit and continued drinking the water. Soon, Patton placed a warm plate of pizza on the couch next to Thomas. Thomas picked up a slice and caught the melting cheese with his tongue. It was perfectly cooked.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, for the third or fourth time. “This is great, Pat.”

“Aw, shucks, kiddo!” Patton looked proud of himself. “It’s just microwave pizza. And I think we know who’s the better cook--”

Thomas smiled and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, spare me the lecture.”

For a second, Patton looked ashamed. Then he brushed off his shirt and looked around the room again. “Anything else I can get you, Thomas?”

Thomas inhaled the rest of the pizza slice before responding. Patton looked uncomfortable. Not like he didn’t want to be there--or at least, Thomas hoped not--but like he didn’t know what to do, now that the threat had subsided. Patton shifted from foot to foot, pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, and had been crying. He’d been upset. He’d helped Thomas anyway. Thomas had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to let this slide. That wasn’t what good people did.

Or maybe it was. Thomas wasn’t sure. He’d ask Patton, but Patton didn’t need another thing on his plate.

Thomas balanced the plate of pizza in one hand and let his tired, impulsive brain take over. “Sit with me?”

Patton looked surprised for a second, then strangely hesitant. “That’s what you want?”

“Of course.” Thomas nodded to the couch cushion next to him. “It wouldn’t be a party without my good old pop star, would it?”

“Yeah.” Patton nodded rapidly, as if trying to convince himself, and then sat tentatively on the couch. He balanced on the edge of it. Like he wanted a quick escape.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas said weakly, doubling back, like he always did. “You--you don’t have to do any of this, if it’s just to be nice.”

Patton smiled a bit. “Just to be nice? What’s just about that?”

“You don’t--” Thomas swallowed and tried to sort through the emotions in his chest. He still felt seconds from crying. Was that Patton’s influence? Virgil’s? Or should Thomas stop blaming his own failures on everyone else? “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Pat. You don’t have to--go out of your way to help someone, not if it makes you feel bad.”

“But you aren’t someone,” Patton said. “You’re Thomas. You’re my Thomas, and I’m your good old dad.”

Thomas opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know how to explain that Patton wasn’t obligated to be nice to him. He didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t the priority. He didn’t need to be. He could survive with parts of himself hating him--he was pretty sure a few already did.

“I’m your Morality,” Patton said quietly. “And--I know, I know I’ve messed up, I’ve messed things up so much--but please. This is what I can still do for you. This is what I know isn’t--isn’t hurting you.” Patton paused, and Thomas could hear that he was approaching tears, too. “Please let me help you. Please let me have this.”

Thomas bit off the end of a slice of pizza. Then he shoved the plate towards Patton. Patton looked down, took a slice, and nibbled at it. For a while, there was silence.

“Was it you?” Thomas finally asked, hating himself for it. “Did you get--upset? Is that why I--or was it Virgil?”

Patton sighed. “That’s a complicated question, kiddo.”

Thomas decided not to push it. If Patton wanted to talk, he would.

“We’re all parts of you,” Patton finally said. His voice was shaky, but kind, reminding Thomas of kindergarten teachers talking him through his ABCs. His teachers were lovely to him. But Thomas was only their student, and it was only their job. “We all affect what you do, in different degrees, but we also affect each other. We discuss, we collaborate, we--argue. If you combined all of us into one being, it would be you in a way, but it wouldn’t have the same interactions inside? Does that make sense?” Patton groaned. “Ugh, Logan’s such a better teacher.”

“I think I get it,” Thomas said, looking down at the pizza. “The whole is more than the sum of its parts?”

“Yeah!” Patton nodded. “We all work off each other, even when we don’t realize it. So--anything you go through, it’s not because of one of us. Maybe it started from a single side, but nothing’s isolated. Everything goes through all of us.”

“So...you all got upset?” Thomas asked. “Or was it mainly someone, or--”

“It’s complicated.” Patton swallowed. “Janus didn’t have a hand in it, I don’t think, despite all the ones he has. Roman is very excited about Nico, as is Remus, and I doubt they contributed too much.”

Thomas thought about Roman’s face as he watched Nico leave. Another chance at happiness squandered. “I’m not sure about that.”

Patton sunk into himself a bit. “Virgil--he probably added to the attack when it happened, but he didn’t cause it. He’s too happy about Nico.”

“So…” Thomas let the word hang in the air for a while. “Pat--”

“I’m fine,” Patton said.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

“I am!” Patton protested. His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. He didn’t seem to be even trying to hide it. “It--it wasn’t just me, it was--”

“You’re my emotions,” Thomas said. “If it wasn’t Virgil, it--”

“It’s more complicated than that.” True as that might be, Patton’s thin voice said otherwise. “I wouldn’t have done that. Everything’s fine. I know everything’s fine. I wouldn’t have made a fuss over nothing!”

Thomas tried to read between the lines. It was easy. Patton, in the end, was just a piece of Thomas--just a volatile, searing mass of emotions in his chest. “But if someone told you things weren’t fine--”

Patton didn’t say anything.

“Or someone…” Thomas swallowed. “Someone tried to convince you that things were.”

“Like I said,” Patton whispered. “It’s complicated.”

Thomas tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. He could barely make it out in the darkness, save for the small pools of light from the lamps around the room. Was that a crack? Maybe so. He didn’t really know anything about ceilings, so he’d have to ask someone else.

“What do we want to do?” Thomas asked the ceiling, and Patton, and everyone else who had decided this was a mess they didn’t want to touch.

“I don’t know,” Patton said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas tried to think of what they should do. “I’m asking you. What should we be doing?”

“That’s a different question,” Patton pointed out. “And you really shouldn’t ask me for advice.”

Thomas covered his eyes with his hand. “I just want to know what to do next, Patton!”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Patton asked bracingly. “Relax. Watch TV. Get some sleep. You had a rough night, kiddo.”

“So did you!” Thomas snapped. “Why is everything always about me?”

A few beats of silence, just enough for Thomas to decide he was a terrible person and should dig a hole to hide in. Patton shifted, and Thomas saw he was running his hands across the hoodie again. Did it make him feel better to wear it? Did it remind him of Logan?

“Janus says it’s okay for stuff to be about you,” Patton said, sounding woefully unconvincing. “He says it’s fine for you to focus on yourself.”

“Janus also said you didn’t exist,” Thomas fired back. “He’s not my go-to person for trustworthy advice.”

The moment the words left his lips, Thomas regretted them.

“Janus is trying,” Patton said, a bit more convincingly. “And you shouldn’t--”

“I know!” Thomas tried to hold back his tears again. “I know I shouldn’t. There’s a million things I shouldn’t do, not least that I shouldn’t be upset right now.”

Patton sucked in a breath. “It’s okay to be upset.”

“Don’t you hate lying?”

“It’s okay,” Patton said, and he sounded so much like a kicked puppy that Thomas somehow managed to feel even worse. “It--it is, Janus says so, and Virgil, and Lo-Logan--”

“And they’re right,” said Thomas wearily. “They’re right.”

“But you said--”

“Don’t listen to me,” Thomas said. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Patton was quiet again. Thomas wondered what it would take to get Patton to leave. He could probably ask and Patton would go. He could just ask. Patton never argued.

Thomas didn’t want Patton to leave. But he didn’t want to pretend that things were alright. And he didn’t want to make Patton feel bad, he didn’t want to feel bad--he knew a million things he didn’t want, a million things he shouldn’t want, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he did.

“We should talk about it,” Thomas said. “About what happened tonight, and--about everything, you know?”

“We should,” Patton agreed. He sounded miserable but resigned. “We can’t put it off.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Thomas made up for his lack of confidence with a confident wave of his pizza slice. “We need to talk this out. We don’t want it happening again.”

Patton nodded.

“So...what happened?”

Patton immediately stopped nodding.

“You said someone upset you,” Thomas continued. “Well, you didn’t say, but...someone did, right?”

“He didn’t mean to.” Patton’s voice was almost desperate. “He tried to help--and he’s right, there wasn’t any reason to be upset, I just overreacted--”

“Who?” Thomas asked.

Patton worried his lip between his teeth and said nothing.

Thomas looked at the TV, playing the nature channel, because he wanted to calm himself down, because it didn’t make sense to be upset.

“Oh.” Thomas almost winced. “Logan said something, didn’t he?”

Patton’s silence said enough.

“Of course,” Thomas said, trying to sound less bitter than he felt. “Of course he said something.”

“He can’t help it,” Patton said weakly. “He doesn’t get this stuff. Not really.”

“He does more than he lets himself.”

“He doesn’t want to get this stuff.” Patton sighed. “And like I said, he didn’t mean it, and he did try to calm me down--”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “By saying you shouldn’t even be upset?”

“I think he might have panicked a bit.” Patton giggled sheepishly. “I was crying and he didn’t really expect that.”

“Yeah.” Thomas didn’t even feel surprised. Logan was the smartest dude he knew, but he could be really stupid sometimes. “Have you talked it through with him?”

“No.” Patton poked at the remaining slices of pizza but didn’t pick one up. “I got really upset, and maybe I’d been upset for a while, and this was just what set it off, I guess? And then he got upset but he wouldn’t admit it, and then I felt you start panicking, so I had to go help you.”

Thomas frowned. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I wanted to.”

Thomas let out a long breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk it through later,” Patton said. “Sometimes the kiddos need time.”

Thomas opened his mouth to snap about the amount of time they spent just waiting for someone to say something. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and the words that came out weren’t what he expected. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton blinked. “I--no, I don’t think so. He’s…”

Thomas motioned for Patton to continue.

“He was a bit annoyed when he found out about Nico,” Patton finished, seeming almost apologetic. Like Patton had a responsibility to keep anyone else from being upset. “I don’t think he really liked the idea of a--boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“He’ll come around,” Patton quickly added. “He just needs time to adjust.”

“You keep saying that.” Thomas curled further into the couch and picked at a pizza crust. “If giving you all more time means this is going to keep happening, I’m not really sold.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quietly. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not what I--” Thomas groaned and tossed the crust onto the plate. “This is a huge mess, and honestly, I can’t see how this could possibly get worse. I feel like crap. A whole stick of crap, inside and out. And if finding out Logan’s deal will make me feel a bit less like crying, I’d rather get that over with.”

Patton watched him closely. The TV lights flashed off his glasses. “That makes sense. But I’m not sure if he wants that, kiddo.”

“Who cares what Logan wants?” Thomas was probably being a bit uncharitable, but he was too tired and emotional to care. “You said it yourself, he’s a part of me, he’s supposed to help. I’m not gonna have my logic griping about Nico all night, okay? I’m already stressed enough.”

“Yeah, well, he’s kind of the reason you’re stressed,” Patton argued, “which I just realized proves your point. Okay. If he wants, he can talk to you.”

“Thank you.” Finally, a side that actually listened to Thomas occasionally. “Logan?”

The house was silent.

“He might be asleep,” Patton said. “He’s very rigid in his sleep schedule.”

“Is that why I don’t have coherent thoughts past ten pm?”

Patton nodded. “Also, sleep deprivation.”

“It’s not that bad, I’m not up that late.” Thomas sighed. “Logan? Logan, are you gonna come out and talk, or will we just sit on the couch all night with no closure?”

“You don’t have to,” Patton added unhelpfully. Thomas glared at him. “What? He doesn’t!”

“Fine, fine, he doesn’t have to,” Thomas complained. “He can feel free to make you and me upset and then leave us hanging, without an explanation of why he doesn’t like Nico--I mean, how could anyone not like Nico?”

“I don’t think it’s about Nico specifically,” Patton said, as if that was supposed to explain things. “And if he’s not going to talk, we can’t push him.”

Thomas groaned and looked for a blanket to hide in. What was the point of having imaginary aspects of his personality, if he couldn’t actually talk to them when he wanted to? What was the problem--there was no logical reason to be upset, but Logan had made Patton upset, it didn’t make any sense--

“Logan?” Thomas called once more, feeling stupid to be yelling at an empty living room. “We could really use you, buddy.”

When there was no answer, Thomas sighed and sank back into the couch. He glanced over at Patton, who was pointedly watching the TV instead of Thomas--the nature channel was now talking about parakeets--and then the shadows seemed to shift at the other end of the couch.

“Um,” Thomas said, unable to see what exactly had happened.

Patton looked where Thomas was looking, made a soft oh noise, and turned on another light.

“What do you want?” Logan asked.

With the addition of the light, Thomas could vaguely make him out, but he was even more shadowy than Patton. His knees were tucked to his chest and a blanket covered him. He looked like he’d fallen asleep on the couch, just gotten shaken awake, and was irritated about it. His hair was mussed in the back.

“We wanted to talk,” Thomas said, when it became clear that Patton was just going to sit awkwardly between them and not say anything.

“About what?” Logan’s voice was quiet and a bit rough. Maybe from sleep, maybe from yelling, maybe from crying. “Be more specific, Thomas.”

“Logan,” Patton said, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

Patton didn’t respond. Thomas was already regretting this. Should they really try to talk things out while tired, grumpy, and piled on the couch watching nature documentaries?

“It wasn’t my fault what happened,” Logan said defensively, as if Thomas had interrogated him. “I simply pointed out logical facts, I don’t control anyone’s emotional reaction--”

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea, if it was already going this far south. “Hey,” Thomas said before Logan could dig that hole deeper. “Calm down. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Logan asked.

Thomas blinked at the question. “Uh--do you want to?”

Logan made a noncommittal noise.

“Well, if you don’t have anything against it, I think you probably should.” Thomas motioned to Patton, who squeaked at being included. “You made him really upset, and I know you didn’t mean to, but that warrants an apology.”

“Hm.” Logan adjusted his glasses and sighed. “As you say. Patton, I--I said something that I didn’t realize was upsetting. Because it was a fact that you should be considering, but I am still responsible for my actions alone. So...I apologize.”

“Aw, Lo, I forgive you!” Patton seemed to brighten right away. “It’s okay, really! I know you didn’t mean it!”

“What did he say?” Thomas asked. “What’d you say, Logan?”

They both went very quiet.

“C’mon, do I have to try random bits of my internal monologue to see what it was?” Thomas sighed. “Look, whatever it was, I want to see what I can do to help you out. If you’re upset--”

“I’m not upset--”

“I want to help.” Thomas looked across the couch to Logan. “Let me help, okay?”

Logan sighed in annoyance and defeat.

“You don’t like Nico,” Thomas prompted, as Patton hopped up and went to the kitchen. Thomas didn’t know what Patton was supposed to be doing, since he was just opening and closing the fridge, but he decided to let the guy have his escape route. “Why don’t you like Nico?”

“I don’t like anyone,” Logan said. “That’s not my area of expertise.”

“So you don’t like Nico?”

“I don’t have an opinion on him.”

“Clearly you do,” Thomas said, biting back his defense of Nico. He could argue about how amazing and incredible Nico was, or he could get to the bottom of this without panicking again. “I just want to hear what you have to say, Logan.”

Logan blinked. Thomas wondered, briefly and guiltily, when he’d last said that.

“Nico is fine,” Logan said firmly. “He’s--fine.”

“I figured you’d like him,” Thomas said. He didn’t know what he was trying to do--convince Logan? Convince himself? “He’s--he’s a poet. You like poetry, right?”

There was a long pause. “Poetry is an effective way to convey ideas through a rhythmic and minimal structure.”

Thomas didn’t know how to take that. “Nico’s a good poet.”

Logan let out a breath and curled into his blanket. When Thomas looked closely, he thought he saw purple on it. Had it been a gift from Virgil? Why did that make him feel so crappy?

“You like Nico,” Logan said. He somehow managed to phrase it as a question.

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“You’ve known him for a day.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like him!” Thomas said. “Love at first sight, Logan. Believe in it.”

Logan stared at him with disappointment. “No.”

“Fine, not love.” Thomas slumped. “But he’s so cute! And sweet! And smart, and funny, and--”

“I know.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Ugh.”

“I get it, you’re heartless, you don’t believe in love.” Thomas sighed. “I--I just thought you could be--happy for me?”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it. Behind them, Patton bustled around, and Thomas longed for him to return. He couldn’t do this on his own. He couldn’t handle this kind of emotional stuff, which made him sound like Logan.

“I am happy for you,” Logan said quietly. “Er--figuratively. I don’t have feelings. Still...I am--pleased. That you have found someone you feel compatible with. Human connection is important for people.”

Thomas smiled a bit, despite himself.

“And,” Logan added very quickly, “it’s doubtful that the relationship will last so it’s really pointless to object to such a quick fling--”

Patton made a wounded noise from the kitchen. Logan immediately stopped talking.

“Pointless?” Thomas repeated.

Logan pointedly began staring at the floor.

Thomas couldn’t keep the hurt from slipping into his voice. “Is that really what you think?”

“I--” Logan swallowed. “I don’t mean any harm by it, but--”

“Just--” Thomas braced himself. “Say what’s on your mind.”

Logan was silent for several moments. Thomas didn’t say anything. He shoved his hurt feelings as far down as he could, because this wasn’t about him right now. Logan was upset.

And--if Logan was upset about Nico, if Logic didn’t approve--

Thomas didn’t really want to think about that.

“It’s an outdated statistic,” Logan said, “that half of all marriages end in divorce.” He spoke slowly, quietly, way too quietly, and Thomas knew that he’d been the one to lessen Logan’s voice. Spare you my company. “However, the odds remain that relationships you pursue are--unlikely to come to fruition. Either you talk until marriage and/or copulation, living the rest of your lives together, or you separate.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s pointless,” Thomas said. “What, is life pointless because we die in the end?”

Logan paused for a second. “I don’t think so. Unless--”

“No, no, no existential crises tonight, I’m already having a breakdown.” Thomas waved his hands. “We’re gonna assume that my life does have value, okay? And we’re gonna assume that even if Nico and I--break up, which is unlikely--”

“Unlikely,” Logan repeated.

“It is unlikely,” Thomas said, deciding to dig his hole deeper. “He’s so cute!”

“You’re in the infatuation phase,” Logan said, almost pityingly. “You can’t possibly predict anything right now--”

“We get along,” Thomas said. “We barely argued! We have similar interests, he loves Paramore and Disney movies and cartoons--he thinks it’s cool that I sing, and he’s supportive of my career, and--”

“You’ve known him for one day.”

“He’s perfect!” Thomas paused. “Not--not perfect, he can’t be perfect, but he’s--really close! He doesn’t have any flaws, not that I know of.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Logan sighed. “Thomas, I understand that you are filled with emotions about this subject, but as your Logic it’s my duty to rain a bit on your figurative parade. You don’t know this man. You have met him only once, and you know him on nothing more than a superficial level.”

“He’s not a murderer!” Thomas said. “I can tell when someone’s a good person--”

“One, can you?” Logan asked. “Your judgments on morality are often--”

“Flawed,” Patton agreed from the kitchen. Both of them turned to look at him. “I’m not the best at this, kiddo. Nico seems like a good guy, but--” He leaned onto the counter. “I just don’t know.”

Thomas swallowed. He hadn’t expected Patton to take Logan’s side. “Virgil would--”

“Virgil is infatuated, just like you are.” Logan sighed. “I’m not saying Nico is secretly evil. I’m saying you might not be as compatible as you feel you are.”

“We--” Thomas could think of a million answers. But--did he trust himself to know? Did he trust himself to be in the right?

“What if he’s still working through a breakup, and you’re a rebound?” Logan suggested. “What if he doesn’t have a stable career, and has to rely on you? What if you have different financial priorities, or priorities for intimacy? What if you need to change your own career in order to be with him? What if your love languages don’t intersect, or one of you cheats--”

“I wouldn’t cheat!” Thomas protested.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Logan argued back without missing a beat. “You’re two adults. You have a million small, intricate parts of yourself and your life that you’ll need to fit together. It’s impossible for every aspect of your relationship to be perfect, and it’s unreasonable to expect that a man you met one day ago will be the man of your dreams.”

“We’ll communicate!” Thomas said. “We’ll--I want this, Logan. Are you telling me I can’t try?”

“I’m saying you need to consider every option, before you barrel into a situation you can’t control.” Logan spread his hands. “What if he hurts you? What if you hurt him? What if you aren’t ready for this, and by dragging him into a relationship, you’re only making the situation worse?”

Thomas tried to laugh and ignore the sting in his eyes. “Isn’t it Virgil’s job to overthink?”

Logan leaned back into the couch again. “I’m not trying to overthink. I’m trying to raise logical points.”

“Are you?” Thomas asked. “Dude, like you said, it’s been a day. I can’t control all these things that will happen in the future! I don’t need to worry about whether we’ll move in together, right?”

“Right,” Logan said reluctantly.

“Is...that what you said to Patton?” Thomas murmured. “Did you tell him--”

“That it wouldn’t work out.” Patton’s voice wavered. He was staring out the kitchen window into the dark backyard. “That we needed to--think this through. And, maybe...not go on the date.”

“Not--” Thomas looked between Patton, whose knuckles were white on the counter, to Logan, who looked ashamed. “Not go on the date?”

“If we go on the date, we’re agreeing to try this.” Logan sounded like he regretted each word that came out of his mouth. “If we go on the date, this is confirmed. He’s our boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Thomas couldn’t help the way anxiety pitched his voice. “That’s the point?”

“Are we ready for that?”

Both Logan and Patton had spoken at once. Thomas felt like he’d been punched.

“You...you don’t think I’m ready,” Thomas said dully. “Do you.”

“I want to.” That was Patton, finally joining them again, sitting next to the TV and pulling his knees to his chest. “I really want to, kiddo. Nico is so nice, and sweet, and good--”

Something sour rose in Thomas’ mouth. “And--”

“And Logan has a point.” Patton rubbed circles into his pajama pants. “I’m not sure if we are ready for this.”

Thomas sighed and curled into his own little ball on the other end of the couch. Look at him, nearly crying with several aspects of his personality, way too late at night, as the TV told him about chameleons. Chameleons could disappear into trees with a change of their colors. Thomas wished he could do the same into the couch. Or on his date with Nico--he could change into exactly who the relationship would need him to be.

That was what relationships were about, right? Compromise?

Maybe people who cried over chameleons really weren’t relationship material.

“Why weren’t you there at the mall?” Thomas asked Patton, after a few minutes of silence. “I’d have figured that you’d want to help, being the heart and all.”

“Roman...seemed like he needed some time,” Patton said. “Without me.”

Thomas nodded.

“And, well, I was there, in a way! The whole time!” Patton shrugged. “You spoke from the heart, right? That was me!”

Thomas paused. “‘I don’t know when I’m going to know what I want again?’”

Patton looked down. “That was me.”

“I know what I want.” Thomas wondered if he could convince himself by saying it. That sounded like lying. But lying was good now, right? Or not? Maybe? Maybe he could summon Janus if he lied enough, and Janus could handle all of this. “I want to give Nico a try.”

“Roman does,” Logan said. “And Virgil does. And I don’t, and I don’t think Janus has an opinion--”

“He’s neutral,” Patton agreed. “And I’m--in the middle.”

“So only half of me wants to give Nico a try,” Thomas said. “Wonderful. It’d be really cool if, one day, my entire self decided to agree on something.”

Logan made an affirmative noise. Patton sighed.

“We didn’t have this much of a debate with my last boyfriend, did we?” Thomas blurted out. “We just went for it. And that turned out--”

“How did it turn out?” Logan asked, with a touch of something in his voice. Maybe it was anger. What was Logan angry about? “Tell me how it turned out.”

Thomas opened his mouth and the words stuck in his throat.

“We broke up,” Patton whispered, pulling at the sleeves of his cardigan. He looked uncomfortable sitting on the floor, but Thomas didn’t know how to invite him back to the sofa without forcing him into it. “We broke up with him, and it hurt.”

Thomas gave Patton a soft look. Patton didn’t seem to notice.

“It hurt, and it sucked,” Patton continued, the words coming faster and faster. “It was no fun. And I have all these good memories of him, of course I do, but--but it’s not the same, if they’re all tainted by the fact that he left. Was that--was that worth it? Good memories and a bad ending?”

The TV hummed. Logan mouthed along to the narration. An elephant was getting separated from its herd. It tried to follow the footprints of its mother, but it was going in the wrong direction, heading farther and farther into the desert.

“We don’t know that it’ll go the same way,” Thomas said weakly. “This is all speculation.”

“Fine, then, I’ll work from real data.” Logan gave Patton a look, but Patton didn’t stop him. “Thomas, you have just learned that you possess “dark sides” of your personality, that you don’t understand yourself and are doubtful of your career path, and that you’re not as much of a “good person” as you think you are. You suffer from anxiety and self-esteem issues, you have a tendency to catastrophize, and you have intrusive thoughts.”

Thomas raised a hand to object. Logan waved his hand back down.

“None of this means you are incapable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship,” Logan continued. “It certainly doesn’t mean you are ‘unlovable.’ However, it’s important to note that you are not in a good mental state right now. A relationship doesn’t fix that. Instead, it can lead to more issues.”

“My mental state is fine,” Thomas said. He didn’t even know why he bothered to say that.

Logan waved a hand at the living room, and the half-eaten pizza on the couch, and Patton sitting next to the TV as a voice droned on about wolf packs.

“It’s a trash bin,” Patton murmured. “And the waste keeps piling and piling up, until it inevitably--spills out into the rest of their life.” He looked up, his eyes sparkling with tears. “If--when that happens--do we want Nico to be a part of our life? Do we want to--”

“Ruin things for him,” Thomas finished. He felt resigned, worn out. Like this was the only way the conversation could have ended. “Because he’s--he’s so nice, and sweet, and--and good. And I’m...not.”

Patton muffled a sob.

“And I thought, maybe, he could turn things around.” Thomas rubbed at his arm. “I thought this could be the moment I got my life back on track. But--what if the train’s still barrelling down on us? Do I want to sacrifice his happiness for mine? Is that fair to him?”

Logan glanced between Thomas and Patton.

“Does he deserve me?” Thomas almost whispered. “Do I deserve him?”

The TV switched to an episode about seahorses. Abruptly, Logan grabbed the remote and turned it off. The sudden silence made Thomas itch. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and tried to take deep breaths, tried not to panic. Was he panicking? He couldn’t tell. He felt crappy, he felt unmoored, he felt like he was asleep and wide awake and floating somewhere outside his body. He was just another Side of himself, another small voice in his head, not a real person at all. Maybe he should go to bed. He’d see things clearly when he woke up.

Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he could barely remember how things were supposed to feel. He was wrong a lot. He was always wrong. How did he know what was right? How could he count on a single thing? He didn’t even know what he wanted. He didn’t even know who he was.

He couldn’t keep himself safe. He couldn’t follow his dreams. He couldn’t do the right thing. He couldn’t lie.

And he didn’t know anything.

And he was about to throw himself into a situation where he knew even less.

Was that the right thing to do?

Was that really what he wanted?

“Thomas,” Logan said. “You’re spiraling.”

“You’re the one making me spiral!” Thomas blurted out. When he looked at Logan, his vision was blurry. “We’re all spiraling, so stop pretending you’re above us! Stop giving us your oh-so-logical criticism and getting annoyed when it makes people upset!”

Logan huffed. “Well, why am I here if you don’t want to listen to me?”

“Stop!” Patton yelled. “Stop, both of you! Stop talking! If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!”

Logan folded his arms. Thomas pressed his eyes shut until he could see sparks behind them. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.

Ask for--help? Ask for help. He wasn’t good at this.

“What…” Thomas’ voice trailed off. He steeled himself and tried again. “What do I do?”

“Right now?” Logan asked. “Or--”

“With--Nico.” Thomas let the words hang in the air. “What do I do now?”

Patton shifted next to the TV. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m asking you guys!” Thomas opened his eyes and looked around frantically. “I’m asking for you guys to help!”

“We’re parts of you.” Logan still blended into the couch. He didn’t move much, Thomas realized, when he didn’t want to. Did he breathe? Did he need to breathe before he talked, or did he just start talking abruptly, without the need to pause? “We don’t have any answers that you don’t have.”

“And--” Patton worried his bottom lip. “Thomas, you’re the best of us. You’re all of us together. You have the final say on anything, and you always will.”

“But I don’t know what to do!” Thomas burst out. “I don’t know what to say! I don’t--I have to drag you into every little dilemma because I don’t know how to figure things out on my own! And it’s stupid, and it’s selfish, and I can’t rely on you to solve all my problems, but--but I know you guys. I know who you are. What you want. I...I don’t know myself, guys, I really don’t.”

Logan made a sudden movement, and Thomas deliriously thought Logan was trying to reach for his hand. As quick as he started, though, Logan froze again, and pulled himself further away.

“I don’t know what I want,” Thomas said, the darkness spinning around him. “I don’t know who I want to be. I don’t know what’s good or what’s bad or what’s not--and I’ve got a cute boy who wants to take me out on a date, and I’m sitting here crying because--because--because I’m scared.”

Patton sucked in a breath.

“I’m scared,” Thomas realized. “I’m scared, aren’t I?”

“Elaborate upon those feelings,” Logan encouraged. “Why are you scared?”

“I--I’m scared--” Thomas stared at his hands. He’d shaken hands with Nico, and he’d wished he didn’t have to let go. “I’m scared of change. That’s always it, you know?” He laughed a bit. “I’m scared of--new possibilities. I know I have to take risks to dream big, but sometimes the risks seem outweigh the rewards. Sometimes it feels easier to avoid luxuries. Sometimes it’s--scary, to confront something I don’t know.”

Logan tugged his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I’m excited,” Thomas said. “I should be excited, but I’m terrified, because there are so many chances for me to mess this up. I’ve already got so much on my plate. Do I really want to drag someone else into this? Do I really want to--watch him walk away?”

Patton looked up.

“Yeah, maybe I’m not as selfless as I thought.” Thomas laughed again. It sounded more like a sob. “Maybe I just don’t want to get something and lose it again. Maybe I’m tired of wanting things, if I never get what I want.”

“You’re allowed to want things,” Patton said softly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“No,” Patton admitted. “But I want to believe it. I really, really do.”

“And that’s the first step,” Logan said. “Isn’t it? Patton thinking that Thomas should be more selfless doesn’t erase the fact that he chose to say otherwise. Thoughts don’t equal actions. You can feel doubts about this, but that doesn’t have to affect the way you proceed.”

“Doesn’t it?” Thomas waved a hand at the ceiling. “It feels like I’m just strung along by my thoughts willy-nilly. You guys argue, and I get shoved around the food court and into the trash can.”

“Barring that--unorthodox example, I see your point.” Logan adjusted his glasses. The chance to explain something seemed to cheer him up a bit. “It is hard to separate thoughts from actions. However, it can be done. Think of it this way. When we convene to help you with an issue, we represent your thoughts. We give you different opinions based on our own goals, perspectives, and priorities.”

“And it’s loud,” Thomas said.

“And it’s loud,” Logan agreed. “It’s also a process. You listen to your thoughts, debate with them, and come to a conclusion. Yes, you can be influenced heavily by your thoughts, but the one who controls your actions is you.”

“That’s what makes you special,” Patton said, sounding like he was finally understanding. “We’re imaginary. We can’t affect the real world. But you can.”

“You make your own choices,” Logan said. “That’s what makes you your own person.”

Thomas swallowed. “Motivational speech, huh? What happened to ‘Nico is a terrible idea’?”

Logan winced. “I...still do think that, unfortunately.”

“Logan,” Patton said in a warning tone.

“But! But.” Logan sighed. “What you said about not knowing--about fearing the unknown--a lot of that is me.”

Thomas’ eyes widened.

“I’m the part of you that doesn’t want to take risks. I’m the part of you that wants to--to play it safe, because we only get one life.” Logan waved a hand. “If Virgil is the alarm clock that keeps you on your toes, I’m the person who sets the alarm clock. That means I don’t always understand the risks that you take, or the things that you do, and sometimes that’s...isolating. It feels--it seems like I’m unable to connect with you.”

“You do alright, Logan.” Thomas shook his head. “Better than alright. You keep my head on my shoulders, and I can always count on you. You’re better at this than you think.”

“I hope so,” Logan said.

“I know so.” Patton’s voice was firm. “You’re a great kiddo. You always make me feel better--well, not always, but you’re trying! You’re working on it!”

“Thank you,” Logan said, and sounded like he meant it. Patton smiled back.

“So what are you saying?” Thomas prompted.

“That...this is an area that I do not understand.” Logan twisted his fingers together. “Perhaps I felt--powerless, when you began to put such stock in your emotions. I could not help but focus on the negatives of the situation, in order to figuratively shove logic back into the conversation. But--there are conversations I’m not meant to be a part of.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Thomas said. “You just said you focused on the negatives--and you did raise some good points, ones I’m gonna have to think about! But if you focus on the positives, well, you could still contribute some interesting things. Right?”

Logan’s gaze flickered over to Thomas. Thomas gave him a smile.

“You are thirty-one years old,” Logan said. “The average lifespan of a male in the United States is about seventy-five years.”

“Great, way to give me a mid-life crisis,” Thomas teased.

“I’m attempting to say that you have time.” Logan spread his hands. “You have been away from college for less than ten years. Your personal identity is still changing, and there is still time for it to change.”

Was there?

“Yes,” Logan argued, looking more and more determined. “You don’t know everything this instant. However, nobody else does, either. What would be the point of scientific discovery if everyone knew the answers before they asked the questions? Life is about evolution. You have time to learn more about yourself.”

“But I’ve wasted so much time!” Thomas protested, and he almost felt like Logan, like Thomas was echoing everything Logan had ever told him. “I need to figure some stuff out, I can’t just stumble blindly through my life--”

“Except you haven’t,” Logan said. “What have you done with your life? You graduated college with a degree. You wanted to be a comedian, an internet personality, and you managed that. You wanted to be an actor, and you managed that. You’ve written a musical, you’ve befriended many talented people, you’ve discovered that you’re gay. I would hardly call that ‘stumbling blindly.’ You’re simply doing your best with the resources provided to you.”

Thomas let out a breath. “And your point is?”

“My point is that you don’t have much to lose,” Logan said. “This seems like an immediate dilemma in the moment. However, you don’t need to think through every possible option.” Logan squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you should do. Neither do you. That’s--okay.”

Thomas found himself beginning to smile.

“That is okay, right?” Logan immediately looked at Patton. “I’m not completely off the mark, am I?”

“You did good,” Patton said.

Logan let out a breath.

“And you’re right.” Patton laughed. “Again! You’re right, again.” His face fell. “I--I don’t know what I want right now. But there’s time to figure that out. It’s not the end of anything, and you have a lot of choices to make. A lot of...chances.”

“A lot of choices,” Thomas echoed. “I guess it was kind of silly to think of it as ‘break up immediately or stay together forever.’ I’ve only known Nico for a day!”

Logan nodded. “In the future, you can make whatever choice works for you.”

“And we’ll be with you, kiddo.” Patton smiled. “Every step of the way.”

Thomas let out a long breath and the darkness settled around him. He was in his living room. He knew this house like the back of his hand. He was fine, he was safe, and it would be morning eventually.

“Thanks,” Thomas said, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, guys. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan said. “It’s our job.”

“And our pleasure,” Patton corrected. “We’re happy to help.”

“I am not happy.” Logan paused and reluctantly inclined his head. “Still, Patton is correct. I--find it enjoyable when I can assist.”

“You both did great.” Thomas laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up with all this, I really shouldn’t have overthought it as much as I did.”

“We caused the overthinking,” Logan pointed out.

“We did,” Patton admitted. He shifted a bit and looked up, wiping his eyes. “I--I’m scared too, Thomas. I don’t want to...end up heartbroken again.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said.

“But I think it might be worth it.” Patton balled his hands. “Those memories might hurt to look back on now, but they were nice while they happened, and they made us feel happy! The bad parts don’t necessarily erase the good parts. Nico is a good thing. A relationship with Nico, however it ends up, could be a good thing. You’re allowed--” Patton swallowed. “You’re allowed to want to be happy.”

Thomas fought back tears. “And--if it doesn’t work out?”

“We’ll live,” Patton said simply. “We did before, and we will again.”

“Okay.” Thomas’ voice came out like a croak, and he covered his face. “Okay, fine, just--just give me a second. Turns out I really needed to hear that.”

A warm hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. Thomas peeked between his hands to see Logan awkwardly patting his shoulder. Thomas gave him a watery smile.

“We can do this,” Patton said, sounding close to crying himself. “We’re allowed to want. It--it was never that we didn’t know, it was that we didn’t let ourselves, wasn’t it?”

“I want so much,” Thomas forced out. “I want to go on a date with Nico, I want my Sides to get along, I want to be famous and I want to be good and I want to know what I’m doing and I want--”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, barely above a whisper. “Breathe.”

Thomas breathed. In and out. In and out. He knew he could breathe. He had lungs and a heart and blood pumping through his veins and tears on his eyelashes. He knew that. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew pieces of himself, he knew his logic and his feelings and his dreams. He knew where he was and where he’d been. And he could figure things out from there.

“It’s okay,” Logan said again. “You will be okay.”

He would be okay.

No matter what, they would find a way to be okay.

Thomas wiped his eyes, uncurled his legs, and motioned for Patton to join them on the couch. Patton stood up and slipped between Logan and Thomas, making Logan’s arm fall around Patton’s shoulders. Logan started, but he didn’t remove it, and he let Patton lean into his side.

“Gosh, this was a mess, huh?” Patton giggled and took off his glasses to wipe his eyes again. “It’s already so late in the evening and I’m still such a mess of feelings.”

“We could all use a decompression activity,” Logan said. “May I…”

Thomas smiled. “Sure, buddy, go ahead and watch the nature documentaries.”

“Yes!” Logan looked triumphant. He turned on the TV and found one about birds. “Does this work?”

“Sure,” Thomas said. He paused. “So...what do we do?”

“Tonight?” Logan asked. “Watch TV, relax, and go to sleep.”

“And...tomorrow?”

“That’s tomorrow,” Patton said, punctuated by a yawn. “We’re still in today.”

Thomas smiled a bit. “Focus on tonight, huh?”

“Focus on the choices you can make right now.” Logan watched the TV begin to pan over a rainforest. “Sometimes you’re allowed to ignore your thoughts for a while.”

“Sometimes I’m allowed not to know things yet.” Thomas thought about it. “Thanks, Logan. Patton. I know this--can’t be easy for you guys.”

“It’s not,” Patton admitted. “But we’re working to be good people, right?”

“You’re working to be better,” Thomas corrected. “And you’re both doing amazing.”

Patton smiled. Logan hummed and pulled his blanket across Patton’s legs.

“Tonight we relax,” Thomas said, and smiled. “Yeah. I can work with that. I know we’ll figure stuff out soon.”

“You do?” Patton asked sleepily.

“I’ve got you guys in my corner, how could I not?”

Logan flushed before adjusting his glasses. “Likewise, we have you. As we are parts of you, you’re in your own corner.”

“Confusing,” Thomas remarked. “Let me guess--”

“It’s complicated,” Logan and Patton said.

“Thought so.”

But maybe he didn’t need to understand it. Maybe he didn’t need to know everything. He knew that Logan and Patton, and Roman, and Virgil--and Janus--were on his side. He knew they cared about him. He knew they’d help him be okay.

Maybe that could be all he needed. Maybe he just needed to trust in every part of himself.

Thomas looked down at his chest. Patton had slung an arm across it and was already half-asleep. Logan was intently watching the nature documentary. Somewhere in his head, Virgil and Roman were probably celebrating, or sleeping, if they were smart. Somewhere else, maybe Janus was smiling.

Thomas trusted every piece of himself that he knew.

Maybe he could learn to trust himself, too.

After all, he had enough time to make a million choices.

“Goodnight,” Thomas said as Patton began to snore. Logan murmured a response. “I--I love you guys, okay?”

“Love you too, kiddo,” Patton mumbled.

“I--” Logan breathed out. “I--hold you in the highest regard.”

“Love you too, nerd.” Thomas smiled. “You’re the best.”

He knew that he loved them. He loved every part of himself. And maybe, one day, he could get around to loving himself, too.

He knew that he wanted to. He knew that he wanted. He knew that he had the best possible backup, and a very cute possible boyfriend, and that he could get what he wanted, if he tried.

It was okay. It was fine. Things would figure themselves out.

Right now, Thomas was exactly where he needed to be.

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[xpeachesncream]

off the grid | five

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 2.8k

chapter warnings: cussing, alcohol consumption and intoxication, possible inaccurate depiction of transportation, events and whereabouts in South Korea since i only did my research thru the internet, sweet jiminie, fluff, lots of overthinking & slight angst

> series masterlist <

"Mm, it sounds like you're having fun which is the most important thing. It's nice to see all the places you've been visiting on your stories." Yoongi replied on the other end as he fixed his position in bed.

"Yeah, I'm really enjoying my time here."

"I can tell." He chuckled. "So, is that guy really Yana's brother?"

"Who said that?"

"Namjoon. He's been hanging out with Yana alot too."

"Surprise, surprise." You said sarcastically as you laughed. Namjoon can be a huge flirt, but nonetheless, he was a great and loyal guy.

"Surprise, surprise to both of you." Yoongi added. "He says Yana is pretty happy about her brother spending time with you though."

"I don't know, Yoongs."

"What is it?"

"I'm just not trying to get attached. I don't live here, you know?"

"Then why do you keep hanging out with him? I'd say you already are."

"Because he's fun, and caring, and super sweet. Just so wholesome and pure." You gushed, explaining all the things right about Jimin. The list can go on. "It's hard to be away from someone who has that kind of energy. His friends are the sweetest things, too. Nothing but good company."

"Which is great, honestly. You deserve someone who can do right by you. But just remember to always look out for yourself, okay?" Not gonna lie, Yoongi was pretty worried for both you and Joon. He knew you both had pasts of sorrow, and the last thing be wanted was for you both to be sad or upset. Don't get him wrong, he's happy you both have been stepping out of your comfort zone and meeting new people like this. He just didn't want you both to get too attached because what if you do go living your life the way it was before Jimin came in? Then, what? Instead of coming back feeling refreshed, would you be even more miserable counting your what if's? "Try not to flood your head with all that mess and just have fun while you're still there. Time is moving pretty quickly."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed. Time was moving pretty quickly. You'd be packing up to head back to LA before you know it.

"What are you doing today?"

"It's Jimin's friend's birthday thing. They're doing dinner and karaoke."

"Sounds dope. Have fun, tell me about it later when you're free. I'll let you finish getting ready."

"I will." You sighed.

"Aye, what did I say?" He whined. "Have fun, don't be sad. You don't need to let it consume you."

"Right." You smiled and quickly shook your head to brush off the lingering thoughts. "Alright, I'll talk to you later. Love you, dude."

"Love you too!" He threw up the peace sign before ending the facetime call. You took one last look in the mirror before finalizing your outfit and look. You didn't wanna do too much in this weather, but at the same time, you still wanted to look good. As you were about to give yourself a little spritz of perfume, a knock came at the door. You hurriedly sprayed a good amount into the air and ran through the perfume cloud before heading downstairs. How else would you put on perfume?

"Hey." You smiled at Jimin as you swung your bag over your shoulder. "Ready?" You furrowed your eyebrows as he hadn't replied. Did you look that bad? Why wasn't ol' boy saying anything?!

"Yeah.." He slowly responded to your question. "You look really good."

"You're not too bad yourself, Park." He sure as hell looked fine in those distressed jeans.

"Mmm, thanks.” He blushed a bit, catching you looking at his thighs poking out from the holes in his jeans. “Uh, the karaoke restaurant thing er, whatever isn't too far, but did you need anything on the way? Tae is driving so I can make him take you." You laughed and shook your head.

"Are a ton of people coming out tonight?"

"Not really. Jin doesn't have friends." You laughed.

"He has you guys, silly."

"Moreso acquaintances that deal with him." You playfully hit him.

"That's not nice!"

"Okay, okay. I'm kidding." He pouted. "God, I wish you cared about me like you do about Jin-hyung."

"That's not even a fair statement being that I've spent most of my time with you."

"Yeah, you're right. I just wanted to hear it."

"You're a piece of work." He winked.

"Hey, I told you that color would look nice on you." He gently ran his fingers down the fabric of your coat.

"It's warm." You snuggled into the coat. "Definitely not making the same mistake I did when we went skating."

"Why, you don't like wearing my jackets?" He chuckled. Boy, was he wrong cause you absolutely did. And you absolutely loved how his scent lingered on your clothes.

"It's not that, I just worry cause you're left in the cold."

"Y/N, I told you, I'm used to this. I'd rather you be okay than me." At this point, you were climbing into the car, with Taehyung in the driver's seat, Jungkook in the passenger's seat and Hoseok near the window. You squished into the middle seat, Jimin and Hoseok's thighs both touching yours. They all yelled their greetings to you as Taehyung began to drive off to the karaoke restaurant. They blasted songs in the car, resulting in all of you dancing and singing along loudly as a warm up for what's to come.

When you had arrived, there were a few unfamiliar faces but the group overall wasn't huge. Jin had reserved a whole room at the back of the restaurant for everyone to eat, drink and sing their hearts out. Jimin had introduced you to Jin's other friends, his hand gently pressed against the small of your back.

"Okay," Jin stood as he rose a shot glass full of soju. "I just wanna say that even though I hate you guys most of the time-" Lots of boo's came from their friend group, making Jin laugh. "I'm still super grateful that we can all be here together to celebrate the most important day in history - my birthday. Cheers!"

"Happy birthday, you asshole!" Jungkook yelled as you and the rest of the group took the soju to the neck. The food came out slowly, but by the time the rest of the orders had arrive, one shot turned into two, then into three, then into four. So on and so forth. You hadn't drank in awhile, being that the last time you got pretty drunk was at Yoongi and Namjoon's apartment and all you had was a whole bottle of wine to yourself. You remember that day clearly; Romeo had promised he'd hang out and spend another night with you, but ended up ignoring you the entire day. You cried so much, feeling so dumb for having let him in yet once again. He was shady like that, and he only came around to apologize and spill a lame ass story when he wanted something from you. Something he knew you'd give even though he wasn't there for you 100%.

But that's in the past and you were leaving it where it belonged. It was a little embarrassing how tipsy you felt right now, but who gave a fuck? You were enjoying yourself with your new friends annnd you had a fine man right next to you. You said what you said, you thought what you thought. No takebacks. This liquid courage has you battling with yourself on whether or not you should try flirting and being a little more touchy with Jimin. Should you give him that signal, or nah?

Time was of the essence.

While the group was singing Tearin' Up My Heart by Nsync together, which was your fucking jam, you and Jin sung your hearts out the most. You had used up so much of your energy that you made yourself comfortable on Jimin's lap after the song was over. At first, you were regretting the move simply because you couldn't see his face. Did he even want this? Is it too late to hop off and run the fuck home?

But you felt his arm snake around your hip and pull you closer to his body.

His other hand held the mic as he started to sing along to the next song that came up in the room while you let your body sink into his. He rested his cheek on your arm, while you watched everyone else get even more wasted. Taehyung wasn't even drunk but he was all over the place, singing and dancing around, doing karate chops in the air and showing off his elegant spins. Jungkook was pretty tipsy and would imitate Taehyung every now and then. Hoseok was next to you and Jimin, but completely minding his own business and laughing at everyone in the room while roasting them at the same time. You didn't want to get too comfortable on Jimin or else you'd feel bad, so you tried to wiggle off but he wouldn't let you.

"Where are you going?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"Of holding onto you? No."

"I feel bad."

"Don't. I like having you close to me." His puppy dog eyes looked up at you as he continued to rest his cheek against your arm and hug you tighter. If you weren't in a room full of people, you were pretty sure you'd kiss him right now. But, you kept yourself together and instead smile toothlessly and pinched his cheek. You both continued to sing along and join the group in the chaos, Tae even coming towards you two at one point to have you guys stand and dance with everyone.

The two hours had gone by quickly, with everyone's voices raspy as shit from all the yelling and singing. Jin's childhood friends had gone their separate ways, while you, Jimin, JK, Tae, Hoseok and Jin decided to walk around town. There were a bunch of flyers up for a fair that was going on in the next town, so everyone ended up having to squeeze in the car, with you being on Jimin's lap once again. You tried to duck and keep your body low just to make sure Taehyung wouldn't get in trouble for hauling more than the maximum amount of people in the car, with Jimin's hands comfortably resting on your thighs.

"Let's go on that ride!" Jin pointed at the boat that swung highly from side to side.

"It goes so high." Hoseok made a sour face. "I don't think I'll make it out alive."'

"Come on!"

"Is this a good idea?" Jungkook laughed. "We just ate and had drinks." Jin pointed at him and nodded. He had a point. You all were still definitely tipsy off the alcohol, besides Tae being the sober one. He wasn't going to go on the ride alone, though.

"You're right." Jin laughed. "That makes it even better." He began to run over, making the rest of you follow him.

"You're such a dummy." Jungkook and Jin continued to playfully fight and bicker on the way to the ride.

"Ah, I'm nervous!" Jimin groaned as your group headed to the entrance.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"No, but I don't like that feeling you get." He rubbed his tummy to signal the butterfly feeling you get after big drops on rides.

"You'll be okay." You laughed. "It'll be over before you know it."

"Can I hold onto you?" He chuckled as he intertwined his fingers with yours. You simply nodded as you both followed Jungkook to the backseat, with Taehyung, Hoseok and Jin in the seat in front of you. The ride filled up quickly and started shortly after the last person boarded. Even with the slightest tilt, both Jimin and Hoseok were screaming, with Jimin damn near cutting off the circulation to your hands. His grip became tighter every time your side of the boat tilted upwards. He would close his eyes and dig his head into your shoulder every now and then, making you and Jungkook cry from the laughter, mixed with the wind hitting your face every time the boat swung. But with all good things, the ride comes to an end.

"See, that wasn't so bad." You lightly patted his chest.

"Agh, I hate it." He groaned as he grabbed his chest and continued to get himself together, making you laugh. Hoseok was pretty much checked out after that ride and was certain he wasn't getting on anything else that night. You all continued to walk through the fair, stopping to play games and win little stuffed animal prizes before riding on rides that were a little bit more lowkey. Once you've reached the end, you noticed there was a crowd gathered around, standing and looking out at the view.

"Jimin, let's go." You nodded towards the crowd. You held his hand and led the way, seeing the fireworks starting to pop off. You squeezed your way to get through the front as much as possible until you found the perfect spot, where no one was in front of your view and there was no one lingering around to potentially block it. "It's so pretty!" You looked ahead at the colorful fireworks. You leaned your body against Jimin's, signaling that you were comfortable with his presence behind you. You felt his arms snake around your neck, hugging you tightly. You rested your hands on his arms, and tilted your head sideways, making Jimin rest his cheek against your temple.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N." He says, softly near your ear.

"Jimin." You squeezed his arm.

"I mean it." His thumb caressed your shoulder. "I'm really happy to be spending time with you."

"I am, too." You kept your eyes on the fireworks. He gently pressed his lips against your temple and continued to hold you close.

"Sorry, I-I should have—" He stumbled on his words, a little shy about having placed that kiss on your temple without asking if you felt comfortable first.

"No, you're okay." You grabbed his hand and placed a kiss on top to reassure him. He placed another gentle kiss on the side of your head before holding onto you tightly as you watched the rest of the show. 

After the fireworks were over, the speakers started to blast some pretty ubpeat songs, making Jimin grab your hand and twirl you around. He held your hand as you both began to dance around freely, you both showing off your random, but cute dance moves to each other. Sooner or later, the rest of the troop gathered around and danced along with the both of you. It got a little crazy and chaotic at some points, but nonetheless, it was such a perfect way to end the night. Once people started to disappear slowly, you all called it a night. Taehyung drove you home first and said his goodbyes, while Jungkook and Hoseok sleepily waved in their seats. Jin pulled you into the tightest hug before climbing back into the car and blowing you a kiss from the window, making Jimin roll his eyes.

"I'm so tired." You yawned and sleepily said as you climbed up the stairs to the loft.

"Did you have fun?"

"Of course I did. Thank you." You swung your arms around him for a tight hug. Pulling away, he kept his eyes on you. You figured, this was it. He was gonna lay one on you and that would be the end of you. But, he doesn't. Instead, he brushes the hair out of your face. He's having an internal battle of whether or not he should though, because after tonight, he really, really wanted to. But he also wanted to do right by you.

"No problem. I'll see you later, yeah? Sleep tight, Y/N." He caresses your cheek before slowly backing away with his hands retreating into his pockets.

"Goodnight, Jimin." You softly respond. Jimin is honestly cursing the fuck out of himself right now as he's slowly heading down the stairs. Why didn't he just do it? Why was he acting scared all of a sudden? Why—

"Fuck it." He says to himself as he races back up before you can completely shut the door. "Wait, Y/N!"

"Hm?" You say as you peek your head out from the door. Jimin rushes over and gently grabs your face, pressing his plump lips onto yours. His thumb caresses your cheek while you continue to kiss back, not wanting to break the kiss.

"That's better." He says, chuckling. You bite onto your bottom lip before tiptoeing to give him one last peck for the road.

The fireworks, the butterflies. You weren't expecting this to be a part of your trip, and now you just wanted it 24/7. He unleashed this new and exciting side of things that made you want to keep exploring, as long as he was there by your side. Nothing else really mattered at that moment.

Not LA, not Romeo, not anything back home.

Alexa, play: Forever x Chris Brown

[suekre]

So ive followed you a VERY long time (like from the deviantart days lmao) and i only just realised that you were talking about ocd in that post. Just wanted to let you know that i have ocd as well and god it is exhausting and i know exactly how you feel! I finally start therapy for it in 2 weeks. Pls know that i love your art and you very much and appreciate everything you create and share with us. All the best!! X

Hey you, I know you! Thank you for coming to my inbox and sharing this with me, I appreciate that so much. :) I am SUPER happy for you that you are about to get the help you need, that is awesome. I wish I could have had it at the time!

(And oh boy, the good old deviantart days, haha! Always happy to have my longtime followers around! :D)

OCD is exhausting indeed. People who aren’t affected can’t imagine what a nightmare it is. I, personally, am more prone to intrusive thoughts than actual obsessive-compulsive behavior. When people hear „OCD“, they usually think of obsessive hand washing or „leaving out every black tile while walking through a kitchen“ or so, while it can manifest in other ways. I didn’t know back then. I just thought I was going completely crazy at the time. I think I mentioned my disorder at times but I never actually openly talked about my own experiences (where I come from, mental disorders are a big NO NO, because it’s all in your head, just pull yourself together, other people are ACTUALLY suffering, it’s just dumb thoughts, you just need to think positive, y’know).

I kinda feel like doing it now. Just to get it out, and also to occupy my brain and hands and hey, maybe someone else can pick this up and find themselves in my own experiences. I sure know how relieved I was when I found out I wasn’t alone with my what I thought was a ‚Very Weird, Unique and Niche Problem‘.  

I gotta admit first - I’m doing much better nowadays. Even my worst days, as horrible as they may feel at the time, do in no way compare to the hell I went through in the second half of 2015. I have come a long way since my last (and so far worst... omg, oof, I hope there won’t be another) episode of intrusive thoughts. But, oh boy, was it intense.  It was the absolute worst time of my life, ever. I’m not writing this to scare anyone. Anyone who is familiar with this, will know how bad it is and anyone who can’t relate at all won’t feel affected anyway and will maybe even think something along the lines of „What the fuck?!“. I get it. It DOES sound crazy.

I have always been an overthinker. I always needed more validation and reassurance than other people around me and for the longest time I had no idea why that was. It was usually subtle - always kinda there but never strong enough to actually affect my life in a negative way. I just felt off at times, and not always super good. But I was generally ok, I could always manage.

Until that one episode that changed my life forever. I know that sounds dramatic but, even though I am in a good place nowadays, it sure DID change my life. I was 31, I lived together with my then-boyfriend and I still remember the exact date. Friday, July 24th, 2015. I remember the exact moment when my entire mind collapsed. It’s so weird, it literally happened from one second to the other. I am not making this up to sound more dramatic, it was a matter of seconds.

I was on my way home after work and I felt… restless and stressed. It felt good to get off work (it was my first full time job and... it didn’t go well, to put it nicely) but I was no longer really looking forward to my week off, and our trip to our favorite Open Air the following week. I picked up some dinner on my way, I came home, and I saw my boyfriend in the middle of the living room, he was making some preparations for our upcoming trip. When I saw him, tall and handsome and smiling at me, I smiled back but inside I felt like crying. My smile was fake. Kissing him felt weird, and also fake. And all of a sudden, there it was. The life changing thought:

„I don’t love him anymore.“

A simple thought. I had weird thoughts before, like anyone does, but they never had any greater impact on me. This time, though, that one thought knocked me off my feet. Not literally, I had turned into a pillar of salt somehow. This was the Perfect Man Of My Dreams (at least that was what I thought back then). The man I wanted to spend my life with, the man who made me happy every day! How could that even be, how could I even think something like that?

I felt even more restless. I didn’t tell him, of course. When he asked how my day was, I put on my fake smile again and said it was okay. We ate our dinner (although I had instantly lost any appetite), and I kept looking at him and the thoughts... just kept coming back.

You don’t love him anymore. What if you don’t love him anymore?

On repeat. It was awful. I just couldn’t shake them off.

It’s the stress, I tried to tell myself. You’re overworked. It’ll be good, you just need some rest.

But I couldn’t relax. My heart was racing, my blood was pumping. I didn’t know what was going on. I begged him to leave his work undone and take me out for an after work drink and he agreed. All the time, the thoughts wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t want to think them, but they were merciless, they just kept coming back. I felt so helpless.

A few drinks later, I had calmed down a bit, at least so much that I could stand to look at my BFs face again without feeling guilty. There you go, I said to myself, not quite convinced, you’ll be good. It’s already wearing off. When we crawled into bed later, I was tired and relaxed (and tipsy) enough to sleep and convinced that this was just a little glitch, that things would be just fine in the morning.

When I woke up, I felt exhausted. My heart was racing... and the thoughts came back IMMEDIATELY.

You don’t love him anymore. You gotta leave him.

What. The. HELL!? Why are these thoughts still a thing? Why are they still there? Why do they keep coming back?

I kept trying to push them away but the more I tried, the more intense they became. As if they tried to spite me. I started losing focus on everything else around me, the world slowly started to blur. It was just Me And My Thoughts from here. I tried my best to hide my state, and I think I managed for a while, but I felt like a robot any time I talked to someone. When people would pick up on my confusion, I usually brushed their concerns off. It’s nothing, I’m good.

I mean... how do you even tell someone that you just. can’t. stop. thinking. about whether you still love your boyfriend or not? According to the world, that is something you “just feel and know” after all. Except that I didn’t. I had no clue. I couldn’t feel anything. But, according to the world, that was perfectly normal, too. “Honeymoon phase is over at some point, babe. That’s everyday life, you grow comfy, it’s no longer a flash of feelings every day, you know that. You guys have been together for a while after all, what did you expect?!” ... what I felt didn’t feel like comfy everyday life either, though. Comfy everday life shouldn’t come with high key anxiety, sleepless nights and a loss of appetite at any lived second. If that was comfy everyday life, I sure didn’t want it.

So, what do you do when you have no clue about something? Right! Google! Go and ask the world! “How do you know that you still love your partner?”, “Is the love gone?” ... I spent hours, DAYS doing that, but no answer I found was remotely statisfying (or maybe it was for a minute, but the reassurance never lasted long) and I felt that those articles didn’t actually understand what I was asking in first place. I would spend every day like that. Permanently asking myself the same questions, analyzing myself, testing if the Big Feels for the man had decided to come back... nah, not really. Maybe NOW? If I just look at him close enough?! ... maybe if I squint a little?! Fuck, still nothing! Niente! Nada! I am a horrible person, aaah!

(Our open air trip was an emotional disaster by the way, I felt horrible all the time, and the permanent rain didn’t help. -3/10, do not recommend).

If I had known at the time that I wouldn’t spend just a few days but (more or less) six months with this shit... oof. I was already exhausted after those few days.

Over the course of the next weeks I stopped eating almost entirely. I just couldn’t. This permanent tight anxiety knot in my stomach made me want to throw up at the mere thought of food. At my worst point I weighed 138 lbs (63 kg), at 6 ft 1 (1,85 m). I often joked about how I had almost reached runway model standard. I was sick, I was weak, I was scared, but I just couldn’t eat and the bits I DID force myself to eat were burned almost right away by my crippling anxiety. (I still have clothes from that time, and I sometimes beat myself up for no longer fitting into them before I remember that I should NEVER fit into them EVER again.)

Instead I smoked a pack a day. I hardly got any sleep and when I did, it wasn’t relaxing. Always in Fight and Flight mode. My body was at alert level any minute, any day. I’m still asking myself how it could be that I never actually... collapsed. I was always tired, exhausted and malnourished... I dunno, you tell me.

The thoughts never really disappeared. They kept coming back in all variations. You don’t love him anymore. You have to leave him. You may not want to, but you have to. You don’t love him. I had very few “good moments” in between but in those good moments, my mind was usually frantically looking for explanations and reasons behind all this. For ways to improve my relationship, to feel better about my boyfriend. I came up with the WEIRDEST shit. Almost every day I found something new that bothered me. One day he was a little boring. That’s it! We gotta go out more, do more stuff, that’ll change everything. ... aaah, no. Guess not. The next day, it was something else. The day after THAT, it was something entirely different again.

I was suddenly prone to making some HELLA weird impulsive decisions, too. „I gotta break off contact to that one person RIGHT now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!“, “I gotta talk to my mom about THAT particular incident in my childhood right now, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”, “I gotta make a trip to the mall JUST NOW, THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER!”… the decisions made total sense to me the second I made them, for about ten minutes at most, but the initial rush of relief started to fade again quickly and I frantically started looking for new solutions. Google was my best friend. I couldn’t go a day without googling exessively. Overthinking, pacing, googling. Any day, any hour awake. Over weeks. A few months even. My mind was constantly reeling. It was a bottomless pit.  

I cannot put into words how exhausting that was. Sometimes the idea of throwing myself out of the next window seemed SO tempting, not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted the thoughts to stop tormenting me.

(I was out of regular therapy at the time, btw. I thought about calling my therapist about it but never did it. I felt isolated, I literally thought I had to do this all by myself.)

At some point, a few months into it, I somehow transferred to zombie mode. The thoughts became a little less intense over time. They were never gone but not quite as nagging anymore. But any time I wasn’t in alert mode, I felt just hollow instead. Sucked dry of any joy, of any emotion, of any sign of life. I just... functioned. Still tried to hide it. I dunno how well I did with that. Probably not at all well. I kept it all to myself, just because it felt that ridiculous. Tried to find excuses. “I’m just tired.”, “You know, there’s a lot going on in my head right now, but I’ll be good.” ... truth is that I don’t remember a whole lot of that time, it’s all blurry. There are just a few significant moments.

Such as that one evening, after work, when I left the building, made a few steps and stood five (or ten? fifteen??? who knows?! not me.) minutes on the spot, motionless, because I could no longer remember my way home.

I got fired from that job, by the way. I’m sure it was mostly due to low performance, I get it, but I can’t blame my poor state alone - they were also assholes.

Anyway.

I had, of course, never stopped the googling and one day, after hours of browsing any niche I hoped I hadn’t browsed yet, I somehow found a blog written by a young woman like me. The description tackled almost all of my thought patterns and I was blown. away. She asked herself the very same questions, with the very same twists, and... she even had a name for it.

ROCD. Relationship Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I cried for what felt like hours. Out of relief. There was a person in this world who knew exactly what I was going through. And she even had tips how to overcome it. It wasn’t the first time I had heard about OCD, but as it had never affected me in any way before (I, too, associated it with compulsive hand washing and tile jumping), I wouldn’t have thought of it. After doing my own intense research on the subject, a huge part of me and my life finally started making sense to me. Not much was known about ROCD at the time, but it kinda didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was the OCD part. The subject of the thoughts is entirely interchangable. It’s the chain of thoughts itself that has to be broken. Don’t focus on the relationship. Break the chain instead.

The internet also recommended exposure therapy but as therapy wasn’t an option at the time (weird German laws... regular health insurance covers only a limited amount of therapy lessons within a certain span of time and I had used mine up and there was no way I could pay myself), I decided to try it myself, the key points being:

* No more googling, no more reassurance. Learn to live with the uncertainty, learn to live with Not Knowing.

* Let the thoughts happen. Watch them pass by. They’re just thoughts, they can’t harm you. Don’t fight them, just recognize them and let them stay, they’ll get less scary over time.

* Focus on other things, as hard as it is. Try to occupy your mind and your body. Any minute you spend doing something else but brooding is a win.

It all sounded so very abstract at the time, but I was determined to give it a try. Oh gosh, was it hard. After months of emotional torment and getting used to unhealthy ways of coping, it was SO DAMN FUCKING HARD to NOT google. To NOT think. It felt like torment all over again. How was I supposed to just let the thought sit with me!? It was scary, I didn’t want it! Just ONE little peek, only a second, come ON! I won’t do it again after that?!

Oh god, it was the worst, it really was. Trying to break the chain while I was so desperate to save my relationship was terrible. I honestly don’t remember HOW I made it... but I made it. I somehow... clawed and bit my way out of it. I went right through the pain and made it. It’s not actually a linear process but there comes this point (and I know a few people I met on online platforms who would back me up on this) when you know the worst is over. You just know it. Things weren’t exactly good by the time the thoughts were history but I had reign over my own head again, I could actually SEE the world again, and that was worth everything plus my body weight in gold.

I’ll stop right here because the following months weren’t about my OCD anymore, but about figuring out needs, figuring out myself and what I wanted from life and this particular relationship and it’s not quite relevant and another story. (I DID love my ex-BF but it turned out he wasn’t at all good for me, I had ignored all the red flags for too long, and it didn’t take long after this for us to go separate ways)

I hated this particular time in my life while it lasted but I have learned and taken so much from it. It has changed my life in so many ways. I learned that things are never set in stone, not for anyone. That there will always be uncertain times on our ways. That change is always scary. That it’s okay to be scared. That staying in crappy situations for the sake of it isn’t always the right thing to do. Sometimes, doing the right thing (aka leaving a relationship that isn’t good for you) can make you sad. Love does not equal compatibility.

Looking back, I am - in a very bizarre and twisted way - grateful for the experience. It was an incredibly important lesson for me that taught me to be kinder to myself, to look out for myself and to listen to my own needs. That I should put myself first at times. For the first time of my life, I really got in touch with myself and my own emotions. I learned to understand them, I learned where they come from. I learned to cut myself slack at times.

The list goes on and on, but you get my drift. I know myself inside and out at this point. That wasn’t always the case. Not until 2016.

It still comes back at times. Not with such full force, but it keeps creeping back in, pretty much any time I have to deal with uncertainty in my life. Bad news at work, not hearing from a friend for a while that I’m dying to hear from (inevitably thinking that they MUST be mad at me) or when I spot a few symptoms of sickness that I’m not familiar with (I practically never get sick). Not Knowing What Will Happen drives me CRAZY. I hate uncertainty, I need my life to be stable and calm to fully function.

Now, in COVID times, it’s mostly the fear of suffering from an incurable disease. AGAIN. I’m familiar with that, too. I’m not even scared of catching the virus, I just fell right back into overthinking any symptom I have, even if it’s just a short pain in the neck or whatever (you know, things that one usually brushes off). When my life was busier, I was MUCH better at handling those thoughts. Most of the time, they didn’t even come up in first place. Sitting inside and avoiding contact 99,9% of all times, and having little to no actual distraction („reading/watching movies“ doesn’t help me personally, it does’t occupy my mind enough, I usually just stare right through the pages/screen), however, leaves FAR too much time for the thoughts to unfold, once they come up.

This subtle but lingering concern for my health puts my body into a permanent state of anxiety once more. Fight and Flight mode. The pace of my heartbeat is always slightly, but perpetually, increased. It isn’t always outright panic attacks, it’s this constant state of having to be… alert. Something MIGHT happen, y’know. Be prepared. Relaxing and doing nice things becomes almost impossible. Instead, I get tired and exhausted. Depressed, even. It sucks the joy right out of me. I feel like living under a glass dome. I see what’s happening around me but I am unable to connect, emotionally. People keep living their lives and I can watch them, but I can’t be a part of it. It’s a deeply crushing feeling. I manage to somehow function but I don’t really feel alive. My abandonment issues and fear of „getting left behind“ kicked in again, too. I want to catch up and take part but can’t so I stress myself over THAT, too. This only adds to the exhaustion and makes me feel even more isolated.  

Hello, vicious circle, my old friend.

I didn’t even realize that I had such huge potential to fall right back into it. It all started… I dunno, by mid/end of January?? It’s a bit blurry this time. It is directly connected to Germany’s recent lockdown, though. A massive case of Not Knowing How Things Will Turn Out. I failed to take better care of myself in the past few weeks. And now I’m here. AGAIN. Ugh.

But well, as I said, it’s not as bad and, as I said, I have at least learned some important things over the years. In this particular case of intrusive thoughts, the first rule is: NEVER GOOGLE SYMPTOMS. And never google shit like „chances to survive (whatever illness think you have at the time)“, either. The mind longs for reassurance but googling symptoms is BAD, as we all know by now. It’s not even reassuring when you do it. Because you’ll inevitably end up diving through the vast internet for HOURS, picking up an entry that some person named Kevin made on a cancer forum way back in 2004, saying that his uncle died the next day after finding out he has cancer and that is, OF COURSE, what will happen to YOU, too. There is no other way. YOU WILL DIE.

Excuse the text walls. I took an opportunity to ramble about my own experience, for the first time ever since it happened (not including the few short talks I had with the few people I met on internet forums).

To anyone who made it this far: Thank you so much for reading. It sure felt good to write this down for once, even if it’s just a short summary (yes, really, I mean, we’re talking six-ish months here), and the descriptions fall woefully short. If anyone affected by the same happens to read this -  I am so, SO sorry you are suffering so much. You are NOT alone and you are NOT weird. Talk to someone. Open up. To your doctor, or you therapist, if you have one. To a person you trust. It is the worst but there are ways, there is help. I wish I had known at the time it started for me.

You know now. :)

P.S.: DON’T FUCKING GOOGLE:

[bqstqnbruin]

Give your heart a break

I did in fact scream about how much I hate and love the Bruins while in the middle of Kohl’s today, so there’s that. I also wore my Harvard hockey shirt again and another person asked me if I played for the team so next time someone asks I’m just saying yes.

This was requested ages ago (because y’all know I’m the worst when it comes to doing things in a timely manner), so I hope the anon who requested this likes it!

This was also inspired by Give Your Heart A Break by Demi Lovato!

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

You were on stage, loving the rush that every performance came with despite how tired you were. Now almost done with your second tour, you couldn’t believe this was your life. Your favorite song that you sang during this tour wasn’t even one of your own; Give Your Heart a Break was the only cover you performed. Every lyric seemed to mirror your relationship, despite being released before you were a teenager.

“Alright, we’re going to change things up a bit, and switch over to a song written by one of my favorite artists: Miss Demi Lovato. I hope you guys like it,” you say as the violin melody that provided the beat started to play, drawing out the sound of the crowd as you got lost in the song.

The day I first met you, you told me you’ll never fall in love. 

Singing the song takes you back to that night at the bar, out with your friends in your hometown. Your friend, Rebecca insisted you go out to this particular bar when she found out the Vancouver Canucks were going to be there seeing as she was slightly too obsessed with the group of men. You weren’t too invested the reason why you were going there, you just wanted to go out with your friends before leaving for what was going to be a way too long, three month tour around North America, your first one ever. 

“To Y/N and her tour!” Bex leads your friends toasting the first round, “let’s hope it’s successful so that when she comes back she can pay for our drinks!”

You roll your eyes, everyone agreeing as you sarcastically say, “Very funny.” They continue to banter, Bex with her eye on the hockey players sitting at the table across from yours. She was purposefully being loud enough for them to hear her say she knew someone going on tour, but that could mean a lot of things when you think about it. It was enough to catch the attention of some of them, causing them to look over and see what the commotion was about. But you weren’t too interested in anything. Leaving within the next week meant you had to focus on nothing besides your career. 

Your friends kept talking about how excited they were for you, but you weren’t paying attention. Only one of the guys at the other table had caught your eye: you weren’t sure if it was because he looked tired and like he didn’t really want to be there, sort of like you, or because of something else, but there was something that drew you to him. Apparently you caught his eye, too, since the two of you spent about five minutes doing what your friend would probably refer to as ‘eye fucking,’ even though you really hated that term. She would think that you were both mentally undressing each other, both of you fully aware of what was going on. 

You get up to get yourself another drink, praying that he would follow you to the bar. If he did, you would talk to him. But, no, you couldn’t start anything. Who the hell starts something and then leaves for three months? It’s not like you were the type of person who did a hookup, either, but who knows? No, wait. You were overthinking things, like normal. How the hell do you even know what he wants? You don’t unless he tells you. He had to follow you to the bar first. 

You order your drink, your back turned towards your friends and the Canucks. “Put it on my tab,” you hear from behind you as you’re about to hand the bartender your card. You turn around, seeing the tired boy standing behind you, trying to weasel his way next to you. “Quinn,” he introduces himself, “I hope you don’t mind. If you don’t want it I’ll just drink it and have you pay for another one.” 

You laugh at how nervous he sounds, introducing yourself and telling him it was fine that he was buying the drink for you. “My friends said next time I’m home, drinks are on me, so might as well save up while I can.” 

“You have that tour coming up, right?” he asks, you shocked that he would even know that before remembering how loud Bex was. Hockey players didn’t strike you as the type of guys to listen to your music, but then again, you remember Rebecca saying this team was watching Gossip Girl together, so anything was possible. “Sorry, I kinda listen to your music. What’s it called, the By the Book Tour?” 

You groan at hearing someone say the name out loud. “I really actually love that you listen to my music but it is so important to me that you know I did not come up with that name.” 

He laughs, starting a conversation about your music, his hockey, everything else in between. The conversation somehow managed to get really deep really fast. “Wait, but you have all those songs about being in love and the perfect guy and all that stuff.”

“Well, yeah, since I’m still new in the industry I have to write what sells and ‘build a fan base’ as my manager says before I can start writing what I really feel,” you say, rolling your eyes, “And I think I was in love and falling out of love when I wrote those songs, but I don’t know what real love is. You don’t know what it is until you actually experience it.” 

“So you don’t think you’ve been in love before?” he asks.

“No. Have you?”

He stops for a minute, trying to think before shaking his head, “Nope. I don’t think I ever will be.”

You look at him, shocked that he would even admit something like that to someone he just met. “Really? Never? You don’t think there’s someone out there for you that you could fall in love with?”

“Nah. Who’s got the time? I mean, traveling for most of the year for hockey? How can I? You’ve got to understand: you’re about to be traveling for three straight months and then who knows what comes next. How can you even find time for love?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, thinking about it seriously for the first time, “I think that,” you pause, trying to find the words, “I think that everyone is destined for love, regardless of how they get there. People who don’t want it might just be afraid of the pain that would come with losing it.” 

He looks at you, eyebrows raised, not like he’s shocked but impressed, instead. “I can tell you write your own songs,” he takes a long sip of his drink, finishing off the glass, “That was pretty poetic.” 

----------

You look out at the crowd, knowing exactly where they were sitting. He had the biggest smile on his face, the other guys, surprisingly, looking like they were enjoying themselves, too. 

Now here we are, so close, yet so far. Haven’t I passed the test? When will you realize: baby, I’m not like the rest?

After a month on tour, one of your shows happened to be in the same town that the Canucks were playing that night, so Quinn had suggested you meet up after your show and his game for drinks. It seemed that a lot of your upcoming tour dates and his away games matched up, some sort of weird but welcome coincidence. 

“Hey, Quinn!” you say as soon as you see him, practically jumping up from the table where you were waiting for him. You two had been talking nonstop since the night you met, but his words always haunted you, changing the flutter in your heart when his name popped up to absolute heartbreak: he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in love. Especially when you were sure you were falling in love with him. 

“Hey, how was the show?” he says, wrapping you in a tight hug. Even after just playing a game, he smelt so good.

“It was fine, not one of my best, but hey, the fans seemed to love it. As long as they’re happy, I’m happy,” you say. The trust was, you were already exhausted. Before every show, it seemed like, you were doing nonstop conferences, photoshoots, other promos like meet and greets, having your manager talk to you about your set list as if it weren’t the same each night, rehearsal, sound checks, costume, wardrobe, and so much more. You weren’t sure you had more than five hours of sleep in the last three days. You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to keep up. 

“You’re exhausted already?” he asks, as if he were reading your mind. You look at him, confused how he could have known that. “Even under the makeup you’re still wearing from tonight, I can see the bags under your eyes. Look, they’re the same as mine,” he says, laughing, pointing to his eyes. 

“I just, I knew it was going to be hard, but wow, I never thought it would be like this,” you admit, laughing at how that sounds. Something worth it is never easy, so why should this be any different. 

“But you love it, so who cares?” he asks.

“Very true.” The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, surprised it wasn’t as awkward as you expected it to be. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

“Are you afraid of love?” you ask, bluntly. But after that night you met, you had to know. It had been swirling around in your head the time. The more you talked to him, the more you swear you could see yourself falling in love with him if you could spend time with him, like you were right now, but was it worth falling in love with someone who didn’t love you back? 

He looks slightly shocked at the question, but you could tell it was something he had thought about before. “Well, I wouldn’t say afraid. I just don’t think right now it’s worth it. I mean, before I moved to Vancouver, girls would say they liked me because they thought I was going to be a professional athlete. So I would end up falling for them, then when I wasn’t in the NHL fast enough for their liking, they would dump me, and I’d be left just, standing there,” he says, not making eye contact with you. You can see his face getting red, obviously getting a little upset but trying to hold it in. “I mean, I don’t have time, you’re the only girl I talk to at this point who isn’t dating one of the other guys and isn’t my mom.” 

You don’t know why, but hearing that from him made you want to cry. Unable to look at him, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from doing that, pushing the food on your plate around with your fork. You were right there, constantly flirting with each other while you were on the phone, anytime Quinn was with the guys you could hear them teasing him about how excited he got when your name popped up on his phone, or when your songs came on the radio. Your band knew that when you were alone, you were probably talking to Quinn, getting to the point where they had some sort of code word to talk about you and him. 

You thought he liked you. You were so close to getting him, and you thought that’s what he wanted. If he asked you out on a real date right then, not just two friends getting together, you would say yes with no hesitation. When is he going to understand that you aren’t those girls from his home who would dump him when he wasn’t doing what you wanted him to with hockey? Who does something like that anyway? 

-------

You felt like you were staring at him the entire time you were singing, knowing that he couldn’t take his eyes off you either. 

On Sunday you went home alone, there were tears in your eyes. I call your cell phone, my love, but you did not reply.

Another night on tour, another night where your schedule lined up with the Canucks away games. You had no idea where you were at this point, you just knew you were exhausted, leaving in the morning for the next city and planning on sleeping on the bus the entire time, praying there was no reason for anyone to bother you when you arrived in the next city Sunday night. After the show, Quinn had invited you out again, the guys celebrating some big win that you didn’t know the significance of. You really didn’t care that much, especially since it was something that made him happy, so you went along and met him anyway, despite the fact that your veins had more coffee and energy drinks coursing through them than they did actual blood. You were getting there after the guys were, trying to find their table. The bar was crowded enough as it was, trying to find them taking way too long.

“Where’s that singer girl?” one of them asked. You still didn’t know his teammates well enough by name to know who said it, all you could tell was that he was blonde.

“She should be on here by now,” Quinn says, checking his phone to see if you had sent him anything. He had no idea you were a few feet away.

“Look at Huggy bear, already whipped by a girl he won’t close on,” another one teases.

“Ok, first of all, I am not whipped. She’s my friend. Second off, we will not talk about her like that, regardless of if she’s coming here right now or not,” you hear Quinn trying to defend you, even though the boys kept teasing him about you. Whatever, part of your career was criticism, this was just part of it.

You finally make your way through the people to get to the table, Quinn’s eyes lighting up when he sees you. You had to admit, you melted a little seeing him, despite him just putting you in the friendzone, him not knowing that you heard that. But were you really ready to sit with his friends knowing that they were teasing him about you? 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Quinn whispers into your ear, pulling you in for a hug and sending chills down your spine. 

“And miss seeing you again? Please, I’m always up for seeing a friend,” you say. You swear he flinched when you said friend, but he said it first in your defense. You could already tell this night was going to end badly somehow, and none of you wanted to find out how.

He leads you over to the table of guys, none of them seeming to notice that you and Quinn had returned. The entire night was pretty much spent with Quinn pretty much ignoring you and only paying attention to the guys. They acted like you weren’t even there.

“I’m going to go get another drink,” you say, annoyed at Quinn, motioning to the empty bottle sitting in front of you.

Quinn nods, getting up with you “I’ll come with you.” You feel his hand on the small of your back, leading you from behind through the crowd to the bar. You couldn’t help your heart beating faster at this touch, something so intimate even though it probably meant nothing to him. The two of you sit down, you obviously bothered by the way the night was going. “Hey, I’m sorry for the guys,” Quinn apologizes, studying your face, “Are you ok?”

“No,” you admit. “You’ve been ignoring me the entire night. What’s the matter with you?” 

He bites his lip, looking back and forth between you and the guys while he tries to figure out what to say. “The guys think I’m falling in love with you so they tease me about it.”

You stare at him for a moment. Could the guys be right? Could Quinn actually have the same feelings about you that you did for him? “Well are you?” you ask, knowing that it was the alcohol in your system.

“Am I what?”

“Are you falling in love with me?”

“No.”

“Oh,” is all you can let out, looking down at the drink the bartender had given you. You didn’t want to drink it. Honestly, you just wanted to throw it in his face and storm out. You couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. You look up at him, his face red, him not able to make eye contact with you. He was lying. You know he was.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice small and wavering like he was about to cry.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You can, too, fall in love, because you know what? I’m falling in love with you, and my schedule is just as busy as yours. So stop being afraid of letting people in because you don’t want to get hurt. All that does is hurt the people around you who are trying to care for you.” You sit there for a second, waiting for his response. When he doesn’t say anything, you get up and leave, before he can see you crying.

You take out your phone, trying to dial Bex as you make your way back to the hotel you were staying in. “Hey, babe, what’s up? It’s late.”

“I hate him,” you sob into your phone, knowing it wasn’t true. “He was so close to telling me he loved me, and he just looked at me and said he won’t.”

“Whoa, whoa, back up. What do you mean?” she says. You recount the night to her, Quinn not paying attention to you and then pretty much breaking your heart right there. “Ugh. what a bitch. He should be lucky to love you.”

You can’t help but smile, even though you were still upset about what had happened. You hear your phone beeping. Taking a look at the incoming call, you decline it, “He’s trying to call me.”

“Nope. Don’t answer.”

“Not gonna. Not for a while.” 

-------

You open your eyes, not even realizing that you had them closed. For a moment, it seemed like you were just singing to him, no one else around you even though you knew the venue was full.

When your lips are on my lips, and our hearts beat as one, but you slip out of my fingertips every time you run.

“So how does it feel knowing that this is the last night of your first full tour,” Bex says on the other end of the phone. The last night was in Vancouver, meaning that all of your friends who said goodbye to you three months ago finally got to see you again, and go out and celebrate with you again. 

“I’m so ready to sleep in my own bed, I’m fucking exhausted,” you tell her, sitting in the dressing room and looking at yourself in the mirror. You still had three more hours before you were supposed to take the stage, but you could already hear the audience going crazy. It felt so surreal, traveling around America and performing in front of thousands of people every night. You had never in your wildest dreams thought you would actually be doing this.

Your thoughts and reminiscing are interrupted by a knock on your door. “Hey, Bex. I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight? You have the passes ready to see me right after the show?”

“Yep, love ya, you’re gonna kill it. See ya,” she says, hanging up.

“Come in!” you call, not getting up from your seat. You were sure it was your manager, who always insisted that you stay in your seat instead of ‘tiring yourself and using energy to get the door.’ The door opens, seeing him in the reflection of your mirror. Practically jumping out of your chair, you run over to him, having not seen him since that night you left crying. “What are you doing here?”

The two of you had been talking again, but it took a while for you to be able to get comfortable with him again. Being told that someone refuses to fall in love with you is heartbreaking, especially when you were in love with them. But at this point, all you had to do was focus on the tour and repress your feelings, and you were doing pretty well until you saw him in your doorway.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Quinn says, his hands snaking their way around your waist. His lips crash to yours, you stunned by what was going on before relaxing into it. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging the soft strands when his grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your mind went blank, still unable to process that he was actually here.

He finally pulls away, your foreheads resting against each other, both of you with smiles on your face. “I don’t understand?” you say. He said he couldn’t love you. You talked all the time about how you weren’t really the ‘hook-up types.’ So why did he just kiss you? Why was he here before your show?

“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, “I don’t want the pain of losing someone, so I close myself off. You are everything to me. I don’t think I let myself fall in love because I never found someone who I could see myself being with until I met you.”

“You’re not going to run away this time, are you?”

“No.”

Another knock at your door startles you before you can say or do anything else. Your manager pokes their head in, “We need you for the pre-show warm-ups?” they ask, as if you were able to say no. “Are you staying here or finding a seat?” they motion to Quinn.

“Finding a seat,” he says, running his hand through his hair. 

“I’ll see you after?” you say to him, giving him another quick kiss before running out to get ready for the final show of the tour.

-----

You finish the song, the crowd cheering. You find Quinn and the boys sitting in their seats. You go through the rest of the show, still not able to pry your eyes away from Quinn. The second you saw him sitting the crowd, you nearly started crying; he had said he wasn’t going to be able to see you on this tour because of his hockey season. So not only did he technically lie, he surprised you and took all the guys to see you perform, too. 

After the show, you can hear the guys coming back to see you through the closed door of your dressing room. Opening it before they can knock, you nearly knock Quinn over, jumping into his arms and kissing him right in front of the guys.

“Who woulda thought that Q here would have actually landed a girl?” Brock asks.

“Hey, it was bound to happen at some point, look at the child,” Jake adds, “Even if it was with someone who sings about love all the time,” he teases you.

“I make just as much money as you do and all you do is chase a small rubber thing over a slippery surface. At least I create music people listen to while most of your fans just yell at you to shoot the puck,” you shoot back, the guys laughing.

“Come on, give her a break,” Quinn finally adds, “I mean look at her, how could I not love her?” he asks, the guys groaning at how mushy he was as as you plant a kiss on his cheek. 

[hydra-collector]

touch

AO3

Ship: Analogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders

TW: drinking mention, panic attack, food

Words: 1796

Summary: Neither Virgil nor Logan are particularly touchy people, but they become more and more comfortable with it as they grow closer.

Note: High school AU

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you consider us friends?”

“I mean, yeah, we’re sitting at the same lunch table and we’ve pretty consistently talked for like, a month. It doesn’t take too long for me to consider people friends.”

“Ah. Do you mind if we make an agreement for how we should proceed in our friendship, just to lay out some ground rules so neither of us overstep a boundary or don’t know when someone needs help? It could really be anything.”

“Oh, sure, I guess. Do I get to add on?”

“Considering friendship implies that both sides are as important as the other, I think it would be inappropriate if I didn’t let you.”

Logan began pulling out his binder, taking a piece of scrap paper from inside. He scribbled a title and the beginnings of a list.

“First thing, I would prefer if you didn’t take my glasses. Some people do it quite often as a joke, and it’s extremely irritating, especially considering I can barely see without them.”

“Okay, teach. How about… if I have a panic attack you- no, I can’t ask you to-”

“If what you’re asking is just that you’d like me to help you, I don’t see why that’s unreasonable.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Logan tapped his pen on the table as he considered what to add next.

“You can ask me for help on your homework, but I won’t give you answers.”

“Damn it.”

“You have to learn the material, Virgil.”

“Fine. So, if either of us has a crush or something, the other person will try to give them the courage to tell them.”

“That’s fair. It’s something friends usually do, right? I don’t have very many.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Okay, next thing. If I text you asking where you are, whether we were going to meet up or I’m simply concerned, you have to answer if you can. I had a friend at one point that didn’t respond and it turned out that they’d been getting drunk, and no one was even with them.”

“I can promise I’m not gonna get drunk.”

“Wouldn’t you appreciate someone that makes sure you didn’t get abducted or something anyway?”

“...Yeah, I guess.”

They sat there for a moment, both trying to decide what to add. Virgil looked up for a moment, seeming to think of something.

“Okay, so do you have any problems with touching?”

“Touching?”

“Yeah like, would it bother you if I tapped your shoulder to get your attention, or pulled you by the hand to get you to go somewhere, or hugged you if you have a mental breakdown or something?”

“I don’t have any particular qualms about it, but I do find it awkward if I don’t know someone very closely. Are you specifically affectionate with your friends?”

“Nah, I’m pretty much like you. I guess if it happens, it’s usually fine. Although I’d prefer it if you asked during panic attacks.”

Logan nodded, noting it at the end of the list.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it, I think.”

~~

Virgil sat beside Logan, hand holding up his chin as he neglected the bangs covering his eyes. They were set on his homework, a pencil resting in his other hand.

“I understand what I’m doing now, but I still don’t get how. Do I put this here or-”

Logan pushed Virgil’s hand to the other side of the equation, copying the number there instead.

“It doesn't go beside the va- Virgil, are you alright?”

He wore an odd expression on his face, looking between this hand and Logan.

“Oh, yeah, I’m… continue, I just zoned out for a second.””

“Okay. It doesn’t go beside the variable because…”

~~

Virgil caught up with Logan, who was seemingly heading home. He had a bit of money he’d been meaning to spend after school, and who better to share a meal with than Logan? He’d never eaten the school lunches (to be fair, neither did Virgil) but he wasn’t sure if he brought anything today, so he likely hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He usually brought lunch, or snacks at least, especially with his lectures about good eating schedules.

“Hey, Lo.”

“Hello, Virgil.”

“Wanna go get something to eat? I’m feeling particularly altruistic. Plus, nobody’s home right now so I’ll have no one to hang out with.”

“Well, I suppose I don’t have anything to do. Except homework. I always start on my homework the moment-”

Virgil rolled his eyes, grabbing Logan’s arm and bringing him to the bus stop at a jog.

“Virgil-”

“It takes you what, an hour to do your homework? You can spare a little time to hang out and chill with me. Do you go anywhere like, ever?”

Virgil dropped his arm when he realized he‘d been holding it. He busied himself by pulling out bus money.

“Plus, we can go to that cafe you told me you liked. It’ll be fun.”

“I go places, Virgil.”

“When was the last time you went somewhere that isn’t your house, my house, or school?”

“...Six weeks ago, I believe.”

“My point. Get on the bus.”

~~

“Today was awful.”

“It's only lunch, Virgil.”

Virgil put his head on his folded arms, silently hoping lunch would never end. He was pretty sure he just failed three tests and was about to fail another. He should probably employ study help from Logan, but he was so exhausted. And hungry. Aside from the tests, he’d forgotten both to eat breakfast and bring his lunch, which was probably another contributor to his awful mood.

“Are you going to eat? That usually seems to help if you’re feeling negatively.”

“Don’t have my lunch,” he mumbled through his sleeves.

“You can have mine. You told me earlier you have a test after lunch, you need it more than I do. I’m not very hungry anyway, I wasn’t even planning on eating it.”

“Oh. Are you sure?”

Logan fumbled through his bag, pulling out the box he kept it in.

“Sure.”

Virgil slid over, opening the box. He felt an arm wrap loosely around his shoulders. It wasn’t quite a hug. Virgil leaned slightly against Logan, eating quietly, unable to tear his mind off of the warmth in his chest.

~~

No, no no, not that song-

Words of death, destruction, and misery pounded at his head, trying to get in. Calming thoughts, he tried to replace them with. Think of beaches, and fluffy animals and Logan instead of-

Logan? Does Logan make you happy? Well we’re friends, friends- he doesn’t love you, he never will, not even platonically, you’re having such a fucking reaction to this-

“Virgil, can I touch you?”

Logan? Logan’s still here? Tell him yes, you need him- someone.

He managed a nod, feeling warmth cover his ears, felt Logan’s hands press them, blocking out the words. He leaned closer to the source of the warmth, burying his head as close as possible.

Is that okay? Will he hate me?

“Virgil, could you tell me about where you are and what you were just doing before this happened? Please remember where you are, the song isn’t real.”

“W-we’re in your room. I came here, because- because there wasn’t anybody home today and- and you s-said I could come talk and we- we were talking about music and we played My Chemical Romance but then they started playing that and I couldn’t breathe and I need my-”

He groped around for his backpack, digging desperately until he found his headphones. He put them on, holding them tight to his ears. Logan took his phone for him, opening YouTube because Virgil wasn’t really going to be able to use it at the moment with his hands so shaky.

“What do you want me to play?”

“Um- s-sometimes I listen to Be Calm when I have a panic attack but if you just wanna put some album on that’s fine too-”

He tried to breathe, feebly asking Logan to do the pattern, who tapped it out on his hand. He let the music consume him as it filled his ears. He leaned forward when it had been enough to calm his breathing back to normal. Logan wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him closer than they’d ever dared to be before. Virgil barely even noticed, just glad to have something warm offering comfort. After a while, he hugged him back, feeling his body relax a little from the touch.

“Thanks, Lo.”

~~

Fuck fuck fuck-

Virgil swore he was going to tell him today. He was going to say “I like you” and then get rejected or not. Simple. If he was rejected, their relationship would go back to normal and they would forget it even happened.

Will it go back to normal? Will he think you're weird or something and stop being friends with you?

He had to tell him.

Virgil had followed him to the bathroom. He knew it was a stupid idea, but he wouldn’t do it if he waited until after lunch, and he was pretty sure no one but Logan even used the bathroom next to the lunchroom.

“Logan can I talk to you?”

“Friends typically converse, so I don’t see why not.”

Do it quick. Don’t give yourself time to overthink it.

“I, um, I get it if you don’t- I’ll just- like you.”

“...Don’t people usually interact with those they enjoy the company of? I assume you would like me, based on the amount of time we spend together.”

“Like… romantically.”

There was a pause as Virgil looked at the floor, prepared for rejection. He would've seen the blush on Logan’s face if he dared to glance up.

“Of course, I get it if you don’t feel the same, we can be friends still, or if you don’t want to be friends anymore that’s fine too-”

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Virgil finally looked up, finding that Logan had approached him, standing close before him. He felt the warmth on his cheeks and could see it darkening on Logan’s face as well.

“...Yes.”

“Then please do.”

That was the invitation he needed, barely waiting a moment to crash his lips against Logan’s, his heart somersaulting and his mind wondering if this was possible.

He couldn’t help but press harder, turning them around so Logan was pressed up against the wall. He pressed his chest closer until he wasn’t sure it could get any closer. Logan’s glasses were pushed up by Virgil’s nose, his hands reaching up towards Virgil.

“Virgil-”

“Virgil can-”

“Do you want me to stop, I’m sorry, I can stop-”

“No just- will we have to come up with a new agreement?”

Virgil laughed quietly. “Oh, I guess. What, like boyfriend rules?”

Logan leaned back towards Virgil’s lips.

“Something like that.”

[ohthatsviolet]

Miroctane Anniversary Event Day One

Prompt: First Kiss 

Words: 901 

Ao3 link will be in the RBs

Octavio had wanted to kiss him since they'd left the diner. They'd been on a date and they'd had a really nice evening. It wasn't their first ever date but it was the first time they'd been on one since they'd established what their relationship was. Elliott had put the question forward earlier that day and the pair had decided to become official. Their situation was complicated. A string of hook-ups and miscommunications and understandings had somehow led them to this. As far as Octavio was concerned, it was okay. He'd heard the whispering and assumptions that floated around the dropship from his fellow Legends. What he and Elliott were was no one's business but their own and originally Octavio hadn't cared what they labeled themselves as long as they got to spend time together.

But now, sitting on this park bench with the stars twinkling over his head and Elliott by his side he was beginning to feel differently. The reality of what today had brought was beginning to settle in. He had a boyfriend. He had a partner. He'd somehow stumbled into his first ever relationship and as happy as he was that Elliott wanted to be with him, something about wearing this new label was scaring him and holding him back. Usually, if he wanted something he would reach out and take it. Instead, he was just sitting here, awkwardly toying with the straw stuck in his empty milkshake cup while Elliott sat beside him in a comfortable silence. He felt like he should say something. He set his cup to the side and planted his hands on the bench as if he was trying to brace himself for some sort of impact. It took him a few moments to register the new feeling of warmth under his palm and he looked down seeing he'd placed his hand over Elliott's without intending to. However, the trickster didn't seem put off by the gesture. He was smiling at him and Octavio wasn't entirely sure but it seemed like he had let out a small sigh of relief. Had he been overthinking this whole situation too?

Octavio wasn’t sure why but he felt an awful lot of pressure to get this right. Maybe it had something to do with him now having claim to one of Solace City’s most attractive men. It wasn’t even an opinion, it was a well known fact thanks to a stupid magazine that couldn’t even get it right. To him, Elliott Witt was the most attractive man in Solace City, on Solace itself and maybe even the entire Outlands. But it wasn’t just his pretty face or modelesque body that made him so lovely. It couldn’t be. Octavio had seen many pretty faces in his life but none of them ever made him feel like this. None of them had ever made his heart race like this or made the idea of his metal knees going weak a possible reality. None of them ever made him feel like he was walking on air instead of falling; though for Elliott, Octavio would happily fall into whatever this was and never come back out.  None of them ever made him want to just...sit down and take in the sights for a change instead of barrelling in headfirst without thinking. But right here, right now Octavio could just sit here forever and happily take in the view. And what a view it was...

God, he was beautiful. Octavio felt like every time he looked at him he was noticing something new. The little mole by his nose. The way one side of his mouth always curled more than the other when he smiled. How his eyes sparkled when he laughed and how he'd always bite down slightly on his lip after telling a joke of his own until he knew it had landed. Those lips… "I had a really nice time to-" "This was awesome and I-" They both paused, chuckling quietly when they realised they'd both tried to talk at the same time. "You go," Elliott offered, making the runner rub at his tattoo nervously. "I just...wanted to say that this was awesome. And you're awesome and I'm just...really happy." "Aw," Elliott hummed, affectionately. "You're cute. And me too! I...I'm happy I mean. Not the, uh, the cute thing." "Nah, you can be cute."

Elliott smiled at the compliment and placed his arm over the runner's shoulders, resting it on the back of the bench. Octavio leaned into his touch before he'd ever realised it and turned his face to meet Elliott's, only now noticing how close they were. Their eyes met and Octavio swore his heart was hammering more in this moment than it ever had with stim. His hand slid onto Elliott's thigh and moved towards to rest on his hip while the trickster's moved to lightly stroke his cheek before cupping his face. They leaned in and it felt so right when their lips met, that Octavio found himself wondering why he'd been so nervous. They kept their movements slow but meaningful. Octavio's fingers curled into the fabric of Elliott's shirt, pulling his warmth closer towards him and never wanting to let go.

It wasn't their first kiss but it was the first time they'd kissed where Octavio felt like he truly belonged and in turn, Elliott belonged to him.

[leandrafoxxo]

So..

I’m planning on creating a larger fanwork to continue and deepen the story of Junpei and Chidori from Persona 3, making it a mix of drawings and writing. Whenever I get an idea I write down a scene or draw a sketch and keep it, hoping that one day I will have accumulated so much that I will be able to shape it all into a proper story. I’ve shown drawings, but I’ve never shown anything that I’ve written before, so.. If you’re interested feel free to read on and leave some feedback as well. It would be great to talk to mutuals more! (little edit: I’ve been thinking about adding a part where Junpei dreams of being with her and because he has quite some of her life energy left with him she ends up having the same dream. I’d have to change things a little bit, but that could be interesting, too.)

"Hey, Chidori."

Junpei scratched his neck as he looked down a tad, but his gaze was caught by hers again, which was directed at him curiously, waiting for his response.

"Ah, I was just wondering, you know, whether you've got some time to spare.. like, on Sunday?"

She nodded in reply.

' I do.. why is it you ask? '

"Well, I thought we could.. you know, only if you'd like, but.."

- Ahw come on man, say it already! - he thought by himself before gathering his courage.

Under her curious gaze he finally managed to ask her.

"Would you like to.. catch a movie with me? They have some good ones at the theatre nearby.. Or anything you like, really, I'm not picky."

Just as long as he could spend more time with her.

Chidori kept looking at him for another second, then averting her gaze downwards, blinking, smiling a tad before she looked up to him again.

' I'd like that. ' she finally gave for an answer, which made Junpei smile in relief.

"Sweet! Sunday’s still okay, right?”

‘ If you don’t mind it being in the afternoon, yes. I wanted to go visit the old lady that keeps the flowershop, she wanted to have a cup of tea with me. ‘ she explained, seeming very happy that she would have so much good company.

“Ah, the old lady you’ve been telling me so much about? I’ve gotta meet her some time, too, she seems great!”

‘ She is. ‘ Chidori showed an earnest smile as she said that.  .

Junpei smiled back, getting a little more sheepish again. “So uh.. Wanna go back to the dorm again? We can think up something good for Sunday while we’re at it.”

‘ That sounds good, it’s getting a little colder again. I’m okay though. ‘ she said before Junpei could get worried. And so they carried on their conversation on their way back to the dorms. __________________________________________________________

Chidori was sitting on that very bench next to the flower shop at the Port Island Station.

It was a little early for her to be sitting there waiting already, yet she sat there, at some point growing tired of sketching flower bouquets.

As beautifully arranged as they may have been, somehow she just felt tired in general.

And as she drew, her thoughts drifted off and the flowers became more and more abstract, as though she'd be seeking to capture something entirely different.

Like that she closed her sketchbook and placed it to her left, directing her gaze towards all those wind turbines, eventually losing it in the sky and drifting off to sleep.

At first she was sleeping calmly before slowly all those pictures came up again.

Pictures she couldn't define, such that would only leave her with one feeling.

Longing for something.

She was longing for.. for someone? But who are you.. and where have you gone?

After a while she would wake up with this strong feeling again, but.. no, it felt different now.

The sun stood much lower than before, but alongside that...

' Jun..pei.? '

Chidori found herself leaning onto Junpei's shoulder.

He seemed to have fallen asleep right there, with both of them supporting their weight onto each other.

Puzzled and a tad flustered she looked up to him.

However, as she watched him sleep serenely, something became clear to her. _____________________________________________________________

"Alright, alright.. You got this. You're da man. Just.. keep their advice in mind and don't screw this up, that's all." he mumbled to himself, on his way to Port Island Station.

As he got out of the train he adjusted himself and got down the stairs.

Like that he reached the bench, but..

He checked the clock.

No, no he wasn't late at all. Good. But still..

He looked over at Chidori, who was fast asleep right there in front of him.

To be frank, he didn't really know how to deal with this situation.

But, to be frank, he genuinely liked that sight.

And thus he kept watching her for another moment before he sat next to her, carefully, as somehow he just didn't want to disturb her sleep.

So he was waiting.

Then, after a couple of minutes she grew to be restless.

At first he thought she'd be waking up and he was already thinking up something to greet her with before he noticed that she was still caught in her sleep.. was she dreaming?

But he wasn't left alone long enough to finish this thought, as he saw how his lady shifted around a tad before her balance changed in a way that would've sent her lying flat on the bench.

That is, if Junpei wouldn't have given up on the polite distance he kept at first.

Like this she leaned onto him now, even snuggling up to him a little before she got calmer.

Junpei on the other hand gathered all his mental power to stay still, blushing a good tad as he thought about just how incredibly glad he was that he just took a shower.

So like this, somehow, he actually managed to calm down, though he was still incredibly stoked about the situation.

After all, it's been so long since he last...

Nah, he didn't want to overthink that, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with her.

Hence he carefully - very carefully - leaned onto her just a bit more to catch some of her scent, gently leaning his head onto hers, watching her just a little while longer before he closed his eyes.

In this serene moment, he drifted off to sleep. ______________________________________________________________

' Junpei.? '

Somewhere inbetween sleeping and waking he heard a gentle voice calling his name.

' Hey, Junpei. '

Someone was trying to wake him, and eventually she succeeded.

Amber eyes looked up to him as Junpei looked back at her, just studying her for a moment.

"Huh.. I'm not dreaming.. now am I?" he mumbled towards her.

Chidori smiled and shook her head, snuggling into him a little more.

He blinked for another second before he turned a lot more red, sitting up all straight before he started to talk really quickly.

"I-I'm sorry! I, you were sleeping and -" ' Hey.. ' "- I just really didn't want to disturb you but, you, you know, all of a sudden -" ' Hey, Junpei.. ' "I mean I didn't want you to fall and get hurt and -" ' Junpei, please calm down! '

Despite calling out to him her voice was still gentle.

As she finally had a calmer Junpei next to her, looking at her in wonder, she began to chuckle at his sight, blushing a little.

And whilst his heart jumped a tad, she patted his shoulder gently.

' Don't worry.. It’s okay, really. I didn’t mind being with you like that. ' she replied, surprised how she was able to say that without getting sheepish, but she really meant that.

His eyes got wide and he blinked at Chidori another second before he scratched his neck with a big smile on his face.

"Heh, you really think so?"

There she shared a bench with a genuinely happy man.

As their gazes met the moment was broken by a clock signalizing how time had passed on in the background. It has gotten late, as the evening was not yet there, but the sun stood rather low.

"Ah- the movie!"

' It's almost over, huh? '

Junpei shrugged in reply, but then spoke up.

"Hey, uhm.. I know it could get later than we said, but, well, you wanna go over to the mall instead? Like, there's this nice cafe over there. It'll probably get dark, but I'll make sure to keep all those thugs away from you on the way back!"

He tried to look all tough for her, posing a little, which made Chidori smile.

And he couldn't say it wasn't part of why he did that, as he smiled back at her.

' Let's do that, then. ' she said, as she picked up her sketchbook, got up, and pulled at Junpei's sleeve gently.

She didn't need to tell him that twice, that was for sure.

They had to walk over there, but it wasn't that long and neither of them minded the other's company.

In fact something seemed to have changed.

[purple-nana]

Barriers

Part 9 - angst (maybe? oof)

1.5k words    ( Part of the Dorm of us Series)  

Warnings: Noneeeee

A/N: okie, first of all. IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING AN FREAKIN UPDATE. Cuz my pc is kinda busted rn so i hate it so much and i dont like using the mobile version to update :/. But anyways i'll try to updatee more often oncee my pc is back on track achu. Okie you may read now ehe, tysm for waiting! <3

You stared mindlessly at your plain, white and boring ceiling. The endless whoosing noises of the air conditioning continued to be the only source of sound as you lay in your bed.

Maybe, a screw went off in your head that staring into thin air now intrigues you so much.

Well, who wouldn't though? With all the events that happened this month, you were sure that anyone would also lose their mind when they finally get to rest.

It was still hard to believe for you. A month has already passed since—you and Jaemin became a thing.

You smiled to yourself. Jaemin was a really great boyfriend even if—you don't what a great boyfriend is really like since, you've never had one.

But nonetheless you still think that Jaemin is a great one—or so you thought.

The first day was rather interesting if you were being honest. The both of you agreed to meet up at an 'fancy' restaurant.

However, when the both of you were actually there—Jaemin didn't know what to do as well as you who was also completely clueless.

Ditching the fancy restaurant plan, the two of you end up in the park—again. It was nice though, you get to talk with him and play with him, overall it was a fun night.

That's when you thought that Jaemin indeed was a great guy and maybe choosing to be with him was the right choice.

But—things went downhill after that.

The next couple of dates were rushed and was unplanned. It happened almost everywhere. The park, the campus. Most times, it happened at Mcdonald's.

You would wait there for at least an hour before Jaemin arrives, the both of you will just catch up and talk but after that—Jaemin would immediately leave.

It was that time where things were crazy busy cause midterms were coming and your schedule and his were not-so alike to each other.

Due to that, you can't really complain. You expected him to give more time to you at the dorms since it was the only place that the two of you could hang out without interruptions.

But instead—he kept on locking himself inside of his room.

Haechan actually cleaned his room the first two weeks into the month so Jaemin got to move in to his room in a swift.

You don't want to overthink about it, but you can't help it.

But it was somehow—you were being treated differently.

If you were to compare yourself to his ex, which was Oh Miri. He used to be out frequently with the reason of he was going to see Miri.

You wanted to believe that it was because of the midterms that was causing you this overthinking but at the same time—it also makes sense.

There was this part of you that was screaming that this was wrong, and another is telling you that Jaemin was really at fault.

It's giving you a headache.

You just want to get over with this and talk to him, the more you kept your mouth shut, the more you get these thoughts.

You just—want it to stop.

A knock on the door caused you to stop floating in your thoughts. And speaking of the devil, there was Jaemin, peeking his head through the small gap of the door.

You raised your eyebrow at him giving him the look of 'what?'.

He completely understood and went inside of your room. You were confused as to why the heck was he dressed?

"Want to go out?" He asks, placing his palms in his pockets.

You furrowed your eyebrows, surprised that he wasn't 'busy' nor locking himself. "Aren't you busy?" You answered with a question.

He shrugs. "Nah, I have two hours, come on." He said pulling your arm as usual.

You panicked, would this guy really want to go out when he was fully dressed and you aren't? You were wearing a tank top and shorts for pete's sake.

You pulled you arm from him and he looked at you surprised. "You prick! You really want me to go out in this?" You widened your eyes at him, pointing at your clothing which was embarrassing.

He straightened his posture and looks at you from top to bottom, as if he was evaluating you.

"It looks fine to me." He says in confusion.

You face-palmed yourself. Was this guy really dumb or what. Whatever it is you aren't going out in this state.

"Uh-uh, I ain't going out like this," You pushed him out of the room, "now sir please kindly leave the room, I need to change." You sarcastically said in a sing-song voice.

"I could just stay there you know." Jaemin smirks at you, raising his eyebrows in an up and down motion.

You glared at him.

"Okay okay! But make it quick!"

"Whatever!" You slammed the door in his face, quickly making your way to your closet.

Exactly as what you thought, everything still hasn't changed except for the fact that you two are together now.

You pulled out an t-shirt in frustration. Leaning against the closet you thought of ways to tell Jaemin.

Cause you weren't staying silent anymore, you were done.

This overthinking has to end.

"What do you mean?" Jaemin asks you, his eyebrows shot towards the ceiling.

You can't believe him.

"What do you mean you don't know Jaemin? Are you that oblivious to not see how frustrated am I?," you rage at him, jaws clenching, " Or or—you're pretending to not know anything?" You can't help but raise your voice at him.

Not caring about the people who had their eyes on the both of you.

Jaemin slightly bows his head as a way to apologize to the other customers who were also inside the establishment, hoping that they would start to mind their own business before he talks to you.

He looks at you in frustration, he was clearly holding himself from erupting like an volcano. It wouldn't be good if he as well would throw his anger.

"Y/n look, we can talk about this just please—" he looks around the people close to your table, "not here."

You massaged your temples, calming yourself cause you might not be able to the next time around.

You sighed. "I'm so fed up with this Jaemin. I don't want to think about it this way hence the reason why I stayed silent but—I can't take it anymore." You respond to him.

Jaemin remained silent, as if he was asking you the other for more details.

"I-i just don't know what to do about this anymore, I know you're busy and all that but at least—at least make time for me, please make me feel that i'm now your girlfriend Jaemin." You closed as you feel tears form around them.

Jaemin's face softened, he was guilty that he didn't know you were feeling this way. "Y-yn...you are my girlfriend." He mumbles.

"Well yeah?" You raised your eyebrow at him, "I don't feel like it. I still feel like im the y/n who was your bestfriend, not y/n as your girlfriend." You confessed to him.

He was shock at the very least. Jaemin was completely clueless, he might've gotten himself a bit too engrossed with the fact that the exams were coming and—set aside your relationship.

"Y/n I swear, that's not what it is—"

"But it is Jaemin," you cut him off, "I want to be treated as your girlfriend. I want to go to amazing dates, be gifted with flowers you know?"

"I-i thought you didn't like those?" Jaemin questions.

Must be because you were uncomfortable during that first date. But you doesn't mean that you didn't like it!

"I do Jaemin! I just to experience that I'm now your girlfriend, because from the looks and feels of it—it isn't." you repeat.

The both of you stayed silent for a while, not having any more to say.

You decided, it must be good for the both of you to breath out some air before talking about this once again.

You stood up, ready to leave that damned Mcdonald's when Jaemin grabbed your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

You showed him the time. "2 hours is up, you're busy right?" You grinned sarcastically at him, your smile immediately fading as you packed your things.

Jaemin was flustered, he didn't know what else to say but he was sure that the both of you need to talk this out.

"We need to talk about this Y/n." His grip on your wrist, insisting that you should stay.

You pulled your wrist from him, grabbing your purse.

"We'll talk when you finally realize that I'm now your girlfriend, not your best friend who you can treat like shit." You remarked, immediately leaving the place with fast steps.

Leaving Jaemin dumbfounded in his seat.

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[queen-scribbles]

Breather

Oh, look, another @speakergame​ fic for Phillip. It’s only fair, right? Callie has one with Delia and one with Sebastian, so now Phillip has one with Steph and one with Rory. EQUALITY. :P (vaguely spoiler-adjacent, technically, for the end of the last update.)

----

The human body did have its limits, and no amount of dread or determination could overrule them forever. So while rotating drivers meant they didn’t have to stop overnight on their dash back to Nivio, back to people who could help, who would know what was wrong with Stephanie(and, by extension, him), they would have to make brief pauses at a couple rest stops along the way.

They made it an hour or so into Colorado before the first one. While part of Phillip chafed at the delay, the part that desperately needed a breather, needed to stretch his legs kept him from going insane. He and Steph (and Lily) were all too familiar with the importance of not sitting too long, but under the circumstances he almost wished they were pushing “too long” even further than they already had.

So he paced. Rapid, driven figure-eights around a pair of empty weather-beaten picnic tables, occasionally widening to loop a nearby clump of prairie grass. Arms crossed, head... somewhere. There was too much on his mind for a specific chain of thought.

He was so drowning in that too much he almost walked slap-bang into Rory.

She rocked back on one heel with a sound that was almost a yelp to avoid their collision, then grinned. “Okay, much as I would have deserved that, I do come in peace.” She held up a pair of small crinkly orange and white bags. “With snacks.”

One side of his mouth made a brief attempt at a sheepish smile and he raked one hand through his hair. “Sorry. And thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

Rory shrugged and tucked the bag she’d offered in the pocket of her flannel shirt. “Alright, more for me.” She plunked down on one of the picnic tables, feet braced on the bench seat, and had the other bag tugged open before she paused to look at him. “Unless you wanna be alone with whatever thoughts have you all.... like that.” She swirled a hand in a general encompassing gesture toward him and Phillip couldn’t help huffing a small laugh.

“Nah, you’re fine,” he assured her, voice still hoarse and breaking from the aftermath of Cammore. He’d kill for another good cup of tea.

Rory nodded and fished a pretzel nugget out of the bag. “Okay, 'cause I saw you over here by yourself an’ thought you might want company, but just realized some people like to be alone sometimes, so I don’t wanna intrude if you’re one of those people. ‘Specially with all the shit you have going on right now."

This time he couldn’t stop a full laugh. “I am one of those people, but this is not one of those times. I just needed room to pace. Your- Company’s prob’ly a good thing; distract from the radio static in my head.”

She wrinkled her nose sympathetically and tossed the pretzel nugget in the air, leaning sideways to catch it in her mouth. “Well, then, I’m happy to distract you, Phillip.”

He liked the way she said his name, barely managed to keep from saying so in his frazzled, sleep-deprived state. “Thanks."

Rory studied him as he paced and she chewed. “I’d say you can take a seat, but after all that time in a car, you probably wanna stretch those long legs, huh?”

“Yeah.” Especially with Lily driving and Sebastian up front again; he’d been squished in one of the back end seats with Steph practically in his lap. Not a bad thing, given the circumstances, but still very cramped. (He decided not to overthink long legs. His height was pretty obvious and he’d already blushed far too much around this woman to be reading extra meaning into things she said. Even if she did think it was cute.)

Despite the mention of distraction, neither of them spoke through his next couple figure eights. Rory made a good show of catching the pretzel nuggets each time she flicked one in the air. Phillip’s pacing showed as he watched.

“See something you like?” Rory teased when she caught him and his ears started burning immediately.

“No- I mean, that’s not...” Phillip groaned and suppressed the urge to yank his jacket’s hood up over his face. “You’re good at that” --a nod toward the snack bag--”and I-I’m impressed.”

“With my snack-catching skills?” She grinned. “Fitting, I guess, huh? Considering the whole.... were-something thing..”

He laughed. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

Rory cocked her head, fiddling with the next pretzel nugget a moment before tossing it up. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s something cool.” She flicked the pretzel nugget up and leaned forward to catch it.

Phillip shrugged. “I think it’s cool in general, whatever your animal form winds up being.” He didn’t mention the year in elementary school he’d spent wishing he was a werecat instead of a Speaker. They hadn’t known each other quite long enough for that. Yet.

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said with a light laugh. “So. How ‘bout you?” She picked out another pretzel.  “How’re your snack catching skills?”

“I do alright,” he said, a brief smile tugging his lips. “Better’n my sister, anyway.”

Rory’s grin widened and she patted the table next to her. “Lemme see.”

Phillip only hesitated the barest second before taking her up on the playful challenge. He sat next to her--closer than he normally would have to avoid what looked like bird droppings--and took the bag of snacks she passed him.

The first one he caught. Second one bounced off his nose but did go in his mouth. Third one he missed because Rory was giggling about the second one.

The fourth one he leaned so far back to catch she had to grab his arm to keep him from falling off the table. The fifth one, at least, was a clean catch that allowed him to reclaim some of his dignity.

“See?” Phillip mumbled around the mouthful of pretzel and cheese.  “I’m okay, but not as good as you.”

“Mmhm,” Rory laughed as she balled up her snack bag and tucked it in her pocket. “I did see.”

Phillip half-smiled in answer to the twinkle in her hazel eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. He wished this could just be what it looked like; sitting on a rest stop picnic table with a pretty girl, goofing off with snack food and not minding how silly they looked. But his throat was still sore and he could see Rory’s scars and couldn’t quite forget the shaken, pissed look in Steph’s, or that Lily didn’t know what was going on.

The distraction had been nice while it lasted.

“Thanks,” he said softly, fishing out another pretzel and eating it normally. 

“Don’t mention it.” Rory raked a hand through her hair, curls tumbling even more helter-skelter behind the motion. She nudged his knee with her own. “Least I can do after how much you’ve all helped me.”

Phillip opened his mouth to protest, but just then Samson trotted over and stuck his head against the hand not holding a mostly empty bag of pretzels. Phillip’s first instinct was something happened to Stephanie, but a quick glance showed her in conversation with Sebastian and Az and seemingly just fine. (Considering) So he scritched Samson’s ears instead as he commented to Rory, “You say that like you haven’t done anything else to help.” 

“Well, you did save my life and all,” she said with a shrug. “And I gotta wonder what the dreaming about you thing means, so call it curiosity coupled with gratitude.”

“Just don’t want you thinking you owe us or anything...” His voice started cracking again and he let the end trail off.

Rory flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you should hold off on the talking?”

“Leave it all to you?” Phillip asked hoarsely, glad the playful intent still carried in the words.

“Well, I am good at it,” she laughed. 

He nodded and smiled and scratched under Samson’s chin, watching black wisps drift off the dog’s rapidly wagging tail. 

They lapsed into silence a moment before Rory started humming. Phillip cocked his head a few bars in, vaguely recognizing the tune.

“That’s a song,” he mumbled, more to Samson than Rory, but she still paused.

“Uh-huh.”

Way to state the obvious, his thoughts jibed. “No, I mean, I know it, but don’t remember from where...” His hand stilled on Samson’s neck a moment later. “Cammore. When...” I was screaming myself hoarse. “You sang it while you were sitting with me.”

Rory’s brows arched and she leaned forward to brace her forearms against her knees. “Wow, yeah. You heard that?”

“Not... really?” Phillip said slowly. “It’s more an... impression than a memory, if that makes sense? Like, I don’t remember the words or anything but the melody’s familiar?”

She nodded and grinned. “Oh, good, I don’t have to worry about my singing voice scaring you off.”

“That wouldn’t be a risk anyway,” he mumbled, not realizing it had been out loud until her grin widened.

“Charmer,” she winked. “But yeah, you’d been screaming and I'd been babbling and sorta... ran out of things to say for a minute, and it seemed like a good idea?”

“What song was it?” Phillip resumed petting Samson at an irritated wuff(which came from behind him rather than by his knee).

“Welsh lullaby,” Rory said. She ran a hand through her hair again. “I dunno, a lullaby seemed fitting, somehow.”

“Well, if I heard it enough for it to make an impression, seems like it helped.”

“Good point.”

He hesitated a moment before asking, “Could you teach me?”

“What, the lullaby?”

“Yes, and, um, Welsh in general, too?”

She shrugged. “Dunno how good a teacher I’ll be, but we can give it a shot.” A teasing grin split her face, crinkling scars and freckles alike. “Do you actually wanna learn, or is this a way of spending time with me? ‘Cause you don’t need an excuse for that.”

“...Both?” God, he’d love to blame the way the word squeaked on his half-gone voice, but from the heat climbing his neck, that was no more than partly to blame.

Rory bit her lip, graciously holding back whatever remark had sprung to mind, and tugged one of her curls. “Your honesty is appreciated. So, you like languages? Not many people out there with a burning desire to learning Welsh for the heck of it. "

Phillip nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Aside from English I only speak Russian and maybe a smattering of Spanish and Latin, but I’ve been wanting to learn another for a while.”

“Russian?” She arched a brow.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”

“Ah. Well, it looks like it’s one you’ll have to tell me back in your town.” Rory craned her neck to look toward where the others were all congregating in the direction of the cars and her motorcycle. “Seems the break’s over.” She squeezed his knee as she pushed to her feet and hopped down. “C’mon, Prince Charming, time to hit the road.”

Right. The road back to Nivio. To figure out what the hell was going on.

She’d done a very good job distracting him from that. It was blessing enough he wouldn’t question the nickname. (yet.) But reality could only be ignored or avoided for so long, and in this case especially there could be serious consequences for pushing it too far.

So Phillip climbed down from the table with a sigh and whistled for Samson to follow as he headed back to his car. It was his turn to drive, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

There was one last pretzel nugget in the bag when he went to crumple it, and he pulled it out to eat before throwing the bag away. No point wasting and besides--he waved at Rory as her bike purred to life--every little bit helped.

(He didn’t just mean the snacks.)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 142

142

Keith was still drunk. Waking his boyfriend, Keith squinted at the world with a pained groan. Lance having taken the cannula out so Keith couldn’t hurt himself with it. Seeing their big blow up had been about 1pm, Matt had brought Keith back about 3pm, and they’d had dinner at 7:30pm, his boyfriend had had about 4 and a half hours sleep when Lance woke him up at 8:30pm after watching Keith sleep and staying close in case of nightmare. Lance wanted him to fall back to sleep while he went for his walk, but then Keith latched on, arms around his waist, face pushed up against Lance’s belly, and shook his head. Lance found he didn’t really mind if it was Keith joining him. His boyfriend wouldn’t push, even if he needed those little pushes to keep working on his mental health. Keith had been so hurt to learn Miriam passed suddenly, and he’d blown up. A walk along the beach sounded like what they needed, especially when Lance liked to be gone for hours at a time.

Bundling Keith up, Keith’s walk was more a stagger. Normally Lance would nap longer and go later, but with Keith around he had think of him first. Instead of holding hands, they had their arms around each other’s waists. Keith leaning into him, both carrying their shoes

“Babe, if you want to go back, it’s okay”

“Nah... Fresh air is supposed to be good”

“Mmm, but maybe when you’re not drunk”

“I only had... I think... 9 shots...”

“You should be black out passed out then”

“But then I’d miss seeing you... I love you”

“I know you do”

“I didn’t mean to get so drunk, but... Mami’s gone and I don’t know what to do without her”

Keith had such a soft heart

“She loved you. She was so proud of you. I can say that because she told me at least a dozen times and would always ask if I’d heard from you and how you were and what you were up to”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much in Rome. It was fucking bullshit! All fucking day going over the same shit again and again and sitting there listening, over and over and over. I was going insane. It was like... if they could just meet you. None of their holier than pious bullshit about all vampires being human enemies. It was like, I wanted to hit them all. You were so brave and they were like “Your opinion doesn’t count! You knocked him up! You betrayed our holier than thou ancient institution. Fuck them. You’re like the best man out of all us”

Keith was drunk enough to let these things slide off his tongue, and sobering up enough to groan at his voice getting louder

“How... did you... convince them that...”

Keith shook his head at Lance’s hesitant question

“Allura. She got so super angry that they couldn’t do anything. She like laid out all the facts about you how you’d never drunk from a living person and how you worked helping people and how I’m the reason you turned and how if they took my soulmate away, VOLTRON would no longer cooperate and how they’d lose peace with the covens and packs and basically I was terrified of her”

She’d do that for him?

“No way...”

“Yes way. We love you, you idiot crumpet. Even Matt and Rieva came back. They gathered the others when we had to go rescue stupid Loturd”

Now they were getting closer to Keith finally telling him everything that happened, instead of him telling him in pieces

“How did that happen?”

“Well because Sendak was dead all these vampires started playing up in Zarkon’s territory. Like, he must have sent word about his return then didn’t come back and Lotor went ahead and promptly got himself in trouble. Then Matt and Rieva rallied their allies like Rieva’s mum and dad are hella connected. Like way too connected and we couldn’t just fly up there so we had make our way up all sneaky sneaky, and I kept wanting to go home, but I had to be a good person. My head hurts thinking about it. It was like total shit”

And there keith went. Walking straight for the goal, only to veer off at the last moment, literally. His boyfriend nearly falling over gesturing wildly with his free arm

“Okay. Okay, calm down. It sucked”

“It did! Mum had to do Blade stuff and she came late. And like, we had a whole bunch of us. James and the wolf pack like really like Matt”

“You’re saying “like” an awful lot”

“I like you...”

Lance could have facepalmed. Still, Keith being rude and angry was proving to remind him of all the things he loved about his little anger loaf

“I like you, too. What happened next?”

“That fucktard, hear that Lotor, you’re a fuck-knuckle! Well he got on the bad side of mum and dad evil. Allura went and introduced herself and us, you know how she is, no one can’t love Allura. She’s like the bomb. You should have Zarkon’s mansion. It was like... huge... So we had to find him and the others and like Ezor was pissed. Zethrid kept making jokes... she was disappointed you weren’t there... and she kept touching my hair. I don’t like it”

Lance sighed to himself. Maybe this was a conversation for him and “sober Keith” to have. Because right now, nothing made any sense. How did they get in if they had all these people? How did they get Lotor out? Where was Honerva? Was Lotor okay? Was he now ruling Zarkon’s territory? And what happened to Allura? Was her heart broken all over again. He sincerely hoped not. Allura was like a sister to him. Her happiness well and truly deserved ten times over. Keith gesturing wildly again had Lance pulling him up tighter

“Babe, you need to calm...”

Keith cut him off with a very frustrated groan

“Then when we do get out, that Zarkon decides he’s gonna kill Lotor, and Lotor’s like “ya’ll never loved my arsehole as it was”. Fucker threw me off the balcony like I was nothing when I tried to stab him. Fucking busted my ribs up and then I was saved by James! James! He was all like “you could take a lesson from your boyfriend”. Wanker. Managed to shoot Zarkon but he didn’t care”

Maybe he should have been recording this? No. It was probably safer not to. Keith would feel utterly humiliated, instead of lovingly teased, even if Lance was the only one to ever hear the recording. Keeping calm, he tried not to let his heart hurt as much as it did that Keith gotten himself hurt again

“Sounds like a lot happened”

His boyfriend groaned at him

“You have no idea... ugh, can we sit for a bit? I feel sick”

“You’re not going to throw up on me again, are you?”

Keith shook his head, with another groan

“I can’t even remember throwing up... I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have drunk so much...”

“You’ve got a lot going on”

“But so do you... I mean, I wasn’t here for three months! Who does that to the man they love?!”

“Babe, it’s okay. Here, calm down and we’ll sit up here away from the water”

“Three months isn’t okay”

Keith cooperated with him, Lance getting him seated a little way past the high tide mark. Sitting beside his boyfriend, Keith dropped his head to rest on Lance’s shoulder

“I feel so messed up”

“Tequila will do that”

“I was all ready to come home to you and you weren’t even there”

“I know, but babe, you know it wasn’t three months”

“Yes it was. Fucking December, January and now its February. That’s three”

Oh. His poor sweet boyfriend. Keith felt guilty for missing a month he’d only missed a day or two, an entirely different thing to missing the whole month. Gently, Lance tried to break it to him

“Babe, it was December and January. It was only in January and like a day in February that I didn’t hear from you”

“It’s three months”

“It’s two, babe. You didn’t leave on the first of December and even if you did, it wouldn’t be three months until next month. I promise”

“Then why’s there three?”

“Because you’re overthinking”

“Felt like three years...”

Three years without Keith... He barely made it two. His heart really would have broken repair of his boyfriend was gone that long

“I would have punched you in the dick if you left me alone for that long”

“I would have punched me in the dick too... Lance, I think I’m talking too much”

“Maybe a little, but that’s okay. You have a lot you want to tell me”

“I didn’t think you’d talk to me... it got all weird and shit last night”

“A little weird, but that’s okay now”

“Is it? Because... like I feel like I’m talking too much”

Lance ducked his head, stifling a laugh. His ego had really settled down since Keith came. It wasn’t trying to push its ugly head to the surface, well, it kind of was, but maybe because Keith as his calm that it settled

“You’re not. Do you like the beach?”

“I want to go swimming but I don’t want to get wet”

This time Lance let himself laugh. His boyfriend had a serious dilemma with that one. Huffing, Keith elbowed him lightly

“Stop laughing!”

“I’m laughing because you’re very cute”

“Shut up. I’m not cute. I’m manly”

“Very manly. But you’re not swimming tonight. Not with alcohol in your system and sharks in the water”

“I’ll fight them”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Tell me more about Rome?”

Keith flopped back with a deep sigh

“It was soooo long. Court all day. You would have loved it. All the legal stuff. They were all like “He eliminated a serious threat!”, and I was like “damn right, that’s my man””

Keith shouldn’t sound so proud...

“I bet you didn’t say that out loud”

“Shiro told me I had to behave. Seriously. Like the first three weeks was all legal stuff and I didn’t understand half of it. Then they wanted to put you on probation again, but Coran sent you into hiding so they were like, he’s disappeared now. Then they were like “should we summon him?”. Curtis had to give the most evidence because he always tells the truth and I nearly hit him”

Why would Keith be hitting Curtis?

“Why?”

“He was telling them all the best bits about you and I missed you even more”

“Oh, babe. I’m sure not everything he said was good”

“No. He admitted he confirmed the pregnancy. He told them how Lotor tried to say it was his kid, then the beat him up until he told them it was me and that we were having twins. I could have hit him but, he couldn’t help it. He told them you worked your hardest to save him. And that you only flipped out because Sendak tried to kill me. There’s this whole complication when it’s a hunter involved, then there’s this other complication when witches are involved. They didn’t seem fussed that Sendak had Lotor. I think they’d have preferred he killed him. Just to make it all pretty against Zarkon. Zarkon sent two vampires down to give evidence that Sendak was a warrior, but honestly they didn’t seem to give two shits and I’m pretty sure they didn’t make it back to Zarkon. And I’m pretty sure Zarkon only sent them because he thought they’d die. Vampire culture is whack. No offence, babe, it really is”

Zarkon probably sent pets to feed his vampires... Lance didn’t want to know, but he did

“Did Honerva have pets?”

“Some. Some happy to be freed, some came back to Rome. Some... didn’t”

Meaning they’d prefer to die with her. A vampire fae was no joke. She’d probably been in their heads. Turning things in her favour. Coran and Allura could definitely change a mood with just a touch, if they wanted. They really were on another level. How they’d face Zarkon alone and survived scared him thinking of the fallout from taking down the guy who was probably the most powerful vampire alive. There’d be so much uproar. So many cover ups. But the Blades would probably be too busy pinning medals on each other’s chests to care about the long term death. It was like an ecosystem. Sometimes predators were the only thing that kept normal numbers from exploding and consuming too many resources. Zarkon would have the “loyalty” of the many, even if that loyalty came from fear. The domino of Sendak’s death had set off the chain reaction that now left gaping power vacuums. Had there been some kind of chance for him and Honerva to change their ways? Or had ego driven them both to insanity with only monsters inside human skin left

Okay. He wasn’t going to focus on what had been found in Honerva’s lab. His overactive imagination provided enough mental images of boxes of human remains left

“You said Curtis got hurt?”

“He and Shiro lead a team to Honerva’s lab, with Rieva and Mum... Honerva turned her magic against on Curtis, the demon in him stronger now. He’s still him, he just... has issues”

“Like my issues or Matt’s issues?”

“He’s thirsty for Shiro, but I guess yours because you care about people and don’t like your ego... He gets these moments where... he’s not seeing anything in our world. It’s kind of creepy”

“I’m sure Coran will know what to do”

“Yeah. Shiro thinks maybe now the demon is stronger that Coran might be able to rip it out”

That’d be awesome if he could. Lance wanted Shiro and Curtis to have the same kind of disgusting love as him and Keith

“I hope so... Curtis deserves more than having his mind under attack”

Keith reached up, pulling Lance down beside him in the sand. There was going to be sand everywhere now, and he didn’t want a third shower for the day... whelp, it sucked fo be hurt

“He’ll be fine. Hey, can we have Christmas when we get home? I got you a present”

Lance was caught of guard. He assumed they’d moved past Christmas and none of their friends would care for it

“It’s February”

“So? I want to see everyone again and eat lots of food then vege out with you”

“You do that anyway”

“Mmm, but we didn’t get to have Christmas... and you were sick”

“Morning sickness”

“You haven’t thrown up a lot today”

Cuddling into Keith, Lance kept himself propped up with his right arm. He’d thrown up, Keith had missed most of it. He’d thrown up after dinner, and while Rieva was closely pouring over his will

“I did, but it’s okay”

“It’s not. I wish you didn’t keep throwing up. It’s not fair”

“Making babies does that”

“But, you’re like, my boyfriend. And you’re so strong. You don’t complain about it. You don’t get mad at me and it’s weird”

Lance smiled, dropping a kiss on Keith’s pouting lips. Keith would take all the bad bits of pregnancy if he could, but Lance would never ask him too

“I’ll admit that the idea of baby scared me. Twins shook me completely. I wanted years with you first. You and me, working out our relationship and future, then kids maybe. I still feel like I don’t deserve happiness, being a vampire and all”

“I want to make you happy”

Happy was a hard word. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled, let alone laughed, before Keith came for him

“You do. I know a lot changed while you were gone, but what can I do to support and make things easier for you?”

“Let me in. You’ve stopped doing that stupid smile, where smile through your pain, but now you clam up and I feel like one day you’ll shut me out for good. I want you to want to tell me”

“I do want to tell you. I’ve been told I can be very stubborn”

“Tell me about it! You wouldn’t believe someone out stubborned me, then you came along”

“Technically I was living my life the best I could, and then you came along”

“I blame Luis. He’s a dick. If he ever wants to talk to you again, he has to go through me first”

Keith might want the best for him, but never seeing his brother again filled him with sadness. All his siblings had been at the funeral service for their Mami. Rachel and Marco both stared up at him as he wasn’t seated down with the rest of the congregation. He felt like he deserved to be, yet for Mami’s sake he wanted to keep the peace one last time... that and he felt ill for the whole service. Death lingered in the church. His Mami was gone. He’d bled. Fighting was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

“I don’t think he’ll cause any trouble”

Luis wouldn’t want to come near him now, lest Lance sneeze and magic him into a vampire. Veronica might. Marco... would if he was being nosy... Rachel... nope, he didn’t know what Rachel would do. Mami was the glue that held them together and now that glue was gone they were like a broken book with pages going everywhere

“Still. I’ll smack him one”

Luis wouldn’t take a hit from Keith. His brother was hold. He’d probably end up with something broken and suing Keith

“It’s okay. It’s enough you want to protect me”

Keith’s tone turned unexpectedly serious, galaxy eyes locking with his, flicking away for a second, then back again as Keith nodded to himself before replying

“I might not be Mami, but I’m going to protect you. I will. I promise I will”

“You don’t have to be Mami. I like my Keith the way he is. A little angry. A little rude. A little pouty. You showing your emotions makes me happy...”

“I’m so lame. You sound all grown up and I’m lame!”

And there was intoxicated Keith again

“You’re not lame. Seriously, I want to support you. If you need anything, I want you to tell me”

Keith scrunched his face up as if he was thinking really hard. Lance gave him a few moments before nudging Keith, Keith opened his eyes, looking disappointed

“I think I need to pee”

Lance let his head drop. Defeated by intoxicated Keith, he had no words. No more attempts at serious conversation until they back in Platt. It’d be easier. Keith would be in a safe place where he knew he could talk freely, and there’d be no tequila in sight.