#and this idea seemed really brilliant last night at 3am

[lethargicnecromancer]

Vincent van Mogh

[bugmomwrites]

Animal Crossed Lovers (Tamaki Amajiki)

Alrighty so I haven't put any finished work on here in a hot minute, that’s my bad. ANYWHO my mom got me ACNH as an early birthday gift since my birthday (April 5th) just missed the supposed quarantine cutoff date for our area (7th). I may be be stuck inside while everything’s closed, but hey- at least the island of Escapism hardly rests 😉

(SW-3129-0651-5422)

Tamaki Amajiki x GN! Reader

Tamaki was never one to play video games, but he had to admit there was just something...soothing about Animal Crossing that melted much of his anxiety away. Nejire had initially preordered a copy for his birthday weeks ago, but her friend who worked at the local (s/n) (who he may or may not have been crushing on since their second year after they joined them at lunch one day) was able to pull a couple strings and get it on the fourth of March instead of the twentieth. Of course he had no idea, but he was so stunned when he opened it that it didn’t even occur to him that the game wasn’t even out yet until Mirio had reminded him. He didn’t question it though- his friend group was one wild card after another, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

He was thrilled, and just the fact that no one else had a copy yet made it feel all the more personal. Of course he knew in sixteen days it would be all anybody ever talked about, but for the time being it felt like the game, the little world he had created in the past few days with its gentle music and soft, wholesome theme, was his and his alone. The fact that it was a gift from his friends made it all the more special, and even if he had a hectic day at school he could turn on the console and water pretend flowers on a pretend island, and for those few moments, all was right with the world.

He was pulling weeds to sell to Timmy for bells when his screen pinged in the corner that made his blood run cold.

(Gamertag) is online

Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

That’s right, you had friended him on the switch after realizing all his friends had one, and now with a fourth person they could have a full team online. Mirio has suggested everyone exchange codes, and you had taken the liberty of showing him how to punch in the code and adding yourself while he sat there trying not to melt into his seat at how excited you got, or how nice you smelled up close. You had passed it back with a beaming grin, telling him you couldn’t wait to do co-ops. At the time he could only nod, speechless as the rest of his friends made idle chatter until the bell rung, and everyone scurried back to class.

He quickly realized he had left the terminal gate open when he was poking around the various features, learning about what each thing does in game. He tried sprinting to the airport to close the gates, and he made it to the dock before a big green banner flashed across his screen reading “you have a visitor!”

Out of the threshold popped your avatar, and for a moment he was grateful he could hide behind a screen. He wanted to be mad, upset even, that you had wandered onto his digital sanctuary, but couldn’t find it in himself because, then again, it was you.

The Nookphone in the top left corner buzzed to life, and he opened up the chat log with shaky hands. In a cutesy, pastel speech bubble was your message, and he wondered how something that was once so therapeutic to him could do a 180 and suddenly become the source of his anxiety.

G/T: Hello! Sorry to pop in unannounced, I hope you don’t mind^^

Tamaki felt his mouth go dry, reading it in your voice and after steadying his breathing, he painstakingly typed out a response.

Suneater: its ok.

G/T: It’s kinda hard to find others to play with when the game isn’t even released yet >~<

Suneater: Oh?

He should have known it was too good to be true. You were only visiting him because no one else was on yet. He sighed, trying to keep the dread from crawling back in before another note popped up.

G/T: The game doesn’t actually release until the first day of spring, but working at (s/n) has its perks. I saw the trailers and the hype and figured it would be the perfect game for you.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon reading that. So he wasn’t the last choice- rather, the game simply wasn’t out to the general public yet. But if that was the case, how did you also get a copy?

Suneater: thats nice of you

G/T: And then a little birdy told me you had a birthday coming up, so since I have a couple connections after I got my copy, I asked my manager if they’d set aside one more.

Suneater: you

Suneater: you were the one who helped get it early?

Boy did he feel stupid now. You worked at (s/n), (as you had literally just mentioned in your previous notes), Nejire got him a game that wasn’t out yet, you guys were all mutual friends- how did he not put two and two together?!

G/T: Yes lol that would be me^ you liking it so far? You picked a good name for the island too.

“Sunshine Island” may have seemed a little cliche to most people, but Tamaki had so many things in his life linked to it that by this point, it was just routine. Mirio was his sun in dark times. His nickname Suneater, even the sunflowers he had received from his parents for his birthday each year was tradition. He knew not everyone would see it the way he did, but to him, it was perfect, and he was definitely chuffed when he thought it up and punched it in for the first time.

To hear you loved it too sent a swell of pride through him, and he wondered if it was possible to love someone as much as he did just then.

Suneater: you really think so?

G/T: Absolutely

And with that, the two of you explored Sunshine Island together, he showed you his tent, the shops, and the little orchard of peaches he had arranged. You were impressed by the amount of detail and care that went into arranging everything, and asked if he’d be willing to help you with your island sometime, to which he obliged. 

You guys did some more walking, and he told you to feel free to shake theres and take a couple fruits with you. His native fruit was peaches, and in exchange you dropped a couple of your own fruits from your island on the ground for him to pick up so he could have more variety in his world.

G/T: There’s six different kinds, and each island is assigned one main type of fruit. the more you visit with friends, the more biodiversity you’ll get. Pretty cool right? I have some spare (F/N), and if you take and plant those, they'll grow and multiply!

His avatar hesitantly wandered over to the offering after yours stepped back a little to let him take them. Your generousity was surely appreciated, and even though you couldn't see it, he smiled softly before typing out a new message.

Suneater: Thank you. I’ll go plant those.

The game might have been synced up with real time, even getting darker after a certain hour- yet despite it being outside, neither one of you noticed just how much time had passed between all the bug catching, fishing, exploring and talking. When your screen loaded up a clock that read 2:54 AM, you blinked a few times, as if that would change the reading. But lo and behold, it was going for 3am on a school night, and you knew you both had to get to bed.

G/T: Ah beans its 3am, I gotta get to bed soon. Thanks for letting me hang out on your island, and sorry for keeping you awake >~<

Suneater: don't be sorry, i had a lot of fun. can we play together again sometime?

G/T: Of course! I can't wait to meet up again. Maybe we can visit my island next time? I should have those peaches planted by then, and you can teach me your ways, oh master landscaper.

Tamaki chuckled out loud at that, blushing, as he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

Suneater: That would be nice. Wait here a second.

He scurried off to a patch of flowers he had blooming, and with a shovel, picked up a few in your favorite color before making his way back over and dropping them in front of you.

Suneater: You can start by planting a few of these around your island. It is your favorite color, right?

Now it was your turn to blush as you picked up the (f/c) flowers he dropped in front of you, smiling like a goon at his burst of confidence. How he remembered your favorite color is beyond you, but hey- you weren’t complaining.

G/T: They’re perfect, thank you Tama!

Suneater: You're welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?

G/N: You know it! Goodnight <3

And on that note you walked down to the airport, his avatar following close behind as if to see you off. It was a simple gesture, but appreciated nonetheless. Both of you powered down your switches for the night before plugging them in, and promptly hopping into your respective beds with racing hearts. It was the perfect end to your digital “date” and you couldn’t wait to log in again.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The inbox is always open for future ideas, so don’t be afraid to drop in. 

Also gonna tag @katsukisprincess​ cause I mean...Animal Crossing and wholesome Tamaki fluff. ‘Nuff said.

[primasveraas-writing]

Finnpoe Modern AU- Single Dad!Poe- PART 3

AHH here it is!! I’m really happy with how it turned out; thank you again to the darling Eliane who sparked the orginal idea. The brunt of the story is done, but I hope (and suspect) that I will be returning to this AU soon, in the form of more headcanons or one shots.

I hope you enjoy! All requests are currently open.

Part One l Part Two l Part Three

XXX

Poe buys Finn a drink

...then Finn buys Poe a drink, then Poe buys them both drinks because Finn is on a teacher’s salary and the only gay bar within a reasonable distance gets away with overpriced beer

Poe learns rather quickly that Finn is more than just an incredibly attractive teacher who’s good with his son- Finn is also shy, and humble. Kind and honest. Slightly giggly when tipsy and rather close in proximity after 3 beers

There comes a point when Poe’s chest aches from laughing and he almost puts his hand on Finn’s knee- he almost leans in- then he remembers himself

Buying his son’s teacher a beer is fine- he likes Finn and so does BB

Kissing his son’s teacher is an entirely separate matter

Poe clears his throat abruptly, and he can feel the heat rushing to his already-warm cheeks as he straightens, pulling away from the other man

Finn pulls back too, a split second of hurt flashing across his face

“I’m sorry,” Poe says thickly, wondering how quickly he can flee the scene without seeming like a total ass, and Finn shakes his head

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says, unable to fully meet Poe’s eyes. “I should probably get back to Rey, anyways”

Finn stands, and Poe blurts out “it was good to talk with you-” before he can think any of it through

Finn stops, turning back to look at him. He smiles, briefly, then says: “it was”

Poe is still sitting at the bar when Rey and Finn leave

Poe pretends he’s not watching them go

The upside to the next day is that his hangover is very mild, and that BB waits until 7am to wake him up instead of jumping into Poe’s bed at his usual 6am

Small blessings, even on a Saturday

They have a good day, and Poe is able to bury all his worries and regrets about Finn until BB does his homework

(he has to color in a hand turkey and he and Poe are both covered in glitter and ink by the end of it)

But the craft is enough for BB to start talking about school, which he does, pieces of glitter falling to the floor one by one as he signs

We do lots of art in Luke’s class and Finn helps me. He is nice and he brings in candy sometimes. He never rushes me or worries like Mr. C does and he is learning ASL very fast and sometimes he lets us stay out for recess for an extra three minutes and he will push us on the tire swing-

So Poe adds to his list of the way he can describe Finn- adored by his son. Generous. A total sucker for cute kids. Endlessly patient, a quick learner, a sweet tooth… off-limits.

What does he know about Finn, from a few hours of talking and stories from his son? Is it enough to justify his pining?

It doesn’t matter, in the end. At best, he and Finn are friends, and Poe has only BB’s best interests in mind- everything else is secondary to his son

The guilt and ache fade, for the most part. He sees Finn here and there, and the two men keep it friendly and brief

At parent-teacher conferences, Finn barely looks at Poe

It stings in the fall, but even that wound has healed when spring comes. Finn is still removed, a little less open, but he manages a small smile when Poe catches his gaze during the last conference that year

Summer arrives, and Poe has almost stopped dreaming of kissing Finn entirely

There’s a small celebration to celebrate the end of the school year, hosted by one of the PTA moms

BB takes off with some of the kids immediately, leaving Poe to his own devices

He’s half-heartedly participating in a discussion about gluten-free sugar cookies with some of the parents while watching BB chase his friends around the yard

He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to see Finn standing there, smiling

“I wanted to tell you what a delight it was to teach BB this year,” Finn says, “and that I’m sorry I won’t have longer with him.”

Poe starts, brow furrowing in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m teaching preschool next year,” Finn says, looking down at his feet before glancing up at Poe again. “I originally applied to work with younger kids, but they didn’t have an opening until next fall.”

“So you’re not teaching BB anymore?” Finn shakes his head. “He’ll be devastated.”

Finn frowns, sadness filling his eyes, but Poe nudges him with his elbow, grinning softly

“I’m happy for you Finn, really. BB loved working with you.”

“I loved it too.” Finn is quiet, serious, and his voice falters before Finn goes silent. He blinks rapidly, and Poe realizes just how much Finn cares about his students

“We’ll have to have you over for dinner. To thank you.”

Finn’s eyes widen, wetness replaced with a brilliant spark. His mouth opens, then there’s the unmistakable sound of children colliding, a solid thud followed by squeals, giggles, and shouts

Poe sighs, looking around for BB, despite knowing in his heart of hearts that BB is almost always involved in whatever shenanigans are happening

“I should go.” Poe rests his hand on Finn’s arm. “We’ll work out a date later,” he says, winking before he turns around to chase after his son

When the time comes, BB is excited as Poe is nervous- he insists on helping with the cooking, which slows things significantly, if only because Poe has to sign each recipe and he runs circles around the small kitchen hovering over his son

BB has little regard for things like measurements or cation around a hot stove- about halfway through cooking the pasta needed for an old family recipe, BB tries to grab a noodle out of the boiling pot

Poe pulls his hand back just in time, rambling warnings and curses in Spanish and signing his worries and reliefs rapidly in ASL

BB stares up at him innocently, and Poe melts

He also puts his son on his back, so Poe finishes the cooking with a seven-year-old pointing where to go and what to do

They both have to squeeze in a shower before Finn arrives, as they’re each covered in sweat and sauce and flour

(Poe finds a bit of salsa behind BB’s ear as he towels his son off, and he sighs)

Poe is dressing when the door rings. First, he hears BB tearing down the hall, his feet thundering, then the door opening- Poe follows his son, finishing the last buttons on his shirt, then Finn is in his living room, BB tugging on his hand to bring Finn into the apartment

“Hi,” Finn says, kneeling down to hug BB

“Hi,” Poe says, and his heart flutters like it did a year ago, when he saw Finn for the very first time

It progresses from there because BB loves Finn, and Poe believes in love at first sight, even if he can’t admit it yet

(He loves Finn too)

Dinners with Luke, Leia, and Finn resume, in addition to meals whenever BB demands that Finn eat with them

(It’s been too long, Dad, BB will say. You and Finn are lonely without each other)

Poe doesn’t know how much he can disagree with his son, partly because BB is largely right, and partly because BB has Poe wrapped around his finger

Even so, it’s nearly a month before Poe asks Finn out properly, with no children or bosses to accompany them

Finn accepts in an instant

Dating Finn is nice- for one, he fits into Poe’s life easily- but he also validates the months Poe spent dreaming of the impossible scenario where he and Finn could finally be together, because dating Finn is better than Poe ever imagined

Finn is funny, more sarcastic than Poe had realized, direct and curious and teasing. Deeply loving and loyal and defensive and stubborn, and also a good kisser, with perpetually warm hands that always find their way into Poe’s grip

That summer is glorious, and none of them- Poe, nor BB, nor Finn- want it to end. It is the beginning of all wonderful things

Poe accepts quickly but with relative uncertainty, that Finn will be Poe’s boyfriend long before he will become one of BB’s caretakers

Finn is good with BB- he speaks ASL and understands his son better than most, and Poe is forever grateful he never had to navigate a wide dating pool as a single father, mostly because he’s certain there’s very, very few people worth bringing home to BB

Even with adjustment periods and the time it takes to figure out how exactly Finn fits into their lives, BB is wildly fond of Finn, who spoils him and makes him laugh

You smile lots when Finn is around BB says one day

Is that good? Poe signs back. Do you like when Finn is around?

Finn makes me happy BB says, and Poe knows that’s all that ever matters

November comes with an with the first snow; BB complains that he misses seeing Finn at school, but he sees Finn every weekend and most weekdays, so he’s satisfied, even if Mr. C is stuffy and old, but nice I guess

They are comfortable together- things are calm, settled into the new school year- and Poe figures he knows what to expect from life with a hyperactive seven year old and a boyfriend he’s hopelessly in love with

What’s unexpected, however, is the call he gets at 3am on a Friday night- or rather, the 6 missed calls, and the one that Poe finally picks up, his heart pounding wildly when he sees Finn’s name on the screen

He hit a pole, Finn explains, because he swerved to avoid hitting a cat

“I’m fine, honestly, Poe, the airbags went off and I was wearing my seatbelt and most of the damage is on the passenger side-”

Finn is fine, he promises, but his car is damaged fairly badly and also Finn rescued the cat, who is also fine, and they have no way to get home

So, Poe wraps BB in a blanket and carries him out to the car, and together they pick up Finn off the street in the dead of night

In five months of dating, it’s the first time Finn spends the night at Poe’s apartment with BB there

Finn sleeps on the couch, next to the makeshift nest of blankets where the kitten finally falls asleep

BB spends his Saturday writing a list of names for the kitten, who is entrusted to his care (and Poe’s) while Finn makes endless calls to a towing company and his insurance, and the bank and the local vet

Finn spends the next night, too, because he doesn’t want to move the cat, who is young and probably scared, and very attached to Poe and BB already

On Sunday, Finn goes to the vet to see if the cat is missing or chipped, and Finn leaves with a purring kitten that belongs only to him

BB is then allowed to name the cat officially; he becomes D-O, much to Finn’s amusment and Poe’s exasperation

(BB doesn’t deign to explain this decision, and Poe cannot bring himself to ask BB why this name was chosen more than ten times)

By then, they’ve also agreed that Finn will stay with BB and Poe until Finn’s car is fixed, so Poe can drive Finn to work, and so that D-O can stay with BB a little longer

Finn sleeps on the couch Sunday night, but BB sneaks out of bed to cuddle with the cat, and Poe finds them Monday morning, BB curled in Finn’s arms, D-O snuggled at their feet

Poe takes a picture before rousing them for school, and the picture is first the background on his phone, then printed and framed on the wall of their first home together

A smaller copy is  slipped into his wallet, too, so that the three of them are with him, always

BB cries at the end of the week, when Finn has his car again, and he and D-O are ready to go home

(By Christmas, Poe has given Finn a key to the apartment, and by Feburary, they’re looking for a place to share together)

When BB turns eight, the three (four) of them move into the apartment that becomes their first home as a family, and it marks another beginning for them all

When BB turns ten, his father gets married, and he with his grandfather walk Poe down the aisle

Poe and BB are a family. This  fact was slow and learned, but absolute all the same and Finn, still gradually, but just as certainly, becomes their family too

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns - Chapter 6

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Breaking and entering.

Word count: 1774

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 6: The Addiction begins

The days after that went quickly and so did the next week and the next. Scarlett did not see The Joker again for a long time and it was having a profound effect on her. 

She was a like a drug addict in withdrawal, she had never had an addictive personality before but The Joker was a kind of drug that you would become addicted after just one taste. She had lost her motivation to work, she lost her smile and she felt tired constantly. She couldn't focus on anything and found herself in a zombie-like state most days. 

So as she entered the end of the second week of not seeing him, she gave up on her rehabilitation and mad a decided that most drug addicts do. She needed to get her fix, no matter what.

That night she didn’t finish work until 3am but it didn’t matter, sleep couldn’t help her now. When she got in she headed straight to her room and searched for the joker card he had given her, when they had first met. She found it quickly and stared at the numbers for a moment. Scrawled around the edge of the card, like a strange border, were the numbers. It was hard to tell where the numbers started and ended, without the complication of the dirty mark that was smudged along one side making the numbers even harder to read. 

 She yanked the phone from the wall and kicked off her shoes, slumping down onto her back and staring and the numbers again.  She felt like a teenager who had just got the number of the popular boy she had a crush on. Taking a deep breath she began to dial.

"Hello" called a very feminine voice.

"Urr, Hi. Maybe I got the wrong number who is this" said Scarlett.

"This is Louise," said the female voice on the other end.

Scarlett wasn't sure what to do, maybe this was his girlfriend. Who was she kidding he probably didn't have a girlfriend.

"I must have the wrong number," Scarlett said before she hung up and sighed before she fell back into the bed dramatically. Then looked up at the card again and sighed. She flipped it over in her hand, partly wishing she didn’t feel so desparate for his attention. 

Wait! Was that a 2 or a 5? Why was this card was so difficult to read? Why couldn't he just print his number like a normal person. But he wasn't a normal person, and that was exactly the reason she needed to call him.

She picked up the phone from where she had thrown it and redialled using a 2 instead of a 5 this time.

"Hi," said the voice she had been yearning for and dreaming about, for two weeks now.

"Hi," she said her voice much higher than she wanted.

"Jester!" he said happily and she couldn't help the grin that came to her face, simply the sound of his voice seemed to ease her mind, like a addict getting there fix. She lay back down on her stomach, her feet in the air. She truly felt like a teenager calling her crush now. Her heartbeat 100 times faster than usual and she grinned like an idiot.

"What can I do for you gorgeous?" he asked and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I" Scarlett stuttered she wasn't sure what to say, she wasn't sure she could admit to him that she was calling because she missed him.

"I don't know, why I called," she said after a little while and her ear nearly burst with his manic cackling response.

"I've missed you too gorgeous," he said still laughing slightly and she blushed madly.

"I tell you what, do you fancy coming with me tomorrow around 1 to a little meeting I should probably go to," he asked and she felt like all her Christmases had come at once.

"Oh, yeah that would be amazing," she said stuttering slightly.

"Brilliant! I'll be right over and we can sort out your costume" he said before he hung up and she was unable to reply.

What the hell did he mean by costume?

Within the hour he had arrived, breaking his way into her apartment while she was watching TV, causing her to jump and him to break down into hysterics.

He placed a bag on the counter and curiously she looked inside. That's had what he had meant by costume, a set of grease paint was in the bag and they were clearly used recently and she looked up at his freshly painted face.

"Well?" he said and she smiled.

"Do you want to help me find something to wear?" she asked and he grinned.

"No Jester, this has to be your design, I'll wait here and you show me once your done." he said and she smiled nervously, she had no idea what she was doing.

She didn't know where he was taking her tomorrow but more importantly, she couldn't afford to be seen with a psychotic clown. So at least this would keep her identity unknown. At least for now. She wondered if that was why The Joker painted his face, but somehow she knew it was for another reason.

She headed off towards her bedroom.

"Don't forget this" he called after her as he threw the jester hat to her and she caught it, smiling coyly at him. She heard the TV turn on as she entered the bedroom, she snatched up the green waistcoat she had bought and decided it would be the base to her costume.

She pulled on an emerald green tank top, before almost immediately pulling it back off again and throwing it on the floor, she picked up a purple tank top, before slipping on her waistcoat. The tank top was just enough to cover her bra, she pulled at the strings of her waistcoat, and pulled them as tight as she could.

She began her search for some bottoms, quickly she found a pair of purple and white striped shorts, they were part of a Halloween costume she had never got round to wearing and had only really bought for the boots that came with it. THE BOOTS! They would be prefect, on her hands and knees she dug through the wardrobe till she found them buried under a million other pairs of shoes.

They wear bright purple PVC platform boots that came up to her knees and laced up the front. The were ridiculous but she had worn them once and they were surprisingly comfortable. She pulled on a pair of fish net stocking with a suspender belt before pulling on her boots. She pulled on a pair of purple fingerless gloves to match. She looked in the mirror and smiled, there was something very Joker about her outfit, or rather Jester.

She combed her hair and left the natural curl in it before pulling the top half inot a sh pair messy space buns on the top of her head giving her an almost mini mouse look as her natural curl twisted out of the bun, and the rest of her midnight hair rested against her shoulders. She left out her bangs before she headed back out to the living room nervously the jesters hat in hand. He was watching the TV when she entered and didn't seem to notice her.

She coughed slightly and he looked up, before he did a double take and stood up to look at her fully.

"Hello beautiful," he purred and she blushed, until he said that she felt slightly silly but now she felt almost empowered.

"One last thing is needed," he said holding out the bag with the greasepaint inside. She took the bag from him and headed to the bathroom, she pulled her hair away from her face, before taking the plunge and smearing the white paint over her face, she brushed her face with baby powder and smiled at her self in the mirror. Her teeth looked yellow against the stark white of her face. She painted heavy black around her eyes almost mimicking the Joker but not quite as extreme and far more neat with an almost catlike wing. She looked down and the red he had given her before closing the lid and searching through her make-up draw until she found the bright purple she had bought for the same Halloween and had never really worn. This sexy-witch costume was really getting a new lease of life. She applied it to just her lips, flicking it out slightly at the corners of her mouth to give her a small smile but she did not go up her cheeks as he would. She stared at her self in the mirror again, she hardly recognized herself but that was the point and she laughed.

She pulled the jesters hat onto her head and laughed again.

"Looking good Jester," said a voice and The Joker stood in the doorway of the bathroom looking at her, grinning like an idiot. She smiled widely and he approached. He stood close to her, closer than he had ever been to her before. She could feel his breath against her face and it was intoxicating, his fingers came out to touch the fabric of her waistcoat.  He rubbed it between his thumb and first finger. He made a noise close to a growl and moved closer to her still. Before she could react he had pull her into his grasp, a strong arm around her waist, and she purred. He laughed as she bent her head back on her neck and he traced her neck with his finger tips.

"I like this Jester," he said flicking a bell on her hat. She purred again and his fingers moved down her arms.

Her phone began to ring loudly and The Joker jumped away from her like he had been burnt, before he started to laugh and she grinned at him, trying not to show the devastation of the loss of his touch. That had been a strange but amazing moment to happen between the pair. She needed it to happen again.

He walked away from her leaving her standing in the doorway of the bathroom feeling slightly overwhelmed but absolutely fabulous. But a part of her knew that just like an addict this experience had built her tolerance, her addict her reached a new height and a level of expectation for their meeting. Should he leave her again now, the withdrawal might kill her. 

[headcanonsandmore]

Hi! I recently came back to being obsessed with Ron and Hermione (it just reminds me of being 12/13 and going to sleep at 3AM because I was reading Romione fanfiction and when life was better :) ). So I was wondering if you could give me some (a lot of) fluffy and warm and cute suggestions :) Thank you, I love your blog

Hello! Yes, of course; hope you like these!

Of Hearts and Heroes by Emmilyne. Ron and Hermione become far closer than either of them could ever have thought possible. Canon-divergent AU starting after the department of mysteries in fifth year. Rated  M for mature.

April Fool by A is for Amy. Six year one-shot. The other Gryffindors conspire to trick Ron and Hermione into admitting their feelings for one another. Rated K.

Mental by Penny in the sky. Gryffindor celebrates its Quidditch Cup victory. But while Harry's not there to ponder the influence of dimly lit rooms and Butterbeer, Ron and Hermione are. And they experience this influence first-hand. Set during ‘Half Blood-Prince’. Rated T.

Kiss of the Fire by Star.Flash.17. Romione one-shot set in the summer before book 7. Rated T.

The Last Summer by HurricaneRosie. Hermione struggles to control her feelings for Ron in the summer before the seventh book. Rated K+.

The For and Against List by Pinky Brown. Hermione tries to talk herself out of liking a particular boy (no prizes for guessing which one) the way teenage girls have been doing since time immemorial: she makes a For & Against List. Rated T.

In this Firelight by Oppugnorhr12. A missing moment from book 7 about how Ron and Hermione ended up falling asleep holding hands. Rated K.

Eye Flirting by RonaldandMione. Ginny convinces Hermione to try something to get Ron’s attention during their stay in Grimmauld Place before fifth year. K+.

Not Just Handsome by HPLives. Hermione gets confused over her feelings for Ron after she overhears the other Gryffindor girls rating their male classmates by attractiveness. Rated T.

Seven Simple Years by HalfaSlug. A collection of Romione missing moments from all seven books. Rated K+.

Chapstick by TMBlue. Hermione intervenes with chapstick when she notices how chapped Ron’s lips are. Set at the start of sixth year. Rated K+.

Kiss the Girl by Weasleyismyking540. Romione AU confession. Rated K+.

Freckles, Cats and Candy by OrangeLovePerson. Ron and Hermione visit Hogsmeade in third year. Rated K+.

The Love In His Eyes by LovingNerdLife. Over the years, Ron Weasley has developed the habit of staring at Hermione Granger while she reads. While doing so, he reflects on how it came to be, without being aware that someone has noticed what he's doing. Rated K+.

Late Night Snack by AloeMilk. Whilst staying at the Burrow after the second war ended, Ron goes to get food during the night, and finds Hermione in the kitchen. Adorableness ensues. Rated K+.

To Know You Is To Love You by @coyotelaughingsoftly. Calm, rational discussions have never been their strong point. When a pre-wedding fight shows them that they need to get it together, Hermione suggests couples counselling with an innovative new method. Ron reluctantly agrees, and now the two of them are going to learn about each other in a way never before possible. Rated M for mature.

All My Best Lies by Bowtruckles (aka @remedialpotions).  In the summer before her sixth year, Hermione finds herself in sudden, desperate need of a date for a family function, and turns to Ron for help. But when one little lie spirals out of control, they both end up with so much more than they ever imagined. Rated T for teen.

Trigger Point by unablearethelovedto_die. When Ron and Hermione both fall sick, perhaps a non-magical remedy is required to heal them. One Shot. Post Battle of Hogwart's. Rated T for teen.

All I Meant by my_inked_asterism. Set at the Burrow in the middle of the night, Ginny helps Ron talk about some heavy secrets he had kept for himself for too long by now... and Hermione happens to hear it all. Rated T for teen.

Owner Of The Lonely Heart by Kamiangel. Romione AU Hermione secretly disguises herself as a boy to prove that girls and boys can both study at the same school only problem is a certain red head seems to be distracting her from her goal. Despite being written back in the late 2000s, this one has help up surprisingly well; they are a few “men are idiots” moments, but the author subverts this by having everyone lose their heads over romance. Rated T for teen.

Penalties by RyanRow02. Non-magic AU. Ron and Hermione are best friends and flatmates, who have to pretend to be a couple during a Weasley family reunion. This was written in the early 2010s, so some of the jealousy can get a bit overdone. Other than that, it’s pretty decent. The author treats Lavender with respect, which is great, although I don’t really the whole “Ron was a slouch at school” thing, but I suppose the films were still in people’s minds at the time. Rated M for mature.

HP AU Explorations by @hillnerd. A collection of Romione AU ideas. Rated M for mature.

Actually, check out all of Hillnerd’s Romione fics; they’re all brilliant. 

Tangled, by @burgundydahlia. A plot to bring down one of the Wizarding world’s prominent business leaders brings two friends back together after years of separation. But will their reunion be bittersweet? And what will happen when they realise nothing is as it seems? It’s not completed just yet.

Not as a last resort (parts 1 and 2) by Arabella. An AU Romione fanfic about Ron and Hermione having to spent the night inside Hagrid’s cabin due to a snowstorm, and having to share a bed (one of my favourite fluff tropes), as well as discussing the upcoming 2nd Yule Ball. Not rated, but I’d give it a K+ to a mild T.

Diamonds In A Rhinestone World by unablearethelovedto_die. When the Weasley brothers move into the shop upstairs, Hermione Granger is more concerned about the noise and dust than anything else. But the gemstones she works with have their own agenda and she soon finds herself drawn to one particular Weasley. This is a really sweet story, and really delves into what Ron and Hermione like about each other. Rated T for teen.

Also, anything by @trademark-blue, @azaleablueme @amysthefardareismai @otterandterrier. I also have a ‘fanfic recs’ tags, which has loads more.

Hope you liked these suggestions; thanks for the ask!

[flipsideds]

it’s all run amuck.

a server’s dropped two trays of fresh-baked scones, and the confections litter the floor like fallen leaves, purple-pink icing making the banquet hall look less like the site of a charity benefit and more like the streets of chilham mid-fall. it lights nostalgia beneath his ribs, and flip finds his lips tugging into a wistful smile.

but then a penguin-prettied guest clears his throat and arches a bristly brow.

“ right then, ” flip says with a curt nod. he clasps his hands, gaze sweeping one final dance across the sugar speckled floor. “ i’ll see to some replacements for you. ”  he forces a gentle smile –– the chasm between the man’s brows only deepens.

amuck indeed.

flip glides toward the kitchen. he’s a smooth-sailing afternoon cloud; light. airy. bloody nervous.

oh, dear.

flip allan bell has a case of the collywobbles, theodore, his old assistant would tease whenever he’d drop a bowl, tray, or spoon. the best baker’s hand he’d been, that one. it’s a shame he ––

flip blinks. thinks of flames, of ink black smoke. then tries not to think about anything at all.

quick fingers collect ingredients, combine. get to kneading. in here, there’s no clammer. no crowd. just sugar, butter, flour. a baffled baker’s best friend. he’ll forget the chaos, for a little while. he’ll close his eyes as he brings cherry compote to a simmer, and think of home.

or, alternatively :  greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so lovely, ever so flighty phillip allan bell !

below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down of who he is, where he’s come from, and where he’s headed. i am so excited to write with all of you !!  he’s fresh out of the oven ( just ask nika ) so i am head over heels for watching him grow in the windy city !

toss on some nat king cole, julie london, billie holiday, chet baker & let’s get cookin’.

— && guests may mistake me as david corenswet, but really i am phillip "flip" allan bell + cis male + he/him/his  and my DOB is 02/29/1992. i am applying for the banquet manager position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite 201. i should be hired because i am + breezy, expressive, peaceable, but i can also be flighty, perplexed, vacillant at times. personally, i like to bake sweets, not hum along to nat king cole while dancing around my flat alone, and most certainly never wear trousers that are just a bit too short to show off my eccentric sock collection when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work. thank you for your consideration! 

h i s t o r y .

born in the small english village of chilham, phillip allan bell never knew his parents––but they took great care in stapling a note with his name, birthday, and favorite color to the blanket he was found swaddled in on the steps of the local market. ( phillip allan. 29 february. needs green. ) or, at least, that’s how flip tells the story. it’s unclear whether or not his parents’ chicken scratch called for green the color, or green the currency.

when phillip started speaking, he couldn’t properly say his own name. hence the nickname flip was born. the other children in the group home took to it easily, so the single-syllable stuck.

he spent the majority of his childhood in and out of foster homes throughout kent, always returning to the same group home after intervals of six months to a year. he began helping in the kitchen early on, so he became known as flip baker –– whether in foster care or the care of group home supervisors, flip always came to dinner with a new sweet treat for the others to try. people wouldn’t want to end their time fostering him because they loved the food. but in the end, the poor boy wouldn’t be adopted. reasons tended to ring much the same, “ oh, he’s lovely, really. what a sweetheart. just a bit too nervous for us, we’re afraid. ”

in fact, nervousness colored most of flip’s young life. from loud noises to spiders to fitting in, his mind always spun about endless possibilities –– quite rarely the good ones. the kitchen was the only place he truly quieted this tendency. he baked and cooked with steady hand, when he was alone. other folks in the kitchen with him would disrupt that cadence, but flip was never one to complain. he’d just fumble a bit, laugh nervously, and move along. he’s a remarkable chef –– and the kitchen always has ample marks to prove it.

shortly after turning 16, flip relocated to london. an older couple agreed to foster and adopt him as their own, but that stability was short-lived. they perished in an apartment fire just two months later. their youngest son, theodore, agreed to take him under his wing. at only 18, the two boys became fast friends. when flip decided to open his own bakery, theodore offered to be his assistant. from then on, the sweet by & by was born.

the bakery quickly rose to fame in the london area. people traveled from far and wide to try the legendary fruit scones, fresh cakes, and scrumptious sourdough. the bbc did a feature on the bakery for one of their london food series, and the sweet by & by began attracting tourists for something more than its treats :  its adorably frenetic baker. the kitchen was always spotted, his cheeks always dotted with icing or sugar. but he’d always greet customers with a molten-honey smile. tender green eyes. for years, the bakery prospered. flip prospered. he rose early to bake. he and theodore experimented with new recipes, danced around the kitchen to billie holiday, nat king cole... things were brilliant. radiant. whole. and then came the fire.

( tw: fire, death ) it happened while on a morning that was... well. most unusual. typically, flip and theodore would open the bakery together––3am sharp. they’d start preparing the day’s fresh goods, oldies playing softly on the stereo around them. but this september day in particular started off like no other: with theodore opening. alone. flip had stayed the night at one of his friends’ flats, unplanned. they’d hosted a housewarming party, and broken out his kryptonite: good bourbon. he’d drank more than his fill, and shot a text to theodore asking if it’d be alright if he started out the next day on his own. theodore agreed with a cheeky reply, getting some, are you, flip? right! as if. both men thought nothing of it. the opening, the slight shift in daily pattern. flip would be in by noon and business would carry on as usual. except flip always handled the faulty oven. on this particular morning, the device’s... quirks... slipped theodore’s mind. it took twenty minutes for the wires to start smoking. thirty minutes before theodore, swirling about the countertops with earbuds in, realized something was burning. on september 30, 2020 the sweet by & by burnt to the ground. and three days later, by smoke inhalation, it took flip’s dearest friend with it.

and that’s how it goes, innit? the story? the heartache? standing on the corner of upland and darrell road dressed in his funeral tie, squinting through scorched brick and metal like maybe, maybe if he stared hard enough, theodore, alive and well, might rise from the ashes. he didn’t. he didn’t, and flip visited the property each day for a week until he realized... he never would. he sorted through theodore’s personal affects. finally started his adopted surname, bell, as his own. he appeased reporters, for a little while. told the story, expressed how much he’d miss his best friend. his brother. but what about the bakery?, they’d ask. what about the sweet by & by? in the last interview flip ever did for the local stations, he reckoned perhaps that chapter, however sweet, was now meant to close. somewhere, online, there’s footage of him blinking through tears. twisting theo’s favorite ring around his own middle finger. green –– tsavorite. it means compassion, theodore had explained one night, after closing up. after they’d snatched a pint at the local pub and meandered on home. benevolence. beauty. somewhere, online, a reporter asks flip about that very stone. somewhere, online, flip pretends he didn’t hear it.

then came the bubble wrapping. the cardboard, packing tape. fingers rubbed raw from crinkling tape around itself, tearing it off, starting again. after theodore’s services, after relinquishing the bakery property to dulwich, flip packs his bags. he buys himself a nap, a pack of werther’s originals, and flees across the sea.

to chicago. the windy city. it’s always been circled on theodore’s map of america. that’s one i’d like to see someday, he’d say over a glass of bourbon. reckon they’re as tough as they seem? flip would always shrug, take a sip of his own drink. he didn’t know. but now? now, he would. on the plane, he spins theodore’s ring around his middle finger. even when he falls asleep, his forefinger and thumb stay there, shielding.

his initial thought is... perhaps he’ll open a bakery. but with the financial losses from the blaze, flip knows better than to embark on such an undertaking. so he does the responsible thing –– he finds a respectable job, at a respectable inn. the american experience, he hears theodore croon in the back of his mind, as he fills out his application. he’s jet lagged, distracted –– he doesn’t realize he’s checked the wrong box until the material’s been sent. and then he gets it. a banquet manager. oh, dear –– he hasn’t the faintest idea where to begin.

d i s p o s i t i o n .

born on a leap year. meaning he’s 28. but also 7.

for real footage of how flip handles himself in the kitchen, or just in general, check out this video. do i watch it daily? yes. did it inspire the general framework for flip’s frenetic kitchen tendencies? ...maybe. the chief difference lies in the result. things may crash and burn. it might look like it’s about to fall apart. but he always, always pulls it into a beautiful success.

he’s got a very deep-seated fear of fire. he’ll light candles in his flat only to flinch and snuff them out. if someone in the kitchen cooks with wine or vinegar and the skillet bursts into flame, he’ll look as though he’s seen a ghost. and he believes he’s subtle about it; oh, he truly does. but anyone with two eyes and a brain can piece together this man is very uneasy around flames.

he’s moved here with truly no plan, beyond experiencing chicago in all its glory, to make good on theodore’s dream. but as glorious and exciting as that is, he’s petrified. please help him.

there’s... a lot of unresolved traumas and sadness regarding his childhood. the bell family was the first to truly see him and give him, in all his anxious entirety, a chance. losing his last link to them has been... difficult, to say the least.

he’s a sucker for oldie music. god. it transports him. you can frequently find him in the malnati kitchens after hours whipping up something beautiful to a background of billie holiday or french classics. humming along, eyes closed, swaying... he’s graceful, truly –– when he’s not thinking about anything.

very terrible about crushes. very terrible about crushes on him. flirting sends his brain into overdrive and... often, he short-circuits. ask him a question about himself he isn’t expecting and he’ll handle it kindly, but will look like a deer in headlights.

amendment: more often than not looks like a deer in headlights.

peaceful at his core. but with the ruckus and the world raging around him, there’s always something more to worry about. if he gives you winnie the pooh vibes, it typically means he’s spinning.

he has a very delightful way of managing, mostly because he’s scared shitless of people being mean. he handles every blip and bump with ease. but inside? he’s fretting.

amendment: most often, he’s fretting. very little quiets his mind. baking, maybe. you can tell he’s having a shit time if he shows up unannounced with endless supplies of new recipes.

adores poetry. he likes reading in public spaces, people watching. he’ll often mouth the words to himself, brow furrowed, eyes lighting like he’s seeing suns rise and fall for the first time.

he’s been in love once in his life. her name was georgie. she was the epitome of breathlessness, milky sunlight, espresso brewed on a crisp morning. she was... not who he thought she was. ( she cheated, after two years of time spent together. he found them out, on a date, on an impromptu trip to brixton market for fresh supplies. )

pansexual and very aware of it. he’s in denial about people fancying him. but he very frequently develops small admirations for people, from afar.

6′4, very tall. his pants are always a slight bit too short. if you tell him, he’ll act surprised, the beautifully eccentric socks peeking out from underneath will suggest otherwise.

he’s never had a s’more. he can’t tell if he’s more intrigued or scared by the thought of them.

doesn’t like birds, particularly ones that swoop low. ( there’ve been incidents. ) he also doesn’t take a great liking to men in tall hats. ( another incident. )

make fun of his accent please i beg you. he does not know how to handle it. he’ll stammer and chuckle and it’ll be bloody amazing, i promise you.

c o n n e c t i o n s .

MAGNOLIA BARNES –– friend. they met during her time in london. neither of them are aware they’re in the same city now, let alone the same hotel. i imagine flip hasn’t told her about the bakery yet. it hasn’t really made news outside of england, so that will certainly be... a story to tell.

FLIRTATIONSHIP / SOMETHING MORE –– just imagine this nervous little bean navigating a new love connection... please... he’ll be a mess.

TOUR GUIDES –– ever wanted to show someone your version of chicago? now’s your chance! flip is so bloody new to this place. he gets lost almost always.

CONFIDANT –– they talk about anything and everything. perhaps not all of it. but there’s an unspoken trust between them. they likely met in the most unlikely of ways, and here we are now.

literally anything under the sun? oh my WORD it has been an epoch since i’ve rped and i’m just. here for any of it. all of it. cute neighbor shit. mailroom mishaps. friends. enemies. someone who keeps sneaking the last of the lobby mints. i want anything you want to throw at me!!

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Peter Parker and Bruce Banner’s Guide on How To Make Iron Man Sleep

For @sallyidss. Happy Birthday, Sally! This is about 1% hurt and 99% comfort, or in other words, pure fluff and chicken soup. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading and to @maikkuax for the video game reference.

____________________

Peter wakes up to a dazzling amount of texts on Saturday morning. 

One is from Tony, sent at 3am, telling him that Bruce is sick and might not be able to help Peter with his biology project today as they had planned, but he is still welcome to drop by the tower.

Then there’s another one from Tony three hours later asking him whether he could pick up some soup while on the way; one from Bruce at 8am, telling him that Tony is sick too, but ‘he won’t admit it so just try to somehow get him to rest once you come over’; and then one more from Tony telling him to ignore whatever Bruce just told him.

Peter grins to himself while reading the texts - he can almost hear his favourite superhero couple bantering and fussing over each other. Then he gets up for breakfast with May and a shower before heading down to the corner grocery store. He gets soup (chicken for Tony and vegetable for Bruce), as well as some of the Fairtrade chocolate bars that Bruce buys for ideological reasons and Tony eats en masse because he’s got a secret sweet tooth. Peter stuffs the groceries into his school bag along with his laptop and makes his way to the tower. 

*

Tony definitely looks under the weather when he opens the door; pale and with a very clown-like red nose that is dripping constantly. 

“Hey kid, thanks for the delivery,” he jokes with a raspy voice. He takes the bag and mimics shutting the door in Peter’s face before smirking and opening it fully to let his unamused mentee in. 

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” Peter removes his shoes and jacket and then stops, frowning. Through the hallway, he can see that the bed in the master bedroom has been demolished into what looks like a heap of firewood. “Uhm, what happened to your bed?”

“Well…” Tony interrupts himself to cough harshly into his elbow. “So, uh, we had a bit of an exciting night. Not in the fun way, unfortunately…” he trails off. “Anyway, Bruce went back to sleep after breakfast, but I thought we could head to the lab and start working on the chameleon fabric you suggested for your suit.” 

Peter is sure that working in the lab is the opposite of what Tony should be doing just now - his mentor looks even more tired than usual and the slightly glassy quality to his eyes suggests that he is running a fever - but Peter also knows that saying this out loud will only be counterproductive. 

“What if we watch a movie instead?” he suggests.

“I’m not watching a movie at eleven in the morning,” Tony protests. “We have the whole day in front of us - time to build, invent, change the world..." He flaps his hand. "All that jazz."

“Okay, okay…” Peter thinks for a second before an idea hits him. “But before we start with the suit, I do need your help with something else.”

“Now what?”

“So, Ned and I have this gaming commentary channel on YouTube where we livestream playing “The Witcher 3”? And it’s going pretty well, but Ned says he needs help developing his stage persona, you know, talking in a way that is interesting and keeps your audience engaged? So, he thought that you might give us some advice because you’ve got a ton of experience with speaking in public and all that?”

(It’s not entirely a lie - Ned and Peter have joked about getting Tony involved in order to increase their viewership, but he is pretty sure that Ned would be mortified upon hearing that Peter actually suggested it to the billionaire.)

“Wait, you and Ned are making videos of you killing virtual trolls while talking about it? And people actually watch that?”

“That’s...another way of putting it.”

“Sounds like a gigantic waste of time.” Tony scrunches up his nose. “Either I play the game myself, or I spend my downtime watching something interesting.” 

“Hey! Our last one has more than 3000 hits!” Peter defends.

“People have too much free time. Including you.” Tony points his finger at Peter before quickly covering his mouth to contain a sneeze. “But I suppose I can take a look if you really want me to…”

Peter grins. Stage one: complete.

They settle on the couch in the living room. Tony can’t suppress a small sigh when he leans against the cushions. He massages the bridge of his nose in a way that makes it clear to Peter he must be nursing a headache. 

“Hit me, kid,” he orders.

“Okay, but before we start, you need to know a few things...” Peter launches into a long-winded explanation of the game’s storyline with more than a few unnecessary details of the characters’ backgrounds. He pretends to concentrate on the screen where he walks Tony through different tutorials, but out of the corner of his eye he sees his mentor slowly sinking deeper and deeper into couch.

“...and then they bring Uma to the witcher school of Kaer Morhen,” Peter goes on as Tony tiredly attempts to follow along, his blinks growing longer and longer each time, “where Yennefer removes his curse and transforms him into Avallac'h...” 

When Peter can’t think of anything else to babble about, he starts playing their most recent video. Tony sits up a little straighter and rubs a hand over his face to concentrate. But at about the two minute mark, he stops the screen with a wave of his hand.

“So, not to be rude, but that was kind of painful, Tony declares. “You guys literally started with a 45 second explanation of why you prefer the old controller design to the new one. No wonder you’re putting people to sleep.”

Peter frowns a bit. “I mean, we weren’t that bad…” he defends. “And the new ones do kind of suck.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony huffs. He shifts position on the sofa with a sigh. “Alright, listen. It’s obvious that you two are knowledgeable about this game, but if you want to engage your audience, you’ve gotta try to establish your credentials in a way that’s still interesting and relatable. For instance, I once started a TED Talk by describing how I hacked NASA during an MIT frat party so that I could send a rocket to draw a dick over San Francisco. ”

Peter snorts at that admission. 

“See? Exactly,” Tony points out. “That’s the kind of reaction you want your audience to have - that’s called a hook, kid.” 

The longer they watch, the more Tony seems to be melting into the couch. His comments become less and less frequent, and at some point he leans his head back against the pillow, barely looking at the screen anymore. By the third video, Peter can see his mentor’s eyelids fluttering shut. 

He waits for a few minutes and then pauses the screen, just to see Tony’s eyes fly open again. “I’m listening!” he assures. 

“Yeah, I know.” Peter hides a smirk. “Just, uhm, relax a bit.”

“I see what you’re trying to do here, kid. I’m not stupid,” Tony protests nasally, stifling another sneeze, but he doesn’t make any move to get up from the couch. 

Peter starts the video again, knowing that the battle has been won. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep. 

Peter watches a few more videos on his own (now that he pays attention, he realises that most of Tony’s suggestions, despite being sarcastic, are actually in line with what the popular streamers do) before FRIDAY informs him that Bruce has woken up. 

He finds the scientist in the kitchen, making tea. 

“Hey Dr. Banner,” Peter greets. “How are you?”

“Hey Peter.” Bruce gives him a warm and slightly sleepy smile. His voice is a bit hoarse. “I’m fine. Is Tony asleep?”

“Yep,” Peter declares proudly. “Used my hypnotically soothing voice. And obscure video game lore."

Bruce heaves out a sigh. “Finally, thank god. I had, uhm… kind of an incident last night and I don’t think he slept at all after that.” 

Peter thinks back to the broken bed frame and chooses not to comment.

“Do you want some tea?” Bruce asks.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Bruce takes out a box of cookies instead and hands a few to Peter. “So, what was this thing you wanted me to look at with you?”

“Oh, it’s just a bio project,” Peter says with a shrug. “But we can do it some other time, when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m okay...” Peter gives him a suspicious look and Bruce’s smile deepens. “No need for that - I’m not Tony, I would tell you if I wasn’t up for it. But I am actually feeling much better after sleeping and I wouldn’t mind some distraction.”

“Okay, well then...”

Peter likes Bruce a lot. It took him a while to get close to him because Bruce is not a person who easily lets people in, but now whenever Peter visits the tower, he looks forward to seeing the scientist almost as much as he does to seeing Tony. 

Tony is brilliant, energetic, and funny, and he constantly encourages Peter to think deeper, work harder, do better - to improve himself. Which is a fun challenge, but it can also be quite exhausting at times. Working with Bruce is the exact opposite. He makes Peter feel calm, slows him down when he overthinks, and makes it clear that mistakes are something that happen to everyone and nothing Peter should be too concerned about. While spending time with Tony is the equivalent of a rollercoaster ride, being with Bruce feels more like a calm day at the beach, and Peter has realised that he needs both from time to time. 

They move to Bruce’s study (since Bruce doesn’t allow food in his lab and they don’t actually need to do any experiments for Peter’s project) with Peter’s laptop, biscuits, and several bars of Fairtrade chocolate. 

*

Tony wakes up with the blurry images of a nightmare still on the rims of his consciousness. He feels cold, achy, and slightly out of breath. It takes him a few disoriented moments to realise that his face is mostly buried into a couch pillow, blocking his mouth and nose. He frees himself and sits up stiffly, wiping at his slightly damp cheeks. His nose is dripping annoyingly and he isn’t sure whether that’s only because of the cold. 

“FRIDAY?” he prompts nasally. 

“It is 1:17pm on Saturday afternoon. Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker are working in the study room. Everyone is safe and well, boss.” 

“Okay. Thanks, FRI.” Tony takes another few moments to ground himself before getting up from the sofa, rather unsteadily. His body seems to have tripled in weight and his head feels like an overfilled balloon that’s ready to burst. He kind of wants to fall back onto the couch and go to sleep again, but at the same time he definitely doesn’t want to revisit the dreams he just had. 

Instead, he ventures into the study where he finds his partner, who is sporting an adorable bedhead, together with his mentee enthusiastically modelling a DNA strand on a laptop screen.

“Coffee?” Tony asks hoarsely.

“Good afternoon to you too, Tony,” Bruce smirks and nods towards a pot sitting on the table. Tony pours himself a mug and downs it in one go, marvelling at how much better it makes his throat feel immediately. 

Feeling slightly more human and ready to deal with the actual world, he leans over Bruce’s shoulder and nuzzles his head against his partner’s ear. “How you feeling, green bean?”

“I’m much better. Sleeping helped a lot, actually.” Tony gives him a critical once-over and seems to accept that. “Peter is doing an impressive job with his project, by the way,” Bruce adds.

Peter blushes at the compliment. “It’s not me - Dr. Banner is helping me a lot!” 

“I’m really just sitting here and watching you work,” Bruce dismisses before addressing Tony again. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m”—Tony’s voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and he has to clear his throat before continuing—“I’m good.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “FRIDAY, what’s his temperature at?”

“100.2 degrees, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks.” He turns to Tony, who is coughing again. There seems to be a brick stuck inside his chest and it feels like he can’t take a full breath at all. Bruce gives him a concerned look. “This sounds painful.”

“‘S okay,” Tony dismisses.

“Maybe you should try using the inhaler -”

“Stop mother-henning, Bruce,” he grumbles with a glance at Peter, who is very clearly trying to act as if he isn’t listening to every word, but the pain in Tony’s chest is suddenly replaced by a surge of warmth upon realising Bruce’s worry about him. The scientist seems to understand and just squeezes Tony’s hand before turning back to the screen.

Tony pours himself another cup of coffee and grabs a slice of toast as well as two of the chocolate bars before settling into the chair across from the two of them, munching away and watching them work. Seeing them together leaves him with an annoyingly sappy feeling. Bruce, usually rather shy, is much more self-confident around the kid and visibly happy about Peter’s genuine interest in everything scientific. He is also a much more patient teacher than Tony ever manages to be, which seems to be putting Peter at ease. 

After finishing his food, Tony debates moving to his own lab to get some actual work done, but he is so, so tired, and everything kind of hurts. Standing up seems like a lot of effort. So instead, he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on top of them, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He listens to Peter and Bruce when their conversation shifts from Peter’s project, to May’s new vegan disaster recipe, to the idea of using Peter’s webs in order to create a hammock that can hold the Hulk. Tony smiles into his sleeves, imagining Hulk chilling at the beach between two palm trees, swinging to and fro, to and fro, to and...

“Hey.” Bruce rests his palms lightly on Tony’s shoulder.

He jerks upright. “Wasn’t asleep.”

“What, I would never think that,” Bruce says with a smirk. 

Tony rubs his tired eyes and then his aching forehead. “Where’s Peter?”

“He went to heat up the soup for all of us.”

“Hmm.” Tony grabs Bruce’s hands and presses them against his overly warm cheeks, enjoying the cooling feeling they provide.

“Did you have a nightmare earlier?” Bruce asks, his hand now moving up to cup Tony’s forehead. “You seemed kind of out of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony admits, leaning into the touch. “I don’t remember what it was about, though.”

Bruce hums and presses a light kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “Fever dreams are awful. But at least you didn’t break any furniture upon waking up.”

Tony, sensing the guilt below the light tone, only huffs. “I’d been wanting to get a new bed anyway for a while now. Did you know there are self-making ones now? And levitating mattresses? Or we could go for one of those free-swinging beds, to match Hulk’s upcoming hammock.” 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. “A normal one would do, Tony. Or we could try something different. Did you know that sleeping on the ground is actually quite good for your back?”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m a billionaire, Brucie, we’re not sleeping on the ground because our bed is broken. Levitating one it is.”

Peter comes back with the steaming soup, which does wonders for Tony’s raw throat. At Bruce’s advice, he takes some Advil that muffles his headache a little and remembers the times a few years ago when he would be sick with only JARVIS as his company, feeling a little chilled and very lucky. 

*

In the end, Tony does agree to watching TV, but mostly because Bruce admits to still not feeling up for anything more demanding (which Peter suspects is not entirely true, but he definitely won’t call him out). They let Peter pick, who of course goes for the newest Orville episode, and settle on the huge living room couch with a steaming mug of tea (Bruce), a packet of chocolate (Tony) and another helping of soup (Peter). 

Peter notices after a while that Bruce is gently massaging Tony’s head, playing with his hair. Tony seems to be sort of melting into the touch, his head leaning against Bruce’s shoulder, eyes almost closed. He looks old, but not frighteningly so - more in a serene way that makes Peter want to capture the moment on film. 

In the years he’s known him, Peter has rarely seen Tony anything but buzzing with energy, jumping to and fro between ideas and lab tables. The only person who is able to slow him down and occasionally get him to take a break without having to outright trick him into it seems to be Bruce. And as sorry as Peter is to see both of them sick, it’s also heartwarming to observe how they are taking care of each other. 

Peter knows that most people his age find the idea of spending a lazy movie Saturday with their family kind of boring, but something in him loves the idea of settling down like this. Maybe it’s the fact that it reminds him of how it used to be with Ben and May, or that the time he spends as Spider-Man is already adventurous enough, or the sheer thrill of seeing Iron Man and the Hulk’s alter ego in their pyjamas on the couch, nuzzled up against each other. 

But whatever it is, there’s nowhere else Peter would rather be.

____________________

If you liked this, make sure to check out @twentyghosts‘ beautiful fic Cold, Comfort with a similar setting that inspired me to write this one.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Common Cold’ square.

[elegant-etienne]

3. [I] trusted [you]

Send me a number to receive a micro story!

Thank you for the ask, @maybeimawhale​!

(This song is what always comes to mind when I see the word ‘Trusted.’ And I think a lot about how I used to relate to this song, in the wake of a really bad break-up, but now that I’m older, I have to wonder if the narrator of the song is being at all reasonable. I also find it helpful, when revisiting subjects I’ve written before, to twist around the perspective a bit, and give myself permission, without naming the character in this piece, to treat Etienne’s ex-husband as a NPC, and admit to myself a lot of my own character’s faults from the outside.)

BEHIND THE CUT: Descriptions of a toxic marriage, substance abuse and addiction, suicidal ideation and an attempt, allusions to past abuse and PTSD, and very inaccurate TBH but this is more or less how I remember it going down descriptors of someone having a “split personality,” and some light misgendering of Etienne (they ID’ed as male when they met their ex-husband, and at the time of their wedding).

Also I am sorry for any errors, I can’t go back and fix them after the initial post or it’ll break the formatting on the post.

insp. Ben Folds - Trusted

It's funny I know But I'm disappointed in you I thought you could read my mind

Your husband - your spouse Etienne is doing better after the time away. Actually, the time when they was sleeping in the recovery wing - three sennights - is among the best you two have had. A few hours of visitation, and they're affectionate and loving and missing you. Even a rare smile, and they show you where the stitches came out. A bell or two isn't enough time to get worked into a fervor about things and restart the same fights you've been having for moons.

When they return, Etienne has warmth in their cheeks again. They're gaining weight again. They don't smile, but they've always been quiet about that sort of thing. They've missed you. They've missed you so much. They look more like they did on your wedding day, that reserved, understated glow. They look like the Etienne you married.

(In those moments when you thought you could still be one person successfully. In those moments when they thought they'd killed the other you. In those moments when they stood at you at the altar, teary-eyed but happy, so happy.)

"Welcome home, Etie," you say with your brightest grin.

"I'll be better this time. I promise. I'll never do that again."

You laugh and embrace. You're both so relieved.

But I came home early And saw that a drawer'd been opened Looks like you've been reading my diary instead

After a long shift in Medica, all you want to do is come home and take a bath. Etienne seems to have other ideas, however. They're seated at the desk. They're glaring at you. They hold up your notebook - the one with all the reports.

"So this is what you've been doing at night while I'm gone? Forbidden research and magic? I thought we talked about this! It's too dangerous, after the last time. What if it goes too far?"

"There was no one else who could do it. It had to be me." You've never raised your voice to Etienne. Not once. Sometimes, you've cried while you're fighting. Etienne has shouted before. Twice. It frightened you.

(They wanted to kill the other half of you.)

"What if something had happened to you while I was in care? I wouldn't have known where you were. And what if there had been an emergency at the FC? Folk need you. I need you. And you promised..." Etienne bows their head, sucking in sharp breaths to try and stop the crying.

"You have no business going through my notes. There could have been patient information in there!"

"...You were acting strangely. You were hurt. You weren't telling me things. You broke your promise." The tears have been withdrawn, all that's left is dead, blank sullenness from Etienne.

"I had no other choice."

"Did you even try to stop and think of one?"

"There wasn't time. Percy and--"

"Percy?!" There it is, the raised voice, a burst of life, a flame in their eyes. "I knew it. I knew he and you--"

"It was work--"

"--Have something going on, you told me it was nothing, you told me you weren't seeing him when I wasn't around-- While I was in the bloody hospital from trying to kill myself because I can't stand this, and you wouldn't leave me alone, you wouldn't just give me the space, and now the moment you have you're running around--" Etienne always gets like this. A million words a moment. Each a pointed attack, an accusation. When Etienne gets this way, you can't do anything right.

"--It's only work--!"

"Maybe I shouldn't have come back. Maybe Rosa was right, it's too soon, we're not ready." Etienne straights their posture, scrubbing at their eyes with the heels of their hands. "I drew you a bath. I'm going to bed."

How does it feel to realize You're all alone behind your eyes?

The bath is strewn with rose petals, the candles burned down hours ago. It's dark and cool in the bedroom off the heat of the bath. Your spouse is bunched up in one corner of the bed. "I love you, you know," you speak to the dark. To Etienne's back.

"I love you too," Etienne says, but doesn't turn around. “...Be honest. Did you fuck him?”

“No, it’s not like that. He found this... it was like a cursed circus, full of twisted creatures, he needed cleansing spells, he was able to show me ways to amplify my power...”

(He knows about the other you.)

"It's alright if you did," Etienne says, malms away in the same bed. Did they even hear your explanation? "If you want to, just tell me. We can figure out an arrangement, a lot of married couples do, just don't lie to me. Don't lie."

"It's not like that."

It seems to me if you can't trust You can't be trusted

You wait to hear the soft wheeze of Etienne's snores, but you drift off before they do. Somehow. In the middle of the night, it's a repeat of others. This hasn't changed with the time in care ward, apparently. Etienne sits up and starts screaming, won't be held, won't be comforted. 3AM in the morning and your spouse is in the corner, knees to chest, rocking. They start rooting around, too, when you pretend to sleep. They won't find anything. You poured all the liquor out sennights ago -- even the things in the back of the icebox and at the top of the bookshelf.

Caught in a dream Picking up astral signals Some of them psychic, you better watch what you think

You come home to Etienne sitting in front of their vanity. You see the shimmer of a deactivated glamour prism. There are tears in their eyes, but you don't know why. They slip the plate into a drawer somewhere, and you do not ask more about it.

"I got more of the sedative. To help you with sleeping. So you don't have to drink." It's never difficult to cadge a little bit of medicine on the side for loved ones when it's needed - such are the benefits of being one of the heads of Medica. No one has to ask any questions. Etienne doesn't have to get upset or embarrassed at exposing their problems to anyone they don't trust. Rosa doesn't have to put her foot down and force Etienne to stay in the care ward, away from you. It's win-win.

Something flits across Etienne's face - suspicion, mayhap, and they say-- "I'm going to try and handle it. I'm. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to keep giving me that stuff."

"The sedative's non-habit-forming. It's better than alcohol, at least."

"I still shouldn't turn to something every time I'm distressed. It scares me. Depending on that."

"Then at least talk to me about what's bothering you."

Etienne looks at you through the mirror, not turning around. "It's not anything distinct. It's. Hands. Being pulled down into darkness. Being pinned down. Being unable to escape. Sometimes it's so real I feel it, getting slammed into a wall or onto the icy ground... and no matter how I struggle, I can't get free. So I start screaming."

"Etie..."

"Well, whatever. Everyone's got their shite." You hate this. How they mutter and retreat into themselves. They fold up into themselves and they don't come back.

(Your nightmares are of fire, of the Calamity. Lost in the woods, mother and father are gone, you can't find your brother's hand--)

Etienne shuffles resentfully into the silence. "Are you willing to tell me what you did on that mission?"

"Are you promising not to get angry when I tell you the  details?"

Etienne lifts their chin. "I'll decide that when you tell me."

(You tell them. You don't tell them all of it. You don't tell them he's back.)

Happens to be that everybody else's dreams are Freudian clues You better watch what you dream

A few suns later, Etienne makes breakfast for you. That pink ruffly apron, but there's no singing this morning: just the sizzling pan. "Do you remember anything at all about last night?" they ask, plating up the little fish with fresh, fluffy rice. They loved that Doman cooking book you got them.

"Um..."

Etienne pours you scalding hot green tea. "I went looking for you. I gave that friend of yours quite a scare. I think maybe he thought I'd burn him alive." Etienne snorts. "I just made his tea boil a bit. When he told me the truth of what you two have been up to."

"Why would you--"

"Then I found you in the Quicksand. Chatting up someone else. Are you cheating on us both, darling?"

Your head's spinning as you try to braid the threads of last night back together. "That wasn't me--"

"No, it wasn't. I brought him back here. He was as awful to me as ever." Etienne accuses with swordlike jabs. "If he's back," they say, "Why did we do any of it? The ritual? I almost lost you then! Why did you make me do any of that if he was just going to come back?"

(Your head hurts.)

"You shouldn't have gone through my things," you hiss out. "There are things that you are better off not knowing!"

"Oh, like the fact you and that boy have a magical connection? Unlike anything either of you has ever experienced? And how you - the other you - is the most brilliant mind he's ever known? It's just like I said. Remember that? You said nothing was happening, but he's totally in love with you."

"It isn't like that."

"Tell that to him, then."

(Etienne never listens.)

"Even if there's something going on - it - it isn't with me and him, it's--"

"The other one. I know. The other one who threatened to kill me."

"He was just testing you."

"And that makes it better?"

"He's lashing out because you tried to destroy him."

"He started it. You said the ritual would fix you," Etienne rasps out a whisper. "I can't believe this. I can't believe we did all that and... I'm dragging someone wearing the body of my husband out of a seedy tavern. I looked like such a fool. I thought we fixed this."

"Maybe," you feel your voice dropping to a growl, "I never needed to be fixed."

You want to see the other side What's going on behind the eyes

(Last winter, you came out of a fog to Etienne staring at you, withdrawn into a calmly blank expression, their posture stiff.

"Why," they ask you, "Did you just threaten to murder me?"

You said, groggily, "What?"

And you explained it all. The splitting.

"How am I supposed to feel safe around you when there's - there's something inside you that wants to kill me?" Etienne asks, too steadily. "He knows everything about me that I've told you. He knows what I'm afraid of. This is a problem." They say, and they speak your name urgently.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, if - if he did."

"Oh, I wasn't scared," Etienne says, quietly and intensely. "I'm used to being around men who'd just as soon slit my throat as fuck me. Or one and then the other, with no particular preference of the order. I just didn't realize you were one of them.")

Still it seems if you can't trust You can't be trusted

Here is one of the fights you've had more than once: your friend thought of a way to get rid of the other personality. Put him into another body.

"So we'd just take the body of someone who - what? Even if you found a willing subject, that would be killing someone." Etienne pulls their knees up to their chest, the water rippling. You're sitting at the edge of the bath. They seem to want to melt into the steam wafting off the surface. It makes them dewy. You're not sure if they're crying or not.

"No," you tell them, "We could put him into another body where the spirit had already returned to the Lifestream."

"That's necromancy. I won't do necromancy."

"We may have no other option."

"If you mess with corpses, you really won't have control over what ends up in there. You could be inviting something very, very bad in. You know that, don't you? What you're talking about is defiling the dead. It's a sin. It's a defiance of Nald'Thal's balance. It's a perversion of everything I believe. You know that. You shouldn't do it. Don't ask me to do it!"

"What if we have no other choice?"

Etienne stands up in the water, then, thinking to get out. They shout, "I can't do it! Don't ask me!" Their voice echoes and buzzes in the small space of the bath. The water ripples as they sink back down into it. They let the water bury them like a comfort blanket. "I'm - I'm sorry. Please just go away," they say in a tiny voice. "Let me think."

"I'll be outside."

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

In the end, what else could you do? Etienne didn't trust you to handle the situation. Etienne wouldn't participate in the most obviously effective ritual. Etienne was angry at you when the first attempt didn't work as planned. Etienne was an unstable, suicidal, dangerously alcoholic. It hadn't taken much time at all after the hospitalization for them to fall back on old ways.

They couldn't be trusted.

On the day you left to do it, you kissed their forehead, tucked the blankets all around them, and put strong wards on the doors after emptying another round of hidden bottles.

The sun's coming up She's pulled all the blankets over Curled in a ball Like she's hiding from me and That's when I know

Their voice comes over the linkpearl. There's a danger to it. "Why are there wards on the door, what are these?"

"It's the only way to keep you from drinking when I can't be there," you explain calmly.

Etienne sucks in a breath, and you brace for yelling. "You can't just lock me in here," they whisper. "I'm a person. I'm an adult. You have to let me out."

"I have somewhere to be for a few suns. You've food in there. You'll be alright. Sober up."

"Can't you call someone to come check on me? Rosa, or someone? Please, I can't - don't leave me here alone."

"I'm sorry, it was my only option. This can't wait."

She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up For terrible things I did to her in her dreams

The apartment is in poor shape when you return. It seems at several points Etienne attempted to magic the doorway and scorched the rug - or the levin sparked and started a fire - and they also attempted sheer brute force. One of the charming little kitchen chairs is splintered. But the Etienne you find is more like the Etienne you married. Ducking their head shyly, saying, "I'm really sorry... I'm sorry I relapsed, I'm weak."

"I'm sorry I had to do that," you say. The two of you hug desperately.

(You're sorry you had to do all of it.)

You want to see the other side What's going on behind the eyes

(You're sorry the first ritual failed. The softness and patience Etienne showed you then, when you were recovering, when you didn't remember them - they were just as sweet as they'd been when you first got married. When you first started dating. Before everything got so bad.)

Still it seems if you can't trust You can't be trusted

The night Etienne tried to kill themselves, you had a fight. It was about all those nights you went out, not telling them where you were going. "I can't keep doing this," Etienne said to you, staring up at the statue of Nald'thal in the Ossuary. "I can't." They speak your name with such quiet urgency. "I need time to think."

"Please," you beg, your eyes stinging. "Don't leave me." You grab their arm. They try to jerk away from the touch.

Their voice echoes loud in the Ossuary. "Don't bloody touch me when I’m upset! Please!"

You hold onto their arm harder. Their arm is so thin. They're slipping away from you. "Please don't leave, please don't be angry. Please...!"

"I'm not -- I'm not -- I just..."

You're sobbing.

"I'm sorry, darling," Etienne says, gently touching your face, your hair, "Let's go home."

You have a long conversation-argument at the apartment. You explain why the work is essential. They beg you to promise not to do things that put you in danger. You tell them you'll do your best. You don't like doing things that upset them, after all.

"I don't know what's wrong with me,” Etienne murmurs. “I feel hounded, I can't sleep. You're always so busy. Since the ritual and... since that... incident with Henri..."

"Are you guilty? Because of what happened?"

"I honestly just want to be alone," Etienne says. They are sitting at the desk about a yalm from you, but they're malms away. "So much has happened the last few moons. I need to figure it out."

"Do you mean traveling? I can't right now, with work -- and I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be on your own. I don't think you're alright on your own right now."

"True," Etienne says, lowering their head. They shuffle around in the desk, and your feel your face heat. Another bottle? Etienne whispers something, "You won't let me go," mayhap, and then. The letter opener.

Thank the Twelve you're a healer. Thank the Twelve you had the sedative. They beg you for it that night, after you stop the bleeding. They can’t sleep and they’re half mad, crying and ranting. And you take them to your co-worker Rosa in the morning. She takes Etienne away from you. Says they need to rest and recover under direct supervision. Etienne doesn't even want to see you at first, or perhaps it's that Rosa won't let you near them. She's the one who stipulated only short visits while Etienne recovers. She only lets you back after Etienne sleeps for two suns straight.

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

You remember the day you fell in love with Etienne. You both were sitting at the Quicksand. You had tea, they had orange juice, and another man sat down between you two at the table and made himself welcome. He asked you why you stuttered.

"While on the subject of questions, why are you so bloody rude?" Etienne asked. They said to you, "You don't have to answer that." And you smiled, feeling sunshine radiating out of every pore.

"I'm not the sort of man for relationships," Etienne said, later, as you walked down the streets of Ul'dah, over to the steps of the Ossuary. You offered to escort them to work, as though they needed it. "I've been through a lot. I don't even know if I can love anyone - it all seems like kind of a fool's errand, honestly. Men are... I've just met so many, many awful men."

You took their hand, and they look at you, surprised. "I can be patient," you promised them, "I can wait. I think you're worth it. I think you're worth trying for. I've never met anyone like you."

"Well, thank you, I suppose," Etienne says, their lips twisting as they hold back skeptical laughter. "Let’s promise one another, though - let’s be honest with one another about how this going. If someone else catches your fancy, or I do something you don't like, please just tell me. You wouldn't believe how many times I got hauled out of a nobleman's bed by a surprised wife. As if it's my fault their marriage is falling apart! I don't want anything like that, alright? No silly secrets!”

"Promise."

“Not that I imagine we'll get married. I'm really not the type." Etienne laughs at the sky. “What am I doing?!”

Hello.

[gamelpar]

It’s All About Fakes (100 sentence prompts fanfic)

Because I suck a writing even short stories or drabbles, I write 100 sentences prompts for the Fake AH Crew instead.

Some of them are inspired by moments in Let’s Play videos, headcanons, social media posts, or just comes straight out of the blue.

Feel free to take inspiration from the prompts or use them.

Prompts are written from a non-shippy perspective, but each prompt can be intercepted in whatever way pleases.

Also my first work, so let’s see how this goes.

Hey, why don’t you read it on AO3 instead?https://archiveofourown.org/works/24787825

1. How the Fake AH Crew got this far is a hell of story, and you can bet it’s one damn worth telling. (Fake it Til’ You Make it)

2. Ray was a sniper; he could spot bullshit a mile away, so how come he ended up in the Fake AH Crew? (On the Spot)

3. Sitting by the wheel of the red minivan Geoff sighed for the 67th time that day, still disbelieving the fact that they were not on their way to carry through a well-planned heist but rather enroute to the beach for some “splashing and slacking”, as Jack had called it. (Sunday Driving - To the Beach)

4. “The Vagabond says: it’s all gonna be murder.” (What the Vagabond Says)

5. Whether it was the Golden Boy or Gavin; Mogar or Michael; they wouldn’t leave each other behind. (Bois Forever)

6. Lindsay---being an absolute goddess as always---supports Jack in her telling for Fiona, and Jack couldn’t have been more grateful. (Women’s League)

7. Matt screws something up; Trevor is there to help him fix it; then Gavin and Alfredo is there to screw it up even more. (Nice Job Breaking It)

8. It’s Bake a Cake Day (according to Gavin) and it’s Gents vs. Lads (insisted by Gavin) and it will also be known as the day when Geoff’s kitchen met its undeniable demise (because of Gavin). (Bake a Cake Day)

9. Long story short: Michael breaks into an animal adoption center for a cat because Lindsay, and Gavin and Ray tags along because why the fuck not. (No Animal Came To Any Harm Except For Gavin)

10. A heavily tattooed man walks into a bar; later, a mad man and a lady in a Hawaii-shirt joins him. (It’s Not a Joke but the Punchline is Fluff)

11. Lindsay and Jeremy have dealt with shit going sideways longer than most people so they know how to make the best of it. (Failure is an Old Friend of Mine)

12. “I hereby announce that the official Prank Wars Week is in session!” (Oh No)

13. The Vagabond might be ready to die, but Ryan knows he’s not. (Ready as I’ll Ever Be)

14. The Lads---and Geoff---gets drunk as hell one night and starts a sock company. (Socks, There’s Socks Everywhere)

15. A boring Fake AH Crew means a dangerous Fake AH Crew and the residents of Los Santos better prepare for chaos. (Boredom Can be a Health Hazard)

16. Ryan gets hiccups and Ray thinks it’s funny until he gets hiccups, too, and soon everyone is stuck with hiccups and everyone blames Ray for some reason. (The Hiccup Disease)

17. When dawn arrives the Fake AH Crew will never be the same again. (Dawn After Battle)

18. Shopping weekends was nothing Lindsay used to do regularly, until Ryan one time decided to come along; then it became a thing. (Stuff We Do Together)

19. Even after leaving the crew, Ray would still have a home to return to. (Home is Wherever You Make it Be)

20. “No---we’re not twins, we’re not brothers, we’re not related in any way, so please for god’s sake, stop asking that.” (Stop the Questions Goddamnit)

21. Jeremy tried to apply more pressure to the wound but as the time on the bomb was running out, so did the blood. (A Mistake You Won’t Live to Learn From)

22. Someone knocks---no, pounds on the door to Ryan’s apartment at 3AM in the morning and Ryan’s still not that happy to being woken up in the middle of the night even if it is Meg waiting behind the door. (Late Night Visitor   or   Expect the Unexpected)

23. “Hey, guys, Fiona here---you’ll never believe this---but I’m stuck in jail and I need one of you to come and bail me out.” (Let’s Bail)

24. Matt is found alone sitting on top of the roof, watching the sunset, but what Geoff finds is someone who needs to talk and so he decides to be that other someone who listens. (Everyone Needs Someone Sometimes)

25. Gavin gets into trouble, which drags Michael and Jeremy into more trouble, and Geoff just wants to have a fucking drink. (Prepare for Trouble)

26. Gavin makes a statement, and Ryan feat. Alfredo makes it a hundred times worse. (Disturbance of Your Own Making)

27. Being welcomed by the sight of a bloodied and battered Gavin through the open door eliminates any tiredness and annoyance Geoff had worked up to having been woken up by a loud pounding on the door at 2AM. (Bloody Brit)

28. That was the way of the Battle Buddies; if one went down, the other had to keep on going, no matter what. (Broken Promise)

29. Nothing lasts forever, and Ray knows that better than anyone. (Never Say Forever)

30. The remaining Gents as well the rest of the Fakes would always be missing a part of themselves from now on. (Parts & Pieces   or   Next Step is to Move On)

31. The alphabet wasn’t enough to cover every brilliant plan the Fake AH Crew had in store, but they never settled for a single letter anyways. (Seven Ridiculous Plans and One That Actually Made Sense)

32. To the Lads, brighter days ahead is just an illusion they can only dream of in the aftermath of a heist gone wrong which claimed the lives of the Gents. (Miserable Lads)

33. It’s a story from being refused of coffee, to wanting to commit suicide briefly, to Trevor having made room for tea-parties with Jeremy, Gavin and Lindsay in his schedule every now and then. (Shut Up and Have Some Tea)

34. Really, it all started when Ray wouldn’t leave Geoff’s house one night. (A Place for Everyone)

35. Usually things doesn’t escalate this far by playing a simple Xbox-game but having ended up in jail, Michael and Matt doesn’t have much of a say about it and Geoff’s pissed. (Hate the Players)

36. Waking up in a dark room tied to a chair with no slightest idea of what the hell’s going on tends to lead to some anxiety-ridden experiences, especially when it is Gavin who finds himself in that situation. (Blackout)

37. No one wants to be the only sober one left to take care of a drunk crew, but with Ray gone Ryan just has to accept that this is his life now. (Trust   or   Sober One)

38. To think it all started that day when Jack saved a drunk man from being robbed in a dark alley. (Mind Your Manners)

39. Neither Lindsay or Michael would force Gavin to put on a brave face after a nightmare; everyone had fears and it was okay to be scared sometimes. (Sharing is Caring)

40. Matt’s life was just another pile of broken pieces until he met Jeremy, and suddenly he had some glue to put the pieces back together. (Glue   or   Glue My Life Back Together)

41. In the temporary apartment Ray was living in at the moment there was a vase by the kitchen window, always holding five red roses. (A Vase Full of Roses)

42. Geoff’s mood could easily be improved a 100 times better with some nice and warm socks. (Can Never Have Enough of Socks)

43. The crew quickly learned that pairing up Ryan and Trevor together would leave a traumatic amount of battered bodies and large pools of blood behind. (Madness In Me)

44. Michael’s life was like a puzzle; bits and pieces all over the place, some fitting, some not, some missing or broken, some didn’t even belong---and Jack standing there in the middle of it all being the only one who seemed to sense some kind of pattern. (Puzzles)

45. The Fake AH Crew weren’t good guys---they never would be---but that didn’t mean they were incapable of doing good, and they were by far the most decent team of criminals that had ever set foot in Los Santos. (Bad Guys Do Good)

46. Tears kept falling, slowly soaking the photo Jack held in her hand of her and the crew---not wanting to forget, yet not wanting to remember. (Remember to Forget)

47. The pink sniper rifle that hung on the wall would always serve as a reminder for the members of the Fake AH Crew that they were not immortal after all. (We Could Be Immortals)

48. Ryan’s an evil mastermind and that frightens Gavin a little, but the Golden Boy reckon it’s time to beat the Vagabond at his own game. (The Reckoning)

49. Kerry Shawcross crosses paths with the infamous Fake AH Crew completely by accident, and all hell breaks loose. (Welcome to Fake Hell)

50. The blood on his hands belonged to someone he knew---someone he cared about---and Ryan had never been more afraid of himself. (There’s Someone There But it’s Not Me)

51. It’s Pride Month and Jeremy really takes it up a notch when coloring his hair this time. (Rainbows)

52. Watching them Lindsay realized that while each of them all had lost so much, they had found even more. (Less is More)

53. Trevor would be better than Geoff ever’d been at scheduling heists and leading the crew, but he still gets to handle all the complaining from the crew so he isn’t as satisfied as he would like to be. (Point of No Return)

54. When the realization strikes him that he’s the only one left remaining, Jeremy falls to his knees in defeat and can’t stop screaming. (What Remains)

55. Fiona can never seem to stop messing with Gavin in any way possible. (A Step Too Far)

56. “Yeah, they’re all idiots---but they’re my idiots, so don’t you fucking dare lay your hand on them.” (A Bunch of Savage Animal Idiots)

57. Times have never been darker for the Gents as each of them struggles to cope with the deaths of the Lads in the aftermath of an coordinated attack. (Falling Inside the Black)

58. The day he met the Wildcard, Michael’s whole world finally started to make some sense. (Wild World)

59. Geoff’s constant drinking worried Gavin sometimes. (Drunk Concern)

60. Matt didn’t believe anyone would care enough for him to consider him family, nor did he believe he would end up in becoming a part of one. (Lost and Found)

61. Alfredo always wondered who Trevor really was underneath his iron suit of armor. (Armor)

62. Even when stuck in a seemingly never-ending coma, Geoff was never alone. (Not Alone)

63. Alfredo joins the Fake AH Crew with more blood on his hands than most people---including himself---would’ve expected. (Red Sea)

64. There’s a perfectly valid reason why Lindsay, despite not being his roommate anymore, is the only one who has a key to Ryan’s apartment. (Key to the Door)

65. Four times Jeremy and Trevor talked their way out of jail and one time they didn’t. (Another Approach to the Problem)

66. Lindsay tried, and that’s why she was still alive, even though everyone else that mattered to her weren’t anymore. (The Fake Among the True)

67. Fiona was her own knight in shining armor and no tower could ever hold her captive for long. (Green Knight)

68. There were days when Jeremy saw a way out, yet the light would always fade at the end of the tunnel, leaving him in the dark. (No Way In, No Way Out)

69. The others would never come back, and Gavin, walking in the wake of that horrifying truth, felt like an empty shell with nothing left to give. (Empty)

70. Trevor would give his life for the crew just like Geoff and Lindsay had. (Third Time Counts)

71. One time for when each of the Fake AH Crew members showed strength and one time when they didn’t. (No Shame)

72. Jack and Geoff shared a special responsibility for every member of the crew, and Michael was no exception. (Nightmare Terrors)

73. ‘Who’s the creepiest motherfucker?’ is a question rather avoided and unanswered. (Creep Contest)

74. All Michael felt now was a burning anger that refused to flicker and fade, and thirst for revenge than could never be quenched. (Road Rage)

75. The last time they all saw each other the city was burning, wounds were bleeding---figuratively and literally---and they never expected to see each other again. (One Last Time)

76. Jack liked to be up in the early, quiet mornings while everyone was still asleep, but she was seriously going to tackle Ryan into bed if she found out he was still awake at 5AM again. (Go the Fuck to Sleep)

77. He’d said he was going to visit, but Ray always pushed the promise further to its limits every time. (Liar Liar)

78. Five times a heist went to hell and one time when it actually didn’t. (Heisting Hell)

79. Not every backstory of the Fake AH Crew’s members is full of shattered dreams and points of no return. (Wanted)

80. Gavin missed home sometimes, but the Golden Boy didn’t. (Two Sides of a Coin)

81. Jeremy’s admiration of monster trucks stretches way back to when he was only a child, walking past a toy store. (Monster Car)

82. “You can leave if you want”, Geoff said, “No one’s going to stop you.” (Freedom)

83. The Vagabond was almost always in control after the Fall of the Fakes, mostly because Ryan let him. (Dead by Daylight)

84. Perhaps the next mishap won’t be so embarrassing for Alfredo, but life didn’t seem to like him much at all. (It’s Life, What Can You Do About It)

85. Four times Geoff said no to either Gavin, Ryan or Lindsay bringing an animal home, and one time he actually said yes. (Animal Addition)

86. So the members of the Fake AH Crew decides to steal their boss’ yacht again and Geoff’s as usual late to the party. (Yacht Party)

87. The crew goes to get some tattoos, and Lindsay is very sure of which one she wants to get. (Tattoos)

88. When Jack falls sick and can’t make her awesome lunch for the whole crew, the crew makes one for her instead (and Jack appreciates it even if it’s a little burned). (Faking the Chef)

89. The day Fiona joined the Fake AH Crew is a day Gavin will very well remember. (Bully)

90. The B-Team is usually there to clean up the messes, except for this time. (Don’t Leave Your Messes Here)

91. The whiskey burned his throat when he guzzled it, and Geoff wished that the liquor could burn away the pain and memories the same. (Burning Bridges)

92. The Fake AH Crew may look like they’re having the time of their lives, but the outside is designed to hide the struggles and issues that lingers underneath. (Inside Out)

93. With the Gents missing, the Lads stuck in a burning building, and the B-team cornered in a firefight, things does not look good. (Already Over)

94. The Fake AH Crew never failed to be impressed by Michael’s colorful vocabulary of swear words. (Words of Color)

95. Jeremy tries to cover up some traces of his past life from the rest of the crew; it does not go the way he wants. (Known to the World)

96. The Ring had been like home, but he wasn’t earning any money being beaten up every round in familiar surroundings, so Michael left---and ended up in Los Santos. (Ring of Fire)

97. The different paths that every member of the crew took for themselves led each of them to end up somewhere they never intended to be, but somewhere they were meant to be. (Pathfinders)

98. It was safe to say that every member of the Fake AH Crew had at least one weird obsession; some had way too many, and some obsessions were just what the fuck. (Obsessions)

99. The Fake AH Crew heists in style, or they do not heist at all. (Do it with Style)

100. The Fake AH Crew is made up of a selected (un)worthy and unique individuals---each one with their own story of whens, ifs, whats, whos, and hows. (Now That We’ve Come So Far)

[theluthorcorner]

For a prompt: Maybe an AgentCorp first kiss scenario? Perhaps a little angst involved?

God I really hope this is what you asked for... It kind of ran away from me lol hope you like it! 

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

To say Alex was in over her head would be an understatement. More accurately, she was drowning. Every day seemed to be the same, recently: Lena Luthor would show up at the DEO in the morning, outsmart everyone by lunch, and then leave early with a shit-eating grin on her face. Alex was frustrated and impressed, a curious mix that kept her up at night if she were being honest with herself. It wasn’t just that Lena was aggressively smart— she was used to arrogance, working with tech wizards, superheroes, and all-important government agents every day. Lena was different. She carried herself in a completely refreshing way. There was a playfulness to her intelligence. She’d fire off the smartest idea all day and then finish her thought with an off-the-wall joke. If she wanted, Lena could make it seem as though you’d thought of an idea yourself. It would take you hours to realize you’d been charmed into submission. Lena Luthor clearly liked to played games, and Alex was slowing beginning to discover that she was all for it. They’d bounce complex ideas off each other at breakneck speed, neither wanting to drop the ball. Alex couldn’t deny that there was a way about Lena that she found enchanting and entirely satisfying. Their friendship had taken off at a staggering pace that left Alex breathless.

And when she found herself laying awake at 3am, her thoughts seemed to always turn back to Lena Luthor. And it was such dangerous territory. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Alex to explain away her fascination. There were times she’d find herself staring at Lena while she spoke, only to find she hadn’t retained a word. Lena’s smile, the way her brow furrowed when she concentrated, the way her jaw sharpened slightly when met with confrontation—none of these had anything to do with the important work they were doing at the DEO. So Alex had to finally come to the conclusion that maybe this fascination was genuine attraction. She played with this truth only in the middle of the night, when no one could interfere with their logic or reason.

It was foolish, she knew, to be attracted to one of the most successful, accomplished women in the world. What could she possibly have to offer that Lena Luthor did not already have? Yet she couldn’t deny the looks they shared when their ideas combined to form something brilliant. Or the knowing smirks that passed between them every now and again when someone said something… unhelpful. And the way Lena touched her when Alex managed to make her laugh? So lightly she barely felt it, and still, it sparked fireworks on her skin and warmed her blood. There was no other explanation. The feeling was definitely mutual. Right?

These were the whirlwind of thoughts on her mind when she walked into the DEO early one morning. Her nightly musings had managed to seep into the daytime, and Alex stubbornly decided to blame it on lack of sleep. She found herself bumping into what seemed like every employee in the building before morning briefing even began. Finally Alex decided to slip into the conference room early, tired of standing around and apologizing. She closed the door behind her and leaned into the door, trying to catch her breath in the quiet room. She didn’t notice the figure sitting near the head of the boardroom table until it was too late.  

“Alex, good to see you.” Lena’s voice struck Alex like a lighting bolt. She froze immediately at the sound, panic swimming through her veins. She considered fleeing the room for a second, before common sense returned to her body as quickly as it had left. Instead, she spun around to face Lena, much too quickly to be casual.

“Good morning, Lena. Didn’t know you got in so early,” Alex tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out as more of a strangled cough than anything friendly. “Coffee?” She made her way to the machine and turned her back to Lena again, busying herself with the intricate buttons, pretending not to notice the smile playing on Lena’s lips. Why didn’t they just get a simple coffee maker? She’d begged J’onn to install at least one in this entire stupid building. The modern models were too complicated—it was like tinkering with a spaceship.

“Here let me help you with that.” And suddenly Lena was right behind her. Leaning over her shoulder, whispering into her ear, one hand on her lower back. Alex stopped breathing for a second as she watched Lena turn on the machine like magic. She counted the seconds, taking in how close they were in this quiet, empty room. She wondered if anyone had ever gotten away with fooling around in here. It couldn’t be that hard, you’d just need to plan around Supergirl and the other heroes who dropped in from time to time. It would help to know someone on the security team. Then you’d have access to the cameras and could meddle with the room bookings and maybe even—

“Alex?” Lena asked gently, pulling her from her thoughts. “Are you alright? You seem a bit off today.”

“Huh? Yeah, no. I’m fine,” Alex stammered and tried to wave her off, but Lena stood her ground, ready to dig into whatever this was. After a long pause Alex attempted lying again, but something in Lena’s expression made her stop. She sighed instead. “Honestly, no, I’m not fine. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Lena asked, pressing a little closer.  Alex searched Lena’s eyes for answers she knew were too well-hidden to find. Was Lena messing with her? Why was she standing so close? “Is it because you’re distracted?” Alex could swear Lena’s voice dropped a little with that last sentence, and her stomach dropped right along with it. “It’s alright if you are,” Lena pressed on. “I think I am too.”

“Really?” Alex barely registered that she has spoken. Or that she had also leaned in herself, hanging on every word.

“Yeah I think so,” And now Lena’s lips were just inches away, easy to reach without even trying. Alex couldn’t take her eyes off them. It would be so easy. “I think you want to do something right now,” Lena whispered. “And I think I’d let you.”

And there it was. The bomb had finally dropped. Suddenly their interactions these past few weeks came rushing back to her. Flashes of laughter and lingering looks and gentle touches, all flying by in Alex’s head like train missing its station. Alex could kick herself for ever thinking her feelings weren’t mutual.

So she leaned in a little closer, without hesitation, and finally, finally, kissed Lena Luthor. It was better than anything she could have imagined. Alex opened her arms, let Lena fall into them, and simply held on for the ride. And when the kiss was over and Lena rested her head on Alex’s shoulder, she finally understood the complicated feelings she had been trying to untangle, and she smiled. Alex wasn’t drowning anymore—she was exactly where she wanted to be.

[wandererslyric]

YOGURT DREAMIES

((A story of pure silliness for my dear sister, inspired by the following prompts: ‘Soulmate AU: Where if your soulmate is listening to music it will be stuck in your head until they stop listening to it. Chloe and BTS haven’t met yet. Chloe is going through their emo phase and BTS is listening to bubblegum pop.’ And: ’Chloe and Yoongi meeting because they’re neighbors. Yoongi is singing in the shower at night, and Chloe comes to complain because they have very thin walls.’ Silliness to ensue. 😝))

Chloe wasn’t quite sure when it started. It was something that creeped up on her, the way that a particularly sneaky snake might creep through the grass towards its next victim. She first noticed it on a sweltering Tuesday, after she caught the bus from Starbucks. Noontime sun glinted from the windows whizzing past while Chloe rested in her seat, scrolling through her Twitter feed while ‘Car Radio’ played through a pair of lovingly-used earbuds. She was scrolling through a thread of epic dumpling edits, mindlessly mouthing the words to her jam when she noticed another melody growing her mind, contrasting the current one she listened too, growing louder and louder until she caught herself humming something far too cheery to be Twenty One Pilots.

It made her pause, and flip over from Twitter to her music player, glancing at the dull phone screen with furrowed brows. Sure enough, the song hadn’t changed. And yet another song was clearly stuck in her head. A song that was... cheery, with a beat that popped like bubblegum bubbles, contagiously catchy. The kind that felt as if you listened to it through earbuds sparkles would come pouring from the speaker.

Poom, Poom, Poomki, Bop-a-bop-a boongles

She mouthed mindlessly, confused, and then pressed replay and locked her phone with a click. The cardboard sleeve holding her matcha latte snug crinkled under her fingers as as she shuffled more comfortably in the seat. Maybe she just needed to hear ‘Car Radio’ again.

——-

A week later, and it became too noticeable not to notice.

“Poom, Poom, Poomki, Bop-a-bop-a boongles, Yogurt Dreamies, Wop-a-wop-a woongles

Shubble, shubble sunshine, just for you, just for you,

Meowgi mew mew, avocado sunshine, just for you, you!”

The song looped in her mind at the oddest of hours: when first she woke up every afternoon, when she was stepping past the boxes from the recently moved-in neighbor, and even now, as she strolled through the aisles of Whole Foods, the shopping basket leaving a mark on her arm as it grew heavier with the groceries she’d need for this week. Sometimes it would happen randomly and suddenly stop. And it wasn’t that the song was bad, she had to admit it wasn’t her style but it was clearly growing on her. But still it drove her near to madness. Intelligent and ever questioning, it was the lack of an explanation of it that bothered Chloe the most, but for now she passed through the soy sauce aisle and tried to distract herself from the conundrum that was this cotton-candy melody.

Soy sauce. That’s right. As she mindlessly scanned the labels on the glossed glass bottles, she remembered her neighbor, the one who she’d met when he first knocked on her door at 3am, politely but desperately asking if she had any soy sauce. He had run out and what had he said he needed it for? He was cooking... ‘kogi’? She remembered it because it sounded like her name. It was... a meat dish? For his new roommate? He truly seemed heartbroken and it tugged at her pity and generosity, so she gave him the bottle, telling him not to worry about returning it.

As she picked up a 64oz low-sodium jug of tamari, she thought more about her neighbor, who was indeed incredibly attractive, with a blindingly brilliant smile, charming beyond belief. And yet he seemed more wonderful to her as a friend and brother, and so the growing attentions he gave her, perhaps due to their shared love of cooking, she treated with nonchalance. Soon the flirtatious glances and teasing jokes he directed towards her seemed to respectfully subside, and now Jin was a neighbor she got along well with, and perhaps in time could call a friend. Sometimes, due to the incredible paper thinness of the walls, she thought she heard humming coming from his apartment, humming of -her- songs that she had been listening too through the week. But as curious as this coincidence seemed, she dismissed it. Music truly had been driving her to insanity. Oh no. It started again, softly but growing more insistent.

Shubble, shubble sunshine, just for you, just for yooooouuuuuu,

Chloe pressed her earplugs further into her ears and headed towards the produce section.

—-

Chloe had finished dinner. And it was fantastic! A plate of cucumbers, without the skin of course (certainly that is the unhealthiest part?!), some sliced like paper and others the perfect thickness to scoop the lemon hummus. The platter complimenting the garlic perfectly, along with fresh cherry tomatoes, carrots, kalamata olives... It was a -masterpiece-.

And yet she was unhappy. And ‘poom poom poomki’ was to blame.

No matter how many other songs she listened too, this one melody -never- left her head. It looped within her mind, like the repetitive clack of a rock caught in a car tire against the road; for months this had gone on, and it was enough to throw off her day. But more so was the confusion on how it got into her head in the first place. She couldn’t find it anywhere. She even tried Googling the lyrics to see what song they belonged too, but nothing came up. It was as if the song didn’t exist. And today was the one day it consumed the last ounces of her endless patience.

Her supreme mildness was tested and for once she simply wished for -q u i e t-, to hear her thoughts uninterrupted. Uninterrupted by the muster of a melody that made her crave Fagé yogurt with honey and blueberries every other day. So she had a brilliant idea: Meditation. The one thing that could calm her even when the sky was falling on the weatherman. So she settled on the floor in the middle of her room, cross legged, basking in the gentle tinkling of her malicious wind chime. Perhaps this soothing meditation would calm her. At last. Her mind was quiet. Calm. Tranquility. Soothing silence.

“JUST FOR YOU, JUST FOR YOU, OH OOOOOOOHHHHHHH!”

Chloe’s sea green eyes smacked open in horror.

“Just... for... YOOOOOOUUUUUU”

The deafening, (yet undeniably enchanting) singing rung clear through the cursedly paper thin walls. Shattering her blissful quiet. Ever patient, she closed her eyes and tried to tune it out. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. By the time twenty minutes swung around, the camel symbolizing Chloe’s patience was crying. By the time thirty minutes had passed, the last straw... had been dropped. The camels back was broken. Poor camel.

She marched over to the wall and, wordlessly, pounded her fists of fury against it.

“SHUBBLE SHUBBLE SUNSHI-“

By the seventh knock the voice had waned to a quiet warbled, and then completely stopped. But the silence that followed brought more disturb than the singing had at first. Wait... the song he was singing...

Chloe’s eyes widened.

“Sunshine.” She murmured. “Shubble shubble... sunshine.”

It was the song, THE song, that had plagued her! At last! He was singing the song that had driven her to the brink of madness, yet was catchy enough that she had actually grown addicted to it, but hadn’t heard it anywhere else to relieve her ear worm.

Racing, she left her malicious wind chime to tinkle evilly in it’s wicked breezes and hurried next door, knocking politely but insistently. No answer. Another knock. Anticipation coiled in her heels, and by the time her knuckles hovered over the wood, ready to rap against the metal, the door swung open, revealing... oh my.

Chloe was blinded. Was it by the young man standing in the doorway, wrapped modestly (yet oh so temptingly) in a towel, with his damp hair pasted in his forehead, with his perfectly smooth skin and eyes that seemed to somehow hold the secrets of the universe? Was it by the disgrunted look in those very same eyes, eyes looking ready to set aflame and then stab whomever was bothering him at the moment? Was it by the pastey legs that clearly needed sun? Chloe wasn’t sure, she couldn’t tell. Where did the towel begin? Oh boy. That boy really needed some sun on them legs.

As she stood in shock, the young man, realizing a lady was standing at his door, flushed a deep shade of scarlet and blinked twice.

‘One minute.’

He mumbled, shutting the door swifter than it opened. Chloe was left in absolute silence, wondering when Jin has become so short and completely changed his insanely handsome appearance, but in less than a minute the door was opened again, revealing the same man fully dressed, hands in the pockets of his jeans, regarding the stranger quietly. Silence hung for a heavy moment.

“I’m guessing the music- Too loud, right?”

Stunned silence. He cleared his throat and glancing towards the ground continued, his voice mild, and carrying a low sort of rumble to it. “My roommate told me you were usually up late. Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to bother you.

“SUNSHINE.”

The stranger’s brow raised at the sudden quiet but very earnest scream. ‘SHUBLBLE SHUBBLE,” Excitement sped up and raised the pitch of Chloe’s words; if she were texting the words would have scrambled. Perhaps due to excitement. Most likely due to Autocorrect. But now as she spoke to the young man, she was practically breathless at this point; “Shubble, Shubble sunshine, avacado sunshine, just for you, just for you, AGGGGH.”

The stranger blinked twice, his head cocking ever so slightly to the side.

“What is that SONG?” Chloe screamed again, strangling the air with claw-like grabby hands.

His eyes widened at the earnestness, and his voice lowered a pitch, his words slow, “So you... heard it?”

“AAAH, I’ve only heard it like every day! It’s been on loop in my head for months and I have no idea where I heard it, it was just -there-, and I tried to drown it out with Twenty One Pilots, but nothing worked and then I heard -you- singing just now, and I just- AH.”

“Twenty One Pilots?” He murmurmed. He seemed to be drawn half into thought, regarding Chloe with a certain attentiveness behind his seeming passivity. What emotion was in his eyes? Amusement? Wonder? Confusion? Who could tell?

“It’s “Yogurt Dreamies” by Yoomburto Toomie.” He answered at last, “How did you... hear it?”

“I didn’t! That’s the thing, it just appeared in my head one day and no matter what others songs I listen to I can’t get it out.”

“You won’t find it anywhere.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to tilt her head in confusion. The young man continued quietly,

“I had... written it. I’ve been playing it on loop because I’ve been composing it. But I was sure to be quiet. I haven’t sung it before today, so you couldn’t have heard the lyrics before.”

Silence. “How can that...“ Chloe words trailed off and they both stared at each other, perplexed.

“Does Twenty One Pilots have a song about a... radio? A car radio?”

Chloe’s pale eyes lit up, and she nodded excitedly despite the confusion laced behind her words, “Yeah! They do.”

“Because a song about a car radio has been stuck in -my- head. And I only heard it for the first time yesterday.”

In that moment, in the silence that hung between them so heavily, a sudden realization crashed over them. Not an answer to their confusions, no definitely not an answer, but an awareness... an awareness of the insane coincidence, of a thread that had seemingly connected them that they just realized had existed. A thread of fate strange, but inexplicably, there.

“You’re Jin’s new neighbor, right? I’m Chloe.”

“Yoongi.” They both nodded awkwardly, a handshake felt too formal, and yet, why did it somehow seem like they had already known each other? Perhaps that was why the introduction felt strange. Souls so deeply connected with each other never need to introduce themselves more than once.

“It’s awesome that you write music.” Chloe continued, bouncing lightly on her right leg,” I’m an architect.” Yoongi’s eyes widened ever so slightly and a gummy grin crinkled his eyes,

“Really? If I wasn’t a music producer that’s what I wanted to be.”

“Really?” She asked, but it didn’t feel like a surprise. “If you want to hear any more songs from Twenty One Pilots, I could recommend some based on which music you like.”

There was a clear shyness in Yoongi’s manner, but his smile came easily, and he gave her a soft nod. “Sure. I’d never heard of them, but I really like them now. Their music is raw, and honest. I enjoy it.”

And in that moment Chloe knew: That was the beginning of something that had already started. Long before. With avocado sunshine, and yogurt dreamies.

————

Some months later, Chloe was doing yoga, doing stretches with supreme skill in the still of her room when her phone buzzed and the screen lit up. She snatched it and saw a simple text, from Yoongi.

‘Hey’

‘Hey’ she typed back, with one hand.

‘Up for a walk today?

The architecture downtown is pretty awesome.’

‘Sure’

‘What time?’

‘00:00am?’

‘ok’

‘I’ll catch a bus and meet you’

The time approached swiftly, though it had seemed far too long, and after sliding her phone into her pocket and her backpack on her shoulder, she was ready to head off for another wonderful day spent with Yoongi. Ah, why did even his name spread warmth through her chest, like someone had taken a cup of wonderful herbal tea and filled her heart with it? She juggled the doorknob to make sure it was locked. And as she did, she could swear, another melody began to grow in her mind, faint and insistent...

“Lucky chucky, icey-cakey...”

[kafeuka]

[1/1] the hopeless case of a romantic

█ Title: the hopeless case of a romantic █ Summary: It wasn’t how he imagined it would be, but that night, Jeongguk knew he would not have it any other way.  █ Status: Completed █ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin This is written for JIKOOK WEEK DAY O1: Then and Now  

i.

Yoongi hyung often accused Jeongguk of being a hopeless romantic, as if having a big heart, a gentle soul and a love for love is a crime. He believed in soulmates; the idea of two people whose names and story were whispered amongst the stars never failed to warm his heart. This belief stemmed from his parents, the two human beings whom he loved most in the whole entire world.

He wanted someone who would look at him the way his father looked at his mother; as if she hung all the twinkling stars, shaped all the silver moons with her hands and paint the skies when the sun set. He wanted someone who would love him unconditionally, just like how his mother loved his father although she despised his smoking habit.

Despite their age, they were not shy in showing affection for the whole world to see. Jeongguk wondered how they were so comfortable with each other that whenever they were together, the rest of the world just seemed to melt away. As if the world was theirs, and the others were just living in it.

Because of this, Jeongguk was never really into a relationship. Not that he ever had one. Most of the times he would just admire someone from afar. He would rather not get involved at all.

Hoseok hyung suggested that he should go on blind dates. Initially, he agreed.

The first phase – adding them as a friend, sliding into the DMs – was great.

The next step – meeting and actually going out on a date – however, was terrible.

Gone the confident, charming boy from the DMs. Always replaced by the stuttering, sweating mess that was Jeon Jeongguk. It was awfully easy to compliment someone when you were staring at a screen, but when it comes to staring into their eyes, Jeongguk found himself shaking.

At the age of twenty, Jeon Jeongguk gave up in finding the One.

All of his crushes were out of his league and most of his admirers never called after the second date. He was not that desperate to send cute text messages to someone as he had this irrational fear of being a burden, but it would be great to have someone who would listen to him rant about how his day went.

As much as he hated to admit it, Yoongi hyung was not entirely wrong. He was not only a hopeless romantic, but he was hopeless and romantic.

 ii.

When Jeongguk asked Yoongi hyung how he knew Seokjin hyung was his soulmate, he answered: “They say when you meet your soulmate, you just know it’s them.”

He hated how unhelpful those statement was, because that was not how he met his.

His parents’ love story was a typical love story. It was love at first sight – Jeongguk’s favourite. They met at a fair held at the amusement park. His father took the job of the ride operator for the summer, and as the stars had written it, he met her at the end of his shift. He always mentioned that she reminded him of a firework, beautiful and mesmerizing that his world stopped. She was queueing then, waiting for her turn and he saw a chance and took it.

While two of her friends were seated together, he stepped in and offered to sit next to her even though going to a someplace high was not something he considered an entertainment. Of course, his attempt caused an uproar, he received raucous boos from the other angry kids and a warning from the manager but it was worth it. He always had a small smile on his face whenever he got to this part of the story. They chatted as they waited and for the first time since he rode the rollercoaster, he was not the tiniest bit scared.

Jeongguk would never fail to let out an overly exaggerated groan, often expressing his displeasure by making faces along with a remark full of disgust, but he knew that he wanted, longed even, to feel that way too.

Meeting the One should be magical, like something that you would read in a fairy tale.  

This was how Jeongguk truly believed would happen when he finally meets the one: it will be romantic, not too cringy and pukeworthy but just romantic enough to make his friends and his cousins to be envious of him. Time will stop when they lock eyes with each other, the angels will begin to sing while simultaneously play their harps to produce a mellifluous symphony of the century and petals would fall around them out of nowhere, just like the anime he watched last week.

That was not what happened.

It was not magical or dreamy or romantic.

He blamed all the Tony/Steve soulmate fanfictions he read at 3AM for implementing the idea of “love at first sight” and “instant connection between two lonely souls” inside his head.

In fact, Jeongguk met Park Jimin on a sunny Tuesday morning in the most Boring class in the history of Boring Classes. Jeongguk hated his guts at first. Whenever Jimin opened his mouth to speak, Jeongguk would find himself rolling his eyes and praying to God for an ice cream truck to drop on him. Being run over repeatedly by a lorry was less painful than having to sit in a two-hour class with Jimin.

However, there was also a saying that goes, ‘If you hate someone too much, you’ll end up loving them too much.’

That statement, however, was something he wished Yoongi hyung had told him instead.

   iii.

They began to interact when they were allotted in the same group for their second assignment. Every second Jeongguk spent sitting at the same table with Jimin was agonising. Being in the same group at the same table meant that Jimin’s voice was now much clearer and he was now much closer.

Jimin’s face was pleasing to the eyes, he was soft and hard at the same time. He had gentle, dark and slightly slanted eyes yet his piercing gaze often made Jeongguk look away. His cheeks were round and squishy, they reminded Jeongguk of the mochi he always had after elementary school, however his jaw was as sharp as a knife. All in all, Jimin was not hideous at all, especially when he had his mouth shut. Unfortunately, Jimin had a lot he wanted to announce to the class so thanks to this irritating behaviour of his, it was not difficult to overlook his features.

He ignored the voice inside his head that screamed at him to ditch the class, but the rational part of his mind reminded him that he was a scholarship student. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out just because he did not want to be in the same room as Jimin.

From the instructions, Jeongguk could already tell how much of a pain in the ass it would be. Decorating a booth? Creating an advertisement video? There was just too much work to be done in three months and there were only five heads in his group.

Naturally, Jimin was elected as the team leader because:

a)       He was the teacher’s pet

b)      Everyone in the group was utterly in love with him

Arguing about the team members position when you were going to be stuck with them for months was not something in Jeongguk’s list. He decided to went along with it, letting the protests vanish although they were already at the tip of his tongue and settled with an imaginary argument inside his head instead.

The first day was unbearable — Jeongguk had to lower his head once in a while to stop his eye from twitching in annoyance. Every single word Jimin uttered seemed to make his blood boil and head throb. He did not know it was possible for a person to be this insufferable. Jeongguk tried his hardest not to roll his eyes whenever the others were praising Jimin. His ideas were not exactly that brilliant, if Jeongguk were to be honest.

“Sorry, I was sort of rambling,” Jimin apologized with a small giggle.

Jeongguk managed to held back a groan. He knew damn well he was rambling and he apologized for it, but Jeongguk knew that he was not feeling sorry. Not even a little bit. Not when he had that proud smile on his face. God, Jeongguk would love to slap that smile from his face.

“Anybody had any better idea?” Jimin asked, looking at each and every one of them.

Pretending to be considerate? Man, this guy knew how to get on Jeongguk’s nerves.

He absolutely had no idea what came over him, maybe it was how the other team members were ready to lick the ground Jimin walked on, or maybe how irritating and high pitched Wonho’s giggles was, but Jeongguk opened his mouth up to speak, despite his brain being empty of ideas.

“Maybe, uh…”

All heads turned towards him, staring at him in anticipation. Somehow, instead of looking at anybody else, his eyes found Jimin’s. Jimin was beaming, dark eyes glistening as he slowly nodded to encourage Jeongguk. His gaze was different than the others, which was a good thing because it made him feel less nervous. Jimin’s smile stretched wider, and all of a sudden, the weight of the team’s collective gazes felt like it had been lifted from his shoulders.

Jeongguk brought his hand on top of the table, softly tapping his index finger as he straightened in his seat. With a newfound surge of confidence, he said, “Maybe, um… instead of making it only focusing on drawings or paintings, maybe we can… uh… consider every form of art for the website?”

“Huh… that’s not bad,” Chaeyoung murmured, before clicking her pen and started to write something on her notebook.

Jimin beamed, “I love the idea! That’s wonderful. This means that we are not only targeting painters, we are also attracting a large amount of audience who are—”

Jeongguk’s body went lax after his impromptu outburst (technically, it was not an outburst but he insisted that it was), he lain his back against the chair, wishing to become one with it. He felt thankful that nobody was criticizing his dumb idea. And never in a million years he wanted to admit it, but he felt glad that Jimin was encouraging him, instead of trying to shoot him down.

It was the first time he felt so welcomed.  

  iv.

Before the first week ended, they managed to lay everything down. When it comes to his leadership skills, Jimin was quite lenient in their task division. Jeongguk offered to work on the advertisement video, and as much as he would rather do it all alone, Jimin was determined that he needed help. As a method of group communication, Jimin created a group text for the five of them.

Jeongguk was hoping that it will be a quiet group, but it was especially alive at night and early in the morning. Jimin would never fail to send a message to greet them good morning and night, and sometimes he would send motivational messages for all of them. It took all Jeongguk’s willpower not to reply a ‘Shut The Fuck Up’ or leave the group, but he had to remind himself that he needed to be in good terms with everyone in the team.

Two weeks before the deadline, it was Jeongguk’s turn to play a huge role for their project. So far, he had only been helping with the report and booth decoration, which was not something major as everyone had taken part too. He announced in their group chat (which was probably his third time ever sending a message there) that he was going to start working on the video soon.

He completed the storyboard a few days earlier before sharing his vision to the group. He was ready to get attacked, to have Wonho judging him, to have Jimin being dissatisfied with his work, to Chaeyoung being disappointed and to have Mirae complain about how lacking it was. Unlike his expectation, they liked it. Jimin was the one who loved it the most, always complimenting how hardworking he was, and how he truly appreciated the effort Jeongguk made with the storyboard.

Instead of the usual ‘good luck Jeongguk!’ and ‘thanks for your hard work!’, Jeongguk received a private message from Jimin. They never texted privately before, and seeing Jimin’s name on a new chat caused him to raise an eyebrow. Was Jimin about to ask him to add last minute changes for the video?

With negative thoughts flooding his mind, he heaved a sigh before clicking it open.

 ✉ From: Jimin Hey! Just wondering if you are OK? If you need help, I’m here 😊

 “Huh…” Jeongguk huffed, squinting his eyes in suspicion. His thumb hovered over the keyboard before typing an answer, only to backspace everything. It was rather curious how Jimin was checking up on him, as if he thought Jeongguk was unreliable.

Seokjin hyung often told him that he was always being sceptical for absolutely no reason at all, that he always thought of things negatively instead of positively. It was a trait he was not proud of, but he could not help it when Jimin suddenly text him privately out of nowhere.

After quite some time, he finally typed a reply.

 ✉ To: Jimin I’m fine. Thanks for your concern

Belatedly, he realised the text he sent seemed rude so he abruptly added a smiley face.

✉ From: Jimin Haha, alright then. Where will you be working on the video?

 ✉ To: Jimin I’ll be going to the art room to meet up with the art students. Then I’ll probably go to library to shoot some scenes

✉ From: Jimin Okay 😊

 Jeongguk stared at the screen of his phone, waiting for ‘Jimin is typing…’ to appear. When it did not, he locked his phone and tossed it to his bed.

   Of course, Jeongguk just had to be an idiot by telling Jimin his plan. The moment he entered the art room, Jimin was already there, talking with a few of the art students and laughing about something they said. Jeongguk nearly dropped his camera when he saw Jimin, not expecting the blonde to be there at all.

“Hey, Jeongguk!” Jimin called out, waving his hand at him.

Jeongguk awkwardly waved back, not liking the attention he was getting when everybody turned their heads towards him.

“So, where do you want me, mate?” Mingyu asked as he got off from the table.

“Preferably anywhere I can work comfortably. How about there?”

“So I just had to draw, is it?”

“Yeah. Just draw whatever you want, don’t pay attention to me. I want it to look candid,” Jeongguk informed before placing his backpack on top of the table.

While Mingyu was preparing his material, Jeongguk took out his tripod from his bag and began to assemble it together with his camera when Jimin approached him.

“Do you need any help?” Jimin asked, watching Jeongguk work with his camera.

“Nah.”

“Okay, I’ll just wait for you in case you need me.”

“You can go, you know. I can handle this.”

“I know,” Jimin grinned before shrugging, “Just in case.”

He doubted that he needed Jimin to be there, but before he could ask him to go again, he decided against it. Once Mingyu was ready, Jeongguk began recording. It was only a minute in when Jeongguk announced him to stop so he could check the video. The angle was perfect, Mingyu’s facial expression was good, however the lighting was unsatisfactory. Sure, it was not as terrible as the lighting in that one battle episode of Game of Thrones, but it would be difficult during the editing process later.

Jimin must have sensed that something was troubling him that the leader stood next to him, peered on the video and asked if something was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong except the lighting,” Jeongguk murmured, looking up the ceiling to find the lights were already switched on to his dismay.

The weather was not exactly helping either.

“I can help,” Jimin quipped enthusiastically before taking out his phone from his pocket and switch on the flashlight as he waved his phone around. “Let me know where you need me.”

The whole idea was absurd to Jeongguk, but it was worth a try. In less than half an hour, with Jimin’s help, he was done. The one who was super happy about it was Jimin, who could not stop gushing how amazing the video was and how professional Mingyu looked. Jeongguk grinned as he pressed fast forward, completely satisfied at how the video turned out.

He thanked Mingyu and the art students before packing his stuff to move to the library with Jimin following him. One thing Jeongguk noticed about Jimin was how he just had a lot of things to talk about, never running out of topic. It was irritating at first, but at times he spewed some facts that Jeongguk found to be interesting. Jeongguk let him talk, he watched as Jimin was speaking animatedly about the latest comic book he was reading.

Surprisingly, the day (and recording) went by smoothly. He even had a few videos he could use for fillers. The four hours he spent with Jimin was not horrible at all. If anything, it was quite… enjoyable.

He decided that Park Jimin was less annoying now.

   v.

He was not entirely certain when he began to feel completely comfortable around Jimin, but he knew it did not take long enough to warm up to him. Gradually, he stopped talking rather formally to Jimin and started to jest around, well aware of how much he actually enjoyed hearing the laughter coming out from Jimin.

In fact, everything seemed to go so smoothly that Jeongguk felt worried. They managed to complete everything before the deadline, they have submitted their work early and all they needed to do was now prepare for the upcoming exhibition. Finishing early meant that they have time for other assignments.

Even after they were done, Jimin still never failed to greet them mornings and nights, asking them how their assignments went. Honestly, it baffled the hell out of Jeongguk because he was so used to not keeping any contact with his previous group members. Once a project is complete, so did their team. They were only there to work, not to connect emotionally. The change was refreshing that the spam of text messages from the group did not bother him anymore. It actually made Jeongguk went from completely silent, to the one who sent memes as a response.

A part of him was embarrassed of having terrible thoughts regarding his groupmates because now he came to a realization that he actually enjoyed their presence.

More specifically Jimin’s.

After everything was done and they were reaching the end of semester, Jimin insisted on having a celebration. Truth be told, Jeongguk was not big on social gatherings but after weeks of being with Jimin, he knew he was unable to say no.

Jeongguk found himself counting days to the celebration, a bit surprised at himself for feeling excited rather than dreading it. They went to a restaurant at first for dinner, but ended up going to the nearest club after Chaeyoung suggested. He swallowed, praying to the heavens that majority of them would decline but he could not help but to cave in when he saw how enthusiastic Jimin was when Chaeyoung brought it up.

Even before entering, music was already spilling out to the street and it felt as if heartbeats were on the loud speakers. It was not as crowded as Jeongguk had imagine, but there were still a lot than he would have liked. Most of them went straight to the dance floor, laughing and grinding against each other under the acid green lights. Jimin, however, strutted to the bar. Jeongguk only followed, knowing well that he would not be able to dance if there wasn’t any alcohol in his system.

The music only seemed to get louder by the second, and by the time Jeongguk sat next to Jimin, the blonde already gulped down three shots.

“Wow.” Jeongguk had to leaned it slightly and yell. “Slow down, Jimin.”

Jimin’s pretty lips curved upwards as he shook his head. Jeongguk watched as he took out his wallet, yelled at the bartender for one Zombie. Jeongguk have only drank beers from the convenience stores and a few sips of martini, so when Jimin had his drink delivered, he was a little bit in awe. It was served in a tall glass, bright red in colour with a lot of ice. Jimin ditched the straw, sipping them in one go. Jeongguk could not help but to stare in amazement.

“Jimin,” he called out, but the music drowned his voice. He tried again, practically screaming this time. “Jimin!!”

“Yeah?” Jimin answered.

“Are you okay?”

He could not hear Jimin’s reply, but from his lips Jeongguk could tell he was saying, “Grand.”

Jeongguk began to worry then when Jimin reached out for his wallet again, but Jeongguk stopped him and ordered water instead. He paid for the overcharged water bottles and handed one to Jimin. Jimin refused, shaking his head and pushing the bottle away.

The next thing Jeongguk knew, Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise and he abruptly clamped his lips shut. Jeongguk raised a brow in confusion before Jimin stood up from the stool, nearly toppling it in the process, then proceeded to frantically turn his head in search of something.

“Jimin, are you—” He was not given the chance to continue his sentence because Jimin dashed as soon as his eyes lit up. Bewildered, Jeongguk followed from behind, not before grabbing both water bottles.

Jimin ran to the bathroom, nearly colliding with a man who just came out of it, and Jeongguk had to apologize on his behalf. After profusely repeating his apologies and bowing to show sincerity, Jeongguk entered the bathroom and was immediately greeted with the sounds of Jimin retching.

The bathroom was a lot quieter; the music was barely heard inside the pristine white walls. Jeongguk approached the stall with an open door to find Jimin was kneeling on the floor, head bowing near the toilet bowl.

“Oh, Jimin,” Jeongguk sighed before kneeling next to him, trying his best not to breathe through his nostrils.

He gently caressed Jimin’s back as Jimin heaved. Once Jimin was done, Jeongguk offered him water, which Jimin gladly took. Jimin flushed before leaning meekly against the partition, lips swollen, nose red and his eyes teary. Jeongguk offered a sympathetic smile as Jimin sniffed.

“Are you okay?”

Jimin took a sip instead of answering, his eyes avoiding Jeongguk.

Jeongguk let the question hang in the air, not wanting to force an answer out of Jimin.

Jimin had a distant look on his face, and Jeongguk understood that there was something that was troubling him.

After a while, Jimin finally spoke. “Not quite.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jimin bit his lower lip, eyes softening as he lowered his gaze. “Not really,” he answered.

“That’s okay. We can talk about something else then. Or do you prefer to just sit on the dirty floor?”

Jimin’s lips cracked a smile Jeongguk did not know he missed. How could he missed Jimin’s smile when he had seen them more than the hair on his head?

“Thank you, Jeongguk.”

“For...?”

“For being here,” Jimin smiled. Oh boy, Jeongguk thought. Oh boy. “It really means a lot to me.”

Jeongguk had seen countless of smiles on Jimin’s face before but this one was different. His eyes did not crinkle in the corners, but his gaze on Jeongguk was soft and endearing. His smile did not reach his ears, but he knew it was genuine.

At that moment, sitting on the dirty checkered floor of a club he could not even pronounce, he was certain that he found the One.

   vi.

Symptoms of falling in love according to the first website Google provided:

1. You can’t stop staring at them: check ✔

Of course, he could not stop staring at Jimin. He would not want to miss those smiles, the way Jimin would pout his lips sometimes when he spoke, how Jimin’s brows furrowed when he was thinking and the way Jimin’s eyes formed crescents and body vibrating when he laughed.

2. You want them to be happy: check ✔

Of course, he wanted Jimin to be happy. Jimin deserved everything good in the universe. Hell, Jeongguk would have swam the entire ocean and walk through fire just to see Jimin smile.

3. You always think about them: check ✔

Of course, he always thought of Jimin. The first thing he thought of after waking up? Jimin. The last thing he thought of before going to sleep? Jimin. Be it day or night, it was always Jimin, Jimin and Jimin. He was now a permanent resident in Jeongguk’s mind.

4. You’re OK with the gross stuff: check ✔

Of course, wasn’t it obvious? He would have left Jimin all by himself that night in the bathroom, but instead, he chose to stay and sat with Jimin to ensure Jimin was okay.

5. You love their quirks: check ✔

Of course, he did. Jimin’s quirks were adorable and undeniably, made his heart skipped a beat. He initiated skinship a lot, which Jeongguk did not mind, but whenever he put his hand behind Jeongguk’s nape, his thumb would create patterns. This only made Jeongguk lean in closer, his body tingling with every gentle movement his thumb made. Even his need of constant praises was endearing that Jeongguk found himself spilling praises after praises just for Jimin.

No longer was Jeongguk annoyed with his boisterous – and wonderful, if Jeongguk might add – voice and his invasion of Jeongguk’s personal face.

(And that was because he craved listening to Jimin talk and touches.)

6. You find yourself always talking about them: check ✔

Of course, he would talk about Jimin, what else was there to talk about? He first noticed when Yoongi mentioned how Jeongguk could not stop prattling about Jimin this, Jimin that. It was not as if he could stop himself.

7. You reread their text message: check ✔

Of course, he would reread Jimin’s text messages. They were cute, always full of emojis and they instantly lifted Jeongguk’s mood even just a little. In fact, he had Jimin’s text pinned.

8. You lose track of time and no amount of time spent with them is ever enough: check ✔

Of course, he could not be bothered checking the time when he was with Jimin. Spending just a few minutes with Jimin was better than not seeing him at all but he found himself yearning to have Jimin’s presence when they were apart.

9. You’ll happily jump through hoops without even thinking about it to be with them: check ✔

Of course, he would do anything to spend time with Jimin. He went to the club for fuck’s sake. He drank the bitter ass coffee despite knowing how much he hated it because Jimin dared him to. He lied about passing through the Science building when he was actually waiting for Jimin’s class to be over.

In conclusion: of fucking course he was truly, utterly and madly in love with Jimin.

   vii.

Jeongguk was aware that the pros of being in love with a friend outweigh the cons.

For starters, he saw Jimin almost every day and unlike his previous crushes, he actually interacted with Jimin properly. As his dumb ass only realised of the feelings he had for Jimin at the end of the semester, he had to rack his brains to find out reasons to hang out with Jimin. It was easier on his part, as Jimin was friendly, so most of the time it was Jimin who invited him out.

Besides, being friends meant he was able to hold Jimin’s hand without being suspicious. Jimin’s hands were soft and they fit perfectly with his. His fingers were delicate that Jeongguk was afraid he might break them if he held onto Jimin’s hand too tightly.

They became attached to the hip when they began texting nonstop every day and night. But midnights were probably Jeongguk’s favourite because there was just something about the quiet, knowing that there were more eyes closed than open, that they started to get to know each other on an entirely different level. Their usual banters and meme exchange would transition to their deep thoughts and stories. Midnight conversations seemed to hold more weight, and knowing that Jimin chose to stay up to talk to him made him want to steal all the stars and gifted them to Jimin.

Jeongguk was the type to let his phone battery died before charging, but that habit was soon replaced by charging the device while texting Jimin.

But the cons of being in love with your friend? They’re your friend.

Jeongguk had never fall for a friend before, but he knew it had to be one of the worst things to experience. He was plagued with worries and anxious thoughts, always wondering if he was being way too obvious or if he seemed uninterested. To say that he would not want Jimin as a boyfriend would probably the biggest lie he ever told himself and Yoongi hyung.

“You should tell Jimin.”

“Hyung!” Jeongguk whined, hand slapping Yoongi’s arm playfully. “You know I can’t.”

As much as he wanted to, he could not. It was risky and Jimin probably only regard him as a friend. The shittiest thing about crushing on Jimin was how it made Jeongguk kept on dancing between the lines of wanting the whole world to know his humongous love for Jimin and losing Jimin. There was no doubt that Jimin was now one of the important people in Jeongguk’s life, and he could not simply bear the thought of losing Jimin simply because he could not control his feelings.

“If there’s one thing I learnt, Jeongguk, is that you either tell Jimin how you feel and the worst case scenario is that you fucked up, maybe you’ll lose what you have with him now, but from the stories I’ve heard, Jimin’s nice and he might still want to be friends,” Yoongi said, his demeanour completely changed. Jeongguk only stared at Yoongi, mind conjuring up images of Jimin rejecting him and it made him shudder.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi continued, “Or you can say nothing, and it’ll fuck you up instead. Not gonna fucking lie, eventually you’ll lose him too. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll end up avoiding him, which in turn, would hurt the both of you.”

Jeongguk gawked at him.

Yoongi hyung was right. And he would not give Yoongi hyung the satisfaction of him admitting that.

   viii.

✉ From: Jimin remember that night when i hurled and you stayed by my side?

✉ To: Jimin how can i not the smell still lingered til this day :p

✉ From: Jimin fuck you ajsnsjs well i was going thru a ~difficult~ time sometimes i felt like out of place and that it’s my fault for the delay of testing the hosting but you guys were amazing, i am eternally grateful my other assignments were also a pain in the ass and i did not get along with my other teammates to add salt to the wound, i broke up with my boyfriend

✉ To: Jimin holy shit i have no idea & please jimin, it’s NOT ur fault. besides, we finished everything on time ur teammates is missing out & ur better off without ur boyfriend!!!! don’t be so hard on urself :(

 ✉ From: Jimin you make me tear up :”) thank you for staying by my side, jeongguk. i love you <3

    ix.

Jimin had a boyfriend before, which was not surprising really, because who would not want to date Jimin? But hearing it from Jimin himself, Jeongguk could not help but felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. Sure, they were no longer together, but Jeongguk would still like to know who was the bastard who dared to hurt Jimin.

After tossing and turning for weeks, Jeongguk decided that he would confess once and for all.

They did not share any classes on the following semester, but they would still make time for each other. Spending more time with Jimin was both a blessing and a curse, it was as though he owned the world and yet his heart just kept on growing and growing in his chest, threatening to spill all his love for Jimin in the form of kisses and ‘I love you’s.

Most of the fanfictions he read had amazing yet unrealistic (for him to execute, yeah) confession scenes. There was one of Tony and Steve arguing and Tony ended it by accidentally saying that he loved Steve. It was cute, but Jeongguk and Jimin were not exactly enemies to lovers.

(Except that, in Jeongguk’s head, they kind of were. Although, the hatred was only one-sided.)

But Jeongguk knew for sure that he would not want to let Jimin know through text. There were a lot of memorable texts in their chat, and he would not want to feel upset when he scrolled through them in the future to find the texts of Jimin rejecting him amidst of it.  

“You’re an idiot,” Yoongi voiced out as he stirred his ramen with the wooden chopsticks.

Offended, Jeongguk scoffed as he crossed his arms, glaring at Yoongi from where he was sitting. Yoongi ignored the daggers Jeongguk was throwing, instead he slurped the noodles.

“You’re the idiot,” Jeongguk countered childishly.

Yoongi licked his lips before he avowed, “You’re thinking too much. It should feel natural. You have to mean it, show him that you are serious.”

“You mean like… take him out on a fancy dinner or?”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. You can just text him right now, say that you wanna be more than friends, and that’s it.”

“Huh. How did you confess to Seokjin hyung then?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I didn’t. He did.”

   x.

When it happened, Jeongguk was not planning on it at all. They were having their usual midnight conversations again, and when the conversation seemed to shift into something less serious, Jeongguk had the urge to tell Jimin how much he meant to Jeongguk. He was driven to do so when Jimin ended his text with his usual ‘i love you <3’ that Jeongguk knew it was just a habit of his.

Gathering his courage, he asked:

✉ To: Jimin hey jimin can i call you?

Barely five seconds passed and yet Jeongguk was already sweating buckets. He was convinced that Jimin would not want to, maybe he had a feeling that this was about to happen and Jimin chose to turn off his phone. He saw the speech bubble, indicating that Jimin was typing, and he did not give Jimin the chance to send his text because he abruptly pressed on the green button.

It only took him one ring for Jimin to answer. As soon as he heard Jimin’s raspy, “Hello,” from the other line, his brain chose to empty all his thoughts. His mouth was drying, desperately trying to find the right words so he would not sound like a creep.

“I love you,” he blurted out.

Jimin let out a giggle before answering, “I love you too.”

“No, no, I mean,” he licked his lips, gripping on his phone even tighter. “I love you like I love love you. I love you as in I would drive you to the moon. I love you as in I wanna hold your hand and never let it go. I love you as in I would bring you breakfast in bed, if you’d let me. I love you as in—” he took a deep breath, internally wincing at how his voice was so shaky, courtesy of his heart hammering wildly against his chest, “— I only watched Frozen despite hating it because it was with you, and that is better than not spending a few minutes without you.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk could not tell what Jimin was feeling from the tone of his voice.

Disappointed? Congratulations, Jeon Jeongguk, you just ruined a friendship that could’ve lasted a lifetime.

Angry? Jeon Jeongguk, you dumbass, why the fuck do you have to go and develop feelings?

Jeongguk wanted to throw his phone to the nearest wall, the silence from the other line was suffocating him. He was certain that he had just ruined one of the best things that ever happened to him. This was what he got for listening to Yoongi hyung again. Confess, he said. It won’t be that bad, he said.

“Jeongguk, I—”

I’m sorry. I can’t. We’re just friends.

Jeongguk screwed his eyes shut, biting his lower lips. He waited for the rejection to hit him like a punch. It was inevitable after all.

“— I’m glad. I’m glad you feel the same way.”

“Eh?” Jeongguk blinked, straightening his back. Were his ears defying him?

He heard Jimin huffed a weak laugh. “I love you too, love as in when I close my eyes, all I see is you.”

“Oh.” Warmth and embarrassment flooded through Jeongguk at once. He cleared his throat. “Well, okay, then. I’m gonna hang up.”

“Wait! You’re gonna hang up on me? After I confess my love for you?”

He could see Jimin slyly grinning now, probably enjoying the situation more than he should. Jeongguk chortled, “What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know…” Jimin sighed, but he was unmistakably smiling. “Maybe you can ask me out?”

“Hm,” Jeongguk pretended to ponder, his heart swelling. His hands were shaking and the drowsiness he felt earlier subsided, swapped by the sudden surge of happiness he felt in his veins. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Jimin giggled again, causing Jeongguk to bit his lower lip to tamper the smile that was threatening to take over.

“I’ll be waiting then.”

That night, Jeongguk did not sleep at all. How could he, when reality was finally better than his dreams?

   xi.

“When did you know?” Jimin asked. He scooted closer to Jeongguk, resting his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder.

Jeongguk hummed, wrapping an arm around Jimin. “Know what?”

“Know that you’re in love with me,” Jimin whispered, sounding bashful as he nuzzled his nose against the crook of Jeongguk’s neck.

“Oh, that,” Jeongguk murmured. He twisted his lips to the side, slightly ashamed and reluctant to tell Jimin. “That night at the club.”

“Yuck!” Jimin giggled, reeling his head back in surprise before playfully hitting Jeongguk’s chest. “That night? I was on my worst, oh my god. I was puking, for God’s sake!”

Jeongguk laughed, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I had some feelings way before that but that night, I just knew, you know.”

Jimin scoffed. “Out of all times and places…”

“What about you?” Jeongguk asked, turning towards his boyfriend. “When did you know?”

“Did you know why I broke up with my ex back then?”

Jeongguk grimaced, he was not fond of Jimin’s exes. Up until now, he still had no idea who it was.

“Because, well, this is embarrassing. I had a crush on you. Initially, I thought it was dumb of me to throw away a relationship over something that was not certain. But that night, when you chose to comfort me and stayed by me, even when I was at my worst, that’s when I knew that I…” Jimin shifted his gaze elsewhere, pretending to be interested at the bowl on the coffee table. He reached out, grabbing the bowl and picked on the popcorns.

“Holy shit… at the same time? Really?”

Jimin shrugged, holding the bowl closer to him before he lifted Jeongguk’s arm to rest against his shoulders.

“You know,” Jeongguk mumbled before planting a kiss on the back of Jimin’s head. “We don’t have to watch this. I know you don’t like The Walking Dead.”

“’Course I don’t,” Jimin replied, munching on a popcorn. “But I’d watch this with you. I mean, it’s better than not spending a minute with you.”

“God, I hate you.”

Jeongguk knew Jimin would never miss the opportunity to make fun of Jeongguk’s confession, and although it was humiliating, a part of him was glad that Jimin did.

   xii.

This was how Jeon Jeongguk’s wedding vow went:

“Jimin, I used to believe that I would hear bells when I first met my soulmate. Instead, all I heard was your deafening laughter in class, which now I have come to love. You are the kindest person I’ve ever met, you are gentle in everything you do and I think that’s the most beautiful thing a person can be.

Thank you for staying with me, for being by my side. Thank you for bringing sunshine and colours to my life, for always believing in me, for never giving up on me even after I accidentally ruined the ikea shelf. Thank you for giving me the best version of myself.

I promise to make you laugh when you’re taking yourself too seriously, to care for you and to have Disney marathon without skipping Frozen with you. I promise to love you unconditionally. You are the sunlight that rose again in my life, reincarnation of my childhood dreams, my soulmate.”

[advrik]

What the Nintendo Switch Means to Me

As I sit here in my kitchen in order to keep a close eye on the ground beef and sausage as it browns in preparation for dinner (it's spaghetti night), I have been working it out in my head how and why my gaming habits have changed over the years and how I ended up championing the Nintendo Switch and nothing else.

And then it hit me.

But before that, I would like to delve just a little bit into my gaming past that, at least in my head, makes sense why I am the way I am today.

It started in 1994. My grandmother got me the OG Gameboy+Zelda: Links Awakening bundle for Christmas. Pretty awesome, right? Finally game console that I could call my own. But it didn't end there, for Christmas Eve night my older brother passed on his three year old SNES to me as he was moving out in the new year and wanted it to remain safe. I was ecstatic. Here I was, seven years old and suddenly in possession of a Gameboy AND a SNES. A handheld and console, two separate entities that played two different types of games.

Now leading up to Christmas that year, I was regularly using my brothers (former) SNES and has asked Santa for the Super Gameboy for Christmas, so I could play some of my brothers old Gameboy games that has been lying around the house. I got one and still own it to this very day, but it was reviecing the Gameboy as well that likely lit the flames for what would become my modern day gaming preferences.

Being able to play Links Awakening both on the TV in my bedroom and in the big comfy recliner in the living room was amazing, and while it didn't tickle me as anything more than just playing a video game at the time, in hindsight it was where it all began.

Time went on and the Gameboy Color happened, and while I did enioy the majority of Pokémon Red on my SNES and on the go with the red Gameboy Pocket, I lost out on playing gen 2 of Pokémon and many, many Gameboy Color exclusive titles, including two Harvest Moons, on account of just not being able to get a GBC.

Fast forward to the Summer of 2003. I am in possession of a Gameboy Advance after having received one from my parents for Christmas in 2001, which was just like having a SNES in my hands. It was incredible, but I longed to be able to play the likes of Mega Man Battle Network and the Breath of Fire 2 port on my TV.

Enter the Gameboy Player for the Gamecube.

This thing was a godsend. It played everything! Gameboy, Gameboy Color, Gameboy Advance, you name it. It existing had, albeit satiateing it for the time, form the need for a hybrid console. One that didn't require two components, but was a single piece of hardware that easily hooked up to the television without additional peripherals and consoles.

The Gameboy Player served its purpose perfectly and had seen much use, particularly in those times when I was wanting to watch something on TV or had gone on trips, but didn't want to miss any time spent on my farm in Harvest Moon Friends of Mineral Town.

I have for much of my life been a console gamer. I preferred the console experience over the smaller handheld experiences on account of how scaled back they tended to be in scope and gameplay. But as I aged, and I can pinpoint exactly when this transition started, my preferences in how I played began to change. Namely with the advent of the 3DS which gave console-like experiences in compact form and my getting a job in early 2014. I was finding myself increasingly agitated with the PS3 and Wii U games that I played, leaving many unfinished because I was feeling like I was wasting my time doing just this one thing and nothing else. My time had become limited due to work, and I was falling behind on movies and seasons of TV shows. 

The pick up and play nature of handhelds jived with what I was becoming. I could be watching a movie and put the 3DS down halfway through, then pick it up again towards the end. Not for any particular reason, but just because I could. I didn’t get this ability with home consoles, and it annoyed me more and more as time went on.

Things really hit a low point after I got my PS4 in 2015. I was buying games left and right because, I’ll be honest, it had a lot to offer and catered to my interests. But you know what? I wasn’t finishing anything. At one point I had around 30 games for it, with only a fraction of them having been completed. It was crazy agitating. I couldn’t focus on anything, partly because I was constantly thinking about what I could be doing instead of trying to finish this game. My anxiety was getting worse, not just because of my gaming habits mind you, but they contributed. Here I had this huge stack of games that were unfinished with no desire to play them because I couldn’t focus.

There was a point in 2016 where I went a solid 6 months without playing anything on my brand new PS4, instead choosing to focus on reading outside. I felt enlightened. All the while, I had my New 3DS XL and Animal Crossing New Leaf on me, which I would pick up and play here and there between chapters. It was magical and really made me wonder what my gaming future looked like if designated consoles were on the way out for me. Was I going to give up on gaming entirely? It definitely felt like it.

Enter Nintendo once again.

Being utterly disappointed with the Wii U and feeling like the 3DS had reached its peak. I was unsure of where they were going next, but the rumors of a console that was either to have both a handheld and a console version or design that was hybrid in nature sounded very promising, but with the support Nintendo had lost during the Wii U era, what exactly could I expect on such a device.

October 2016 saw the reveal of the Nintendo Switch; A hybrid handheld home console that could be played at home on the TV or on the go on a big, beautiful 720p screen. It was everything I could have hoped for all these years. A culmination of not only their stellar console exploits, but also their handheld department which had given the world the most therapeutic game in the world. 

Was I finally going to get the console experiences that I craved in a handheld form factor?

I can definitely say yes. Yes. Yes. A million times yes!!

The big reveal event in January 2017 spilled all details, setting the stage for a March 3rd 2017 release. I was ecstatic! I stayed up until 3am to nab a pre-order on Amazon, then headed out to Gamestop the following morning after only 3 hours of sleep to wait in line for the doors to open so that I could be first in line to get a backup pre-order in the event that something happened to my Amazon order.

The wait for the release was agonizing, but when the day finally came and I took off that weekend from work, it was amazing. Spending time with Breath of the Wild and Super Bomberman R are some of my favorite recent gaming memories. 

The concerns over what kind of support it might see didn’t last long, as third party devs saw the success and positive word of mouth revolving around Nintendo’s hybrid machine and started spitting out releases and announcements left and right. I knew I was putting all my eggs in one basket, but I just knew that I was making the right decision. I could feel it, this was going to be big.

I sold off the majority of my PS4 games, and gave the console and the few Resident Evil games that stayed behind to my sister. It was a tough decision in the end, but I don’t regret doing so at all now. Having to keep up two consoles would have just added to the stress and anxiety that just keeping my PS4 around was causing, so I did - as I always do, no matter how painful - what was best for myself, my mental state and my wallet and did away with the PS4.

Now more than two years later, 100+ Switch games finished and my collection growing what seems like weekly with games I never imagined I’d see on a Nintendo console or even re-released in this day and age. To put it lightly, the Switch and its form factor has been an absolute blessing and one I would not give up for anything in the world. Nintendo combining their handheld and home console ventures into one was brilliant idea and one I hope they don’t ever, EVER backtrack on.

In the time since this all unfolded, I’ve modded my dock so that I never have to remove my Switch from the Satisfye Pro Grip, meaning that there’s no extra steps between removing my Switch from the dock and slipping its grip on. It’s magical and has further increased my ability to just pick up and play, something I hadn’t seen since the days of the OG 3DS and its charging cradle.

So thank you Nintendo, and especially thanks to Satoru Iwata for brainstorming this beautiful device that the technical wizards of Nintendo saw through with and made a success, because without it, I can say most confidently that I would not be playing games today had it not happened.

[jiminandlemonade-blog]

I Can’t Fall In Love Without You - Part 2

I Can’t Fall In Love Without You

Jungkook series  

Part 2 of 5  

(A heart warming/tear jerker series)

Read the previous part here

You knew you would never be able to say goodbye to Jungkook at the airport. You would refuse to leave. Jungkook decided to come around to your house the day you were leaving and spend some quality time with you. "You know, I wont let it be like this forever" he stated, as you lay curled up into his body, face burrowed into his shoulder. "You keep saying that but I don't know how any of this is going to be made any better" you whispered, hoping that something would spring to mind to stop you from going.

"Y/N, we're 18 next year. You're entitled to do what you want. If you want to come back here, you can live with me" he promised. "Jungkoo-" he cut you off. "No Jungkook this or Jungkook that. If you really do want to come back, whether it's just to come home or to see me, you know that I'll always welcome you back with open arms".  

You both sobbed, the realisation was hitting you both that you were really going away for good. "Please don't forget about me" he sobbed, letting his grip loosen as you entered the car. "Never" you replied, tightening your grip, not wanting to let him go.  

You both gazed at each other, both wanting to say the same thing but not being able to let it escape your mouths. It wouldn't ruin anything, but you both didn't want the last words you said to each other to be 'I love you' as it would be the only part of the conversation you would ever remember and probably dwell on what could have been.

Jungkook got hold of the open car door and kept it open whilst peering in and kissing your forehead. "I'll see you soon okay?" He smiled, trying to be the stronger one. You nodded. The tears wouldn't fall. You had cried too much. You were just in a state of shock that this was all actually happening.  

The door closed and it felt like it slammed into your heart. You finally understood the meaning of feeling choked up. You didn't want to look up but you did. Why you did, you don't know but the sight would be etched in your head for eternity.

When you looked up, you caught a glimpse of Jungkook left standing in the drive way through the rear view mirror. His parents running over to him and consoling him as he fell to the floor, devastated. You both weren't just losing each other but the future that everyone thought you were destined to have.

The flight over there wasn't as bad as you thought. You slept all the way there through not being able to get any sleep the last couple of days. As soon as you landed, you had text messages from Jungkook asking how the flight was and if you slept well etc.  

You picked up the phone to call him and got the international dialing code. "Fuck, this is going to cost a fortune" you sighed as your parents went to collect everything you owned from baggage claim. "You know, you could be helping us Y/N" you heard your father shout as you were texting Jungkook back. "I wouldn't have to be trying to call Jungkook if you didn't move us here" you spitefully said. You didn't mean it, but you were still not over being taken away from the only boy you had ever loved.

Driving up to the apartment complex, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was beautiful. You certainly got more for your money here than you did back in y/c. Settling in and making sure your room was perfect took a few days. You hated how it was practically identical to your old room but this time, it didn't look out onto Jungkook's room, it looked out onto the Han River. In some respects, just as beautiful.

You kept in contact with Jungkook every day, even though it had to be through telephone calls because your wifi hadn't been set up and you also were trying to find the right tariff for your mobile. But during those phone calls, you both never mentioned the break downs, the emotional trauma you went through every night not being able to run to his house at 3am when you had a nightmare, the sorrow, loneliness and emptiness that you both felt..

You couldn't believe that you had only been in Korea a week and relearning the language for 2 since you found out about your Father's promotion and were already starting school tomorrow. After some comforting words from Jungkook, you went to bed. You were still nervous as hell, but it was wonderful to know somebody believed in you.

You woke up in a hot sweat at 3am and couldn't shake the scenes from your head. You reached for you phone, needing to hear his voice. It was at this moment you would have ran to his house, in your pyjamas, no make up, hair scraped back and bare foot to be consoled.  

"Please pick up, please" you sighed out loud, shaking from the nightmare you had just awoken from. It was horrendous. You dreamt that you were in an abandoned warehouse tied up with nowhere else to go and everyone who ever loved you was watched you as you were being tortured. Not exactly the best thoughts you wanted to be having the night before you first day at a new school.

"Jungkook, pick up! It isn't even late there" you stammered, reliving the call. He didn't pick up. But within seconds, the phone rang. "Jungkook, why didn't you pick up?" You asked hurriedly, wanting comfort from his voice. "I thought that because you ring me so often it will be costing you a fortune so I thought I would call for once, I bet it's expensive" he laughed off. "Thank you, but I really need to explain something" you stated. "Y/N, have you had a nightmare again?" You could hear him sigh down the phone. Not only was it hard for you that he wasn't there, but it was hard for him knowing that he couldn’t comfort you.

You explained your dream to Jungkook and as ever, he was so rational. "Don't worry, it's just first day nerves. Just think, if you hate it, you're only there for 3 more months and then you can come home for a while okay?" "More than a while Jungkook, I'll be coming home for good, I can't stand it here." You explained. "It's times like this where I really wish you weren't far away. I want to be telling you that everything is okay" he soothed. "But you are Jungkook" you smiled down the phone, hoping he would get the message, that it's okay. "But Y/N, words can only say so much. Sometimes, a hug or a touch is so much more healing" he sighed.

You understood, you missed it too. It was weird because you didn't think that you had the right to miss him in the way you now thought of him, like a boyfriend, because you weren't in a relationship or never were. Without you moving away, you both would have never known your true feelings so could this have all been destined to happen? Probably not, you didn't believe in fate. You always thought it was a cruel mistress.  

The day came and you were a bag of nerves, all you wanted to go is crawl back into your bed and hide. Thankfully, you attended an international school so you weren't thrown into the strict regimes Korean schools are notorious for as well as the language that you still hadn't quite mastered.

The bell for the apartment sounded and you were extremely confused. You weren't expecting anyone or anything, were you? "Delivery for Y/N" someone said at the door. "Yes, that's me" you smiled, slightly confused and speaking in broken Korean. The delivery man walked away from the door and around the corner where he brought a box of flowers. "For you Miss" he smiled as he handed you the flowers and walked away.

The flowers were beautiful. A vast array of colours and types of flowers and the smell was hitting your nostrils but not in such an overpowering way that you were worried to get red eyes for your first day of school.. However, it would have been a brilliant excuse to get out of it but unfortunately, the pollen count just wasn't high enough.

You reached for the card having no idea who it could have came from. 'To my Y/N, Good luck for today. I am so proud of you for fitting into your future. All of my love, your Jungkookie'. Tears pricked your eyes and you couldn't wait to call him and express your thanks and gratitude.  

"Y/N, we need to go" you heard your Mother call from the bottom of the stairs. "Okay, okay!" You shouted back, placing the flowers on the table before locking the door behind you. "Were those from Jungkook?" Your mother giggled as you ran past her in the hallway. "Yes" you beamed, running backwards and nearly into the glass door. "Figured" she laughed, opening the door for you that nearly just sent you into a coma.

The school didn't seem that daunting at all. For some reason, you expected everyone to be from a Korean background but they weren't. It made you feel a lot more comfortable that you would fit in. Because you were so close to finishing your qualifications, you only needed to attend lessons for the qualifications you were taking back home so would thankfully have a lot of free time to do your own thing for a few hours each day but unfortunately, all of your first lessons were taken up with mathematics.

"Excuse me, do you know where class 342 is?" You asked a passer-by in broken Korean. "Um, sorry? I speak English if that helps? Sorry. I just didn't catch the numbers" she replied sweetly. "Sorry, I only started re-learning the basics about 2 weeks ago. I used to study Korean when I was younger but my teenage years happened..." You droned on. "Sorry" you said, shaking your head, "I was asking for class 342". "Mathematics with Miss Yi?" The girl asked you. You nodded your head. "Follow me, I'm in the same class! What's your name new friend?" She giggled, interlinking your arm. "Y/N.. And you?" You asked, thankful that you fit in. "Chae-Young" she replied.

The whole set up of the classroom was not what you expected. You had a stereotypical idea of a normal classroom but expected the atmosphere to be somewhat more tense than expected in a school, yet here, it was a vast room with many computers and other stations to get on with your work independently. "Sorry Y/N, we can normally do whichever activities suit our learning styles best once Miss Yi has taught us but I still have a task to finish from yesterday so I'll be over here" she stated, pointing to one of the computers next to the wall. You smiled and assured her that it was okay to leave you.

You got out your phone and text Jungkook.  

Y/N: I think I'm going to like it here after all

The only downside is you not being here

You got a fright when your phone buzzed back. You didn't expect Jungkook to text back at all, especially since you thought he would be sleeping. The buzz caused you to jump back and knock a text book to the floor.

"Y/N, you're so stupid. How come you're going to make such a rubbish impression on the first day?" You tutted away to yourself, as your fumbled around with you text book and other strewn pieces of paper that had fell out.  

Foot steps slowly started to come over to you and quickened their pace when they realised that you were struggling to pick up all of the pieces of paper "Chae-Young, I'm such an idi-" you stopped mid sentence. You couldn't help but notice that those feet and legs belonged to a man. Your gaze slowly went up the stranger's body.

Your heart fluttered, it was a while since you felt this way. The last time you felt this way was when you saw Jungkook walking out of the shower in his towel when he didn't know you came over his house one day after school. Your eyes were gawping as your slowly stood up. "My name is Kim Taehyung, do you need some help?"

*Unread text*

Jungkook: Don't go finding a Korean man to replace me! 😉

PART 3

MASTERLIST

[emphoenixcat]

Raindrops

Summary: Despite his emblem being a stormcloud, Virgil has never experienced rain. Roman fixes that.

Pairing: Prinxiety

Warnings: Over the top fluff. Excessive fluff. You have been warned.

It’s really late. The later it becomes, the more one can argue that it’s actually early. 

Logan and Patton have fallen fast asleep, leaning against one another on the couch. Roman sits on the floor and is still wide awake, completely enraptured by the movie that’s currently playing on TV, even though he has seen it more times than he can count. Virgil sits next to him and is fighting to hold his eyes open, actually enjoying the movie Beauty and the Beast.

Although he has also seen it before, he loves happy endings. No, he doesn’t just love happy endings, he desperately needs happy endings. He needs them because….well, he isn’t even sure why. He just knows that any other ending leaves a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach and a dull pounding in his head.

The scene currently playing on screen is the moment where the rain is pelting the castle and the Beast is on the brink of death. Virgil leans forward, his eyes still on the movie. 

“Roman?” the anxious side whispers.

“Huh? Hm what is it, Virge?”

“Why is it always raining on all the really distressing scenes?” he turns to look at the Prince.

“Oh, I suppose that’s because storms symbolize change, transformation, and danger in stories. It can sometimes represent the inner turmoil of the characters.”

Virgil grimaces, “Oh….”

Roman glances at him, “Something wrong?”

“....is that why Thomas chose my emblem to be a stormcloud?”

The Prince looks thoughtful, “Quite possibly. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it can also represent new beginnings and growth. Let’s not forget that some of the most romantic scenes take place in the rain! And I rather enjoy rain, it’s quite....purifying.”

“Really? I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Roman narrows his eyes, “Are you telling me that you have never experienced rain before?”

“You’re the one with the kingdom, Princey. You’ve never really liked me enough to invite me on your little ventures, remember?” Virgil rolls his eyes.

Roman gasps dramatically, “Okay, get up. It’s adventure time!”

“Wh--what are you talking about? It’s like 3am.”

“That’s the best time to get caught in a storm.” The Prince replies, helping Virgil off the ground.

“You’re fucking crazy,” he mutters. Roman simply grins as they make their way to his room, careful not to wake the others.

The anxious side watches apprehensively as Roman opens his door, but the room is….

ordinary.

Well….as ordinary as a room of a royal could be.

It is unbearably bright in Roman’s room and Virgil impulsively shields his eyes with his arm, still trying to get a good look at the place. The ruby-hued walls are adorned with Disney posters and fancy-looking art pieces. Upon closer inspection, the art pieces are all paintings that the Prince has created himself, each signed in Roman’s gaudy, cursive handwriting. One of the pictures stand out among the rest, immediately catching Virgil’s interest. It was them. The Sides. Roman has painted them, painted him.

It is a four paneled painting and in the first panel, Roman appears to be dramatically singing. In the second, Patton holds a plate of cookies, a pleasant smile on his face. In the next, Logan is nose-deep in a book. His brow furrowed in concentration. In the last panel, is Virgil---he has his eyes closed, a slight smile upon his face as he wraps his hands around his headphones and gets lost in the music.

He instinctively reaches out to touch the image lightly.

Why is he up here with them? Princey doesn’t care about him. Certainly doesn’t think he is significant enough to paint. Yet….here he is.

“I hope you like it. It took me hours to paint all of you. Actually, yours was the most difficult.” Roman says from behind him.

Virgil turns, his eyes still filled with dazed disbelief. “You--you spent hours? --Wait, why was mine the most difficult?”

“I had to get the expression just right. I wanted the most accurate depiction of you. I pride myself on perfect detail. Anything less and it is a disgrace.”

“But why paint me?”

Roman frowns, “Well, you’re just as much a part of Thomas as we are. Besides, it’s supposed to be reminiscent of the four seasons. See? I’m Summer, Patton’s Spring, Logan’s Winter, and you’re Fall.”

Virgil glances at it again, noticing the details of the differing backgrounds. “I just didn’t think you would include me.”

“Virge….”

Virgil shakes his head, brushing off Roman’s concern. Too strange.

He walks over to a full-length mirror with an ornate golden frame. He scoffs, “Can’t get enough of yourself, can you?”

Roman chuckles, “I’ve got to look my best. A mirror is a must.”

Virgil scans the rest of the room. There is a velvet bedspread on a king-sized cushion, a floor that seems to be made out of glitter, and a ceiling that isn’t a ceiling at all, but a sky full of stars.

The sky twinkles realistically and he swears he saw a shooting star whiz by.

Roman smirks at Virgil’s stunned face. “You like?” I decorated everything myself. The sky was a bit challenging though.”

“This is--this is….how?”

“You think this is cool, just wait ‘til you see the rest!”

Virgil gawks at him, “The rest?”

Roman rolls his eyes, “I have a kingdom, remember? This part is just my room, the place I go to rest after a long day of traveling and fighting.”

“Uh, how big is your part of the mindscape exactly?”

When Roman shrugs, Virgil figures it is best that their little journey end here. The last thing he needed was to embarrass himself and have a panic attack in front of Princey, of all people.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just do this another day. It’s like super late and---hey!”

Before Virgil can finish protesting, Roman has grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the closet. Except, it wasn’t just a closet.

Virgil wrenches his arm away in exasperation, “What the hell? Give me warning next time before you drag me into fuckin’ Narnia! Your world is in the closet, like really?”

The Prince smiles sheepishly, “Heh, you heard what Thomas said. Some of his most artistic ideas and musings happened when he was an awkward teenager. It’s kind of fitting that this realm exists in a closet.”

Virgil can’t help, but laugh at that. “This is so stupid.”

“Don’t laugh at my world!” Roman says indignantly.

“I’m not laughing at your world, I’m laughing at the location of your world.”

“Same thing!”

“Oh, whatever! Look, can we just get this over with?”

While Virgil is enjoying the weirdness of Roman’s realm, he can’t help being a bit uneasy about it. Things were more unpredictable here after all.

Currently, it was night and a full moon hung in the sky, the only source of light in the otherwise dark forest. Ominous noises echo throughout the space and the anxious side unconsciously moves closer to the Prince.

A gentle, almost reassuring, breeze tousles the anxious side’s hair.

“C’mon then!” The Prince says brightly, gently tugging Virgil by the jacket sleeve and leading him down a little beaten path Virgil hadn’t noticed was there. It leads to a small clearing where brilliant white, red, and purple flowers bloom and glisten in the moonlight.

As they draw closer, he sees that the blooms are star-shaped and a bit reminiscent of pinwheels.

“What are these?” he asks curiously.

“Moonflowers. They open at dusk and close up in the morning. This is where I go when I can’t sleep. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Virgil nods in agreement, wishing that he could conjure something as lovely as this. However, he knows with terrible certainty that if he were ever able to construct a world of his own, it would probably become a turbulent and grotesque nightmare. He shudders at the thought and eyes the flowers with a growing want. He wonders if Roman would mind him picking one. Virgil wants one because at least when he gets back to his sad, barren room, he will have a piece of this place. Just a spark of light among the darkness.

Roman seems to sense this because he picks out the biggest purple and white bloom he can find and hands it to Virgil with a smile.

Virgil takes it in surprise. Tha--thank you,” he stammers.

“Don’t mention it.”

Roman notes the way Virgil clutches the flower close to his chest and the way his cheeks are turning a pleasant shade of red. The Prince grins.

“It’s my favorite flower. It symbolizes passion, power, prophecy, and protection. All that I live for.”

Virgil gives a small smile, “Sounds like you. I always pegged you as more of a day person though.”

“Even the day must appreciate the night, just as the night would appreciate the day. You can’t have one without the other after all.”

“....I guess.”

“Which brings us back to what we came here for. The difference between calm, light weather and intense, stormy weather.”

Roman cracks his knuckles and conjures a picnic blanket.

“Umm, what’s that for?” Virgil asks with confusion.

“Watching lightning is a lot more satisfying if you’re lying down and looking up at the sky.” Roman says matter-of-factly. He spreads it out neatly on the grass and sits down, patting the spot next to him. Virgil scowls, but moves to join the over-enthusiastic prince.

A clap of thunder startles the anxious side so badly, he nearly jumps back up again.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Relax, it’s only thunder.”

“Is--is that normal?”

“Perfectly normal. Don’t worry, I’m in control here….well, sort of.”

“Sort of? What’s that supposed to mean? And how is that, in any way, comforting?”

Roman appears slightly embarrassed, “Well, the weather here is based heavily on my emotions, but that shouldn’t worry you at all because I’m feeling rather euphoric at the moment.”

Virgil eyes him with suspicion, “Then how are you making it storm?”

Roman’s whole face is turning a deep shade of pink. But before the blushing prince can answer, a flash of light brightens the sky and makes Virgil gasp in fright. He instinctively puts an arm out to protect Roman from whatever threat the mysterious light poses.

The Prince laughs softly, gently taking Virgil’s hand in his.

“It’s just lightning, Virge. But thank you for trying to protect me.”

Virgil’s muscles are still tense and another roll of thunder puts him even more on edge.

“Listen, this has been really enlightening….but I think this was a bad idea.”

Roman keeps his hand on Virgil’s. “Please stay. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you”

Virgil scoffs, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Princey. Everything hurts me….at least, emotionally.” He bites his lip. Why did he say that? Roman doesn’t need to know that.

The Prince outwardly shudders at the prospect of having ever unintentionally cut Virgil with nasty, careless words. “I’m sorry if I was ever the cause---”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s my job.” Virgil forces a laugh.

“No, I mean it. I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget how much my words can have an impact on you.” Roman frowns and continues, “I might not be able to keep you from the emotional hurt, but I will protect you from any and all physical harm. That I can promise you.”

Virgil shakes his head, ready to disagree, but before he can, a gentle rain begins to fall.

He sits there, completely stunned. 

His muscles relax as the droplets fall upon him, smudging his dark make-up. He lets go of the moonflower he’s been holding in one of his hands and hesitantly tests the air. His right palm facing the sky, catching little silver droplets. They remind him of the moon. He’s catching moonbeams.

Roman watches with growing worry because he is unsure. Unsure if Virgil likes the rain or not. It isn’t until he sees Virgil’s face slowly spreading into a smile unlike any he has ever seen before. A child-like smile of pure wonder, an unusual emotion for Anxiety.

There is another streak of lightning running across the sky, but the anxious side pays it no mind. He turns his face upward, letting the surge of water droplets wash over him. He feels it. He listens, hearing the melodious sound of the moonbeams hitting the soft earth. It is more than what he has seen on TV. More than what he has read about in the books and poems. It is the sky meeting the earth. It is nature eagerly showing him that it too, has emotions. Wild, chaotic, untamed emotions.

He feels no worry now as lightning shoots through the heavens, brightening it in purple, yellow, white, and blue-tinted veins. His heart is pounding, but in a different way. In a way he is unaccustomed to. He’s---he’s excited.

Virgil turns to the Prince, grinning like he has never grinned before. Roman is staring at him in complete awe. Virgil may be captivated by the storm, but Roman is captivated by him.

Virgil doesn’t think that this unnatural feeling of amazement can grow anymore, but he is wrong. His other hand is still wrapped in the Prince’s. And Roman is smiling at him, but it’s different somehow. The wind, the rain, the brilliant veins of light are steadily becoming stronger. Somehow the storm has a way of making one’s senses become sharper. Perhaps, it is the adrenaline of it all. The way the rain elicits a clear, crisp scent of freshly-cleansed earth. Maybe it is the frigid air gusting around them, stirring things up that normally lie dormant.

The sensation in Virgil’s chest can’t possibly be because of Roman holding his hand or because of Roman’s smile. No, the butterflies fluttering chaotically in his stomach have to be due to the storm. Most definitely the storm.

“Ro--Roman?” the anxious side’s voice wavers slightly. “You said that the weather is based off of you….and how you’re feeling. Wha--what feeling is this one exactly?”

The Prince looks away, trying to piece together the right words. His gaze falls on the moonflower lying next to Virgil. He gingerly picks it up.

“It’s like this--this moonflower. Passion, power, prophecy, and protection. This tempest, this night, the moon. It’s been created because of my passion. My emotions and motivations propelling it forward is my power. A night like this always symbolizes change. It is prophecy. And the adrenaline and fear makes one rush to protect.” he smiles.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Princey.”

Roman looks up at Virgil and holds the bloom out to him.

“It’s for you. It’s all for you and it will never die, I promise.”

Virgil stares, not quite knowing what to do. Was he saying he----was he---was he really saying this?

“Do you accept this?” Roman asks quietly.

Heart-hammering away, he gives into the dreams of the moonbeams, the spark of the lightning, and the yearning of his soul.

Virgil gently takes the flower from Roman. Suddenly his arms wrap tightly around the Prince, pulling him in closer and closer until they are close enough to feel each other’s pulse. And it’s breathtaking. More breathtaking than anything Virgil has ever experienced and that’s saying a lot for the personification of anxiety.

And he is whispering the words that have remained dormant for ages.

“I love the things you create. I love your realm and the other worlds within them. I love it all because it comes from you, because it is you. There is no doubt within my anxious heart, I love you and I always have.”

And they are kissing, Roman’s arms encircling Virgil’s waist as they taste one another for the first time. They are sinking slowly to the ground, no longer sitting up but comfortably lying together in embrace. Virgil is on top of the Prince, never wanting to let go because this can’t possibly be real. It’s just a dream, a glorious dream. If he lets go, he’s afraid that he’ll lose it. That it will be ripped away from him. So he clings to the Prince, his kisses deep and desperate.

And Roman feels Virgil pulling at him in different ways, trying to get closer and closer. Roman is kissing back with equal fervor, sliding a hand under the anxious side’s hoodie and feeling the warm and rhythmic thudding of the other’s heartbeat. And it’s pounding faster than a hummingbird’s fluttering wings. His hand moves up and softly caresses Virgil’s neck, the other hand still feeling his waist.

And they scarcely notice the chilling torrent of rain that rushes at them or the way the entire night sky is lit up to resemble day. The wind fights to be felt, but they are lost in each other’s warmth and nothing can break them away from one another. Not until they are ready.

It seems like an entire eternity has passed before either of them are ready to return from their love-induced ecstasy. By that time, the sun is rising and they’re both completely drenched with rain. They make their way back to the door that leads back into the mindscape and out of the Prince’s realm. They walk slowly, both frightened that their time together will turn out to only be a fleeting dream.

They stop at the door, Virgil clutching his promise as if it’s a lifeline. They’ve made it. They’re back. 

Looking into one another’s eyes, they know that nothing has changed and they smile with relief. It’s real. Unconditionally and utterly real.

They lean forward once more, but are interrupted by a voice from behind.

“About time you guys got back, we were wondering how long you were gonna be in the closet.”

Patton and Logan are standing in the doorway to Roman’s room. Patton is grinning and Logan is smirking.

“We hope we didn’t interrupt anything.” the logical side says with a hint of amusement.

Patton giggles slightly, “You better go get dried off, kiddos. I wouldn’t want you catching a cold. Breakfast is downstairs when you’re ready.”

And with that, they leave to let the two change out of their rain-soaked clothes.

Before heading down to breakfast, Virgil goes to his room and places his moonflower on the dresser next to his bed. In the darkness, it immediately blossoms. The flower emitting a soft glow, almost like a nightlight.

Roman knocks lightly on the doorframe to alert Virgil of his presence. The Prince is happy to see the moonflower on the dresser.

“So, what did you think of the rain?” he grins.

Virgil beams and it’s enough to make the Prince’s heart soar.

“It was like being surrounded by the stars.”

Roman runs a hand through Virgil’s hair, “See, I told you storms could represent new beginnings. It looks like the start of a beautiful and chemically imbalanced romance, my dear.”  

[goodjobmiranda]

Too Far Apart: Chapter Two - Patton.

I love Patton so much, sweet boi too pure. 1,849 words of how sweet Patton is.

@allthemetalsoftherainbow asked to be tagged hello boo o3o

Patton had always adored the thought of soulmates, the thought that there was someone out there just for him made him feel all warm and fluttery inside. He remembers when he was small his mother sat him down and showed him the writing on her arms. His mom's soulmate was in the dark kingdom and she hasn't seen him since they went to war with each other but they still always write each other.

He remembers being confused. "Aren't you and father soulmates?" He asked her, his mother just smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

"Your father and I love each other more than anything, Patton. I don't know what other people will tell you but you don't need to have your soulmate." She then paused for a few minutes before she looks down at Patton's feet. "Two different socks? Where's the matching set?" Patton pointed to his dresser in the corner, the matching socks laying across them, he just wanted to wear both so he just split them.

His mother laughed softly "That is exactly what a soulmate is, your father and I are socks that don't match but we still look pretty cool together, right?" To that Patton nods, his mom and dad were the best socks."When you see your soulmate your soul is just waving excitedly and yell 'Same hat!' You never have to be anything with your soulmate if you don't want to be."

Oh but Patton really wanted to be, as soon as he could hold a pen he started doodling on his arm, small hearts, and scribbles of his family. He remembers how excited he was when he discovered he had not one but two soulmates. One that spoke like he belonged in a fairy tale and another who only drew along their upper arms and never wrote anything

Patton loved them already and was dying to meet them but he agreed to Ro wanting to remain a secret until the time was right, he really didn't want to though. Patton was scared that he might end up like his parents, as much as he loved them and knew they were happy he just... He didn't want to be like his father who's soulmate died before he met them, he doesn't want to be like his mother who only met her soulmate once before war separated them.

He's so glad to have two soulmates, all the more love.

Then he discovers he has even more than two one day! Another soulmate who's only just started writing and it makes his heart soar to speak to them for the first time, he speaks to Logan for as long as he can before he's forced back to work.

He couldn't wait to find them, he loves his place in the palace. It'll always be his home, it'll always hold memories of his mother teaching him how to bake and his father telling him about stories of being a knight. It'll always be home but Patton knows that his soulmates will be home too, he can just tell that one day they'll all be together at the table as he cooks them breakfast. Logan always wakes up early so maybe he'll help him prepare, Ro tends to be awake enough to send a good morning but normally not able to hold a conversation later in the day. Then there is the artist, the only one Patton can't be sure about. He knows he'll love them all no matter what but he wishes they would just say something to him.

Admittedly, his first encounter with one of his soulmates could have gone better. He had spotted the all too familiar markings along the arms of who he would find out to be Logan and charged right towards him without a plan. He nearly tackled him and probably confused him a lot too but he just felt so happy to finally meet one of his loves that he couldn't contain himself. His soul was screaming "Same hat!!!" Who was he to deny his soul?

He couldn't sleep that night, he wanted so badly to stay with Logan and never let him go but the man needed to return to his home. They barely spent a day with each other and Patton already felt like he had known Logan forever, as soon as the sun was up Patton would pull every string he could to get Logan a job in the castle library.

The only problem was that it was the middle of the night and sleeping didn't come easily to him, he could feel his heart racing and he wondered how Logan would react if Patton showed up at his home at 3am in the morning. Was he even awake? A brilliant idea struck Patton with that thought, sitting up from his bed and reaching for the pen he keeps close by.

Is anyone awake? He writes on his arm, silently begging for Logan to reply.

Logan doesn't reply but the excitable man isn't left disappointed as a black heart is drawn next his question.

Hello! You're up awfully late but I guess I am too... He smiled as his silent friend drew a shadowy figure on his right hand, soon the moon and multiple little stars joined the shadow friend.

Patton is about to reply when he pauses and puts his pen down, instead getting up to search through his desk. He found what he needed quickly, a pack of markers his father had gotten for him his last birthday. He runs to the washroom quickly to scrub off his writing so he'd have more room to draw on his left hand. He glances over the picture on his right before he starts drawing a similar picture on his left, only with bright colors and Sunlight. He admits his hand isn't as steady and he's not as skilled as his soulmate but he hopes they appreciate it.

As he draws his yellow man basking in bright sunlight and blue skies he sees that his soulmate starts drawing a castle along their wrist, Patton would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed by how much tiny details his friend puts in. How do you even shade so well with a black pen? He's distracted until the soft lines stop appearing and he notices tiny letters under the stormy castle that simply say

Home.

Patton feels his heart stop, this is the first words he's seen from his little storm cloud. How does he respond? How does he not scare them away? What should he- oh...

Patton knows what to do now, he fills himself with determination as he starts to mirror the drawing his dark friend made. He uses his soft blues and passionate reds to draw the light kingdoms royal castle. It comes out terrible but he thinks he gets his concept across when he draws a little arrow pointing to the bottom of the castle beside the stick horses. I'm here. He writes.

He glances at the inside of his wrist to see his friend also draw an arrow but instead of near the bottom, the arrow points to one of the large towers. Patton isn't left handed but his does his best to draw a little purple heart next to his shadowlings arrow.

A part of him is sad, despite the ever growing love in his chest. He's seen paintings of that dark castle in the gallery, his soulmate is in the dark kingdom just like his mothers is. He won't let that drag him down, the war between their kingdoms can't last forever. He wipes his eyes with the bottom of his shirt when he glances back at his arms he sees shaky scribbles on his left arm next to his drawing. The scribbles soon become a dark figure similar to the one that stares at the moon on the back of his right hand, the only difference is that the lines are less even as his soulmate clearly struggles to draw with their right hand and it has an arm reaching out. Patton finds himself giggling as he reaches for his yellow marker again, adding his own scribble person beside the dark one. Their arm reaches out too to make them hold hands.

His Dark soulmate is silent the rest of the night but Patton doesn't find himself worrying when just before the sun rises all the dark ink on his skin is rubbed off, and despite Patton wanting his other soulmates to see he finds himself washing away the colors from his skin too. It might be his sleepiness from being up all night but something deep down tells him that this moment should stay between the two of them.

A year later and everything couldn't be more perfect. The Queens already loved Patton and had no issue finding a place for Logan, Pat was worried that Lo would get bored in the library but he finds that Logan almost lives in their now. His smart soulmate burying himself into every book on nearly every subject, annoying the archivers to death whenever he realized that a lot of their written history had inconsistencies. The best part was that Patton got to see him every day and while it wasn't exactly what he hoped for he still loved every second, Patton has probably learned more in the past year alone from listening to Logan just speaking then he has in his entire life.

It's what he's currently doing now, Logan pacing through the halls as he rants on about the science behind transmutation magic. While Patton doesn't really understand most of what he's talking about, he still listens the best he can to his love.

At least until the door to the main hall is kicked open by a very disheveled looking prince with a huge grin. Prince Roman struts through the great hall without a glance at the concerned servants who follow him. Patton finds himself sending a worried glance at Logan who's eyes have gone wide. "Patton, I love you but do not yell 'same hat' at the prince." The man says sharply as he forces his gaze away from the prince to stare at the smaller man.

Patton is deeply confused, looking away from Logan to notice exactly what he means. The Prince's usual garb is torn in multiple places, his right sleeve seems to have been torn off and tied around his leg. His exposed arm makes something inside Patton giddy, he can't believe it. He can see Logan's smooth clear handwriting, little notes from this morning about the ingredients that Patton needed to pick up. He can see the faded black lightning storm his shadow baby drew last light.

His heart is racing so fast and his nerves are all jittery, he can't stop himself from running to the Prince that was almost out of the room by now. He faintly hears Logan call out his name but it's too late, he doesn't even hesitate to grab Prince Roman's hand and cry out. "Same hat!"

 To be continued because I have to write Roman now.