#anyway sonnet is 1 or is turning 1 very soon

[brain-rot-central]

Who wants to bet money that I'm gonna be bawling my eyes out at my dress appointment tomorrow

[walker-extended-universe]

The Right Moment

Relationship(s): Trey Barnett/Cassie Perez

Tags/Warnings: Injury, Fluff, Feels, Love, Love Confessions, Flirting

Summary: Four times Trey almost told Cassie he loved her and one time he did

Written for @flufftober Day 5: x + 1

taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

----

The night was perfect. Kelly and Larry were married, the whole Walker family was at peace, and Trey finally felt like he was going somewhere in his life. Maybe it was the wine or maybe he was just happy, but he wanted to live in this moment forever.

He was dancing with Cassie. The lights danced of the disco ball, making a constellation on Cassie’s bare shoulder. It was definitely the wine that made Trey want to kiss it but he could control himself. For now.

He just couldn’t believe this was real. That he was dancing with her. That he’d told her his feelings and she’d returned that. That she was here, laughing in his arms.

He’d never believed in love at first sight. He tried to be more careful with his heart. But despite only really knowing Cassie for less than a year and only just starting a relationship with her tonight, he knew he wanted to be with her forever.

I love you , he thought, listening to her commentary on the other dancers. I love you , he thought, toasting their drinks at the punch table. I love you , he almost said when they parted ways. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. The timing wasn’t right.

Soon.

—----------

“So, how is it in Florida?”

“Hot. And wet. But the gators aren’t biting so at least I only have dangerous criminals to worry about.”

Trey chuckled. “Well, that’s good. Graves giving you any trouble?”

“Surprisingly, no. She’s been very cooperative. I think it helps that she’s not in charge of this mission though; like we’re pretty much on the same level so she can’t look down on me. Not that she should be in the first place, but whatever. She’s actually pretty decent when she’s not stuck up on her high horse.”

Trey laughed. “Sounds like you two will be making friendship bracelets by the end of the week.”

Cassie snorted. “Yeah, right. Anyway, how’re things back home? Walker almost kill himself yet this week?”

“No, actually. But he almost got himself suspended for breaking chain of command to go after a suspect. I think James was just relieved to catch the guy or Walker would’ve been in his office for a lot longer.”

Cassie chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Is it okay working with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. I think he misses you though,” Trey said. “I caught him longingly looking at your empty chair. I’m sure he’ll be writing longing sonnets for your return in a couple weeks.”

She laughed. “Oh, that poor man. However will he survive without his amazing, spunky, badass partner?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll manage somehow.”

There was some noise on Cassie’s end. “Shoot, that’s the end of my break. Boss needs me in a meeting. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. Tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye, babe.”

“Bye, Cassie.” I love you was almost instinctive. But he couldn’t say it. Not yet. Not over the phone when she might not even be coming back.

Soon.

—-------

Cassie had the most beautiful smile. Trey didn’t see it often enough.

It’s not that Cassie was a rare smiler. Far from it. Trey just liked seeing her smile.

Which is why he always agreed to watch Hawk’s Shadow with her because that’s when she was at her smiliest. Sure, it was a cheesy show that would barely be background noise for him on a normal day. He wasn’t all that interested in the story and he barely remembered any of the plots once the episode was over. But it made her happy, so he sat with her and let her eat most of the popcorn while they watched.

“Oooooh this is the best part!” Cassie leaned forward and turned up the volume so they could hear better. She sat back on the couch and leaned over to get another mouthful of popcorn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see she was watching his face more than the screen.

This was the other thing he loved about watching this. She wasn’t just dragging him into this for her own gain; she really wanted to share something she loved with the person she cared about.

Just another reason he loved her. When the episode ended (and he’d given an appropriate reaction to her favorite scene), he almost told her. “Next week, we’re starting Yu-Gi-Oh. I even have a card set so I can teach you to play,” he said instead.

Maybe after she could match his skill level, he’d be ready to lay out that trap card.

—-------

Trey wasn’t exactly a stranger to being shot. He spent most of his career in the military and there was always a risk, even if he was acting as a medic. He’d been shot more times than he cared to admit to his mother.

Having a lot of experience with it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“You’re gonna be okay, Trey.” Cassie’s worried face filled his vision. “We’re almost at the hospital and they’re gonna fix you right up, okay? This isn’t going to get you out of meeting my family next week.” She tried to smile; he tried to smile back. Neither of them were successful.

The rest of the car ride was a blur of pain and Cassie’s increasingly frantic voice. Trey wanted to comfort her. It wasn’t a fatal wound, not really. It hurt a lot but as long as he didn’t bleed out too much he’d be okay. He was just too tired.

“Trey?? Trey, honey, don’t fall asleep! Focus on me, okay? Look at me. You’re gonna be okay. We’re almost there.”

I love you . I’ll be back, he promised silently as they loaded him onto a gurney and took him in for surgery.

—------

They both had the day off from work and no other plans. Just them, some good food, maybe some extra time in the sheets. He didn’t realize it before, but Trey had spent so much time in the past few years doing anything and everything to try and ignore the emptiness inside of him. Now, he didn’t feel quite so lonely nor desperate. Now, he could relax and hold the woman he loved in his arms.

Cassie sighed and rolled over to kiss him. “Thank you for turning off our alarms,” she muttered. “I think I would’ve thrown your phone off of the balcony if I had to wake up at 5 on my day off.”

Trey chuckled. “I know you would have. Good thing I’m a smart and good boyfriend who would never dare commit such a crime.”

She hummed and snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. “Good. That means I can keep you.”

“That so? That’s good news for me. I like it when you keep me around.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this secure. Content. Happy. Loved. He wasn’t sure he ever felt this way with Micki.

“Well, if I’m going to keep keeping you around, I’m going to need some breakfast. I need energy to keep you in line.” She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on top of them, giving him her best pout. “Make me french toast?”

He smiled and kissed her. “Anything for the woman I love.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly. It was rare he made her speechless like this. “You….?”

“Yes. I. Love. You,” he said, punctuating each word with another kiss. “Now, I believe I promised you french toast?” He got out of bed and made his way to the kitchen.

The day had only just started and it was already a great one.

[darsynia]

I Know No Other Way Than This | Ch 1

(Bruce Banner/OFC, Tony Stark & Bruce Banner Friendship, post-Avengers 1 Soulmate AU multichapter)

MCU Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Next

Summary: Bruce tried to forget he had soulmate words entirely, but on the day of the Chitauri attack, he returned from his stint as the Hulk to find that his black words had turned silver. His soulmate must have watched him shift from the Other Guy into himself and said them while he was unconscious.

Tony made it his mission not only to find her, but to present Bruce with compilations of surveillance footage. They showed her working as a nurse, searching his name at public libraries, and generally being a lovely person who didn't deserve to have her life ruined by his affliction. The more Bruce watched, though, the more he was captivated. Was there a chance he could have a future with her? Did he have the right to find out?

Length: 1,536

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @arrthurpendragon @ronearoundblindly @themaradaniels

Chapter One: First Impression

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so, I love you because I know no other way

than this: where 'I' does not exist, nor 'you,'

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda

just after the Battle of New York

Bruce regained consciousness in the middle of a city street. He vaguely remembered making it back to the tower with Tony and Steve as the Other Guy, but that brief flash of memory faded as soon as he was forced to take the stairs down from the penthouse. He guessed it was a good thing so much was wrecked around him anyway, because there was zero chance that his alter ego didn’t take out his frustration on the smashed cars.

He hoped Hulk hadn’t broken anything in the stairwell of the tower.

He stood up, dusted himself off, watching the concrete powder and glass particles hit the pavement in a distinguishable arc around him. Bruce reached for his waistband, squeezing the communicator Tony had sewn into his special expandable shorts.

“Awake, on my way in.”

“Glad to hear it, Brucey Bear,” Tony said. Bruce rolled his eyes, leaning over to dust more crap from his hair. “We’ll get you patched up and then it’s off to the Shawarma place.”

“You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way down?” he asked, his fingers squeezing the transmission button.

“If I did, it’s on you, Banner. You’re the one who caught me.”

Bruce stopped at the corner across from the tower on hearing that. He remembered seeing Tony falling, but only in a flash, as usual for his time as the Other Guy. The next flash was Tony on the ground, along with a sense of relief. Did neither of them remember the moments that took Stark from unconscious freefall to safe landing?

Once inside the tower, Bruce headed straight for the medical floor in the basement. He was grateful it was there, though he hadn’t expected to be showing up so soon after learning of its existence. The doctor on duty documented the places on his body which signaled a healed injury, since a little smeared blood was often the only indication anything had even happened.

“Hey, Bruce,” Tony said, poking his head in the door to the exam room.

Somewhere in their consent forms there had to be one that allowed Tony permission to nose around like that. Bruce wondered if he ought to check, for HIPAA compliance sake, at the very least.

“Are you that hungry?” Bruce asked mildly. “You could always go without me.”

“Star of the hour? No way. Just checking in,” Tony said. “Need me to grab your clothes?”

“Would you?”

When the door shut, Bruce smiled to himself. A stressed-out Stark seemed to soothe sooner with a task. He made a mental note to watch the video of Tony’s fall. It would either come up in conversation some random time while they were working together, or it wouldn’t, and Bruce would need to bring it up. Their friendship was new, but he valued it.

The door opened again as the doctor whose name Bruce had already forgotten was examining his lower back and torso.

“I may have added some flair,” Tony told him. Bruce doubted it, but he’d check, to be sure.

“Dr. Banner, are you aware that your Soulmark has changed?”

“What?”

Both Bruce and Tony spoke.

“Saving my life and getting the girl? You’re a regular hero, Banner,” Stark said.

Bruce looked down, smoothing his hand out along the words on his left flank. Sure enough, the words were silver instead of black. “There was no ‘getting.’ There will be no ‘getting.’ He shook his head at Tony.

“There’s a mirror--” the attending physician suggested, gesturing to the full-length mirror along the wall in the corner of the room.

He almost didn’t want to check. Actually finding his soulmate was the last thing Bruce wanted to happen. He’d had the words for thirteen years at that point, a number that he ordinarily wouldn’t care much about, but which felt symbolic.

“Hulk doesn’t have any, does he?” Tony asked.

“No,” Bruce murmured.

They were silver, all right. The words, ‘ Something tells me you almost certainly have a vitamin deficiency!’ were a little less obvious than they had been that morning, the color lightened as if touched by a real-life photographic filter.

“Can you confirm that you have no memory of them being spoken?” the doctor asked him.

“Yes.” He only ever spent a few minutes unconscious after transforming back anymore. The woman must have been there to see the actual shift. His soulmate-- a person he’d never really pictured meeting as much as running away from, at least for the last few years --had probably watched him shrink, his body adjusting to the size differential, and commented on one of the many logical medical consequences.

“I’ll find her for you, don’t worry,” Tony said, standing beside Bruce, his hand coming down in a solid, collegial clap on Bruce’s opposite shoulder.

“Please don’t,” Bruce said immediately. He crossed the room and started pulling on his change of clothes. Ordinarily he would have taken off the shorts and changed to new ones, but today? After what he’d just learned, it would be safer if he just left them on. Tony’s reaction to his rejection showed that Bruce might have a fight on his hands.

“Oh no no no no,” Tony said. “Soulmates are good. Don’t do the manfully alone thing about this. Whoever this woman is, her existence is meant to make life better for you. You could use some of that. A lot of that.”

“Even if that’s true, there’s nothing about my situation that would improve that woman’s life. Nothing,” Bruce reiterated.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Tony argued.

“Tony. Find another post-alien-attack hobby, okay?” Bruce finished buttoning up his shirt and, just in case Tony decided to expose his new condition against his will, tucked it in.

“Even if I promised you not to, you wouldn’t believe me, so I’ll spare us both the lie,” Tony said. “Besides, it’s Shawarma time.”

Tony surprised him by saying nothing else about it for the rest of the day. Bruce made the mistake of assuming this meant his friend had decided to meddle without involving him. There was no chance Tony had decided not to meddle at all.

That night in his Tower apartment, there was a StarkPad waiting for him with a sticky note telling him the temporary password. Bruce sat down and tapped in the code, and immediately, a video began to play.

It showed a scene from the streets of New York. On the sidewalk a group of people were crouched next to an older man whose head was cradled in an older woman’s lap. Kneeling beside the man was a young woman with her hand on his wrist, clearly taking his pulse. She stood, speaking to the older woman for a few seconds before an ambulance pulled up. A group of around four bystanders helped the older man onto the gurney while the young woman comforted the older woman.

The young woman walked up to the ambulance, spoke to the EMT for a second, and then the camera followed her walking about a block, the view changing in quality and angle. It was obviously a stitched-together series of surveillance videos.

The woman herself seemed to be wearing scrubs, which didn’t surprise Bruce, given what he’d observed so far. Her hair was black, held back in a ponytail. He couldn’t clearly see her face in any of the videos so far shown. She turned a corner, and the video quality improved a great deal, probably because she was walking past a parking lot. Suddenly, she stopped, backed up a little, and then stopped again.

Despite himself, Bruce was curious. He wouldn’t put it past Tony to have the camera pan over to a fully-integrated scene of Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up at some point-- but what he saw instead was himself, or rather the Other Guy, stumbling to the ground and rolling on one side, only feet away from the black-haired healthcare worker.

Bruce hit pause, meaning to put the device down, but it didn’t pause. The woman walked closer, covering her mouth with a hand as the Hulk started shrinking down into Bruce. Again, he tried to pause the video, turn it off, something, but it continued playing.

There was no sound, but her head bobbed as if speaking. As she crouched down and reached for his wrist, he saw her draw back in shock. The woman leaned over, looking closely at his left side. Then, to Bruce’s complete shock, she reached out and touched his hair almost tenderly before standing up and running back the way she came.

“Yeah, I bet,” he said, when the video finished. The black-haired woman was his soulmate, and the second she’d realized that fact, she had run in the other direction.

Next chapter, Tony finds surveillance footage of Bruce's soulmate as she visits a public library and googles who Bruce is.

[queerchoicesblog]

Epilogue: Underwater (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

As promised, here the epilogue of the Zetta x Adele Series, folks. 

This is the very end of a project that meant me quite a lot to me and got me through the last terrible year. Thanks to all those who supported it: hope you enjoyed it and will enjoy this ending.

In case you were wondering, this song inspired the whole series, particularly the last chapters:

I will skip the tag list for once since it’s pointless anyway. 

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15 , Ch. 16, Ch. 17

_________________________

Almost a century after the sinking of the RMS Titanic and to celebrate Canada becoming the first country outside Europe to legalise same-sex marriage, the Canadian Film Institute decided to work side by side with several LGBTQ+ organisations across the world to put together an exhibition focused on the early queer cinema and the many queer stars who were forced to hide their true selves in the Golden Age of cinematography, spanning from 1890s till the aftermath of Second World War. "A testament to the role the LGBTQ+ community played in the history of cinema and that we have always been here, even if people hardly saw us" as a journalist wrote on a queer magazine. After the recent discovery of some private documents, the curators were overjoyed to include an icon of the 1900s - 1910s cinema like Zetta Serda into the retrospective and cast a new light on her extraordinary career sadly soon forgotten after the advent of the sound era. Yet, the silent picture star was mentioned as a model and 'endless source of inspiration" by many queer movie stars like Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Greta Garbo all part of the retrospective. Rumor has it that as soon as she landed in America, Marlene Dietrich demanded his agent a meeting with Mrs King.

A curator drove all the way to Montreal to meet the last known heir, a certain Mrs. Julia Nowak, who greeted him on the threshold of a cosy downtown apartment. She offered him a coffee and a slice of a Polish sweet bread: the recipe was a family heirloom, she explained, beaming. She was in her late fifties, a therapist, she said. Her hazel eyes gleamed when she added, in a pleasantly soothing voice that betrayed a hint of excitement: "I must confess I am so incredibly happy that you contacted me about the retrospective. I adore the idea and I will make sure to attend it. Also" she nodded to a wedding picture hung to the wall "did you know that my wife is in politics? She campaigned for the legalisation...yes, Madeleine Fournier: see, you know her! We got married right after the law passed. If anything, your call and project made me twice as happy". She took a pause, smiling over her coffee in remembrance. "Anyway, back to the matter of your visit...yes, as far as I know, I am Zetta's last heir. As you probably know, my family wasn't officially related to her but she stated otherwise in her will". She moved to the couch and gestured the curator to follow her as she opened up one of the boxes and chests piled into the living room and picked out an old album, the leather cover worn at the edges. Dust waltzed in the air as she opened it with caution and gentle care. She showed him a slightly discoloured black and white picture of a young couple kissing for the camera in front of a church. Another wedding picture, from a different era. "Nana Hileni and Papa Maciej's wedding picture. I still remember them even if they both died when I was barely a teen...as if one couldn't bear to live without the other. Or so I like to think. She would help me with the homework, mathematics particularly, and he baked this bread for me till he was too weak to do so. He always claimed that he won Nana's heart with his pastries but she always denied it laughing". She passed another picture of the same couple proudly standing in front of the Nowak family bakery in Hoboken. "Frankly, I believe that Papa's broad shoulders and Marlon Brando smile are more likely to blame for this coup de foudre" she laughed. "And he knew how to deal with her no-nonsense attitude and vice versa. They...balanced each other, if you wish". She picked another picture and handed it to him. A woman was looking down in tender adoration and awe to a baby nestled in her arms looking up at her, outstretching a tiny arm in an attempt to touch her face. "There! This is Dad" she pointed at the baby before turning the picture where someone wrote 'Alex meets Auntie Adele'. Turning it again, she pointed at the woman. "This is Adele Carrem. Or Auntie Adele as I've always heard calling her. Nana's sister and Zetta's publicist and companion" Putting it back into the album, she carefully picked a bunch of other old pictures. "You surely know who this one is" she smiled, handing out the one on top. The photo was rather grainy but you could still recognise the same kid, slightly older, around two, sucking his thumb, cuddled up in Zetta's lap. The actress had aged a little but her features were unmistakable and it was endearing to see her sitting by the fireplace to read that kid with the sleepy face a bedtime story. "Sadly, I have never met them. I wish I did, oh you have no idea...but stories of them lived through in our family" Julia continued. "My Dad loved his Aunties - as he called them - dearly and by what I've heard and read, they loved him in manner as if he was their own. He knew little of them or Zetta's career back then...to him they were just the sweet ladies who would buy him ice-cream in Central Park or take him to see his favourite pictures over and over again at the movie theater. He said he will never forget the afternoons he used to spend with them in a Manhattan cafe that no longer exists around Christmas: Nana and Papa worked like crazy as the festive season approached and the glorious cup of hot chocolate with an elegant puff of cream on top with the Aunties became a tradition to him. He kept it alive somehow as he did the same with me". She handed the curator a bunch of other pictures: Zetta cleaning up Alex's face smeared with jam, the both of them laughing; Zetta posing with Maciej and her Dad at a table in the Hoboken bakery. He eventually mirrored her smile seeing a five years old Alex at the beach all engrossed in building a sandcastle with Hileni and Adele, and he standing at the water edge hand in hand with Miss Carrem, looking out into the distance. "These are family pictures. I'll show you the Zetta's private memorabilia we cherished". Julia searched a little, opening an old chest and handling every item inside with tender care. When she found what she was looking for, she showed the curator an elegant set of smaller boxes containing letters, dried flowers and photos. "I have already received an offer to get these published. I'm still pondering it. Before agreeing, I want to consider throughly if this is a thing they would have wanted, even if they're no longer here" The curator nodded as she kept searching. He skimmed a few letters and smiled as his eyes fall on the photos hidden away in those boxes: the two women sitting together and chatting at Hileni's wedding, Zetta's reading a script, lazily sprawled on a chaise long in her apartment. Some had short lines handwritten on the back, like a promotional picture with "Missing you" written by Zetta herself. The curator showed another to Mrs Nowak: a visibly excited Miss Carrem proudly showing to the camera a document announcing her voter registration. On the back, in Zetta's penmanship: "On the way to vote...my sweet Adele won!". "Oh you didn't know? Auntie Adele was a suffragette! I couldn't believe it when I first heard it! Nana told me that she was in and out jail when they lived in London because of protests. You know, like those suffragettes you read about in history books but less famous. Yet she fought for women's rights and kept fighting for them even in America. She was quite disappointed though by some major decisions of some feminist movements and eventually joined a socialist Union 'more rightfully welcoming working class individuals, immigrants and black brothers and sisters'. It's all in those letters but yeah, you couldn't possibly know. So little is known about her outside family". A little smile drew on her face as she put back the photo. "That photo was taken the day of the first election open to women. I checked the date. I suppose Zetta wanted to immortalise the moment...it was sweet of her, huh? Auntie Adele must have been so proud and overjoyed that day! You know, my Dad was born in 1920 when women's right to vote was legalised nationally and Nana once told me that Auntie commented the lucky coincidence saying she was incredibly happy her nephew would get to live in a fairer world. She was a true force of nature...she never talked much of the sinking of the Titanic just like Zetta and Nana actually but when one day Dad asked...he was barely a child and probably found an old article about the tragedy...Auntie Adele minimised but Nana assured him that her sister saved her life that night, risking her own to go down to the belly of the sinking ship to bring her to safety. Auntie simply shrugged, saying that it was what sisters do and that they made it to the lifeboats only thanks to Zetta, who shouted protests to stubborn officers and eventually found them a spot on a boat. I cannot even bring myself to imagine how scary that must have been: I cried so much when Madeleine took me to see Leo and Kate...to think they were there and it was all real!" She picked a few other objects out the box: a Shakespeare Sonnets book in a leather cover with golden engravings, with a little handwritten dedication 'To Adele, my sonnet 116. Happy birthday! With all my love, Zetta'; old scripts with annotations, a framed photograph of Adele and Zetta slow dancing barefoot in the living room of a gorgeous Long Island mansion. "These have a sentimental value" Mrs Nowak noted, her voice betraying the flicker of emotions as she picked it up. She took a deep sigh and continued. "I remember the day I told Dad I was gay as it was yesterday. We had always been quite close so it came natural to tell him first. We were in his car, he had come straight from college to pick me up at ice-skating practice. I..I dropped it in the middle of a conversation, bracing myself for the worst. I heard so many bad stories about coming out to your parents I was terrified of the consequences but I couldn't hide it anymore. I mean, yes, in public: bullies get even nastier if they know and I didn't want people shouting me "dyke" at school. But I needed to get it out of my chest...with someone at least. He kept quiet for a moment and I felt like drowning in shame. But then he spoke". A nostalgic tender smile formed Julia's lips. "He said he had two amazing Aunties that contributed to make his life a wondrous adventure. It was thanks to them that he, the son of a baker, could attend a prestigious college, for instance: they offered to pay for it without asking a penny back. They also helped him write his first romantic letter to his childhood sweetheart and consoled him when the little girl turned him down. But his Aunties had a secret, he added. He said: to my kid eyes they were no less a couple than Mom and Dad and at home we all treated them in manner but one day Mom made me promise to behave differently when we were in public. In public I would refer to her sister as 'Auntie Adele' but call Zetta by her name. He didn't get it and it took some getting used to. He soon noticed that even the Aunties behaved a bit differently out in the sun: they wouldn't hold hands or use endearing words in the street or when other people were around. They simply behaved like good friends did. He understood it later when he, as stubborn as a mule, asked them directly". Julia gently grazed her fingers on the glass of the framed photograph, caressing it. "And they told me everything, he said. That they were in love, just like mom and dad were, but people out there could be uncomfortable and extremely rude to women loving other women and men loving other men. That they kept their companionship a secret in public because those people had no problems with women being friends and they didn't want to have bad words or worse happening to them. I remember asking him what he thought about it. He smiled. 'I cried. Since Auntie Zetta mentioned people claiming that women like them were sick and would burn in hell, I actually started crying. I sobbed desperately in her arms, crying that I didn't want them to burn in hell, I loved my Aunties and I was happy they loved each other. Eventually they explained me it was just a vile lie spread my malignant people. But I got quite a scare and kept staring at them with puffy red eyes and my face wet with tears for a while. It required lots of cuddling to bring a smile back on my face'. He shook his head, laughing of his endearing naivety. Then he pulled over and looked at me. He continued: 'I still don't get why people keep spreading those mean lies but I know for sure that my Aunties weren't sick and didn't end up in hell and so won't you. Don't believe bullshits like that for a split second, okay? And I also want you to remember that it doesn't change a thing for me and mom too. You will always be my little girl, our little girl and we love you'. We shared a long hug before driving back home. On the way back he insisted to buy my favourite chicken and waffles for dinner, saying mom's veggie soup could wait. For my birthday, a month later or so, he asked me to follow him to the attic and showed me this chest. To meet the Aunties that 'would have surely been there for me'". She tipped away a tear. "I told you I married Madeleine right after the legalisation of same-sex marriages. My wedding was also the last public event Mom and Dad attended together before his health worsened irremediably. He passed away last year". For a moment she looked on the verge of tears but she recovered quickly. "Sorry...anyway, that day Dad insisted on walking me down the aisle even if he was getting weak. He beamed with pride when a friend fixed a rainbow ribbon to his jacket. Later at the lunch he read a speech he had written for the day, his hand shaking. He shared the story of his Aunties. He said that despite the hardships their situation forced upon them, they had quite a happy life together, a happiness carefully hidden from the world. He wished us to find something similar to what they shared without needing to hide anymore. He said Adele and Zetta would have been so happy and proud to celebrate with all of us that day" Mrs. Nowak picked the Shakespeare Sonnet book and gave him a fond look. "He brought this to the wedding. And he read for us the sonnet 116, the one Zetta mentioned in her dedication. You know, the one that starts with 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..." ----------------------- A few months later the exhibition on old Hollywood queer cinema and artists opened. Each artist had a room that soon filled with a crowd of enthusiastic visitors. In the first half, in a room arranged as a turn of the century nickelodeon with velvet chairs, all the memorabilia of Zetta Serda's public life: panels explaining the various stages of her career and the birth of her myth, promotional pictures of her performances, articles about her and a copy of a gazette announcing her wedding with the director Richard King. On the wall, on a screen her entire filmography rolled up in loop, bewitching spectators after a century. In display cases: the gorgeous sapphire necklace she wore on her last night on the Ship of Dreams and at the movie party of Surviving the Titanic, and a replica of her Cleopatra costume. The aging Queen of Egypt with a tragic love and destiny immortalised by Shakespeare was her last role back on the theater stage before retiring from the scenes. Old scripts with her personal annotation were displayed with photographs taken on sets and mundane events. The wall hosting the motion-picture screen cut the room in half. On the other side, the hidden half of her life. Her life with Adele no one suspected back then. A life kept secret that now unveiled in front of the eyes of the visitors. The curators discovered that finding public pictures of Miss Carrem was nearly impossible, true to the nickname she acquired as time went by: The Shadow. She stayed at Zetta's side until and even after she stopped acting, showing rare loyalty and devotion, but ever surrounded by this mystery allure. No one, even the most stubborn reporters managed to know anything about her and she was soon dismissed as a Titanic survivor, possibly a fan, who worked as Zetta's secretary and somehow gained her respect. Little they knew about the depth of their relationship and what stacks of secret letters and family memories revealed of the life of Miss Carrem. A panel finally told her story and her secret achievements: Adele, or better Adal, kept fighting for a fairer world and society her whole life and marched for women's right to vote on the famous parade in 1915. She also passed the teaching of Edith Garrud to her American sisters. The only pictures of her came from the Nowak family, except for one. The only photograph of a public appearance of Miss Carrem as well as the only known public appearance of Zetta and Adele. An old grainy photo accurately framed showed Adele shaking hands with The Unsinkable Molly Brown on a podium. In her free hand a shiny medal and a few steps behind the mayor of New York. According to the panel, the survivors' committee founded by Mrs. Brown decided to award Miss Carrem a medal for bravery and a generous check "to help her and her sister starting a new life in America". With great surprise, Miss Carrem received the medal and the check, thanked the board but refused the honors. Instead, she asked to deliver them both to the family of a certain Charlie Stoke, a stewart that lost his life in the sinking to save her life and those of many passengers. She added that her friend expressed the desire to study naval engineering one day and she wished that the money kindly offered to her would be enough to establish a scholarship for boys like him across the ocean. In another picture, Miss Carrem and her sister chatted with Moll Brown in company of Zetta. Eventually, other philanthropists and wealthy socialites signed checks for her cause so that the Stoke family received a generous contribution too. And today, as another picture confirmed, the faculty of naval engineering of the University of Newcastle hosts a marble engraving of Charlie Stoke: to his memory a scholarship had been instituted one year after on the anniversary of the sinking. Since 1913 it has been helping students of poor background to get an education and improve their life. Zetta herself became a philanthropist during her Renaissance and ever since. The first act of her new phase of her life was joining the Moll Brown survivors committee to provide help to the second and third class passengers families and survivors. Some said that the tragedy she witnessed touched her heart, other claimed that it was to be attributed to the influence of her publicist. Jokingly, she used to say that after all, she had too much money yet all she could have wished for in her life, so why not doing some good with it? A considerable donation under her and Mr King was received by the main hospital during the Spanish flu pandemic; she was particularly active in providing financial help to struggling neighbourhoods and female education institutions. In the middle of the room, a long glass display hosted the Shakespeare Sonnets opened at sonnet 116 and a selection of the private correspondence between Zetta and Adele. My darling, You will receive this letter tomorrow morning when I'll be already off to Chicago. The suitcases are ready and packed, this is a goodnight note scribbled the night before leaving you to remind you how much I love you and care about you. How much I'm going to miss you even if - thank God! - we won't be parted for long... Do not forget you promised me to write every day! Write to me, Adele, write to me whatever thought crosses that gorgeous mind of you: you know I could you rambling for hours without getting tired of the sound of your voice, of your sparkling wisdom. I wanna know everything. So don't be shy: I'll be waiting your letters with tender impatience. Can't wait to be in your arms once more. Adoringly yours, Zetta - Dear, dearest Zetta, I went to Central Park today with Hileni. It was a gorgeous spring day, sunny, a gentle breeze blowing: 'simply too beautiful to be wasted inside' as my sister put it. Did I tell you that she's still exchanging letters with the delivery boy from the hat shop? I thought they were over but apparently he invited her to the nickelodeon next week. Anyway, walking in the park with her I suddenly realised how I wanted to share that spring wonder with you. When are you coming back to New York? Tell me soon, please. And even 'soon' won't be soon enough: you're always on my mind since you left. But yes, tell me soon so I can make you promise we will go for a walk before the weather becomes too hot. Do you think I can wrap my arm with yours? Is it professional enough for a publicist? Even just for a few steps: oh you have no idea how I would love that! Or maybe you have? I hope so: it'd mean you miss me as much as I miss you when we are apart. Oh, I almost forgot: all settled with that magazine you mentioned before your departure! I negotiated a two pages long interview, plus pictures. And a cover mention. Hope I did well: you have already fired me as your secretary, I must prove you I am just what you're looking for in a publicist... Can't wait to see you again! Loving you always, Adele Only one letter was copied on a panel of its own on the main wall side by side with a blow-up of the picture of Adele and Zetta slow-dancing barefoot and free, for a blessed moment immortalised in a discreet shot. Adele pressing a tender kiss on Zetta's forehead, drawing a soft smile on the acrtress' lips. Many visitors commented it was heartwarming to see such a photograph that conveyed the intimacy and the warmth of affection radiating from the dancing couple. Some said that Zetta was even more beautiful like that: free, hair slightly askew and genuinely happy, loved. What stole their hearts away though was the letter attached to it. It was no surprise that the curators decided to name the retrospective Underwater. Dearest Adele, Forgive me for the tone of this letter. I am writing it down in bed while I cannot sleep and my mind runs back to you as if we could meet halfway between the miles separating us, in a world of fantasy of our own. It's ridiculous how much I miss you! I want you near, I need you near all the time. Take tonight: if you were here with me, I would be heavenly sleeping in your loving embrace. Most unfortunately, you are not and I'm lying here, insomniac, thinking of you. And about my life. No, don't frown. I am not getting all sad again. It's...bittersweet. And - I'll spoil you the ending so you will stop worrying, hopefully - it gets better the more you proceed. Have you ever felt trapped underwater? I did, my whole life. Always hiding, always measuring words, gestures, gazes not to let them see, not to let them know...so little time to go up and break the surface. Drop the mask and breathe. In, out. Once, twice. In my lowest moments I repeated to my myself: how are you gonna survive? One day an acquaintance with a remarkable passion for the sea explained me and the other bored commensals that you can keep someone alive by breathing oxygen into their mouth underwater. Pretty much like mouth-to-mouth resuscitation helps an unconscious person to regain consciousness. I found it interesting but doubted his words. Then I met you, Adele. My dearest, wondrous Adele. And I learnt that yes, you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater...but you won't drown if you have the right person swimming by your side in those deep waters. Put your lips on me, Adele. Touch me, hold me in your arms. And I can live underwater. With your love, I can live underwater. We can live underwater. I love you. I want to cover a full page of these three simple words: I love you. I want to cry them out and entrust them to the winds, to the night. But what for? Who cares if the world knows or not? I'll whisper them over your lips when we will be reunited. So you can breathe underwater. Counting down the hours separating us, my love. Eternally yours, Zetta

[the-modernmary]

For my pals who have read my best habit on ao3 and wattpad: Writing these last chapters has been so much fun, and I love hearing all of your reactions to what’s gone down.

I also really love tugging at your heartstrings, and I kind of want to do it some more, so here are some things that you may not have caught/noticed in chapters 19 & 20!!

(this post is also known as “i’m too far removed from academia and i’ve spent way too much money on a creative writing degree to not analyze my own work”)

This is... long as shit. Like SO STUPID LONG. I had too much fun with it.

If you’re only reading the story on Tumblr, this post has so many spoilers!

1: The Heatwave

It is one long motif!!! I love a good motif. If you remember back in chapter 13, the narration says: “Nothing good comes out of a D.C. heatwave.” I warned y’all that they were going to break up. And the heatwave was introduced the chapter right after Aaron and the reader talk about those two missing years and that she was tracking dead agents.

It’s supposed to show the rising tension and turmoil in their relationship. Rossi even says “Can’t take the heat?” when asking Hotch if he was ever going to be honest about his feelings. You’ll notice that most of the time, when something tense happens, I write in something about it being hot or they’re sweating. And the reader is spending all of her time in Hotch’s apartment because is AC is a “safe haven from the heat”. 

So when they get in their big fight, the power goes out. There is no more AC, no more safe haven. They can’t hide from their internal battles and it all boils over, literally and figuratively. As soon as the reader says that she’s leaving, the power comes on.

(Honestly, I was just really proud of this one.)

2. Parallels between the fight and their first meeting

When she and Hotch first meet, she asked him about a case he prosecuted on. The girl in the case was released from prison, went on to murder multiple other people, and only then was given a life sentence.

“Yeah Sarah,” you might be saying. “It’s reflective of her father’s storyline! We know that!”

Yes, AND!!

When she called him out on that, he essentially said that the first arrest assured that she would give a life sentence for the second crime and that “It all worked out.”

Her response? “You couldn’t have predicted that... I think you just felt bad for her.” She called him out for making a shitty decision on a case, and then immediately went into a dramatic assumption.

In their big breakup fight, when talking about Foyet, Aaron said “I knew you were safe.”

Her response? “Bullshit. You couldn’t have known that. I think that’s just a lucky excuse.” That was on purpose. She’s once again calling him out for a shitty decision, and then goes straight into a dramatic assumption.

3. The sonnets that Hotch is reading in the flashback

The two sonnets I chose were Sonnet 138 and Sonnet 102 (in that order), and they were chosen very specifically for this story.

Sonnet 138 is about Shakespeare’s relationship with a younger women, and how they are both lying to each other, yet they stay with each other because they’re comfortable. It’s very reminiscent to the beginning of their relationship, pre-Foyet, where it was pretty much only physical.

(the women in the sonnet is actually cheating on shakespeare but we’re taking a more abstract approach to it for the sake of the story)

Also, Thomas Gibson recited it in a cameo, and I have not stopped thinking about it sense. Something about reciting Shakespeare really gets me going... 

Sonnet 102 is one of my favorites and it’s been in my mind since the beginning of this story. Essentially, it’s Shakespeare saying "don't think I don't love you because I'm not saying it all the time. Love becomes a commodity when it is professed so openly and often. I don't want to cheapen what we have". 

Which, you know... yeah. There are multiple times in the story where our couple has basically said that words weren’t needed to know how the other one felt.

4. More parallels!!!

This one is much smaller, but felt important. 

In chapter 14, the reader is talking to her best friend Aly right before she professes her love to Aaron, and she says: “Aaron has never, ever made me feel small.”

During the big fight, right after the reader essentially tells Aaron that she thinks that he wished she had died instead of Haley, the narration says: “Now it was his turn to walk you backward, towering over you and making you feel small.”

In case you can’t tell, I love a good parallel.

There a lot of other, less important ones, like the team were both at the BAU and gossiping about Hotch when they found out about the relationship and the breakup.

Also, pretty much any time either of them say anything about "wanting” to/about each other (ex: “I don’t want anything to do with you anymore” and “I was never what he wanted”), it’s totally on purpose and referencing Hotch’s whole “What I want, I’m not going to get” schtick from season 3 of the show. It’s how they express love and it’s how they hurt each other. 

5. Scott is more than a piece of shit

(Although he’s absolutely a piece of shit, and he gets worse)

He’s the antithesis to Hotch. In fact, he’s all the things that Hotch and the reader could have been if Hotch was a bad person In regards to the reader, if they didn’t respect each other, etc. It’s important to me to show that Hotch and the reader’s relationship has a foundation, and it’s not this unhealthy power dynamic that is really easy to fall into when writing about relationships with age gaps, especially when those relationships play around with power dynamics in the bedroom.

(Not to say that there isn’t a time or a place for those types of stories! Those are some of my favorite relationships to read/write about. I just didn’t want this particular relationship to have that subtext. I really wanted to emphasize that they’re equals in each other’s eyes.)

Hotch and Scott have a lot of parallels: older, influential, help guide her through her career, etc. AND they both pull the whole “whatever you want” for her, albeit in slightly different ways.

Hotch admires her, though, and is seen to continuously support her. Despite the power imbalance on paper, they very much see each other as equals. He does things for her because he wants to, and he doesn’t expect anything in return. It’s a relationship based on mutual respect and care and a deep understanding of the other one.

Scott is... not like that. At all. And that will become even more apparent in the next few chapters. But I wanted to point it their parallels and differences now. Just so it’s on your radar.

~~~~~~~

ANYWAY, those are the big things I wanted to point out!! There’s tons more within the other chapters, but I wanted to focus on these last two. If you got this far, thank you for reading all of my rambles!! I really enjoy doing this kind of stuff, for my own stories and for other people’s.

(if anybody ever wants to talk in depth about their story, please hit me up because i live for this shit).

Thank you for reading!!! 💖💖💖

Tagging @astonsvettel at their request!

[littleteatimestories]

writing prompt 101 with MTMTE Megatron please? Bonus if the reader is the one saying "you're tolerable". Thank u!

(Image Source: TF Wiki)

Prompt: @ourwritingprompts’s #101 “I love you.” “You’re tolerable.” || Pairing: With MTMTE Megatron ||| As requested by a mysterious Anon

A/N: Hey, guyths!!! Long time no see, right? I’m so sorry for not being able to update anything. I got really busy with work and I always ended up watching TV series during my free time. But, here it is! Another request fulfilled and updated! Finally, I’ve actually done something! So, as you can all read, this is a drabble prompt about MTMTE Megsy and I really hope that the dear anon (whoever you are, if you’re still out there) will be able to like this. I’m proud to say that the poem y’all going to encounter was inspired by William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 29. Anyone familiar about this will probably recognize that I borrowed one of the playwright’s lines in there. Anyway, enjoy this one and if you want a prompt request, make sure to check this 🔖 first before making any attempts. Godspeed!

-

Budget meeting… How boring… You yawned practically for the fourth time now, trying to focus your attention on the different graphs displayed on the screen. The words were Cybetronian, but thanks to Brainstorm, you were given hi-tech glasses where the foreign words were automatically translated to your native language.

Ultra Magnus was still blabbering. You already wanted to end this, but knowing him, he can get pretty long. You already saw Rodimus playing with his datapad since you can see his tongue (whatever the Cybertronian equivalent term for that is) sticking out to which your TIC was completely ignoring. You turned your attention to your SIC, Megatron, who was diligently listening to the report. Well, good for him because as the selected liaison of Earth, you were tasked to keep an eye on him (and the rest of the Lost Light crew as well). You were like keeping the diplomatic relations between the ex-warlord and the crew (and also making sure that he’s not going to plan on invading Earth again). So far, it seemed everything’s fine.

You puffed out a breath and kept on wishing that this meeting would be over soon.

***

Megatron kept shifting his attention between Ultra Magnus’s report and to you. Actually, he mostly focuses on you when you were not looking at him. It had been six months since you came on board of the Lost Light. To admit that it was love at first sight that pulled his attentiveness towards you was an understatement; too cliché even. But, that was the truth. His brain module was like malfunctioning crazily just the thought of you.

If you think he was taking notes of Ultra Magnus’s report in his datapad, believe it or not, he was actually composing a poem; a love poem, to be exact. He had been arranging this for a while now and edited and repeated it many times. At first, he wanted to constitute the idea of your beauty. However, it turned foreboding that he had to entirely make another one. He tried again and it was still perturbing. He can’t seem to shake the fact that he was and will always be the mass murderer who everyone would associate with.

That’s why he always had this feeling that he didn’t deserve to be loved; that he didn’t deserve to have your love especially because he tried to kill your planet.

***

I long for a different path or route

Though it seems that I can’t have that at all

For I look at myself, I curse my fate

For how I wish I can have your love–

‘No, no! Don’t ever put that!’ Megatron mused. He was once again back to square one. His previous poem was a disaster. It was like he was pining over you on it and it frustrated him. He didn’t want to long over you because he knew couldn’t have you. It was impossible, after all.

After the meeting, he went back to his habsuite quickly. He had to find more inspiration on how he could express his adoration without looking like he actually wanted you in his life (though he really wanted that). He grumbled. He didn’t even know why he had to stress over this when he can always tend to other things.

‘You know what, forget about this. It won’t matter-‘ His thoughts were interrupted when his habsuite doorbells rang. He knew immediately who it was since that doorbell was designed only for you so that they could open their large doors for you.

He ex-vented anxiously and tried to remain calm.

‘Everything’s going to be fine, Megatron,’ he told himself and pushed a button to open his door.

***

You waved at him with a smile. After the meeting, you thought he went to the bar. You searched for him, but didn’t catch sight of him. You were delayed a bit when Tailgate scooped you up in an embrace and cooed you to hang out with him and Cyclonus. You told him that you needed to check on Megatron, which you were returned with an, “Awww! But, (Y/n)…!” It was a good thing that Cyclonus saved you and dragged Tailgate away from you. You sighed in relief at that time.

“I didn’t see you at the bar so I came in here,” you said. “Just wanted to check up on you. Are you okay? I feel like you’re being a little distant or something.”

***

That surprised him. “No, no! Not at all! I was just…” He was looking for an excuse. “I… needed to summarize Ultra Magnus’s report. It was rather long and Rodimus needs a more simplistic explanation of it.” Finally, he found one.

Just gazing at your innocent expression, his brain module was being frantic again. How he come to love any expressions you give to him was out of context and yet, he came to adore those.

He waited for your answer.

***

You nodded your head slowly. “I see. So, I guess you’re busy then. But, do drop by at Swerve’s once you’re done. It’s not like everybody hates you now. They already know you’ve completely changed. And if some of them don’t, I’ll have to remind them.”

Megatron smiled sheepishly. “That’s very nice of you, (Y/n). Yes, I am aware that everyone, if not all, doesn’t hate me that much anymore. I’m just… busy at the moment.” He loathed to lie like this, but for some reasons, he had to.

He saw you beamed. “Okay. I’ll see you then.” He longingly watched you walk away from him. Unconsciously, his lip plate was reaching upwards even more.

‘I think I just found my inspiration.’

***

I long for a different path or route,

Though it seems that I can’t have that at all,

For I look at myself, I curse my fate,

Wishing to myself that there could be hope,

To desire to be everybody else,

Desiring this to have done something good,

With my past, I enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

I see your smile almost so radiating,

Like those clichéd romantic comedies,

Just thinking of you is enough for me

You amaze me every day of my life,

For your sweet love remembered such wealth brings,

That I scorn to think who I was before.

You read the poem over and over. It actually surprised you that he would do you a sonnet and that just warmed your heart. He didn’t say outright that “I love you”, but you got the idea that he couldn’t say it because he was afraid to say it. He feared his past as a murderer of billions of lives and thought he didn’t earn to have such caring feelings to anyone except for redemption. You knew he had come a long way and he proved to have really changed for the better.

You can’t say for certain if you could return his feelings, but, what the hell. He needs this and you’ll give it to him.

***

You were in an another meeting, this time, accident reports. Ultra Magnus is taking the lead again (because he couldn’t persuade Rodimus to do the reporting, for the life of him). As the boring reporting went on, you sent a message to Megatron.

***

Megatron’s datapad vibrated.

You have (1) message(s) from (Y/n).

As he was about to open it, another vibration occurred.

You have (2) message(s) from (Y/n).

He finally opened it.

(Y/n):

Thanks for that poem. You really didn’t have to do that. :)

“You’re tolerable” by the way

He replied,

What does that mean?

Not mere seconds later, there was an instant response.

(Y/n):

Uh… It means what it means. I felt the same

And from that moment, you were able to gaze at one another with huge smiles on your faces.

[capmackie]

coming soon to a theater near you!

At no point in any of his three lifetimes did Bucky plan on his life turning into a fucking romantic comedy. 

Not as James, the dutiful soldier or as The Winter Soldier, Hydra's best asset or as Bucky, a regular civilian but here he is, begrudgingly.

It's all Sam's fault. 

***

Bucky just doesn’t understand the fascination with romantic comedies, ahem rom coms, as Sam points out; finds himself frequently complaining about the overused tropes, calling out the plot of each one Sam forces him to watch much to Sam’s displeasure. It’s not his fault that the conclusion is often telegraphed out so plainly that even a child knows that at some point, Harry’s gonna marry Sally. And if Sam really had a problem with Bucky's commentary, maybe he'll stop adding the genre to their Wednesday movie nights or stop cuddling up to him as soon as the movie starts - Bucky hopes, prays that Sam never stops cuddling up to him as soon as the movie starts-. But anyways. Each movie, no matter how much it tries to differentiate itself from the millions of others like it, follows all of the same beats: 1) Guy meets Girl 2) They fall in love but are too stupid to realize it 3) Guy performs some grand gesture of love, tells the girl how he feels and then they kiss and people applaud around them as doves fly into the night’s sky 4) Happily. Ever. After. It’s stupid and dumb and Bucky just doesn’t understand the fascination with such nonsense. He doesn’t understand it until he falls in love with Sam. The same Sam who loves romantic comedies and claps — he actually fucking claps — when the protagonist manages to bypass airport security to confess his love on the tarmac. The very same Sam who gets teary-eyed whenever he hears the first notes of ‘My Heart Will Go On’. Granted, Titanic isn’t a romantic comedy but you get the point. Sam’s a lover at heart, loves everything about love itself. Loves how love can heal someone whole, how it can pick someone up, loves how love can knock someone off their feet. Sam’s love is reminiscent of him, loud and bold and bright. Sam’s love is the truth; an oasis in the middle of a hot desert. Anyone who has ever come within a ten-mile radius of Sam has fallen in love with him; friends, colleagues, even people in passing find themselves smitten at the handsome guy with a smile that could light up a planet. Bucky’s no exception. It's for that reason and that reason only that he lets himself be subjected to whatever tearjerker Sam's so insistent on watching, and if he buys a copy of 'The Notebook' for his own collection, stashing it between 'Terminator' and 'The Incredibles', well, that's no one's business. ** Bucky doesn't even realize that he is indeed starring in his own romantic comedy -why are they called comedies? No one even tells a joke- until the next movie night. The movie's queued, something with Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis, and Bucky's finding it hard to pay attention to the plot when Sam's pressed so close to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Bucky's proud of himself, watches about 20 minutes of the movie -something about friends with benefits -before he's making a move on Sam, effectively distracting him too. They don't come up for air until the credits are rolling and Bucky counts the night as a win until Sam is restating the movie and moving to the other end of the couch so they can actually get through it this time. Well fuck. Now that he's practically being forced to watch 'No Strings Attached', no wait, that's the other movie that came out in the same year with the exact same plot, Bucky can't help but draw parallels to the protagonists and him and Sam's own tryst. But there's nothing there, it's not like some kind of relationship is gonna bloom from two friends casually hooking up, that's absurd. That exists solely in movies and this is real life and he and Sam have more restraint than that, right? They barely like each other, just enough to fuck, there's no way they'd fall in love. Bucky's almost convinced himself that it's beyond the realm of possibility that anything more can come out of their situationship when Sam, who put the movie back on out of spite, barely paying any attention to it as his eyes slowly start to close, snaps him out of his thoughts, asking if Bucky is ready to go to bed. "To your, uh, bed?", Bucky sputters. "To the bed that we've been sharing for the past six months, Frozone", Sam quips. Oh. Right. *** They’ve completed step one of the rom-com trope list, meeting each other, and even something as simple as that wasn’t so simple at all. Nothing ever really is between them. Now Bucky finds himself straddling a weird line regarding the second trope; he knows he loves Sam, realizes that Sam *probably* loves him back, given how much he puts up with Bucky's dramatics and the way he hogs all of the blankets and never drinks out a glass, preferring to sully the entire jug of orange juice instead. But can it really count if they've never said those three little words to each other? It's not like Bucky hasn't thought about that before, he thinks about saying it at least 500 times a day, when he and Sam are being weirdly domestic, when they're bantering with each other, when Sam's the big spoon providing body heat when even the blankets aren't enough for Bucky. Those words are on the tip of his tongue when he wakes up in the morning and sees Sam illuminated by the sunshine streaming through the window, soft and angelic. They're on the tip of his tongue in the dead of night when Sam's rolling over into his arms, seeking comfort after another nightmare. They're on the tip of his tongue when Sam's looking at him softly, affectionately; when Sam expresses his love without even saying a word. They've been in love for a while now and Bucky's been too stupid to realize it. *** It’s the third trope on the list that keeps Bucky up at night. Bucky’s seen enough rom-coms to know him and Sam have reached the point where the grand gesture of love is supposed to happen. That he’s supposed to confess his feelings in the middle of torrential rain, and he and Sam would kiss as the rain pours down on them. Or make Sam a mixtape and play it on a boom box under their bedroom window.

Quickly nixes that idea because it fucking sucks, thanks John Cusack!

He doesn’t know what his grand gesture ought to be, he’s never had to do something like this before.

Dating in the 40s was easier. What he does know is that Sam loves romantic comedies, knows that Sam probably bases their quasi-relationship off of one and that means Bucky has to deliver. He’s gotta give Sam his fairytale love story or he’ll find his Prince Charming somewhere else. *** They’re in the park when it happens. It’s Sam’s idea of a date, laying out on a blanket watching the stars in the night’s sky. It’s so incredibly soft that Bucky’s heart aches a little, and he knows he has to do something soon. It's probably too short notice to arrange a flash mob to perform 'Closing Time' down at a train station like the stupid movie they watched, but time is of the essence suddenly and he has to do something *right now*. So with no rain on the radar, no boombox, and no flash mob, Bucky uses the only weapon left in his arsenal: words from his heart. Shifting off of his back to face Sam directly, Bucky starts. "I love you." It's simple and straight to the point and Sam's turning to face Bucky now, an incredulous look etched on his face. "I've been going crazy thinking about the most perfect, most over the top way to express how much I - I love you", Bucky confesses. He knows this is a cop-out, that a simple admission of love is *boring* but damn it, if Bucky's learned anything from those stupid ass movies, besides realism doesn't exist, is that you can't sit on your hands when it comes to true love. You have to be proactive. So he continues. "Nothing about this - about us - makes any sense but I'd be lying to you and to myself if I said my heart didn't belong to you." Sam hasn't interrupted him or called him an idiot yet so Bucky figures he's on the right track. There's more, he could practically write a sonnet about how Sam's his first love, his only love. That there's no one else he would rather try this love thing out with. How Sam's a part of him now, a part of his identity. He doesn't know who he would be without Sam here. But Sam's looking up at him, and smiling that *smile* and Bucky can't help himself, leans down and kisses him gently, nipping at his bottom lip. The words he doesn't say get poured into their  kiss; the world could end right now -- and it has twice for Bucky -- but if each point of his life was leading him to this moment, to the arms of the man he adores more than life itself, Bucky would gladly die a thousand times over. Just as long as he gets to make it back to Sam. Just as long as in each lifetime, Sam's still there with his bright eyes and bright smile and bright personality, guiding Bucky back to him like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. They finally pull apart and Bucky takes a deep breath, finally able to breathe with the weight of not telling Sam how he feels off his chest. Despite himself, Bucky's got a smile on his face, wider than Sam's and he can't imagine, not even for a second, of doing this with anyone else. Sam is it. *** Even if there's no spontaneous group of onlookers clapping or if doves aren't materializing out of thin air, he and Sam are still getting their happily ever after. And that's all that matters anyway. 

Come find me on AO3!

[demcdici]

(   hero fiennes tiffin ,   muse  d .  )   ❛❛  looks  like  luca de medici  is  all  packed  up  and  ready  to  take  on  the  world  !   with  the  semester  coming  to  an  end  ,   the  twenty two  year  old  is  so  ready  to  drink in shoddy pubs  in  prague .   tommy’s party by peach pit  has  to  be  playing  in  the  background  though ,  or  it  really  wouldn't  match  their  wry  and  standoffish  persona .   see  you  in  a  year ,  luca  !   

basics

FULL NAME ; luca lorenzo de medici AGE + BIRTHDAY ;  twenty-two + december 31st GENDER + PRONOUNS ;  cis man + he/him/his OCCUPATION ;  actor EDUCATION ;  dual theater and communications major

CHARACTER TROPES ; jerk with a heart of gold ; tall, dark, and snarky ; broken ace ; troubled, but cute ; used to be a sweet kid

biography

( parental death mention tw ; slight child neglect tw )

the story starts with with a love story — but don’t they all ? boy meets girl. they fall in love. they marry. they settle into their version of a perfect forever. they build a home, they are building a life. it’s strange how good it is. flowers are blooming, the sun is rising — then lightning strikes and it all burns down.

it os the last day of the year.

luca lorenzo de medici is born. his mother dies soon after.

raphael de medici brings his son home and somehow nothing is like how he imagined it to be. he thinks his wife should still be here. a part of him would rather have her than this screaming baby boy.

his parents step in, though. they take care of the child. he calls his grandfather dad and has to be told no. they love their grandson, but their child-rearing days are long behind them. they’re not quite affectionate, not quite eager to take in every drawing and every accomplishment. they feed him, they clothe him. there’s not much more to it.

when luca is old enough to not be at home, he makes sure he isn’t.

like most children, he craves affection.

he finds it in the praise of teachers. he’s a bit of a teacher’s pet, striving to be first and the best at all he can. some notice that his grandparents ( and — most obviously — his father ) never come to any school-related functions. not the band concerts, not parent-teacher conferences, nothing. they encourage him. it’s nice to have some support.

he moves back in with his father when he’s fifteen and suddenly it strikes the both of them that they are strangers. they share a name, they share features, but there’s little more than that. they don’t no each other. they don’t try to.

luca slips in the house after his father goes to sleep. his father goes to work before the sun rises. they see each other in passing, like strangers on a train platform.

he sees pictures of his mother on the wall of his father’s house. he wonders if she would have liked him.

apparently, she was a poet, writing scripts and lyrics. his father called her remarkable in passing once.

luca will never know, not really. but he’s captured the same love for art she had in his own heart.

it starts with a sonnet, memorized and given for an english class. the teacher pulls him aside, suggests he takes a drama class.

he says no. she suggests at the very least he joins the drama club. he acquiesces.

it’s love from first line.

sonnets and soliloquies. he remembers all that he can, channeling his heart, his passion, into the words of others. there’s something nice about slipping into the skin of someone else. sometimes, they’re happier. sometimes, when he’s lucky, he pretends he’s then completely. it’s a nice change.

it’s over a terse dinner that he tells his father he plans to study theater. for a man who never had too much to say, he suddenly has protests. it’s not stable. it’s not practical. luca shrugs. there’s a fund from his mother’s parents that will pay for it anyway. his father has no stake in the matter.

he moves into his college dorm alone, his battered 2002 corolla in the student lot, formerly filled with large boxes containing everything he ever owned.

he doesn’t feel like he’s lost anything.

but school is good. he gets praised, he gets accomplishments. most noticeable to luca is that he makes friends. it’s a nice change. he changes, too. he’s a little less quiet, a little more likely to laugh. he’s open. he’s not living life like a renegade, he’s not wilding. but he’s blooming into someone new.

somehow four years pass in the blink of an eye.

the trip is brought up.

he’s saved for it. but opportunity has popped up.

he could be laertes in a touring production of hamlet. it would be some sort of wonderful.

he turns it down. he decides to travel.

the idea of it being a mistake keeps him up at night. he’s just trying to enjoy himself anyways.

tl ; dr :

boy is born. mother dies. father cannot cope & does not know how to raise a child alone. boy raises self mostly. boy desires affection, settles for escapism through theater. goes to school for theater despite protests. finishes school. gets ( 1 ) good opportunity. decides to travel instead. boy wonders if that was good idea. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Don’t You Love Me? 7 - Haunted Heart [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback makes me so happy, so please keep it coming! kisses! <3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language, mentions of sex.

Summary: Beginnings of friendships never go smooth.

Word Count: 2425

Read Chapter 1 here!

Read Chapter 2 here!

Read Chapter 3 here!

Read Chapter 4 here!

Read Chapter 5 here!

Read Chapter 6 here! 

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

“So let me get this straight,” Jake said as you rolled your eyes and looked down at your glass, barely noticing the last customer leaving the bar. It was almost empty now, with couple of people working at the bar, him, and you. You thought you would be kicked out by now, if it weren’t for Jake who was now leaning on his elbows on the counter, looking at you. “You like my childhood hero, right?”

You took a sip, trying to see through the dizziness, “Like him? What’re we, in high school?”

“And your solution to this problem is to…hook him up with someone.”

“His Star Spangled ass will be out of my reach, yeah.”

“And you downed a bottle of whiskey because he actually might be hooking up with someone.”

You looked up, trying to keep your eyes open. “Mm hm. Sounds about right.”

Jake thought for a second, “I’ll never understand women, will I?”

“Feeling is mutual dude.”

“How is this mutual?” Jake asked, “You like him but you went ahead and told him you’d set him up with someone-“

“What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, what did you tell me? I think it was along the lines, Dude, wanna come by my place so that we can hook up? Which-” Jake pointed at you, “Now that I know you were imagining him the whole time, it’s kind of rude.”

“I said nothing about imagining him!”

“Your eyes were closed whole time.”

“That’s a habit.” You scoffed, “Besides, it was a one night stand. What did you want, a fucking sonnet?”

“I mean it’s cool,” Jake shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal “I was also imagining him so it’s fine.”

You tried not to laugh and sipped your drink again, “Jesus, what time is it?”

“4 in the morning.”

“I gotta go, I’ll uh-“ You checked the time, “I’ll probably have a meeting in like 4 hours.”

“You’re hammered, Y/N.”

“I’m fine, I’m used to it.”

“Someone should take you home, hand me the phone.”

You pulled your phone back, “Fuck off.”

Jake stared at you, then shook his head slightly, “Fine then, I’m taking you home.”

“No offense but after tonight my libido isn’t exactly in a good place Jake-“

“Y/N no offense, but you sound really complicated and I don’t do complicated,” he retorted and you made a face.

“What’s with men and being brutally honest tonight?”

“Call it your bad influence,” he said as you grabbed your purse and stumbled as soon as you stood up due to the whole bar spinning around you. Jake rushed to help and you shoved him slightly.

“I’m fine, I just need a cigarette.” You muttered as you walked out of the bar but the minute you stepped foot outside, you doubled up and threw up.

“Freaking whiskey…” you mumbled as you wiped your mouth, then started walking with Jake following you suit.

                                              *

You woke up to a splitting headache which made you groan like a freaking zombie and bury your head into a pillow.

“Morning sunshine.”

You opened an eye to see the source of the voice. Jake was playing with his phone by the couch- which was drowned by multiple items of clothing on it- in your bedroom and you held onto your head, then you sat up.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t die- what’s the wifi password?”

You rubbed your eyes, messing up your eye makeup even more, “Jake-“

“Oh look at that, you look like a raccoon.”

You pulled open your drawer and took the painkillers, and downed them with the old bottle of water on the floor. “What’re you doing here?”

He looked up from his phone, “Do you know how many people die from alcohol overdose every year?”

You scoffed, waving a hand dismissively, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“That’s an actual thing, Y/N.”

“Man-“

“People choke in their own vomit-“

You made a face, “Please stop.”

“Yeah. Not so badass now?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back, rubbing your temples, “What, you were up all night?”

“I’m usually up all night every night. I sleep in the mornings; call it a side effect of my job.”

“How do I get a job like that?”

“Be very attractive and don’t drink your own booze?”

“Yeah, it’s not for me.” You yawned and kicked off the covers to walk to the bathroom “I’ll know it if you snoop around!”

“Yeah yeah…” he mumbled, still playing with his phone and you closed the bathroom door behind you, then doubled up over the toilet, the bile burning your throat. You tried to breathe through it and cussed under your breath and straightened your back, rolling your shoulders. You brushed your teeth and got rid of your make up, and left the bathroom, still wiping at your face with the towel.

“Okay, what’s your deal?”

“There’s this meme-“

“Not that, genius.” You leaned against the doorframe, “Why are you being all….friendly?”

Jake raised his brows, “Um- I don’t know how to answer that.”

“We fucked once-“

“Technically twice.”

You raised your brows, “Fine, technically twice-”

“And it was good.”

“Good for you maybe.” You stated and Jake rolled his eyes, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Who hurt you like this?” he joked and the smile on your face faded for a second before you pulled yourself together.

“Anyway-“ you started but were cut off when someone knocked on your door. You frowned, your heartbeat speeding up in a second.

“Expecting someone?”

“No.” You mumbled and grabbed your stun gun from the drawer, then walked to the door and swung it open, then your eyes widened.

“Steve?”

“Hi,” he looked nervous for some reason, and licked his lips before he cleared his throat, “I was worried about you after last night and Pepper was kind enough to give me your address, is it- is it okay?”

You felt a smile pulling at your lips and leaned against the door, “Wouldn’t know Cap, what would my neighbors think?”

Steve checked around and smiled as he got the joke, then he crossed his arms and took a step back,

“Well I won’t come inside.”

“Obviously.”

“Because you know, for your… uh- it wouldn’t be good for your reputation after all.”

“Yeah. Me as a single gal. People would talk.”

“And we don’t want that.”

“I’d be ruined.” You said before you burst into a laughter, “Jesus, you’re something else…”

“Y/N?” you heard Jake’s voice and you hissed in a breath before looking over your shoulder. Jake had already got into his jacket and he shot Steve a small smile.

“Captain America sir,” he nodded at him, “I’m a- I’m a big fan.”

Steve’s expression was absolutely unreadable before he shot him a tight smile, “Thank you.”

“I- uh… I should go.” Jake looked at you, “Call me?”

“Nope.”

“Text?”

“Nah.”

“Send a fucking pigeon?”

“Oh yeah, that works.” You nodded before you smirked, “Hey, and- thanks Jake. For…you know.”

“No problem.” Jake said, “Have a nice day. Nice to meet you again, sir.”

Steve nodded silently as Jake walked past you, then got into the elevator. You clicked your tongue.

“Awkward…” You mumbled and looked up at him, “Could I… I think I ran out of coffee- can I buy you some coffee?”

“No no, I just wanted to see whether you were okay or not-“

“Dude, I’m buying you coffee.” You cut him off, “You’re being way too sweet and me and the 21st century are not used to it- In fact…” You trailed off and Steve raised his brows, as if humoring you.

“Hm?”

“Wanna call in sick and skip work?”

                                            *

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.” You tugged at his arm while he stood still, not moving an inch and you had to remind yourself not to hurt yourself while trying to  move him, “Fuck’s sake Rogers, are you rooted to the ground?”

“Y/N-“

“It’ll be like- I don’t know, it’ll be creepy but it’ll be fun!”

Steve sipped his coffee and looked at the building as if it had personally offended him while you leaned on your hip.

“Rogers!”

“I mean…” he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

You turned your glances to the museum, and your eyes skimmed the billboard that announced the opening of the new Captain America exhibit. You chuckled to yourself and Steve shot you a look.

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“Fuck yeah I’m having way too much fun, and if you can’t see the irony…” You licked your lips, “Okay, I’m gonna say something I normally don’t say.”

“Okay.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

You pursed your lips for a second, then heaved a sigh, “Please?”

Steve eyed you up and down and narrowed his eyes slightly, as if he was mad at himself for falling for it, but in the end, he just sipped his coffee again and turned to look at the building.

“I’m getting myself a hat.”

You grinned, “I’m getting you a hat. Come on.”

Half an hour and a small discussion about which hat you would get later, you and Steve finally walked into the exhibit. Steve lowered his head and you bumped your shoulder with his as a group of people passed by you.

“No one looks at anyone here, relax,” You said, “Besides, what are the chances the great Captain America would step a foot into a museum about himself? That would be egoistical.”

He shot you a look, making your smile wider before you reached into your bag and grabbed a fistful of bean candies. You offered it to him, and he raised his brows.

“It’s not allowed in here.”

You popped a candy into your mouth and turned your eyes to the closest screen, “Steve Rogers always stood up for what was right even before the serum, even if it meant going against some rules-“

“I’m pretty sure Bucky helped this thing,” Steve nodded at the screen before taking some of the candy into his palm, “On second thought, maybe not. It would flash I told you to stop starting fights, Steve with neon letters if he did.”

You chuckled, “Hey, look at you with your- teammates?”

“Howling Commandos.” Steve nodded, “Best men I’ve ever known.”

“And um- oh shit, sorry…” You trailed off, looking at the gorgeous woman smiling at the camera.

Peggy Carter.

You bit on your lip, your eyes skimming the lines on the list of her awards and honours. It was more than obvious that she was both beauty and brains, it was no wonder why Steve had fallen for her. She looked like a woman ahead of her time, and you were sure anyone around her would be mesmerized by her, considering you already were, even by looking at her on the screen.

“It’s fine.” Steve’s voice snapped you out of it and you tried to pull yourself together.

“So um… Sharon huh?”

Steve stole a look at you, “Jake, huh?”

You clicked your tongue “Well played.”

“Thank you.” he smiled as Bucky’s picture appeared on the screen and you chewed on the candy, trying to decide whether to push the issue or not.

“But you know, Jake isn’t-“ You cleared your throat, “I mean… Sharon looked really- interested in you.”

“Did she?”

At that point, you decided to ask Bucky whether Steve played poker back in the forties or not, because that was a poker face if you saw one.

“Yeah and- and um- how about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, like…does she- does she float your boat?”

Steve raised his brows, “I’m sorry?”

“You know, do you want to…” You trailed off, “Bow chicka wow wow?”

“Y/N I sometimes feel like I need a dictionary-”

“Do you like her like that?” You exploded and a group of girls giggled as they passed by you. You shut your eyes for a second.

“Hey, you know what? Ignore me- ignore my prying ass, it’s none of my-“

“Where did they find that?” Steve got distracted for a second and you followed his gaze to look at a sketch reflected on the screen. You looked at the explanation and tried to pull yourself together.

“Found in your tent.” You pointed at the writing and all of a sudden, the events of last night rushed to you. You could feel your cheeks burn for some reason but you tried to play it cool.

“So um-“ You coughed, “You still draw? Or…anything?”

This time, he was the one who averted his glances. “Sometimes.”

“What do you draw?”

“Oh you know…” he shrugged, and a tinge of pink caressed his cheeks while he stubbornly stared at the screen, “Stuff-”

“Dear visitors, there will be a short movie screening about Captain America and Avengers, and their heroic actions in half an hour.” You heard the guide say “If you’d like to see, you can get your tickets from the register.”

You bit on your lip hard, trying not to smile.

“Y/N, no.”

“Y/N yes!” You nodded, “Come on Cap! Let’s see your heroic actions!”

Steve groaned, but this time he let you pull at his arm to steer you to the register but as soon as you got the tickets, your phone beeped with a text. You frowned, and looked down at the screen, and the minute you did, you held your breath.

There was a picture of Steve and you just now, at the entrance of the museum and under it, there was a text.

Not nice, sunshine.

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arm and you rushed to the exit with Steve following you suit. You reached the entrance and pushed people out of your way, then went outside, standing exactly where you did in the picture and looked around.

No one.

Fuck. How had you become so unobservant?

“Y/N, what happened?” Steve asked, “You okay?”

You tried to catch your breath and ignore the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, that dreaded nickname echoing in your ears and took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together before you turned the phone in your hand to keep him from seeing the screen.

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, “I just- nevermind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You nodded again, and looked up at him. He was frowning deeply and a part of you just wanted to reach out and smooth the skin between his brows, but you managed to control yourself and took a deep breath.

“Really. Nevermind, Steve. Let’s go back inside.”

Chapter 8 is here! 

  Special thanks go to:  @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @radgaljazz  @girlwhoisfearless @fictionwillneverdie @lilywoood @marss-anonymous @icameforthefanfiction @pandalandalopalis @evolutionofkatep @reallyconfusednow @fandomcrazie@latibulemark @aikeji@optimisticheartyouth@fangirlbookworm@samwinchxtr@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked  @iamthemaskhewears@sasunarushiita@whatiswrongwithpeople @mischievous-fairy @agent-smoak @allison-rosewood-maximoff @petrashappyplace@swtltlmrvlgrl@itsyaboyo @imalittlebean @hey-garrett-shut-up @barnesrogersvstheworld@ruffdog921 @hogwarts-and-houseplants @go-crybaby @danielhowellstolemycamera @zabeth716 @imaginecrushes @miss-jen-winter @attorneyl @missmidnightxo@renesmeeharelds , @sippinpeachtea@skeletoresinthebasement@birdandrose @dark-princesse@local-space-ace @marauderskeeper@bva14@thatprofessionalfangirl@broken-piecesyourwittywitch@yasssssvictoria @dreamsofcaliforniaadventure @hista-girl @im-only-slightly-psycho @meashy-moo@themessthatismymindsoulsofstarsliveinyourveins @nininstinct  @charlie1987me @imyxtay @dans-les-details @evanstar @owhatshername1 @thewhinersoldier  @raiymaj@shallowshawn @im-beautifully-sewn @bvilla0 , @flaboyance @minuialeth75 @not--even-a-real--fan @superwolfchild-fan @nerdgirljen @prancingdestiel @dollbitxhes @avengemebuckyy @projectxhappiness @sonarsyndor @musical-whovian and lovely anons! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this, you’re amazing! <3

[exoticarmy127]

Waste It On Me (You, Jungkook, V) Part 1/3

🎵  “But baby I’m no stranger, to heartbreak and the pain of always being let go.” Waste it On Me by Steve Aoki feat. BTS 

“Jen? Are you okay?”

It was a Thursday afternoon when Y/N saw the girl hunched over in one of the aisles, way in the back of the small bookstore she’s currently in. The autumn wind has picked up outside since the sun dipped lower in the sky, preparing to welcome the lonesome moon, and she was just about to lounge in the backroom with a warm cup of tea when she spotted the girl on the floor who was obviously sobbing.

“Jen?” Y/N called again as she slowly walked towards young girl. Jen was one of the regulars in the store and would come in at least three times a week after school to take a book and hang out in one of the store’s reading nooks until the owner would announce closing time. They weren’t exactly close but well-acquainted, considering she was here every day, herself.

Jen looked up with swollen eyes and a runny nose, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest at the sight. She had seen that face before.

“Oh. Y/N...” she began to stand, wobbling slightly as she tried to get her footing right. She dropped a crumpled up-red paper in the process and Y/N caught a glimpse of small hearts scattered over cursive writing on it. But before she could make out the words,  Jen was quick to manage herself and picked it up quickly.

“Are you—“

“I’m fine.” She said a little too quickly, a clear sign that she was not. Before Y/N could think twice of her actions, she stepped forward and pulled her into her arms for a hug, knowing for sure it’s the one thing she needed right now. The one thing she needed back then when she was the one curled in a ball with tear-stained cheeks; feeling like the world has crashed down on her.

“It hurts so bad.” She cried on her shoulder and Y/N sighed as she patted her back in comfort.

I know, I know, she thought. She knew exactly what a broken heart felt like.

~~~

FLASHBACK

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon in the fall when she first saw him.

Donned in a black, oversized hoodie over his uniform with large headphones in as he skated out of the campus gates, he was a sight straight out from any contemporary Young Adult novel. Y/N had been sitting by the campus steps when he skated by and it felt like time slowed for a brief moment… with skater boy taking center stage as if an imaginary spotlight had settled over his form.

It was then that Y/N knew he was different. He was special.

But that brief moment shattered when all of a sudden, a certain clumsy classmate accidentally tripped on the steps and spilled the drink he was holding onto her lap.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

Y/N grimaced as she looked down at her lap, her school skirt and the edge of her blouse stained with pink, strawberry milk. She wasn’t sure how she would explain this to her mom later.

“Here. Take it, please.” Y/N looked up then to find unruly brown hair and large glasses upon pretty (panicked) eyes that would’ve been prettier if the glasses weren’t in the way.

“It’s fine—“ Y/N started to stand but the guy kept pushing his handkerchief towards her.

“No! I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry. Please, I insist. Do you need a ride home? I have a car. You’re Y/N, right?”

At that, Y/N paused, giving him an inquisitive look. “How did you know my name?”

The guy seemed to catch his previous statement and an evident blush colored his cheeks. “Oh u-uh… we—we share a class. English and History with Mrs. Jung.”

Y/N blinked, browsing through the faces of her classmates in her head just as a familiar head of hair sparked in her thoughts, one that sat at the front of the room in every class.

“Oh yeah, I think I know you. Kim—“

“Kim Taehyung.” He finished with a bow.

“Y/FN.”

“I know.”

Y/N smiled when he paused, which was quickly followed by an embarrassed look on his face.

“Anyways,” she took his handkerchief. “Thanks for this. I should get home, though. The milk’s getting sticky.”

“Let me take you home at least.” Taehyung offered once more.

“Oh no, it’s okay—“

“Please. I feel really bad about the whole thing and the least I can do is get you home a lot faster so you can get changed.”

And that was how Taehyung suddenly became a constant in Y/N’s life. With his sweet and lively personality, it wasn’t hard at all for them to become the best of friends. Days turned into weeks, weeks to months and months to a year, and Y/N began to know Taehyung like the back of her hand and vice versa. So well that Y/N could easily tell what runs in his head while Taehyung easily noticed his best friend’s admiration for a certain boy in a hoodie and skateboard.

“Jeon Jungkook.” Taehyung had said out of the blue while they were having lunch in the cafeteria.

Y/N coughed, almost choking on her apple. “What?”

Taehyung grinned, which almost looked smug. “That guy you’ve been stealing glances at for—“ he pretended to count the time but rolled his eyes in the end. “Since we got here?” He jabbed a finger over his shoulder, pointing at the back of the cafeteria where a familiar face sat alone in a table, munching on a sandwich. “His name’s Jeon Jungkook. He’s in my Calculus.”

Y/N tried to look nonchalant, not wanting to tell Taehyung that she already knew his name. She might have stalked him in the library once and took the book he recently borrowed to know his name written on the library card.

“So?” She grumbled, but she could feel the heat creeping to her cheeks as she bit into her apple once more.

“What do you like about him?” Taehyung asked, but this time his tone sounded a lot less cheery.

“I don’t like him!”

“Oh really?” Y/N nodded vigorously. He smirked as he placed his chin on the palm of his hand. “So, you just like randomly staring at people with heart eyes?”

“And what if I do?”

“You don’t stare at me like that.”

Y/N looked at him then but before she could read his expression, the warning bell rang, implying that they needed to get back to class soon.

“I don’t like him.” She said with finality in her tone as she gathered her things and left. As he watched her go, Taehyung sighed, knowing she was lying.

They both were.

~~~

Jeon Jungkook was no one special.

That’s what Y/N had been trying to convince herself for the past year since she first saw him riding his skateboard freshman year. However, the more she saw of him, the more curious she got. It was only during the second semester of her sophomore year did she get the chance to actually talk to the guy... when they shared a table in the library.

“Is this seat taken?” He had asked and as Y/N looked up from the novel she was reading, her speech seem to escape her even when actual words were staring right at her in the face with the book she was holding. At least she managed to shake her head.

“Thanks.” He pulled up a chair opposite her and as he set the book he was holding down onto the table, she smiled when she caught sight of one of her favorite books: a collection of sonnets from the one and only, William Shakespeare. She didn’t peg Jungkook as the poetic type, and Y/N would be lying if she didn’t say it was a good surprise.

“That’s a good one.” She blurted out and when Jungkook looked up at her, she panicked; realizing she just said it out loud. “The book, I mean.”

“Um. Yeah. So, I was told.” He deadpanned before opening the book.

“The author is one of my favorites actually. I mean, he’s Shakespeare, what’s not to like—“

“Which I should be reading right about now.” Jungkook said, not daring to hide his annoyance. “Would be great if you can just let me read in peace.”

At his words, Y/N felt a pang in her chest, hurt for being shut down and a little irritated at his rudeness.

“Um… okay.” She said and that was that. That rude encounter didn’t diminish the burning flame she had for him, however. In fact, it only encouraged her to try harder.

~~~

PRESENT

“So, I did it. I told him I felt but—“ Jen sniffed, fingers idling on the hot cup of tea Y/N had just made for her.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N said while Jen shook her head.

“It was my fault, really. I already knew he was going to say no. He had shown nothing to reciprocate my feelings. Friendly but never too much. Nice but never enough to be a sign that he could like me.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, listening.

“But I still did it. I still did it because I couldn’t live my life keeping it a secret forever. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know he had my heart the very first day and had hoped he felt the same way. And maybe that’s when I made a mistake. I decided to give my heart without thought or reason...I just... I decided to love.”

~~~

FLASHBACK

If Satan had a brother, Jeon Jungkook might as well take that title.

As the years passed, Y/N watched Jungkook get into several fights, receive a flurry of detention slips and get reprimanded by teachers at least a few times every day for not wearing his uniform right or failing to submit an assignment on time. There was even a time when he got called by the principal for being caught smoking within school grounds—one Y/N had noticed earlier that morning when she smelled smoke the moment he passed her in the hall. He even traded his skateboard for a motorcycle, now. One that definitely looked like it can take you to hell.

Jeon Jungkook came from being the quiet kid at the back of the class to the feared rebel who bullies younger students. He even formed his own gang—a bunch of delinquents he often hung out with in town. There was a Park Jimin whose known for being a notorious street fighter; a Min Yoongi who’s rumored to be the son of the owner of an underground gambling hub in Seoul and a Jung Hoseok, who everyone says has been in jail a few times due to his stealing habits.

Despite his bad reputation, Y/N still felt for him and she couldn’t understand why her heart decided to set its mark on a boy who’s obviously bad for her, who’s obviously going to break her heart in the end. But she figured, the heart wants what it wants.

“Y/N focus. You’re staring again.” Taehyung reminded as he tapped the text book in front of her with the rear end of his pencil. They were currently studying for finals and Taehyung (a.k.a the smartest student in their year) had volunteered to help her with her Math.

“I was not.” She grumbled as she returned to her solving the sample math problem he had given her.

“You so where.” Taehyung teased, glancing up briefly at the table to their left before adding, “What do you even see in that guy?”

Y/N had admitted to her best friend her long-time crush on the school’s notorious bad boy. The funny part was, Taehyung barely reacted when she told him, reasoning that she wasn’t the subtlest person out there.

Looking at it from a spectator’s point of view, it’s absurd that she would even want to be with the likes of Jungkook when her ‘crew’ involved valedictorians and class presidents, and her grades never really went lower than a B, but she figured feelings were uncontrollable little suckers, and there’s just something about Jungkook that makes her feel alive.

“Plenty. He’s pretty hot. Have you seen his biceps?” She grinned and Taehyung made a disgusted face at her.

“Is that it? You like him because of his biceps?”

“No, he has nice eyes too.”

“How would you even know? He always has his hood on!”

Y/N licked her lips, thinking how she knows because Jungkook often sat on her table at the library to read, even when they rarely spoke. And if they did talk to each other, it would be him trying to shut her up.

“I just know.” She mumbled.

Taehyung sighed and suddenly reached over the table to hold her hand. Y/N looked up, surprised, but didn’t question his actions when he looked so serious.

“I don’t like that you like him.” He said. “I don’t like that you like Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Taehyung leaned back with a huff. He looked like he was about to say something but decided against it in the end and said instead, “Because he’s a delinquent, Y/N. And I don’t want you getting involved in his problems. He’s trouble. You know that.”

Y/N blinked at his words, realizing that this was the first time Taehyung had spoken up about Jungkook. Just then, she heard a loud screeching sound of a chair being dragged against the floor and when her eyes snapped up, she saw Jungkook hastily leaving his seat and moving towards the exit. Y/N suddenly looked down and saw how Taehyung’s hand was still holding hers, thinking what it must’ve looked like to Jungkook. It was a crazy thought—not to mention, it didn’t make sense why that would affect him but Y/N pulled her hand away from Taehyung’s anyway before standing up herself.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, what? Y/N! Where are you going?!” Taehyung didn’t get the chance to stop her, however, not when she left so quickly, like she was chasing after something (or someone) very important.

Y/N rushed out of the library, eyes searching for a familiar hoodie.

Bingo! She thought when she spotted him moving towards the parking lot where his motorbike must be parked. Running after him, she panted as she tried her best to catch up to his fast, long strides.

“Jungkook!” She called once they reached the lot’s gates. Jungkook looked over his shoulder then and stopped, waiting for her to catch up. Once she was standing in front of him, Y/N let herself catch her breath from running after him.

“Can I help you?” Jungkook deadpanned.

“I... I just...” Y/N’s mind went black as those doe-shaped eyes settled on her, suddenly unsure why she had run after him in the first place.

“You’re wasting my time, Y/LN.”

Y/N blinked at the mention of her surname, not expecting he would know. “You...you know my name?”

Jungkook seemed to pause at that, and then cleared his throat. “Same class. You’re friends with the rich kid. The nerd.”

“My friend’s not a nerd.” She defended, knowing he was talking about Taehyung.

“Your boyfriend, then?” Jungkook’s eyes darkened and Y/N was speechless but didn’t get the chance to say anything as he was already turning to leave.

He just hopped onto his motorbike when she blurted: “You should know that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jungkook paused from putting his helmet on, placing it on his thigh as he leaned on it to give her a smug look. “What makes you think I’d care to know?”

“You don’t have to care.” She replied bravely and Jungkook leaned back, looking mildly impressed. “I just want you to know I don’t like Tae like that.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Does he know that, though? It looks to me that your ‘friend’ is as subtle as a brick through a window.”

Y/N blinked a few times, unsure if he meant what she thinks he’s trying to say. “What? He’s not—“ the motorbike’s engine roared to life, drowning out her words.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. It’ll be good for you.” He winked before revving up the bike and accelerating, leaving her in dust and smoke. Once he was out of sight, Y/N stomped her feet and growled in frustration.

“I don’t like him like that!” She yelled at him, even though she knows he’s already long gone. As she left the parking lot in annoyance, she didn’t know that a set of eyes with glasses watched their whole exchange from a corner, heart breaking into a tiny million pieces.

~~~

Love is a risk. That’s what Y/N told herself as she fidgeted with the box in her hands—a small box holding the best cupcake she ever made. On top of it was an envelope holding her most precious feelings for a certain someone, laid out in the most thoughtful and beautiful words.

Y/N knew she and Jungkook developed in the past year. They weren’t friends, but definitely considers herself an acquaintance of his with how the boy always sits with her at the library (and doesn’t snap at her to shut up anymore). There was even a time when he helped her with her Math homework. Well, it was more like him taking her assignment paper and answering everything (correctly, she might add) before handing it over with a roll of his eyes; telling her that she’s been struggling for more than an hour already and it was hurting his head seeing her thinking so hard over a very simple equation. She even made him smile once—thought it may have been a grimace, and noticed how he would acknowledge her with a nod when they pass by in the hallways. With those improvements, Y/N decided it was time to take it up a notch.

On Valentine’s Day, Y/N decided to confess her feelings to Jungkook. Despite being known as the campus bad boy, Jungkook had an army of admirers so Y/N expected that he would be receiving a lot of gifts that day. How will she stand out?

But even though she’s competing with several girl scouts, she knew all of them didn’t have the guts to actually come up and talk to him and Y/N will use that advantage to confess her feelings to him at the lot just before he leaves.

After school, Y/N couldn’t help but feel nervous as she walked towards the parking lot and waited by a corner until her target appeared. Soon enough, Jungkook strolled through the gates, twirling his keys on his finger while whistling a tune. Y/N took her chance, then.

“Jungkook.” She called, stopping the man from walking and whistling. “Hi.”

“Uh, hi.” He simply answered, looking genuinely surprised. “Can I help you?”

“Oh uh. I just...I’m sorry. I was just wondering if I can talk to you for a sec?”

Jungkook regarded her with a long look before eventually shrugging and facing her fully. Y/N took that as a yes and inhaled deeply before reaching into her bag for the box and letter. Jungkook looked curious at first but upon recognizing the gifts, his expression turned to surprised and maybe, a little unbelieving.

“Jungkook. I...I’ve known you since freshman year and the very first day I saw you, I already knew you were someone special.” Jungkook remained silent, and Y/N took it as a cue to continue.

“I know we barely know each other but I...I think my heart knows well enough that I—“

“Hey, Jungkook!”

Y/N snapped up at the call and saw three guys walking towards them. She easily recognized them as Jungkook’s friends: Jimin, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“We we’re looking for you, man! You ready to hit up some chicks at the club tonight?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows teasingly and punches at Jungkook’s bicep.

“Oh look, I think Jungkook already has a date.” Jimin smirked as he faced Y/N. “Hey baby, what’s your name?”

Y/N stepped back a little, throwing a glance at Jungkook for help. She knows Jungkook won’t hurt her, but she’s not quite sure about his friends.

Jungkook had a blank expression on his face, however, looking like he couldn’t care less. It hurt her, but even more so when he answered, “No one.”

Y/N felt her heart break, then.

“I don’t think she’s ‘no one’, though.” Hoseok smirked, suddenly stepping up and grabbing the letter from her hands. Before Y/N could protest, he already ripped the envelope open and unfolded the paper, making her gasp. Fear gripped her heart as the boy began to read her letter out loud—her letter holding her deepest thoughts...her letter confessing her heart to Jungkook.

“No…please stop.” She cried but her pleas were to no avail.

“Awww! That’s so sweet!” Jimin snickered before looking back at her. “And I bet that box has a cupcake. Maybe we should make sure it’s just as sweet—“

“Let’s go, guys. Just leave her alone.” Yoongi spoke for the first time, surprising Y/N who looked close to tears. “We’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

“But I’m not finished with the letter. Hear this: Jungkook, I knew from the very first day I saw you on that skateboard that you were going to be a big part of my life. My heart just—“ Hoseok cringed then laughed. “This is golden!”

Just then, a hand suddenly ripped the paper from Hoseok’s hand and when Y/N looked to her right, she’s surprised to see Taehyung by her side.

“I think we’re done here. Now you can all leave or do you want me to add more days—no, weeks to your community service in the next few months?”

The boys stood straighter at his presence, looking more intimidating than usual.

“Come on, smarty pants. We were just having fun.” Jimin joked.

“You’re harassing a student.” Taehyung countered. And if eyes could kill, his stare would have caused casualties. “That doesn’t seem like a joke. Now leave before I tell the principal.”

Hoseok and Jimin looked at each other then, grinning menacingly before cracking their knuckles.

“What are you gonna do about it, nerd?” Jimin taunted as he pushed at Taehyung’s chest.

“Gonna tell on us, huh? Maybe we should beat up that mouth of yours till you can no longer talk.” Jimin reached out and grabbed at Taehyung’s collar. Y/N was gripped with fear, not wanting her best friend to get hurt and immediately tried to pull Jimin’s fist from him.

“Please, stop.” She cried. “Please, don’t hurt him. We’ll leave!”

Y/N stared in fear when she saw the boy pulling back his arm for a punch. Before she could brace for the impact, a hand slammed down on his shoulder, stopping him. Y/N looked up with tears cascading down her cheeks and found Jungkook pulling Jimin back, but his gaze was set on her; blank and cold.

“Let’s go. They’re not worth it.”

Y/N might as well have been punched in the gut at his words and as his gang retreated, Taehyung held her wrist until they left completely; as if he expected her to run after Jungkook just left without a sorry...without a care.

“What makes you think I’d care to know?” Jungkook’s voice echoed in her ears, squeezing her heart painfully.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung finally asked once they were gone but Y/N didn’t answer.

“Y/N. What were you thinking?” He suddenly scolded, unable to help the anger he felt from seeing her with Jungkook a while ago. “Confess to Jungkook? Really? You do realize it has ‘bad idea’ written all over it? The guy had been nothing but awful to you—“

“Please leave me alone, Tae.” Y/N spoke, silencing him.

“Y/N—“

“I said leave me alone!” She snapped. “Just go, Tae!”

Taehyung pressed his lips together, breathing out through his nose before handing over her confession letter and leaving. But before he left, he said, “If you need a ride home, my driver—“

“Just go.” She said, unable to help the wobble in her voice.

With a sigh, Taehyung left. Only when he was out of earshot did Y/N let the tears fall. She raised the confession letter to her face, staining it with tears before finally ripping it apart into pieces and letting it fall to the ground, mimicking her heart that shattered into a million pieces just a while ago.

“I’m so stupid!” She cried, legs giving out and she sat there on the pavement as sobs bubbled out of her chest.

I’m so stupid, she kept telling herself. I’m so stupid to have fallen in love with you, Jeon Jungkook.

~~~

PRESENT

“What do I do now?” Jen asked. “I don’t think I can ever face him in school after what happened.”

Y/N sighed, thinking back to how she was in her exact position years ago.

“You move on.” She answered simply. “You heal. Because time itself is the only thing that could ease the pain.”

~~~

FLASHBACK

Y/N spent the remainder of her high school days avoiding Jeon Jungkook.

It was pretty easy, considering Jungkook never sought her out nor tried to apologize for the humiliation his friends caused her. There was also the fact that he just disappeared one day without a trace. There were talks that he got into jail, immigrated to the US and even got injured badly in a fight. Whatever it was, Y/N didn’t seem to care. She thought it was better that way. She wouldn’t have been able to face him after everything.

Flash forward to two years later and Y/N was a college sophomore at the state university. It was true what people say: time is your best ally when it comes to mending a broken heart, and Y/N found herself healing from her “puppy love” by immersing herself in her course work and focusing on making her dreams come true. She wanted to become a professional chef and took up culinary arts in the hopes of being able to put up her own restaurant someday.

She and Taehyung remained the best of friends and studied in the same university, with the latter taking up business management in preparation for taking over their family business. Through the years, their friendship only became stronger, and Y/N wouldn’t have been able to pull through those dark days if it weren’t for her best friend who stayed by her side and helped her pull herself back up on her feet.

“I’m so done. I can’t do this anymore. I’m completely drained!” Taehyung placed his head on the text book in front of him, groaning. Y/N simply chuckled, knowing he’s only bluffing and could probably perfect the exam even if he didn’t study. He did graduate valedictorian in high school and was also now the top student in his major. Not that Y/N was surprised. Her best friend is the smartest person she knew.

“Stop being so dramatic. We all know you’re going to kill midterms.”

“Not if it kills me first.”

Y/N chuckled as she ran her hand through his hair to soothe him. “Do you wanna have dinner?”

“Sure.” Taehyung stretched his arms over his head then yawned. “Give me a sec to fix my stuff.” He added, pointing at the stack of books and piles of reviewers he had made.

“Yeah, sure. I actually need to go back to the dorm real quick to grab my wallet and jacket. Can we meet at my place?”

“I can always pay, you know?”

Y/N pretended to think about it. “Hmm… tempting. But even if I have the soon-to-be CEO of Kim Enterprises as my best friend…I think I’ll pass. Wouldn’t want to take advantage, you know?”

Taehyung chuckled. “You know I’d let you if you try.” He winked. “I’ll see you in 15?”

Y/N nodded and grabbed a couple of her books on the desk before leaving the library. That night as she walked through the dark street, she didn’t think life would throw her off course—figuratively and literally—when she crossed the street right across from her apartment building and almost got hit by a motorcycle as she was being careless when she decided to rummage through her bag for her keys while crossing. Luckily, the driver was fast to act and stopped his bike, but Y/N was still caught off guard and ended up throwing herself to the side; her books scattering to the ground as she fell.

“Ow.” She winced as she inspected the skin right above her elbow and found a small gash caused by her grazing it on the pavement.

“Miss, are you okay?”

Black boots crunched against the pavement and as Y/N looked up to see the biker, her world seemed to stop.

He was donned in a black jacket over a white shirt with dark jeans and combat boots. She sat there, dumbfounded, and it felt like time slowed for a brief moment with biker boy taking center stage as if an imaginary spotlight had settled over his form...

Talk about history repeating itself.

“Y—Y/N?”

Y/N swallowed hard at the sound of her name from his lips, tasting the bittersweet taste of yesterday.

“Jungkook.”

To be Continued

Hey dears~ I’M BACK! Come scream at me if you want more. keke~

Of course I wouldn’t let this masterpiece pass without writing a scenario based from it. Sorry I haven’t been here much...I’m currently editing and writing a book. I have a book release early next year which I’m so excited to share with you guys. 

To those who bought my latest book, Falling, Falling, THANK YOU! It’s still available in stores here in the Philippines. For international orders, US and Singapore orders are ongoing. The deadline for US orders has been extended! So place in your orders today! Here are the forms: 

Singapore GO

US GO

Anyways, what do you guys think? And can we talk about Jungkook’s english in this song? *heart eyes* 

- Kaye Allen

PS: Since this story is inspired by a song, it’ll be part of my Love Song Series. <3

LSS Playlist; mobile

[anxiouslyfred]

Mixed Up Soulmates Part 3

Tags: @logicallyanxious-morallyromantic, @theotherella

Summary:  Where almost any sign of who your soulmate is can happen growing up can be a difficult time. For four boys all destined to be each others soulmates that only gets more confusing as the different signs manifest at different ages. Roman gets to meet Virgil and Patton while writing to Logan

Trigger: self deprecation, anxiety attack

Authors Note: I seriously have no clue when I’ll update after this as currently this is all I have written and I’m not sure how to bring Logan into it as much as I do have the idea pencilled out.

If you want tagging please let me know.

Originally Summary/Notes Part 1 Part 2 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

In the two week since he’d started in a new school, Roman had grown certain that his soulmate attended it with him. The ribbon from his wrist had been moving around far to regularly for it to be anything less.

He hadn’t been able to confirm it yet simply because of writing to Logan more regularly than before throughout the day. Their breaks since Roman had joined the new school also seemed to be more in line than before but while he wondered if Logan was also at the same school as he was asking or trying to find the other would probably prove pointless.

Seeking out the person his ribbon connected him too however should be manageable at least and after a week of hoping they would meet within a hallway or possibly, share a class together it was all Roman could think to do.

‘I want to find him, Logan. He’s got to be so close and not knowing who my soulmate is is just taunting me with this ribbon.’ He hurried to write on his arm while the teacher was writing on the board. 

As much as the words were also targeted at Logan it was expected he’d ignore it as with ever other comment Roman had tried to convince Logan that they should arrange to meet somehow. The pause before Logan replied normally made Roman pout even though being subjected to his soulmates usually clinical view was not something he often enjoyed. ‘Then looking for them by following the ribbon seems reasonable, but I do remind you they could be of any gender.’

‘And yet I’m sure fate is not so cruel a mistress as to give me a woman when never before have I felt attraction for them!’ Roman’s response was almost a fight against his exuberant nature since the urge to make it a declaration was difficult to fight even if he was in the middle of English class.

‘You’ve proclaimed that before but the history of soulmates has shown that it does not always match the sexuality a person identifies with. In fact the soulmate connection being formed seems to be completely separate to that, not that my current teacher seems to understand that. If I don’t answer I’m trying to correct this warped version of history we’re being taught’ Roman bit his lip to hold back the snicker which wanted to escape before focusing once more on the Shakespeare his class was studying. As ever when Logan mentioned a teacher in such a way Roman refused to reply since the first time he had done had grown into an argument.

He was already planning to follow the ribbon as soon as the bell rang for lunch. If not today then very soon he would find one of his soulmates. Roman was determined to do so.

{{/.,.\}}

“Patton, what if they hate me? What if they’re avoiding me on purpose?” Virgil muttered into the book he’d been looking through.

The pair were sat in the school library together a few weeks into the term and Virgil had realised fairly quickly that one of his other soulmates was also in the school.

Patton just leaned closer, wrapping an arm around Virgil’s shoulder, “Of course they love you Virgil. In fact I bet they’re looking around the school, constantly hoping to find you.”

“I wish I could believe that. It still doesn’t make sense that you like me so much when I literally keep us shut up in here so much.” Virgil muttered, an apology in his eyes as he looked to his boyfriend.

“Now, kiddo, don’t-” Patton’s words broke off by the banging of doors just outside the library.

“THE LIBRARY! He Must be in Here!” The yell from outside the library seemed triumphant and both boys were looking between each other and the shelves hiding them from the entrance, wondering who the person yelling was looking for, even as the doors were flung open.

Patton moved as though to stand as they couldn’t see through the shelves who it was, although they did hear the librarian scolding the new comer. “Young man, This is not the theatre and I will not have you treating it as such.”

“My apologies, Miss Hayley. I shall continue my search in silence.” The absent apology sounded rushed, as Patton could glimpse the boy moving further into the library.

Virgil looked a little like a startled rabbit when Patton turned back to him, whispering “Virgil, could that be...?”

“I think it is, Patton, He’s searching though, why would he be searching?” Virgil’s voice was barely audible as his eyes began to water over how strongly he was staring between the ribbon and the silhouette of the boy moving past the shelves.

Before any reply could be made however the boy reached their section of the Library. “Patton?” Roman paused in confusion after looking up, before checking his wrist again. “No, you’re in science with me, but might I make the acquaintance of your lovely companion?”

Virgil almost shied away when the newcomer bowed to him, his face flushing red. “I’m Virgil, um, who are you?” His voice wavered but he was able to meet the eyes of the man in front of him.

“I’m Roman, you’re soulmate, I believe.” The words were accompanied by Roman taking Virgil’s hand to kiss the back of it, although Virgil had actually meant to shake hands. “Can I join you in studying?” he asked, glancing at the books they had out and missing that Virgil was pushing further backwards into his chair. 

Patton however had remained focused on his soulmate from the moment Roman first bowed. “Are you alright Virgil?” He asked, ignoring the third person in their group until Virgil had met his eyes.

“I don’t... This is a lot... Patton, I won’t .... I won’t...” Virgil’s breathing had been getting faster but it turned to gasps as the thought entered his mind of Patton’s worry about just having one soulmate while Virgil had 3. He wanted to reassure his boyfriend that even with Roman there nothing would change but could get the words out.

Patton was gentle as he pulled Roman’s hand away from Virgil only to pull the other boy off his seat and into his lap. “I know Virge, I’ll always have you, same as ever. Roman will understand. He’s your soulmate too, he’ll understand. Can you breather for me, sweetheart? You’re alright. Come on Kiddo, breathe in slowly.”

Roman had watched the scene after letting the hyperventilating boy go, uncertain if he’d be able to help. Seeing Virgil practically bury himself in Patton’s chest however was the last clue he needed to understand. “Hey, Virgil, I’d never take you away from your other soulmate. Don’t worry. I know you’ve had Patton for a while and I don’t want to change anything you have with him, We’ll just get to know each other.” The reassurances were easy to offer for Roman. Even he could see how endearing the other could be. 

“But - But..” Virgil tried speaking again, looking up again only enough to meet Roman’s eyes even though he still was hiding.

“But nothing, My Prince, We’re both your soulmates and nothing will change your relationship with either of us. Not even knowing me now.” Roman assured, “Can you try breathing in time with me?” 

Virgil nodded, reaching a shaking hand out that Roman held against his chest. There were a few moments of quiet as both Roman and Patton did what they could to comfort their Virgil, before Roman spoke again. “Even if I find Logan it won’t change who I am to you or who you are to Patton.”

“You have a second soulmate?” Patton asked, even as Virgil perked up enough to stop hiding.

Roman nodded, “I write to him through the day. He’s called Logan.” There was some temptation to  show their last conversation which hadn’t been washed off by either of them just yet, but that could wait for another time.

“I - I have three. You and Patton, who I can write too like you and Logan, and someone looking after the colours for me.” Virgil’s voice was still shaky but he was breathing calmly again and had let his arm fall so his hand was resting atop Roman’s.

Patton rubbed his back, “And we’ll all be friends when he joins us as well.” He insisted firmly but calmly, cutting off any worrying Virgil might begin over it.

“All of us will be able to tell you how special you are.” Roman agreed, holding his arms out to offer Virgil a hug now.

Virgil slipped off Patton’s lap willingly into Roman’s arms. “That seems like a lot, but it might be better that you can split the burden.” Though his tone seemed sarcastic both Roman and Patton started tutting.

“You aren’t a burden, darling. You are a brilliant light that will bring us all together.” Roman insisted, before glancing at the table again, wondering if a change of subject would be a good idea. “What are you reading today anyway?”

“Shakespeare’s sonnets. We’ve been studying them in English.” Patton smiled at the pair now cuddling.

Roman grinned back. “My class is studying them as well. Can I study with you?”

“I wasn’t letting you run off straight away.” Virgil insisted, still wrapped in Roman’s arms and snarking at him.

Part Four

[thehoneygloss]

When Past & Present Collides

He had written a book that had changed you in a way that no other author has ever did. This was ruination.

The past and present has its ways of colliding — for you, it was Min Yoongi.

word count: 4.1k

genre: yoongi!author au, angst, fluff

Your first encounter with his book was in the city library. You were there for one of your study sessions with your best friend, Seokjin when you suddenly came across a book that caught your eye in the third shelf of the modern fiction section. It was written by a man named Min Yoongi. You had never heard of him before, but something about that book had caught your eye. And so you quickly checked it out and gave it a read.

Intuition

‘I fell madly in love with the way you write,’ Elaine gushed.

‘Well that’s very sweet of you, Elaine. In fact, I’d rather you fall for my writing than me at all. At least there’s some honesty in it,’ Apollo chuckled.

 Enter a couple of accidental meetings, obnoxious bosses, and fate. There goes another story written.

You didn’t know what it was that fascinated you so much, but you’ve always had a thing for cliche love stories and his book seemed like a good cup of tea before bed, or so you thought.

It was perfect at first, a cliche meeting, putting things in the hands of fate. They had fallen in love, made love, and ‘I love yous’ were exchanged. It was swoon worthy up until you reached chapter 10.

Apollo is now back at home. Both tired and hungry he unlocks the apartment door and takes off his shoes, he then walks over to now his and Elaine’s room (he had asked her to move in a few months prior), changes his clothes, strides over the bathroom, unlocks his cabinet before washing his face. Still no signs of Elaine. But he brushes it off. She’s always been busy on Mondays and he understands. So he shrugs it off and walks over to the couch before texting Elaine.

They cancelled my trip. I’m in the apartment, when will you be back? Fancy a dinner? Apollo texts.

Just as he clicks the send button, he hears a ruffle on the door. And there she is, half intoxicated, locking lips with a unknown man, inside their apartment and trying her hardest to turn on the lights.

It comes as a shock to Elaine when she first notices Apollo there. Her first instinct: shoves the unknown guy outside. Then walks over to the now distraught Apollo, making barely audible excuses. But there’s nothing that she can do, after all, he did see them together, he did witness it happening. And no words of apologies can contradict with that.

‘Leave, Elaine. Get the hell out of my house!’

It’s strange, Apollo thinks, how easily people can change.

The end

This came as a shock to you too, not just Apollo. The mere thought of cheating sickened you, but the fact that it happened in your favorite book? Done by your favorite character that you related so well with? It didn’t just break your heart — it tore it to pieces and then threw it in the trash can right after.

What the hell happened to Min Yoongi for him to be such a godawful person and ruin such a good plot? And instead of complaining to yourself, you emailed him. Because out of all things he could have ruined, it was your favorite book he had to fuck up.

Dear Min Yoongi,

First of all, hello. This is Y/N, one of your many readers. I came across your book in the city library and thought that it was interesting enough for me to read. And I loved it. I fucking loved it.

The way Apollo wrote about her. The way Elaine fell in love with him. It was absolutely, heart wrenchingly, beautiful. Just swoon worthy.

That is, up until I reached chapter ten. That’s when I realized just how fucked up a person can be to have ended such a good plot in the shittiest way possible. How dare you break Apollo’s heart like that? How dare you end the book in such an abrupt way? Did you give up? Did your ex girlfriend send this to your publisher before you could even finish it but your publisher ended up loving it and so you let it be? What the hell is wrong with you?

It would be great if you would just respond to this letter.

Sincerely,

Y/N

There you were, sitting in your dorm room at 1 in the morning, furiously typing an email to a writer who, hypothetically speaking, broke your heart. It was pathetic, you admitted, to complain over the ending of a book. But so did Hazel Grace, and she went all the way to Amsterdam for that. So a short email was nothing. Right?

His reply was earlier than you expected. It was on a Sunday morning, two days after you clicked ‘send email’ on your laptop. It had surprised you at first, a quite well known writer replied to your email? A personal one? One in which you raged the shit out of him? One that was sent at 1 o’clock in the morning? It was strange, you admitted. For someone so official actually responding to something you had written. It almost felt better than reading your acceptance letter, almost.

Dear Y/N,

Hello, this is Min Yoongi. I am here to respond to your all too sweet and endearing letter of encouragement.

If I have to be honest with you, reading your email was very refreshing. Gave me a sense of ‘wow someone’s actually put their heart and soul into something I wrote? Wow, thanks!’. So thank you for that, really.

Now on to the next point. To be quite frank, I’ve always had a thing for sad endings, to me, they feel more realistic. Way more genuine than those all too cliche novels that 60% of the population has been fed by. Not that there’s anything bad with that. It’s just not my cup of tea.

To me, Apollo and Elaine are two star crossed lovers that just didn’t belong. I’m so sorry to break it to you but love doesn’t always end with a happily ever after. Some ends in a random Sunday afternoon after a cancelled trip to New York.

And it’s abrupt. Just like my ending. Abrupt and a bit un-settling. Some doesn’t even get to have closure. Some are just left hanging. Quite like my book. So that’s all I have to say.

Thank you, again, for reading Apollo and Elaine’s story and for the all too sweet words of encouragement. I’ll be needing that. And remember this: just because something ended, doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful.

All the love,

Min Yoongi

His letter had left your mouth hanging open. It was the kind of letter that was definitely sincere, not one that was written by an assistant in a run down apartment at 2 in the morning. It had a soul to it, whatever that meant, you felt something. Was it reassurance? Or was it something more? Whatever it was, you definitely needed to know more about him.

But nothing came out on Google. Just an old picture and a short description. He had never written anything other than ‘Intuition’ yet it was almost life changing? How was that possible? How on earth was someone able to both capture and break people's heart with little to no experiences before-hand?

Just the thought of that amazed you.

So of course, you decided to reply to him.

Dear Min Yoongi,

This is Y/N again. Okay, your reply had caught me off guard, not going to lie. I’ve had my fair share of author/reader emails and all of them had been redundant. Like you would think writers of all people would reply to their emails themselves? Especially ones from their readers? Guess not.

Anyways, it really surprised me that you took time to reply to mine. So, thank you so much. And also thank you for explaining. I really appreciate it.

Although I do think that even though some love stories doesn’t always end in happily ever afters, I like to think that one of the reasons we write is to get away from that thought. From reality.

Maybe happy endings do exist, you know? Just not in real life. It really could have happened in your book. But it’s okay, I get it. I completely understand where you are coming from.

Good luck on your future endeavors, looking forward to your potential new book.

All the love,

Y/N

You were worried at first, how honest and raw that reply was. But here was Min Yoongi, right in front of you (not literally) potentially replying to your email (again), who would ever waste that? You out of all people knew the answer to that.

‘Elaine?’

‘Yes?’

‘You know I’ve always hated my name. It reminds me too much of a spaceship than a greek word. It’s such a stupid name. I hate it. At least I did, and then I heard it came out of your mouth and now it’s best name in the world.’

To that, Elaine gives him a huge smile. All too beautiful and alarming that it scares the living shit out of him. Here is this almost perfect girl laying next to him, dressed in only his white shirt, smiling ever so fervently at him that he can burst. But the thought of losing all this alarms him the most.

Yoongi’s reply came a bit later than the last one. He was probably busy dealing with other things that genuinely mattered, like a book. Or potentially a girlfriend that he, hypothetically, wrote sonnets about. Because all you were was a reader that he barely knew, complaining over something he had written.

Putting it like that made you want to physically strangle yourself. But you shook that thought away as soon as you saw a notification in the corner of your laptop screen. Reply from Min Yoongi.

Dear Y/N,

It seems that you are quite surprised by the fact that I replied to your email rather than an assistant. Well, it’s quite obvious really, since you sent your ‘words of encouragement’ to my personal email. Not my business one, not the one that is run by my actual assistant. But it’s okay. I really enjoy talking to you. I really do.

If you don’t mind (and I’m not being a creep at all, and you can reject this invitation by simply not replying) would you be down for some coffee? Maybe this Saturday? I know from your location that you’re situated in Seoul. Email me your number? Will that be okay?

Thank you, again. For everything.

Sincerely,

Yoongi

There were, in total, three times in which you felt the the happiest. 1) When your mother decided to surprise you by appearing at your dorm holding a whole carry on filled with side dishes and beer. 2) When you realized that you had been accepted to your dream university. 3) When the school’s journalism team decided to recruit you as their editor.

Yet nothing could top this one. Not even free side dishes and beer. Because it’s Min Yoongi and he invited you for coffee this Saturday, and you’re not busy at all; for once, you thought, the world had turned upon its axis and decided to give you good news.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

Dear Yoongi,

Yes, yes I’d love to go out for coffee.

I’ll send you my number in the next email. On Saturday. See you there.

All the love,

Y/N

Saturday came quicker than you thought. You had woken up with such an apparent smile that morning that even your roommate could tell what was happening.

‘A date? With who? That writer?’

‘What? No.’

‘He might be a creep, just saying,’ she said half-jokingly, though you knew that deep down, there was an honest worry in her voice.

‘He’s not!’ You replied as you threw a shirt at her, half-jokingly, although just like her, there was still an undertone of worry in your voice.

But you kept that to yourself.

The cafe he suggested was not far from your dorm, only a couple of blocks away. And just like that, there you were, a couple of seconds away from meeting Min Yoongi and knowing all the nooks and crannies of his thoughts.

The cafe was crowded, filled with mostly university students trying to finish their papers before their assigned deadlines, some were just sitting with their friends chatting away, and then you saw him. Dressed in a black turtle neck, with his black coat lying next to him, a book in his hands and a pair of glasses on his face.  To say that he looked beautiful was an understatement. He was alluring — the way he was reading that book, it was as if he was devouring every part of the book word by word trying to understand what the author was trying to say through every sentence — it didn’t help that he was holding one of your favorite books.

‘Jane Eyre?’ Was the first thing you say to him before he jolted his head up.

‘Sorry?’ Was his reply.

‘Min Yoongi, right?’ You hoped you were right, although you pretty much knew how he looked like from the amount of research you did on your way here. The possibility of him being a creep had scared you. And the result was another speedy google search of Min Yoongi.

One thing for sure, he was way more beautiful in person. The kind of beautiful that made you want to look twice. Didn't help that he had written something so beautiful and yet so bereft at the same time.

‘How do you know it’s me?’

‘I did a google search on you right before I came here,’ your all too honest confession had caught him off guard. Then he smiled.

‘You must be Y/N? Nice to meet you,’ his eyes diverted to yours, a set of brown eyes were now your center of attention.

‘How are you sure I’m Y/N?’

‘Well, the first thing you said instead of ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’ was ‘Jane Eyre?’ and then you sat down and honestly, I’m just using up my luck right now. Thank God, I was right,’ you chuckled at his response.

‘How do you like Jane Eyre so far?’

‘Brontë is a literary genius. I love this book, I’ve read it more than twice,’ he put down the book and sipped on his cup coffee. You could see the glint in his eyes, it was almost too evident, how happy he was. Whether it was because of the book or the company — you liked to think that it was the latter, but just like him, you adored Charlotte Brontë and just the thought of Jane Eyre made you smile like a little girl.

‘God, you’re such a writer,’ he nodded to your statement. And you could feel the evident blush showing on your cheeks.  You also could’ve sworn you saw a bit of red on his face too. But then again — it might have just been caused by the cup of steaming hot coffee in his hands.

‘Apollo?’

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t want to lose you, ever. But the fact that it’s uncertain — both for you and me. The fact that all this might just come crashing down. It’s scaring me a whole lot.’

‘Come here, baby,’ Elaine then sits closer to him, laying her head on top of his chest, resulting in all their clothes laying on the floor and the almost too loud moans coming from their room.

‘Fuck, I love you,’ is the first thing that comes out Apollo’s mouth when he’s on top of her, rocking back and forth to a barely breathing Elaine.

It’s the first time he’s ever said it.

‘I love you too, Fuck, I love you too,’ is the first time she says it back.

It happened very quickly. By then, your clothes were all in his living room, his were on the floor, and he’s on top of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whilst putting his hands on every part of your body which led to his mouth kissing every inch of your skin.

He was good. He was too fucking good.

‘Fuck, Yoongi,’ was the last thing you said before his body came crashing next to yours. His breathing was uneven and your heart was beating too quick. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was his hands pulling you closer to him and a,’I don’t want you to disappear like Elaine did,’ but before you could hear his all too honest statement, your eyes were already fluttered shut and into dream land you went.

By the morning, he was gone. You didn’t dare question him, after all, he had always been a mystery, even to you.

It was on a Monday morning when he appeared on your doorstep. A disheveled mess had made its way to his hair and he had smelt a bit like vodka. You had taken him in, your roommate was out of town and it seemed as if it was the perfect timing for him to appear.

And it was.

‘What’s wrong?’ He was sitting on the edge of your bed, his expensive black leather shoes were now tossed under your bed and his brown coat was now laying on your bed and he looked lifeless. As if the world had sucked all his soul out and all that was left was his body and a pair of blood shot eyes.

‘Do you remember when you first emailed me about ‘Intuition’ and asked me why I ended the book in the shittiest way possible and why I decided to make Elaine cheat?’

‘Yes, of course I do,’ how could you even forget?

‘Well, you remember how I replied right? I was being all philosophical and shit. Trying to justify my abrupt ending. And remember how I told you that love doesn’t always end the way Cinderella’s did, how it’s more ‘genuine’ if it was a sad ending?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well I lied,’ you were sitting in front of him, on the floor, facing his knees — and you could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.

‘What do you mean you lied?’

‘It’s not that I was trying to portray a genuine love story. It’s not that I was trying to be different — that book was my coping mechanism. It was my closure, writing that book was my closure. Fuck, what happened to Apollo had happened to me too,’ tears were making its way out of your eyes, his eyes were already wet and you just couldn’t help yourself from holding him.

You had your ways of coping. He did too; but you didn’t think that it would be something he decided to publish and let the whole world see. Just the thought of that immense amount of bravery and recklessness he had scared the living shit out of you.

‘I’m so sorry. I really had no idea. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I complained. Fuck, Yoongi, I had no idea,’ and you both laid down on your all too small queen sized bed until the late morning, and this time, he didn’t leave.

Instead, he said, ‘morning, baby,’ and intertwined his lips with yours.

It was in breakfast when you asked him about what happened the night before.

‘Who was she? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,’ his head jerked up.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the Elaine to your Apollo. Who was the girl?’ It wasn’t that you needed to know, it wasn’t that you were the jealous girlfriend trying to get back at his ex, it wasn’t that you loved him. It wasn’t. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t. But did it help that without even knowing her name you already hated her with every fibre of your being?

‘I met her in University. We dated for a few years. I think I was 22 when I found out. I was visiting her dorm and she had no idea I was in town. What happened next? I’m sure you can tell. And her name was Sooyoung,’ his far too nostalgic confession had caught you off guard. But it wasn’t about the fact that you now knew who she was. It was the fact that he trusted you enough to be honest with you.

Everything that happened after that was far too magical for you to recount them one by one. But it was at a random book store visit when he first declared his love to you.

‘Should I go with Orwell or Woolf?’ You held two books to his face.

‘Hmmm, I say go with ‘The Waves’. But to be quite honest, I think you should get ‘Persuasion’ instead. Anne reminds me a lot of you,’ he chuckled and handed you the hard cover.

‘How come? You mean I’m old and not beautiful?’

‘No, I meant that you’re almost too good for me. For anyone, in that matter. And you’re constant. Austen portrayed Anne to be very mature in her nature. You’re basically the younger, more beautiful, and realer version of Anne Elliot,’ you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding.

‘Well that’s very sweet of you to have compared me to such an iconic character. That’s really, really sweet of you. You do have a lot in common with Captain Wentworth.’

‘I’m just glad you didn’t compare me to Sir Walter,’ he sat down on one of the stools in the old creaky book store.

‘Seriously though. Your bravery, it’s almost uncanny. And he’s incredibly swoon worthy, I mean who the hell says, ‘You pierce my soul, I am half agony, half hope’?’

‘Well, Y/N, you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. And I love you,’ you diverted your eyes from the book shelf to the man that was now standing behind you, too close that you could almost hear the faint sound of him breathing.

‘He didn’t say that. He didn’t say ‘I love you’.’

‘Well, yes. That’s because I said that. I love you. What? Don’t you?’

‘Don’t I what?’ You were both standing so close, his hands were on the creaky book shelf behind you. Your breath hitched.

But before he could reply, you breathily said, ‘I love you, Yoongi. I love you. I love you. I love you,’ and then he kissed you and you could've sworn you felt a smile on his lips.

It was in the winter when things came to a halt. Because as seasons change, so does feelings. And on a random December night, the universe decided that you have had enough and heart break was what came after that.  

‘You did what?’ Your eyes were red, blood shot.

‘I met up with Sooyoung and she kissed me. And I kissed her back. And I just, things happen, you know? It just happened,’ and it was in that moment that you realized just how fucked up the universe could be. It was uncanny, how reality had woven itself into the fiction world that he had created. That without him realizing it, he committed a sin that he had sworn himself to not ever commit. That without him realizing it, he bad become the Elaine to your Apollo. All too beautiful and alluring yet ruined whatever it was you both had created on a random night with some other girl who had broken his heart.

It was strange how life worked.

‘Get the hell out of my room!’ You shouted at him, resulting in him walking away. And it was almost too casual. Too awfully casual that it seemed like a habit. God forbid it was.

You tried forgiving him. Dammit you tried. But he had broken your heart and all that was left for you to do was to pick up the pieces and let him go. As he said, some love stories just doesn’t end in happily ever afters.

You were no Cinderella; he was no Prince Charming. And fairy god mothers don't exist, at least not in the real world.

‘Hey, Elaine, would you ever cheat on me?’ Apollo realizes just how stupid that question must be. But curiosity does have its ways of ruining memorable moments.  

‘What? No, of course not.’

‘What if you found someone who writes sonnets about you better than I can ever muster up?’ He doesn’t want to hear the answer.

‘Isn’t love all about letting go?’ (I should have known, I should have known.)

[orionlakehastodie]

A Mountain of Miniscule Things: (1) Socks and Sonnets

The Present, Oldtown

“BRIENNE! Get your stinky socks of the table!”

Seven years he though, seven bloody years and she still placed her dirty rainbow striped socks on the table. How she managed to be a respectable surgeon, how she managed to get people to trust her to slice into their brains he would never know. Not when her smelly socks litter his kitchen before he got coffee.

She emerged from her room, in nothing but her boxer briefs which has all forms of cartoon characters (today was Bambi) and her old King’s Landing University basketball shirt. 

She grumblingly got the socks from him and crawled back to her room, which he knew had been left unclean since she started covering the ER for the week.

He shuddered at the notion of what he would find there, knowing she tended to throw things around when she was tired. 

With a sigh he set the coffee beans into the machine and wiped down the table to rid it of her feet germs. 

And when the coffee was done brewing he poured her a cup and ventured into her room to get her up and running for her morning rounds. 

Let it be said that Jaime Lannister is the best ever roommate, best friend and colleague ever in the whole of Westeros. 

And he did love snuggling with a warm and sleepy Brienne.

As soon as he entered her room, her nose shot up of her comforter, smelling the coffee in her mug and immediately held out a hand and scooted over to the edge of her bed, making room for Jaime to lay himself beside her, wincing as the hanger she left on the bed dugged into his butt.

“You’re a slob Brienne.”

“Shut your mouth. I clean up after you when you cover the stinking ER.”

That was true enough. He lifted an arm and allowed Brienne to rest her head against his shoulder. 

Here she was, half naked, warm and all but in his skin, and he wondered why he didn’t feel... anything. 

She was his bestfriend. If this was a movie he’d have those tingly feelings by now... he’d have fallen for her and pined.

He would have loved to fall in love with Brienne.

And yet...

He didn’t.

“I have to shower. I have rounds in an hour.”

She crawled out from under their cocoon and headed for her bathroom. 

He sighed and stared at her ceiling, wondering for the nth time why it couldn’t be Brienne.

---

The Beginning, King’s Landing (Seven Years Prior)

It was the easiest solution she could find. She needed a house. And she needed it cheap. But she also needed it clean, safe, with wi-fi and duvets on sun washed windowsills in a cool autumn day.

So she needed a house mate. And she needed it fast because the lease was a co-sign.

He needed a house too.

Like her, he needed it close to the hospital. He needed it fast. And cheap.

And though she has never spoken to him, not once in her life, she hands him the flyer and the offer.

"I heard you were going too. To the Citadel I mean. I found a house. But I need a housemate because the seven damned maesters bleed you drier than Braavos. If you want it we can-"

"I'll take it."

He folded the flyer and stuck it into the pocket of his white coat.

She did not expect him to.

He never liked her.

Well, no one did.

During her first year, there was a newly elected MP in Tarth and let's just say that she, even though merely a citizen was outraged at his audacity to claim that thieves from the Blue must be killed when he let corporate resorts almost ruin the Sapphire Isle.

Let's just say she was vocal on Hall of Faces about it.

Too vocal.

And then clinical year kicked in and she had been pumped up to answer all questions fielded left and right. And well, while in Tarth it was not appreciated, it sucked even worse in King's Landing.

And that was when she realized no matter where she went people would hate a freak like her. Then she might as well go to the place she dreamed of all her life.

And that was what pushed her to ask Jaime Lannister if he wanted to share the rent on her perfect house. She thought if he hated her she would not care. She's just focused on getting what she wants - becoming a Maester Surgeon.

Only it wasn't until Jaime accepted her offer that she realized she was bluffing.

She asked because she never expected him to accept the damned offer in the first place.

"Brienne?"

She blinked back at him and at the papers in his hands. Her house. Her house that will he half his.

Well, half rented by him, but still...

"Look, I want to get to Old Town as soon as possible. Rent's not cheap, seven curses to the Maesters. I would have asked you if you didn't approach me."

Jaime Lannister would have asked her to co-rent a house.

And they say pigs don't fly.

"Alright then. Lease is to be signed on Thursday. I'll send you a Raven with the details."

Jaime only nodded and went back to his screen, even the fatigue in his eyes could not mask the strength of his cheeks, the dangerous glint of his eyes the color of a foamy sea.

His grubby scrubs could not mask the fact that Jaime Lannister was the most handsome man she ever beheld.

And that she was a fool for thinking it.

---

He arrived in the Citadel before she did. His large SUV was taking up most of the space inside the four car garage, a BalerionX50, she should have known. Her clunky pick up looked old and rusty next to it.

Boxes lined his side of the garage. Hers were stacked neatly in hardy plastic transport drawers because her things were not going to smell like box paper.

She unloaded the large suitcase from the back of her car and wheeled it in, thinking of the ways she could cart her boxes all the way up to the rooms when the garage door opened and out walked a heavily sweaty Jaime, in nothing but his exercise shorts.

"Brienne. I thought you were coming in tomorrow?"

He certainly did not look pleased to see her. With a sigh she plastered a smile on her face.

"I sent you a Raven. Did you not check your phone? I said my flight got pushed earlier."

"When?"

"The day after we signed the lease!"

Granted Jaime went to the lawyer's, signed the paper handed his half of the check and booked as if his ass was on fire.

Then went on to pretend she did not exist for the next couple of weeks.

"Sorry. It's been chaotic. Moving. I'm sure you know."

And yet she managed to send a Raven. She wouldn't even have known Jaime was coming on this day if not for Tyrion who mentioned it to her while she referred a patient of hers to him for grief counselling and therapy.

They stand there in awkward silence until he notices her boxes.

"I'll help you with those."

Together they lugged her boxes to the second floor. Their house was simple enough. The garage door opens to a laundry room and beyond that the kitchen. The rest of the house was occupied by a wide and open floor layout with oakwood floors and glass. Lots of glass looking out at the lake behind the house.

Upstairs was divided into four rooms. One room they converted to an office. The other they agreed to keep for when family visits.

No family will visit her. She thought.

No one ever.

But she agreed anyway.

She only needed one room. Hers. With her large bed and her books and her high speed internet with a TV she can watch her shows on.

Jaime whistled at the size of the ginormous TV mounted on her wall.

"This is even bigger than mine! I didn't know you liked TV?"

"Jaime. This is why people's jaw dropped when I told them we were going to be housemates."

He merely shrugged at her and stood there awkwardly, his hands in his pockets looking around her room.

She always thought he was aloof.

He talked to her once on the Hall of Faces. And when she tried to talk to him again he was... well rude.

So she stopped trying as was her nature.

But.

He helped with her boxes.

So she turns to him and tries again.

"You need help with yours?"

---

They took her car because she was technically blocking the driveway.

He sat silently in her passenger seat, chin cupped in hand and staring out the window.

She hated nothing more than awkward silences.

When she stopped at a light, she flipped on her radio and the last song from her PaynePod blasted though the speakers.

Embarrassingly enough it was the new acoustic cover of The Rains of Castamere.

Jaime swivelled his head at her and smirked. "Oathbreakers huh."

Okay, so the song was about gruesome Lannisters, Jaime's ancestors in the Age of the Long Summer, but it wasn't really about him.

"I find it fascinating. How they sing about the historical houses..."

He scoffs. Of course. Everyone knew her fascination with history and philosophy. She often quacked about it on Hall of Faces.

But so what?

She was tired of being treated like an outsider just because she likes to use Hall of Faces.

"Yes. I'm sure you know."

She snapped at him and refused to regret it, even though the familiar pangs of guilt creeped into her gut. You cannot please everyone Brienne. She firmly reminded herself.

"It's nice that you have something you're passionate about. I don't blame you.We can't choose who we love."

"And we can't help who we are."

He grinned at her and he placed his chin again on his hand and looked out the window.

This time around the silence was not so bad.

---

For a very lean man, he sure could eat a lot.

The amount of food in their table was enough to amuse the local diner waitress into fits of giggles.

As a doctor she tried to be healthier.

But waffles and butter were too damned good to pass up.

Apparently Jaime thought so too.

"Ahh sweet butter. The folly of man."

He savored the bite on his fork and she snorts at him.

"What? You are in no position to laugh!"

He gestured to the waffle that was currently swimming in boatloads of maple syrup and grinned at her.

"Man you really have a sweet tooth don't you?"

She stops mid chew and tilts her head at him in question.

He winces and with a sheepish smile shrugs his shoulders.

"Renly. He used to share the pastries you gave him with us. He swore by them you see. I used to steal a bit or two from him. Annoyed him to no end. Threatened to kick me out of the flat. 'Course he forgot he made me sign the lease. Anyway... they were always generously sugared and buttered. "

A flush rose to her cheeks, remembering the first time she baked, she did because she wanted her feelings to reach Jaime. Knowing Renly can give him what she made. Albeit unknowingly.

It brought a warmth to her chest, knowing that he did in some way, get to receive her feelings.

"Sorry, I should have told you they were nice."

Her reverie shatters and she remembers once again. She was Brienne. And he was Jaime. And no amount of cookie batter can change it.

"Anyway it's all good now. I'm your roommate. I don't have to steal anything anymore."

He grins at her and pushes his half empty jug of maple syrup at her and steals a bite of her bacon.

But she grins.

Maybe cookie batter and waffles just might do the trick.

(To be continued)

[what-even-is-thiss]

Fic, You Don't Know Everything

@ts-sideblog requested a fic about Logic getting mad when the others know things that he doesn’t. Let’s see where this goes.

Forgive me for using google translate, by the way. English is the only language I’m native level in and I’m only at ILR level 1 with high German.

Tip Jar

Fic under the cut. 2,093 words. I can’t think of any warnings. Let me know if I should add some. I’m bad with warnings but really feel I should get better because I myself need them for certain things. Please let me know if I should add a warning.

Abstract: Being basically one dimensional aspects of a three dimensional personality, the sides tend to be slightly territorial. Especially Logan, who can’t seem to comprehend anyone stepping out of their assigned role, even though he does so at times.

Logic was checking through his flashcards.

“German? Der Prinz ist dumm. Yes,”

He flipped to the next one. “Arabic. Al'amir ghabi. Yes,”

“Hey Logan! What’re you up to?”

Logic did not look up from his cards. “Not now, Morality. It is none of your concern,”

Patton watched him go down the hall. Logic didn’t notice the stupid Prince approaching.

“Dutch. Die prins is dom,”

“That would be Afrikaans, actually. There is a difference,”

Logic looked up to see if it was who he thought it was. Unfortunately, it was.

“Oh. Hello Roman,”

The silence between them became thick enough to cut with a knife. Logic’s eyes looked everywhere but the regal figure that was blocking his way. Roman’s arms were crossed and he looked at Logic with a cold stare that could drill through rock. After a solid half minute of this uncomfortable arrangement, Logan cleared his throat.

“So, you speak Afrikaans as well?”

“I am the imagination, Logan. I can speak any language I want, even if Thomas does not speak it,”

Roman pushed Logic against the wall and walked past him. Suddenly Logic understood how Thomas had played so many villains in plays. He then willed a trash can into existence and dumped the flash cards into it.

Any language? He could not believe this. He decided to go to a library within the mind space. That was where all the facts and practical ideas were kept. That was his space.

He decided to take refuge in the fiction library. Perhaps he could revisit the plot of an old epic or mystery novel. When he got there however, he found he was not alone.

“Hey,” said Anxiety, hanging upside down off a table reading from a book of works by Edgar Allan Poe.

Logic was slightly taken aback. “Anxiety, why are you here? This is my space. And… I have no memory of having ever read that,”

“You and Princey aren’t the only ones around here that like poetry, pocket protector. Besides, I like this guy. There’s no hope in anything. Everything is creepy. He knows the truth,”

“We have read the works of Edgar Allan Poe?” Logic asked, still not believing it.

“You don’t have all the information, Logan.”

Logan started talking quickly. “Anxiety, that is complete and utter nonsense. I am the mind. I am where the information is stored. How could any of you possibly have any information that I do not?”

Anxiety turned himself around until he sat upright. and then swayed slightly as the blood rushed out of his head.

“Oh, wow. Okay,” he finally righted himself.

“How long were you hanging upside down?” Logan asked, slightly concerned.

“Too long. Here, you want answers? Read this page. Even a literal idiot like you can figure it out. I’ve got somewhere to be,”

Anxiety shoved the open book into Logic’s chest, waited for him to get a grip on on it, and then sunk out of the library.

Logic looked down at the page Anxiety had left open. It had parts of two long poems on it and one short one. Sonnet-To Science.

Roman was walking angrily through a forest he had imagined, hacking at bushes and trees angrily with his katana. Today had not been a good day. He was experiencing a horrid case of writer’s block, he was generally feeling distracted, and then he had heard wind of Logic’s little project from Thomas and it had turned out to be true. On an ordinary day he might not be so bothered by it, but right now he was fuming.

Prince was just about to attempt to cut off a branch with one hack, when Anxiety popped out in front of him.

“Hey, Princey,” Anxiety said, an evil smirk on his face.

Roman screamed a surprisingly high pitched scream and fell over. The forest blinked away and they were standing in his room. A clean bright space with a large double bed and rich decorations that could convince you that you were in pre revolutionary France.

“What in the name of Hades’ helmet are you doing? I nearly killed you!” Roman cried out, clutching at his heart.

“Ah, cut it with the dramatics, Hercules. I’m here because you’re pissed. I thrive under these conditions. So much inner turmoil,”

Roman stood up. “So you are here to make it worse. This is why I do not like you. Well, it is among many reasons why I do not like you,”

“Oh, really? Well if you can spend two minutes of your stupid, ‘happy ever after’ existence being serious, I’ve got an idea,”

Roman looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m bored, you’re pissed, let’s mess with Logan. If we can disguise it properly, I’ll bet we can get dad in on it too. He’s pretty gullible,”

Roman sheathed his sword.

“That would not be a noble thing to do,” He said simply.

Anxiety buttered his words with sweet venom. “C’mon, man. I know you fantasize about being the villain too. It can’t always be me. When Thomas plays the bad guy we’re both right up on stage with him. You know it’s true,”

Roman narrowed his eyes and gave Anxiety a side glance. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Logic’s mind was racing. He jumped from one book to the next, picking up facts here and there. How could any of them know something he didn’t? It made no sense. Nothing around here made sense. If Thomas knew something, then Logan must know it too, right?

He thought back to when Morality had corrected him a few months before. Was he making mistakes like that all the time? Did he just say wrong words left and right? He decided to take a breather. It was almost dinner time anyways.

Anxiety smirked and sunk down away from the library and appeared back in Roman’s room.

“So?” Roman asked, “did you find anything?”

“Oh yeah. He’s worried that he’s using malapropisms. He’s also upset that we know things that he doesn’t. Now if we can…”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Huh?”

“That word. What was that word?”

Anxiety looked confused. “Malapropism?”

“Yes, that one,”

“Oh man. Maybe this was a bad idea. Yeah, this was a bad idea. A malapropism is the misuse of big complicated words, you dingus,”

The prince looked offended. “Did… Did you just make fun of the size of my vocabulary and then call me a dingus?”

“I’ve said before that creativity is not my department. Now are you ready to hit the books or what?”

The next day Logic found the prince sitting on an armchair reading a book of myths.

“Ah, Prince. I was just looking for you. We have… What is that book?”

“Oh, this? These are the Norse myths we have read. Fascinating tales. Ah, stories of death and blood and giants. True poetry,”

“I do not believe we have read that many,” Logic said

“That is where you are wrong. We have read all of them. Every surviving story we could get our hands on. Did you think I only read fairy tales, Logan?”

Logic had forgotten what he was going to ask the prince. He angrily walked away without a word.

Later, he found himself in the kitchen in search of a snack. Patton was there baking a cake.

“Hey there, Logan! What are you up to?” Patton asked, happily clapping his hands together to remove some of the flour.

Logic saw that some flour had gotten on his black shirt and began to hit it in an attempt to get it off. “Would you refrain from getting flour all over the kitchen? And why are you baking anyways? Wheat products are incredibly unhealthy,”

Morality smiled and started mixing the batter with a spoon. “Oh, I doubt it’ll kill ya teach. People have been using flour for over eight thousand years and we’re still all here, right?”

Logic took a double take. “Eight thousand years? Are you certain? I do not remember learning that,”

“Well sure. I’ve got some fun facts up my sleeve too ya know,”

He gave Logic a playful punch on the shoulder with his flour covered hand, leaving a white smear behind. Logic suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore.

Later, Logic was writing down some of his ideas for the newest video when Anxiety popped up.

“You’re worried about something,” Anxiety said.

“And what, pray tell, am I so worried about?” Logic asked as he jotted down some more things on his notepad.

“Circumlocution and malapropisms,” Anxiety said before disappearing without any explaination.

Logic looked up just after Anxiety teleported away.

“What does that mean?” He said, a little too loudly.

Logan stormed into the reference library and opened a dictionary. Roman and Patton had been bringing up stories and facts he had never heard of all day, and now Anxiety had used two words that he did not know the definitions of.

“Circumlocution. The use of many words where fewer would do. When did we learn this?”

He flipped to another page. “Malaprop. The mistaken use of a word in place of a similar-sounding one. Well, I suppose Anxiety was right, but where did he learn those words?”

Roman was listening at a vent with a recording device he had imagined. Morality was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Anxiety was leaning against the wall, hood up, cleaning his nails.

Soon, morality couldn’t hold his excitement any longer. “What’s happening in there? Can you tell?”

Roman listened carefully. “He is ranting to himself. Anxiety, just how confused is he?”

Anxiety started peeling off a bit of nail that had gotten too long. “Imagine rehearsing for ten weeks thinking you’re going to be playing an Antipholus in the comedy of errors only to find you’ve actually been cast as Troy in a stage play of high school musical the day before final dress rehearsal,”

“Very confused would have done,” Said Roman. “How did we pull that off so fast?”

“Do you know what I am?” Asked Anxiety. “I am literally fear. Seriously, do I have to tell you how to add two plus three? I know what I’m doing, Princey,”

“And he is doing a great job!” Patton exclaimed.

“He is coming this way!” Roman announced.

They all vanished before Logan turned the corner.

“Something is happening. Think. Deductive reasoning. This is what you were made for,” Logic said to himself.

Anxiety heard a knock on his door. Yeah, he knew this was a bad idea. He decided to see what would happen if he just didn’t answer.

Logic threw open the door anyways and stepped inside where he immediately tripped and fell over a pile of black skinny jeans and t-shirts.

“Do you have any kind of organization system?” Logan said, angrily getting up.

“What? Not an emotionless robot today, Spock?” Anxiety asked.

Logan gritted his teeth. An angry teacher with messy hair and a look that deadly in his eyes would probably have at least slightly disturbed someone else. However, given how many problems Anxiety caused, he had seen almost every kind of reaction from the others so this did not surprise him one bit.

“Why are you all spitting information at me? That is my job!”

Anxiety leaned against his headboard and put his hands behind his head.

“It’s quite simple, Sherlock. You have been unbearable lately, and you refuse to accept that there are facts, words, and stories that don’t have to do with you. So, with a bit of reading, and a little help from me, Princey and dad gave you one of the most frustrating days of your life,”

Logic took a breath and straightened out his hair.

“I still think you are all trying to do my job. You are all inconsequential. You will see! I know more than all of you combined,”

Logic went off to one of the libraries. Anxiety smiled and murmured to himself after he left. “Never said you didn’t, Mr. Know-it-all,”

In case you were curious about that poem Anxiety shoved at Logic:

Sonnet-To Science, By Edgar Allan Poe

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!   Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,   Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,   Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,   Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing? Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car,   And driven the Hamadryad from the wood To seek a shelter in some happier star?   Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood, The Elfin from the green grass, and from me The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?

[pinkmilkyblue]

Sonnet 34: A Rotten Prequel (Nick’s P.O.V.)

Hi everyone! Today’s the day… It’s been a year since I’ve seen Something Rotten! And even before watching it, I fell in love with the show and its characters. So here’s the first chapter of a fic I have been working on for forever! It’s set in the years before canon SR! events, and it basically sums up all my headcanons on the Bottom-Shakespeare friendship. Technically it’s my version of what happened, so idk if its an AU?? Sorry if anything is ooc or inaccurate… Comments and suggestions would mean the world to me! I’ll stop talking now, and I really hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day

And make me travel forth without my cloak,

To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,

Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke?”

Ugh. Shakespeare…. Am I right?

Yes. I hate Shakespeare. A lot.

Well, not exactly….

Actually, I used to know him; or at least I thought I did… Believe it or not, he used to be my closest friend.

What happened? To tell you the truth, I think this sonnet pretty much sums it all up. I’m sure he practically wrote it because of me. Just ask Shakespeare.

It all started one late afternoon so many years ago…

Chapter 1

“NEXT.” I yelled from my seat across the theatre.

The young actor quickly got off stage and exited the room. It was the 21st person we auditioned that day, but to no avail. Unfortunately, these people just weren’t what we were looking for…

Lord Clapham left me in charge of this production. It was simple. He paid the troupe and provided us with the funds, while we put on a great show. I was the leader of the troupe, so everything from scriptwriting, auditions and rehearsals to   previews and opening night, was my responsibility. It was a hard job, but I had to do it, for Nigel. I slumped on my seat and groaned.

“Ugh! This is hopeless. We’re never going to find anyone in time!”

“Relax, Nick. I’m sure someone great will pop up soon! You’ll see!” my younger brother, Nigel, smiled from beside me.

It must have been a pretty complicated situation if Nigel was the calm one in the room…

“But, our play opens in two weeks and we still don’t have enough actors!” I told him, beginning to give up.

“Then we’ll just find a way, like we always do!” Nigel reassured, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I couldn’t help but smile. I could always count on my brother to keep me in check. He was pretty wise for a kid his age. Ever since we came from Cornwall, Nigel and I have had to look out for one another. Times were difficult at first, but we got through it together. And we always would.

“You’re right, Nigel…” I gave in. “But that boy was the last person who signed up. It’s already getting dark. No one else has been here for hours. Where can we possibly find another actor at this t-”

Suddenly the doors flew open. To our surprise, a man in leather came rushing into the theatre.

“Sorry I’m late!” he cried, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“It’s alright.” I replied, offering him some water. “We were about to close off auditions, but you came right on time.” I said matter-of-factly.

The man sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. I’ve been trying to get into a troupe for weeks! You see, I was searching all around London until I found your flier.” he said, holding up the crumpled piece of paper.

“Anyway, you must be Sir Nicholas Bottom.” the man held out his hand.

I shook it.

Then, the young actor caught sight of the little boy hiding behind me. “And you must be little Master Nigel.” he smiled, giving a courteous bow. My brother giggled.

“And, you are?” I asked.

The young man quickly realized he hadn’t told us his name yet and said, “Oh, of course! How rude of me not to introduce myself! I’m terribly sorry. My name is William Shakespeare, but you may call me Will.”

“Alright. William, is it? What do you have prepared for us this evening.” I said before taking my seat.

“Well, Mr. Bottom, I have decided to recite a poem for the two of you.” he replied as he stepped on stage.

“I love poetry!” Nigel exclaimed happily.

William chuckled. “As do I, little sir.”

Nigel hopped eagerly into the seat beside mine, and we both awaited the start of Will’s audition. He stood there on stage, cleared his throat, and finally began.

“Come live with me and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,

Woods, or steepy mountain yields.”

Wow. This guy’s not bad… I thought to myself.

Clearly, Nigel agreed too. I could see him staring in awe from the side of my eye. He spoke with more eloquence than anyone else in the troupe. His facial expression combined with the emotion in his voice stood out. It was the same Marlowe piece that everyone else auditioned with, but something was different with William’s performance. It was perfect.

“Delights thy mind may move,

Then live with me and be my love.”

He ended dramatically, adding a bow afterwards.

Nigel gave him a standing ovation on top of his chair while I joined his applause. Will got off stage and laughed. “I suppose that means I did well?”

“You were brilliant!” Nigel exclaimed. I had never seen him happier.

“Oh stop. You’re making me blush!” he chuckled, pretending to turn red.

“He’s right, you know. You were great.” I said, trying to conceal how impressed I really was.

“Thank you Mr. Bottom.”

“However, there’s still one thing I need you to do.” I added.

Will raised his brow. Nigel’s jaw dropped. “But he was perfect!”

“Not yet.” I replied.

“What else may I offer you?” Will asked politely.

“You see, everyone else did Marlowe. I’ve seen the same thing all day. To get in, I need to see something a little different.” I explained. Sure, he was a great actor, but theatre comes with some improvisation as well. This was just my way of testing him…

“Oh. Of course.” William replied nonchalantly. “I can do another piece, if you don’t mind.” he suggested, going on stage once more.

“Go ahead…” I responded, very impressed by his immediate reaction. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit. Once William was ready, he recited the piece.

“From fairest creature we desire increase,

That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,

But the riper should by time decease,

His tender heir might bear his memory…”

Nigel and I exchanged looks. His smile widened, as his eyes were filled with awe. I was just as amazed. This time it wasn’t only because of his acting prowess. It was the poem itself. The sonnet was unfamiliar, if not unknown. I had to admit, this guy had talent…

“Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the worlds due, by the grave and thee.”

He ended, with another small bow.

“Well, what did you think?” he asked nervously, but very eager to hear our response.

Both Nigel and I were speechless. My brother broke the silence with a great applause. He grinned from ear to ear. I smiled and joined in. “Well, that was definitely something, Mr. Shakespeare.” I admitted.

“Why, thank you!” he beamed.

“Did you write it?” Nigel asked excitedly.

Will gave a sheepish laugh. “Yes actually. It’s not that good yet though…” he confessed, fidgeting with his fingers slightly.

“W-well I thought i-it was a work of art. M-Maybe even better than Marlowe!” my younger brother commended. William smiled, then turned to hear my reaction.

“I agree. Personally, I’m not the biggest fan of Marlowe-”

“Neither am I!” Will interrupted.

I raised a brow at him.

Embarrassed by his sudden comment, William quickly recomposed himself and said, “Oh… Well, what I meant was that his work is commendable, yes, but it’s not all that great.” he shrugged.

“Your sonnet wasn’t too bad either.” I grinned.

“So, does that mean I get the job…?” he asked.

I was about to reply until-

CRASH!

The sound of thunder boomed from outside, along with the pouring rain. Greatly startled by the weather, Nigel rushed to my side and hid behind my back. His breathing increased rapidly and he turned quite pale.

“Oh no.” my face fell.

Will quickly shifted his attention to my little brother. ���What’s happening? Is he alright?” he asked with concern written all over his face.

“I’m so sorry about all this. My brother deals with anxiety. Whenever he’s stressed out or scared, this happens. He has panic attacks quite often actually.” I replied while attempting to calm Nigel down.

Another crash of thunder made his attack worse. Nigel always had a fear of thunderstorms. I tried my best to resolve  the situation by stroking his hair massaging circles on his back, and telling him to take calming breaths, but it didn’t help. Will watched in shock as my little brother continued to hyperventilate.

I turned to the perplexed actor saying, “Don’t worry, I can handle it. You can just-”

But William stopped me from continuing as he approached Nigel carefully. He crouched down to the corner that the little boy was balled up in and smiled.

“It’s alright, Nigel. You do not need to be afraid. Everything will be alright.” he said calmly as Nigel looked up at him, still struggling to properly suck in air.

“Your brother is right here, and so am I. As long as you’re here, you are safe. As long as you’re with us, it will be okay.” he reassured soothingly as my brother’s breathing slowly returned to normal. “Thunder can’t hurt you. Not while we’re around…” he finished.

Just when I thought this guy couldn’t impress me any further, Nigel’s panic attack stopped. He actually stopped. My jaw dropped at the sight before me.

“W-Wow… N-No one else can calm Nigel down o-other than me…” I gaped at Will, still very shocked.

“I’m flattered.” he replied simply. “Anything for this sweet innocent angel.” Will laughed as he playfully ruffled Nigel’s short curly hair.

My little brother giggled and gave William a hug. The young actor was taken by surprise with this gesture, but nevertheless, he hugged the little boy back. This had to mean something…

“You’re in.” I blurted out, getting both their attentions.

Will furrowed his brows and asked, “Pardon?”

“I said, you’re in. You’re hired.” I repeated confidently with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

Will was absolutely thrilled. Nigel was just as delighted. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Bottom! I promise that I will not let you down.” he said ecstatically.

“Yay! Will’s in our troupe! Will’s in our troupe!” Nigel rejoiced, jumping around the theatre. Will and I laughed.

“You can start tomorrow. Don’t be late this time.” I smirked.

Will chuckled. “Alright then. I best be off…”

However, rain was still quite strong, and it was getting pretty late. I couldn’t just let the poor guy get drenched in the cold rain. So before Will could leave I shouted, “Wait!”

The young actor whirled around looking confused. “It’s still raining hard, and it’s already dark out.  If you’d like, you can stay here at our place.” I offered. Nigel seemed very pleased with this idea and nodded profoundly.

“No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t want to be a bother. I’ll be fine! Besides, I can just walk h-”

“Please stay!” Nigel pleaded. This took Will by surprise. He thought about it for a moment and finally answered, “Alright.”

Nigel and I smiled as we led him to our room upstairs.

As we entered the room, I opened the door and said, “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

It was quite cramped and could definitely use some work. “I hope it’s not too shabby for you,” I added, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s perfect!” said Will brightly. “Much bigger than my inn room.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it, William.” I beamed.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Mr. Bottom.”

“Please, call me Nick.” I told him. He ignored me completely, though.

“Goodnight, Mr. Bottom.” he grinned slyly, getting ready for bed. I rolled my eyes. This guy was stubborn, like me, as Nigel would say.

“Goodnight, William.” I replied, before finally closing my eyes and falling asleep.

NOTE: I really hoped you enjoyed it!! Just some notes… I headcanon that this event happens when Nick is 19, Will is 16 and Nigel is almost 11. Will’s audition piece is The Passionate Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe. Honestly, I don’t know much about Marlowe and how stuff go in the Renaissance era, so sorry if anything is inaccurate… The next chapter is my favorite, so stay tuned for that and let me know what you think about the fic so far!! Thanks! :)

[austennerdita2533]

Any kalijah! It doesn't really matter, both would be good. Thank you so much, I'm so excited! Your crack drabbles just make my day! ❤️

Aww, thank YOU for such sweet commendation, anon! It makes me so happy to know you enjoy my crack drabbles. 

Here’s a Kalijah-centric texting drabble for you. All I did was imagine Katherine and Elijah’s fashionable natures and this is what happened. (I don’t know where this came from, honestly? *laughs at self* *hides*) There’s some sexual innuendo, but it’s SFW. 

I hope you like it, lovely! :-D

xx Ashlee Bree

Katherine: Describe the tie you’re wearing.

Elijah: What for?

Katherine: Imagery, I need some. Just roll with it.

Elijah: No.

Katherine: Yes! Yes! Yes! Give it to me.

Elijah: No.

Katherine: Come on! Work with me here, my sexy suit muffin… *smirking emoji*

Elijah: Kol is with me.

Katherine: So what? Who cares about that Original defect, anyway?

Elijah: I do.

Katherine: Total waste of energy.

Elijah: I beg to differ. He’s impulsive, imprudent, tactless, crude, barbaric.

Katherine: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…*yawn*

Elijah: You don’t care?

Katherine: Fuck no.

Katherine: Remember, remember, the scheming shades of my temper: I attack BACK. *devil horns emoji*

Elijah: All the same, he’ll probably connive a way to hack our entire private conversation and forward it to everyone we know. All for nothing more than a good laugh at our expense.

Katherine: Whatever.

Elijah: I hate to fall prey to vulgar gossip. It’s distasteful.

Katherine: A little gossip should only embolden you, Armani Buns—especially if it’s salacious. ;)

Katherine: Let’s loosen those buttons, Elijah baby. I’ll show you how to do it with my… *lips emoji*

Elijah: No sexting, please, Katerina. I’m busy.

Katherine: Mmm, but just imagine all the ways I can make you purr with one tiny, dirty little word…

Elijah: Not now.

Katherine: [inserts pouting gif]

Elijah: It’s not the time or place.

Katherine: *talk-to-the-hand emoji*

Elijah: I’m quite serious.

Katherine: Oh, get a grip! You’ve made your point and I relent sexting (scathingly) in favor of boring old texting.

Elijah: Very well.

Katherine: *glaring emoji*

Elijah: Proceed.

Katherine: About time! Now, your tie is…?

Elijah: Silky. Skinny. Valentino.

Katherine: And the color?

Elijah: Claret. (Why is this of import?)

Katherine: Patience, patience. All will be revealed soon.

Elijah: Fine.

Katherine: That’s the one I bought for you in Milan. At fashion week in February. Am I right?

Elijah: It is.

Katherine: Mmm, that’s one of my favorite ties. *kitty heart eye emoji*

Elijah: And mine.

Katherine: I’ve always had an eye for fashionable things, something which I believe you appreciate. But I remember you being so damn ungrateful when I first bought it.

Elijah: Not ungrateful. Perplexed.

Katherine: Liar! You wrinkled your nose at it like I’d handed you someone’s severed limb.

Elijah: The gesture was unexpected. I was processing your choice of gift. That’s all.

Katherine: The style was too audacious I think you said? Ha. But I knew better. The cut and color of the tie was perfect! Everything you never realized you wanted…and needed.

Elijah: I preferred black then.

Elijah: I thought it sleek. Stylish. Suave. Whereas red…

Katherine: Red was bold and dangerous.

Elijah: Precisely.

Katherine: But you’d also forgotten that red could be striking—and sexy—with the power to highlight the flames you trap inside. Behind those gorgeous amber eyes.

Katherine: And I knew, I just knew that such a color was meant for you; and that I was the only woman alive who could persuade you to see that, too.  

Katherine: I trusted that thought and bought the tie impulsively. On a whim, hoping to enchant you. It took me no more than a few seconds to decide it should belong to you.

Katherine: That Valentino tie came right for you with lots of pomp and flare, E. I did, too. We’re both yours now. *devil emoji* *heart emoji*

Elijah: I’m glad. It turns out you have impeccable taste, Katerina.

Katherine: Yes. I do.

Elijah: And flawless instincts.

Katherine: Don’t I know it. #BitchImKittyKATABULOUS

Elijah: Just out of curiosity, what prompted your interest in my apparel today?

Katherine: Not your apparel, E. (Your tie—I care only about your tie.)

Elijah: I don’t follow.

Katherine: I’m trying to figure out what to do with it later. What to do with you later… *winky face emoji*

Elijah: I see.

Elijah: Any ideas? (Kol has departed.)

Katherine: Two. Both are enticing in different ways: think Good Kat, Bad Kat and how loud you moan when I scraaaatch.

Elijah: Go on. I’m listening.

Katherine: 1) I can tie you to the headboard, performing all those limber moves that make your toes curl.

Elijah: Option 1 has definite appeal. And the second?

Katherine: 2) I can strangle you with silk so hard it takes days for the chafing scar around your neck to heal. What’s it going to be, My Knight in Sin and Suits?: Death or Seduction?

Elijah: This conversation took a decidedly venomous turn, and I’m at a loss.

Elijah: Something has unnerved you.

Elijah: Explain.

Katherine: Oh, Elijah, Elijah! Just how I use that tie of yours will depend entirely on how you account for this morning’s events.

Katherine: So…START TALKING.

Elijah: I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re intimating. What about this morning?

Katherine: *glaring emoji*

Katherine: Don’t play innocent with me.

Katherine: You know what you did!

Elijah: I do not.

Katherine: The note, Elijah. The NOTE.

Elijah: Ah.

Katherine: [Inserts photo of an index card with elegant cursive text scrawled in the center.]

Gone on witch business with Kol.

Please don’t do anything superfluous (i.e. enrage Niklaus) while I’m away.

Back by lunch.

—E

Katherine: ^^What the hell do you call this?^^

Elijah: A message detailing my whereabouts.

Katherine: I expected better from you.

Elijah: It was a gentlemanly courtesy. Are you implying that you’d prefer to remain uninformed of my activities in the future?

Katherine: NO.

Katherine: But when my lover leaves a note on my pillow the morning following a rompin’ good night I expect flattery! Charm! Romance! Songs praising my spectacular ass and feminine wiles! Anything! Anything at all but THAT.

Elijah: Flip it over.

Katherine: What?

Elijah: That’s the back.

Katherine: ?

Elijah: Flip the card over to read what’s on the front, Katerina. I wrote something on the other side.

Katherine: You did?

Elijah: Yes.

[After a minute or two of silence.]

Katherine: AHHHHH! You wrote me poetry, mon trésor!?

Elijah: I commission sonnets in your name each day. I’ll continue to do so until Time slumps over its last hill, fading fading away.

Katherine: I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. Keats and Byron got nothin’ on you, E. Nothing! *kitty heart eyes emoji*

Elijah: Yes. Now, back to you, me, and my claret silk tie…

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