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faroreskiss · 1 year

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The Power of Understanding / Part 10

Wobble of the Head / Part 4

THERE WE GO! LONG CHAPTER!!

Part 9

Read on Ao3 / Cheat Sheet

Summary: Now you will finally find out what they were talking about when you woke up in the morning, since you didn't understand a lick of what they said. And more importantly, why.

A/N: I gave each Link a different English accent (inspired from the regional dialects/accents in the UK), so that you could get a sense of what I meant when I say "they can communicate anyway, BUT"

As always, post first/proof read later applies.

Once again, I'm here to make you feel uncomfortable. You can find the details in the end notes, and with that said, enjoy!

Rulie did notice something was odd about you, the moment he was near you at that village that this other Link (they were pretty sure at that point that it was another Link) took them to. Since it was right before a portal appearance, he initially thought it was just the air feeling wrong again. It felt different each time, so he didn’t pay much attention to it, and didn’t immediately connect the dots.

Each time they dropped down or went through a portal, there would be some residue for a limited amount of time, since it most likely took an enormous amount of magic. It would also interfere with his own fae aura sometimes, making him spill his guts out. After he collected himself, and saw you once again, he noticed you also do have some type of an aura around you. He initially thought maybe you were part fae yourself, as you reeked of a Great Fairy to his senses. The Old Man seemed to have noticed it too, as well as the Vet. But there was also a hint, such a tiny drop of it that probably anybody but him noticed it. It was something he helped collect piece by piece.

There was a miniscule amount of Triforce of Wisdom involved, in whatever aura you had. How strange.

As the Rancher got up and started speaking to you, Rulie noticed the aura interacting with the magic residue in the air. It was not like he could see it, he was just able to feel it. Something merging, something expanding, becoming more complex. Was it… leeching energy from it? He was carefully watching you interact with the Rancher, then he noticed the Old Man and the Vet were doing the same, though he really wasn’t focusing on the conversation. He heard you speak an odd language with this new Link. Then he started to pay attention, as he felt something shift in the air once again, expanding towards him.

“No but for some reason, you speak better now?” the Rancher was saying to the Captain. His ears perked up, the Rancher sounded as if he perfectly spoke his variety of Hylian (not that it was THAT different), he sounded much more modern.

Vet finally gave in as he exasperated, “Yeah, okay, what the fuck?”

As Rulie made eye contact with the Old Man, he noticed he wasn’t the only one that noticed the shift. They nodded to each other. It must be some type of translation magic… Right? Though not that anybody ever heard of something like that, maybe except the Smith swallowing jabber nuts.

“Huh… didn’t think translation magic actually existed, just like that,” he said towards the Old Man, but also to no one in particular. Well, he wasn’t that old, but sometimes he spoke like a geezer, so might as well. Then this ‘new’ Link spoke (and by the Gods, he looked like he already had a lot of scars on his face), and it just sounded like… like nothing he has ever heard before, to him. He was also noticing that you were in some type of distress, but he also attributed it to the ‘portal sickness’ for now.

Then the Sailor pointed towards this new Link with a confused expression, “Uh, that guy is BARELY understandable.” It was still so weird for everyone to hear the others speak so clearly . There was always some type of struggle before, especially when they first met. It was better now of course, but there were times where they repeatedly asked each other to repeat things where some phrases sounded downright funny.

During the introduction round, he kept glancing at you. You kept rubbing your temples every now then, but you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. It felt so refreshing to the 8 travelers that now they could speak a bit easier with each other. When it was the new Link’s turn, you spoke instead of him and translated between them. He was the Champion of Hyrule, apparently. But as the time passed, Rulie noticed that the ‘quirky accents’ as he dubbed them, were making a comeback. But at least this new Link sounded more understandable somehow. And subtly, yet steadily, the aura Rulie first felt, was now… dissipating, it was like a silent earthquake only he could feel.

And then there was blood. Blood on your blouse, coming from your nose. It happened so fast.

“Oi, catch her!” the Rancher spoke, and luckily this new Link, the Champion, caught you right on time. In his arms, your eyes were open, your body was limp but you were unresponsive. This Link was downright frantic. The scene was horrifying on its own, but it seemed like he cared about you in a specific way.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)!”

“Hey, calm down, good that you caught her. Can you lay her down?” Rulie said calmly. Even with the nose bleeding, it seemed like a case of simple fainting. He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t seem to understand every single word Rulie said. This new Link was a bit protective, as the Captain came near to offer help to lay you down, he protectively wrapped his arms tighter around you. One could almost hear the hiss, even though nothing came out of his mouth. But the Sailor helped, gesturing a laying down motion. Then, he allowed the Captain to at least hold you for a bit, as he took out something from his belt, pressed on its… surface and a bedroll materialized, much to the surprise of others. Normally they would ask, but for now they laid you down slowly onto the bedroll.

Rulie carefully moved towards the bedroll you have been on, taking pieces of cotton from his bag. He made sure this Link saw what he was doing. Just pointed towards your nose and the material. He just wanted to stop the bleeding. The Champion just nodded. Rulie elevated your head a little bit, by rolling the bedroll and gently stuck the pieces of cotton to your nose. Your eyes were now closed, your breathing even. He checked you a bit, and overall, it didn’t feel like something was amiss physically at least.

“Just let her rest for now, okay? Rest? Do you understand?”

The Champion just nodded, he seemed to have understood this time. He leaned to a tree trunk nearby.

“Any idear wots the matter wi' 'er?" Sky started talking, as the rest of them gathered around the fire that Four lit while they were dealing with you.

“Don’t know, but I sense a lot of Great Fairy magic around her, some type of an enhancement that interacted with the residual magic of the portal,” Rulie replied. Time nodded as he spoke, "So, that be wha' felt so familiar. Fayrie magick. But I don't be feelin' it as much no more.”

At the mention of the word “fairy”, the Champion’s ears perked up, "Ni a gemmeris hi dhe'n peswar Great Fairies yn Hyrule."

“What?” was the collective response from the rest of the Links. This one seemed to have kind of understood them now, but they weren’t able to completely understand him yet. He just sighed and stayed silent.

The Vet spoke up, “It’s still there, but I think it’s fading… The last residue of the portal magic is also almost gone.”

"I knaa translation magic was too good ter be true anyways. I thought she had some kind of a jabber nut or summat.", the Smith said as he kindled the fire a bit more.

The Traveler sighed. It was much better when they all understood each other so clearly. Well, not like it was that bad now. Slowly, everyone went to sleep, except the new Link and the Traveler. He offered to be the first, as he wanted to check on you again. There was still one red potion in his bag, it wouldn't hurt to give it to you when you woke up. He showed it to Link, who was still by the tree, near where you were laying down.

“Know the red potion?” he asked, hoping he understood him.

“Yea,” he replied, “An potion ma a vydh kosel dhe heal 'er, right? "

The traveler blinked. This guy now sounded a bit more understandable. And the aura around you has decreased significantly.

“Great,” he smiled back at him. There was an awkward pause before Rulie decided to ask, to figure out what happened to you. He still didn’t understand much from what this guy was saying, but he could try.

“So she has… fairy enhancements, right?” he asked. The Champion nodded. Until you started shifting again, they tried to communicate somehow (more like tried to). What the traveler understood was that you were from “another place that is not Hyrule” and was able to confirm you were taken to four different Great Fairies. Well, whatever the place you are from, he could feel that you were different. Your ears were weird too, why were they round? He noticed it when he came to check on you. It was said that the ears of Hylians were long, so they could hear the messages from the heavens above.

Noticing you are awake, the Champion started talking with you, seeing you shift in the bedroll. The traveler had no idea what you were talking about, but he politely offered the red potion to you. He tried keeping his distance, to test something. He noticed that whenever he was near enough, whatever that Link or you spoke became complete gibberish again.

Huh.

When he moved a bit further, Link was understandable to an extent, but whatever you were saying was… something completely foreign. How were you even able to understand each other with him?! Meanwhile, he saw you drink and react to the potion, your face twisting like a LikeLike, it was hilarious. He couldn’t help himself but snicker. He came closer again, both to check on you, you seemed to be doing alright physically. I guess you thanked him, he supposed, nodded and just waved a hand, trying to say ‘It’s nothing’. He didn’t want to speak, because if this happened because of a fairy enchantment combined with the portal residual magic, there was a good chance that your brain simply… overloaded. He almost opened his mouth and closed it again, and pointed towards his bedroll, and made the gesture for sleep. You said something else to him, but it didn’t only sound gibberish, it sounded otherworldly. He just smiled back at you, at least he was glad you looked fine.

It was time to wake the Rancher anyway, he really wanted to get back to sleep. He moved towards where he was sleeping and woke him up. The ranch hand grunted, but he ended up getting up and Rulie went back to sleep, getting all cozy in his bedroll.

Twilight took a deep breath and leaned against a tree trunk, as he waited for everyone to fall asleep. Sure, strange things kept happening to them all the time, they met other versions of themselves, for Ordona’s sake , but the fact that they were able to understand each other so clearly for a moment, and then the effect disappearing, was a new thing. A new Link… He wasn’t sure how to feel. To him, he wasn’t very new . He wasn’t able to reveal his Hylian form as he was sent to his Hyrule some years ago, and then he was suddenly pulled back as his adventure ended. What a wild young man he was. Would he even remember him, recognize him? He seemed also very protective of the woman he came with. Maybe they were lovers? He wasn’t sure. He saw them snuggling to each other on a single bed roll after some type of bickering, but that wasn’t enough proof for him anymore, especially after seeing how the hero of the Skies didn’t think much of stuff like that. ‘Beds are for sleeping, and we slept in them, so what?’ he would say. Ah, the rancher sighed.

After making sure everybody went to sleep, he shifted.

___

Wild was able to fall asleep so quickly, habits he supposed. That didn’t stop him from being a light sleeper though. He woke up to you shifting in the bedroll. He was still half asleep, as the haze of the sleep was still heavy on his eyelids. As you said something , he didn’t understand you at all. Was it too silent? No, he actually didn’t understand.

“What?” he said, as he saw your eyes were darting around, scanning the camp. Then you said something else. He raised an eyebrow, and repeated his question once again, with his sleepy hoarse voice. He was so tired. Maybe the lack of energy was just getting to him, or maybe you were also so tired you didn’t realize what you were saying. He asked if you were okay, that you sounded odd. He only heard you sigh and the stretch again, and then pulled you back to the bedroll. By Hylia’s name, he wasn’t able to get the scenes out of his head, scenes from only a night before. A red flush creeped into his cheeks as he pulled you back to himself once again, to the crook of his neck, and let the sleep embrace you both.

___

As the sunlight hit his eyes, Wild woke up. It was a challenge peeling you off of him, as you grasped him like how a little baby would grasp an adult’s pinkie. After he escaped your grip, he took his slate out once again, seeing he still had some ingredients left. Cooking was always a good outlet to not think about things for now, as they would probably drive him crazy as easily. As he lost himself in the holy act of cooking, the others also started to wake up, including you.

The teenager looked extremely energetic, as he was shouting “Guid mornin'” to everyone. Oh? That actually didn't sound so bad to his ears. The others also started to greet him back in mumbles.

“Gude mornin,” Wild said, not particularly caring whether or not they understood at this point.

“Goo' mornin” came from multiple Links.

The teenager put his hands to his waist as he looked quite surprised, he pointed at Wild.

“He disnae speak oor Hylian, how?!”

Wild was taken aback. Sure, he sounded funny but understood what he meant perfectly fine. It wasn’t the case last night.

“Hey, I do understan' 'ee!" he replied to the Sailor. With the rest of the group and the newfound realization, they started the chitter chatter right away. Apparently, it was the Rancher’s Hyrule.

Meanwhile, you also woke up, they noticed. You looked quite distressed, Wild started to worry a bit. You said something once again towards the Rancher, in a language Wild didn’t understand. Nobody understood it really. There was an awkward, stunning pause. You looked quite lost. The guy with one eye open pointed towards you as he spoke.

"An' 'er? She spoke when we fust met?"

“Ai dunt knaa, aa didn't understand her at nait either." replied the Healer. Traveler, they called him, Wild remarked to himself.

"Woht? But she cle'arly spoke when we met,” the Rancher said, pointing the question more towards him. Damn, all of these people spoke so funny. But then he stopped stirring the stew he was preparing, as he looked at you. You got up, and started slowly moving towards him, your steps unsure, your eyes filled with desperation.

“Link?” was the only word he understood from your inquisitive sentence. Wild had absolutely no idea what you just said. He gulped. He tried to open his mouth, but the only two words that came out were ‘what’ and ‘how’.

The Vet, just cursed under his breath. Honestly, he didn’t hear him not-curse so far, even though for some reason it was always the teenager that got scolded for it.

Then Wild looked at you once again. He saw the blood drain from your face, the slow descent into panic. It was subtle, anybody else would have thought you were just a little bit surprised. Your breathing was quick. Even the rancher could feel from a distance that your heart beat was off the charts.

Suddenly, you stumbled a little bit, trying to hold onto something, but he got you.

He always got you.

He held your hands as he made you sit on the floor again, he sat in front of you, he held your hands in his and gestured you to take deep breaths.

“Hey, I’m here,” he softly spoke. He counted together with you till you calmed down. Just like how you did it with him, whenever a memory came to haunt him.

He was just returning the favor.

_______

“We're gonna gan t'my place,” the ranch hand said decisively, as the group kept following his lead, he was just idly chatting with the Captain since he didn’t understand much from the magic stuff either. Meanwhile, Wild never left your side, even for a bit, even as he spoke to the others.

The Traveler, the Old Man along with the Veteran and the Smith, were discussing what they could do about your situation. Since now they could all communicate somehow, except you, Wild was able to explain to them what happened. How you were found, how you were taken to the four Great Fairies so you could learn the language faster.

"Wor did the fairies actually say they would dee?" asked Rulie once again, to clarify.

“They sez so she could slowly unnerstan' and graps and commun'cate, make it all unnerstood,” Wild replied. It was now becoming more clear to Rulie. There was no way you were from any of their worlds. He shared his theory with the rest of them.

"Wot do yer mean? I ain't technically from Hyrule either, y'know." said Sky.

Rulie explained that he thought you would most likely be coming from another dimension. Legend agreed, having been to different places during his time.

"The only toime Ah felt that kind of diff'rence from a person was when Ah was in Lorule... an' even then, it wasn't this strong."

Time was simply nodding, as he didn’t think he had much to add to the discussion. He had been to Termina, but at least it was still similar enough to Hyrule.

Wild couldn’t deny any of the statements they made. He felt like something was tugging at his chest.

"So wha', wha' happened to 'er, will she ever unnerstan' us again?" He was slightly frantic.

Rulie explained his theory that the Great Fairy magic most likely affected you fundamentally, since how you were simply another being , your brain wasn’t able to comprehend the voices produced by them, just as they were not able to understand anything you said when you spoke your language, whatever it was.

Of course, this was met with a question from both Four and Wild, then how was it fine until now?

“Simple,” the Traveler explained. "Until then, she only 'ad t' deal wi' one Hylian. Everybody spoke the same thing, an' prob'ly in 'er heed, it was a language she was fam'liar wi' that was just warped. Now... wi' all of us 'ere... An' wi' the portal..."

Right. They also had to explain to Wild that the magic from the portals that take them, might sometimes affect the environment, and the auras they have. Making them… feel worse. Interfering with their magical items. This time, it decided to interfere with her aura. And with everything combined…

"So you'm sayin' she short circuited?" Wild said. Well, nobody knew what short circuiting meant. He sighed. At least it seemed like Rulie and the Legend understood him, or what he meant.

"If ye mean she owerloaded, aye. An' now the enchantment's gannin'.” Rulie said. The Vet continued his sentence for him. “ Though at least, since she spent quite some time with ye, absorbing the land’s magic, she kan at least learn the language mannally,” a pause. “...probably."

"I'd rec'ommend a jabber nut, but not sure if it'd work. It's only for the minish..." the Smithy added. Wild felt really frustrated, but tried not to show it. The discussion went on. They decided to possibly consult the spirit the Rancher mentioned, when they made it to their destination. Wild was quite reluctant about it, but hey…

Seeing that the “big boys” were having a serious discussion he absolutely eavesdropped on, Wind decided to try something. He looked at you, and noticed how tall you are compared to most of them. Combined with the complicated discussion he just listened to, he just decided to try to make conversation with you, in his own way. Just then, he noticed a cloud between the sea of clouds. There was a specific one that really looked like his ship with Tetra.

“Woah, mad…” he said out loud.

Why not?

He took your hand to get your attention, and pointed towards it. “Cloud!” he shouted.

As you replied to him with words he cannot comprehend, you made the shape of the cloud with your hands, drawing it into the air.

“Yes! Cloud!” he repeated again.

Four and Wild were watching the exchange from behind as the rest of them continued their chatter. If you weren’t able to say a simple word, if you weren’t able to comprehend their lexicon now, it was going to get much more complicated.

“Cl-oud, clo-ud,” you said, a bit awkwardly, but you were able to say it. That’s what mattered. Unbeknownst to you, a lot of the Links sighed internally.

“Aye, noo say it a few mair times," Wind said smugly, and made you repeat the word at least five more times. Sadly, they weren’t able to play it in reverse. You weren’t able to teach the language you spoke to them for now, it seemed.

After a while, Four also joined your little game of teaching you little words, there was yet hope after all, in this sea of confusion.

Maybe it was your power of understanding what they said, would help them figure out why you got involved with them in the first place.

Sky: Kentish Time & Twilight: Suffolk Wild: Cornish, and then English with Cornish accent Four: Norfolk Wind: Scottish Legend & Hyrule: Geordie (Newcastle) (Except at the start) As always, happy to answer your questions (or in case you didn't understand a thing they said) :3

#the power of understanding #linked universe au #zelda fanfiction #linked universe #hylian language #fictional language #translation #linguistics #linked universe x reader #fluff #link x reader #legend of zelda #zelda fandom #languages #reader insert #isekai reader #isekai #i simp for any linguistic details

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blubushie · 6 months

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(this got long, sorry. I DID say you couldnt stop me, significantly less sorry about that.)

Okay first of all, the characters are stupid thin. Yeah, its a stylized artstyle, I can get behind that, cool, Vivzie’s gimmick is that her designs are fun and bouncy and remind you of DeviantArt, good for her. But a gimmick shouldnt get in the way of quality! Not every character has to be stick-straight thin! Beelzebub is a character from Hazbin Hotel’s spinoff, Helluva Boss. One aspect of her character is that she’s extremely skinny due to her stomach being a lava pit. Except.. She doesnt looks skinnier than the other characters! Because they all look like they can fit a grand total of half their nervous systems in those scrawny torsos! AND more on Beelzebub, she lives in a hive, she’s referred to as a ‘Queen Bee’, theres a lot of bee/insect/honey/motifs about her… and she’s a wolf. A bee-wolf hybrid, sure, but functionally a wolf. The thing is, insect anthros exists, and they look good, and if you had any sense while running a show, you’d either ditch the heavy insect motifs or learn how to draw a damn anthro bee. Angel Dusts body is as thing as his arms and the other characters don’t fare much better. The buff characters have a bad case of ‘skipping leg day’ just so Vivzie can give THEM toothpick waists too. Give me Asmodeus with stomach fat or give me death. Actually, give me 75% of the characters with more body fat or give me death. I say 75% because the skinniness isnt an inherently bad thing, the whole show is stylized so its pointless talking about fat ratios. The problem is that ALL THE FUCKING CHARACTERS ARE BUILT LIKE THIS. Second of all, theyre way too overbearing. Take Husker. Cool design. Nice and simple. Digging the overalls-- oh god why does he have wings. Why does his tail look like that. I guarantee you if you take away the wings and give him a normal cat tail, his design would be good. But for some reason they keep on adding more details, more giant huge additions, more weird accessories that SCREAM “emo preteen who pathologizes their kinda strict parents”. Sir Pentious, now! Like that he’s a snake and remains legless. LIke the pinstripes. Aaand his hat has its own face. Why? It detracts from the character’s facial expressions because now you’re looking at his damn hat for the facial expression changes. At least the eyes on his hood are just tiny pupils, but his hat has a fucking mouth too! But even so, the eyes on his hood are still distracting, especially since Sir Pentious’ head is so small in comparison. Thirdly, SO MUCH GODDAMN RED HOLY SHIT. Cool it with the fucking red. Please. We get that its hell. We can tell because a character swears every other words and pulls the ‘>:D’ face every damn second. You dont need to make everything red. Please just fucking stop it. Its nothing but eyestrain and takes away from good character designs when so much of their colours are just black and different shades of red. Characters like Vox, who is mostly blue, was genuinely such a relief even though he still had some red because FINALLY something wasnt red or a light hue of red. Heres the kicker, that 50k video of Verbalase being chased by Charlie had better colour schemes than THE SHOW ITSELF. It was OKAY TO LOOK AT. The colours didnt give me a headache for once. None of the main cast’s designs work together. Husker looks like a cartoon character. Charlie looks like a “Sans’ Girlfriend” persona. Vaggie looks like a fantasy rpg character. Alastor looks like someone’s 2 edgy 4 u serial killer oc. And none of them work together. DOUBLE kicker, one character has a nose that isnt a pointy, anime girl, miniscule thing, its a hooked nose. And she’s themed after the 1920s. And she’s fat. And she likes money-- its a fucking jewish stereotype.

You could make these designs so much better just by remedying ANY ONE of the points I made! Change the colours! Remove obstructive elements! Give them varied bodies! These designs only appeal to little kids cause theyre bright and move around a lot! But theyre functionally awful! There I said it. God.

Presented without comment (I have nothing to add cuz you said it all)

#blu whos #I'm not tagging the fandom purely for your sake

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himbogiants · 1 year

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Part of your world: part 2

Part 1

I should really be studying omfg- but I just needed to write! Maybe exam anxiety is the cure for writers block? Nevertheless, enjoy!

Word count: 5665

The miniscule girl approached the camera as her friend left and sat down in front of it. Testing the waters she tapped it, screaming away incase anything happened. Definitely the bold type, for all this borrower knew this thing could've been a trap- and it sort of was, just not intended to capture her.

She reflected their own astonishment, only hers was for an object rather than a tiny being that very much defied the laws of physics and nature. Her friend rejoined her, asking what it could be. He seemed far more cautious. He must've thought it was a trap. This 'Riven' spoke of traps earlier when they had sat down on the ledge (a detail fracturing Theos mind alone, that a fall from that height could kill them). They must have known of the rat traps then. He'd have Henry remove the death devices as soon as this was over.

Which didn't take long. After that he insisted on leaving, which 'Daphne' wasn't all too happy about.

Only he promised to return.

Tonight.

The whole way back to the wall she didn't take her eyes off the camera, before slipping in behind a loose tile and disappearing from their world.

Theo paused the footage, knowing from his rewatches that those little beings didn't make a reappearance.

He turned to the group, whose expression echoed his own as he first laid eyes on the duo.

"This is crazy" Thomas whispered- almost as if he feared talking too loud would do something bad.

"Indeed..I, I apologise Theo. It may not have been ghosts but this. I'm not quite sure what to make of this." Henry spoke with an expressionless face, but Theo knew on the inside he was screaming internally, something he was far too collected to ever display in front of his friends.

Sadies face suddenly contorted into one of concern "Theo- does anybody else know about this?"

This lulled Theo from his happiness as he regarded her.

"Um no why?"

Sadie seemed to sigh in relief

"Good. Keep it that way. It's clear these guys don't wanna be found. It could be downright catastrophic if the wrong people got their hands on this footage-"

Theo interupted sheepishly

"We- I mean well of course I agree but..but we are gonna meet them right? I mean this..this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, we have to sieze it now! This is like something from a campaign!"

Everyone's features flattened either with anger or dismay. Thomas, Sadie and Henry looked angry, Maisey and Theo looked dismayed.

"Dude! What?"

"Your suggesting we capture them?"

"No Theo! We'd give 'em a heart attack we need to leave them be. We're like a hundred times bigger than them"

Theo turned bashful instantly and began to defend himself

"No no! I don't wanna capture them! I'd never do that! O-or scare the little guys..I just want to talk to them! Can you guys seriously tell me with absolute certainty you don't want to do the same?!"

Everyone went quiet at that, almost in some sort of shame. It was fairly obvious that they all shared the passion, but didn't feel like voicing it.

Maisey sighed, flexing her fingers as she tried to grasp an idea of how to structure her words

"I understand Theo, but if that footage was any recognition, they don't exactly like humans- well one of them doesn't anyways. The girl might be..dexterous, but her friend isn't. If they wanted to be found then they would've made themselves known."

Everyone seemingly agreed to this brushing their own selfish desires aside- all except Theo who was exasperated.

"I wouldn't hurt them Maisey!- or intend to scare them!" He looked down, away from his group feeling to embarrassed to meet their gazes.

Until Henry chipped in.

"Well..perhaps communication isn't a terrible idea."

Everyone's eyes snapped to Henry, almost in surprise that the most logical of the bunch was saying such things. This was uncanny territory for them, Henry wasn't particularly one to agree with Theo on brash ideals.

"These two are interesting to say the least, I too would like the chance to converse with them. But if we are to do such a thing it must be in a way that is absolutely safe for them. And more importantly doesn't give them a heart attack- especially since we don't know their anatomy."

Thomas nodded carefully, as he processed the information

"We also need to set up some ground rules. Us five are the only ones who know of this, yes? It stays that way. Nobody else can know, for their safety."

Theo found his smile again, as he watched his friends slowly but surely form a plan.

Henry grasped his beverage once more, scanning each of his friends, but his eyes for the most part lingered on Theo.

"For now however I propose we simply watch through the cameras. More information could be beneficial to our venture."

Sadie piped in with a glance to Thomas, as if echoing his rules

"This doesn't leave this group. Or even this house. I wouldn't even trust discussing this on campus."

Evergone seemed to nod in unison and Theo sat down by the sofa with child like wonder pooling in his gaze. This was actually gonna happen. He pinched his arm sharp, ensuring this wasn't some dream or hallucination. But sure enough this was reality, and he couldn't be happier.

He turned to Henry, whose stoic expression was beginning to seem uncanny for the situation.

"Okay then! But before any of that, we gotta remove those rat traps. I..I don't even want to think about what one of those could do to a..a borrower."

Henry's eyes widened ever so slightly. In his sense of disbelief he'd almost disregarded those all together, he rose to his feet heading for the kitchen, only to pause before hand "of course. For now, everyone continue as normal. They only come at night after all. Now, anyone want tea or coffee? I assume we're divising our plan now, and we should take time with this."

Daphne never did like mornings in the colony. Namely for her 'responsibilities'. Oh how she loathed them. Her father, so high and mighty, refused her constant requests to borrow, but 'scouting' was perfectly fine. Deep down she knew he was just concerned. She'd lost her mother at a very young age- not to anything human related that is. No, it had been illness. Who would've guessed that living off findings and the land would mean terrible health care? Not the colony anyways, that was sure. Humans had that all figured out. She'd even heard they had magical properties called 'pills' that healed you when sick! How on Earth humans conquered the magnitude of magic She'd never know- but she would do just about anything to find out.

She supposed that was why besides holding him dear as a treasured friend, she was beyond thankful for Riven. Without him, Daphne was almost absolute that she'd make reckless decision after reckless decision, or perhaps..be dead.

Riven was the only one who ever listened. While he may not share her obsession, he respected it and her in his own way and that was all she could ask for. Though his respect only went so far, he would not condone any sort of contact with the humans. He was her voice of reason most of the time always having some sort of evidence as to why she shouldn't reveal herself, though it did kill her when he refused at leaving notes.

This mornings patrol was uneventful as usual. Her father always had her positioned in the safest spots after all. Not only that but due to his apparent dislike for her dearest friend, when he had the time, he ensured she was not stationed with Riven- so naturally the patrol dragged by excruciatingly slow. But all things come to an end at some point and after a sluggish morning it was time for the change over and she was off duty. Immediately she hurried to the rotted tree near the border of their hidden haven where leaning back against the bark Riven was waiting for her.

His lips quirked into a knowing smile and he tilted his head

"Long day?"

She let out a combination between a groan sigh and a dry laugh, coming to his side as the pair began walking

"You have no idea. I was stuck with Fergus."

Rivens laughter bounced off the trees around them and in a teasing manner he raised a brow

"Oh really? And what's so wrong with poor Fergus?"

She turned to face him with a deadpanned expression and upon seeing his poor attempts at hiding a smirk she thumped him lightly in the arm, tugging his lips upward

"You're the worst." She chuckled

He furrowed his brow in mock offense

"Truly? Worse than Fergus?"

Her soft smile played at her features as she pondered at the ground

"No, I suppose not."

The pair came to a stop just before the secluded pathway and she clapped her hands

"OK. So here's the plan. I'm gonna hurry in and grab my stuff, you go get yours. You know the drill by now, don't be seen."

Riven scoffed with a mumble to follow

"Funny how you're more concerned about our own people seeing you than humans Daph."

Daphne rolled her eyes

"Well, yes, of course! If our own people knew what we get up to they'd probably kill us"

"Correction, you're father would kill us. Or in reality, worst case-"

"I know what you're gonna say so don't. Fathers..cold. But he'd never resort to that. Even if he isn't very fond of you. I'm his daughter, and you're my friend. I'd never let it happen"

"Never let what happen?"

The pair swiftly spun around to see Barney behind them. Both their faces dropped, into disgust and annoyance. Fathers dearest protégé Barney.

Barney was a nasty piece of work. Brutish. Rude. Exactly why he was a guard. Daphne despised him. Her father adored him. He was everything he had wanted in a child, and despite never saying it out loud- his face gave it away.

Daphne could try and excuse Barney's attitude, but how he treated Riven infuriated her. He was always so horrid to her dear friend- which is something her father respected no doubt.

"Barney." Daphne retorted in an ice manner

"Hello dear. I see you've encountered some rather poor company. I can fix that" He grinned crudely. Riven stepped forward almost in front of Daphne. He was well aware of how much Barney repulsed her.

"Take a hike, you rat"

Daphes face contorted further

"What he said. Nobody wants to look at your ugly mug any longer than we have to"

Barney scowled at this, advancing threateningly on Riven, ignoring her words all together

"Excuse me?"

Riven rose to the challenge, he wasn't about to let this rotten boy near his friend.

"Going deaf Barney? Can't be awfully good for a guard."

"Listen here pond scum, she's got better people for company than the outcast."

"That's for her to decide. And if she truly rather confide her time with 'pond scum' it speaks volumes of how much she'd rather avoid you."

Barney's eyes darkened but before the two could break out into a fight Daphne stepped forward between the boys.

"Leave. Now."

Barney's eyes fell to her and a sickening grim smile plagued her eyes. He trailed his fingers through her hair making her eyes sharpen and Riven down right snarl, before her friend could land a punch, Barney spoke up.

"I suppose I have better things to do than fight off this pest. Plus I'm supposed to be meeting the chief now- something Riven here will never do " His attentioned flicked to Riven, then back to her "another time, darling" He winked.

Daphne fumed watching him walk over scrubbing her face with her sleeve.

"That vulgar piece of- UGH"

Riven put a hand on her shoulder

"You okay?"

She released a frustrated breath. "Words cannot describe how much I hate him, and hes going to meet my father. I know exactly what that means"

"You're not the only one." But he went quiet at the second part. He knew what it meant as well. But he also knew how much she hated thinking about it.

Still he hated even more to see his friend in dismay. He knew exactly what would cheer her up. He loosely took her hand testing the waters

"Come on Daph. Let's go get our gear."

She seemed to instantly brighten at this and her enthusiasm seeped back in, she tightened the hold.

"Sure thing."

The duo set off as the evening sun began to set, and soon stars would paint the sky.

The plan wasn't as simple to lay out as the group had hoped it would be, but Henry expected as much. Each scenario ended with the borrowers (a concept his mind still hadn't completely grasped) conversing with them..but it was getting to that point that was the hard part.

In truth it would be quite easy. They could easily catch them. They could set up traps. The could study their routine and catch them off guard. But that would break any possibility of trust and not to mention, defy any sense of morality and treating them humanely. These two, 'Daphne' and 'Riven' had intelligence. They couldn't deal with them like animals. The concept alone felt wrong. Though it wasn't as if they could just wait in the kitchen and strike up a conversation (that had been Theos idea)

Maisey suggested leaving notes- not a terrible idea but while Daphne would be intrigued, Riven was sure to dissuade her interest and it would most likely result in the pair never coming back- lest Daphne came back alone, but given what he had gathered on their relationship he doubted the girl would do so. They seemed rather close.

Thomas suggested they try find ways to make them come more often like leaving out food or supplies. Though Sadie had said once again they werent animals, and wouldn't be so easily tricked- not only that but given how cautious the boy had been been about the Coke lid it was uncertain they'd take that bait, as well as that, they seemed to have a good amount of knowledge on the concept of traps- not that food was meant to be a trap, rather an offering- but again, it would most likely cause concern and lead to them once again not returning.

It was shaping to be an impossible dilemma. On one hand they wanted to act soon, on another they knew they had to be patient. And so the group sat. They had wasted most of the day, nobody was free today after all, everyone had assignments to catch up on. Yet here they were nonetheless, plotting away.

"Well, what if we do take my idea and wait in the kitchen until they come out? The once they were in, we could seal off the exit long enough to ensure them it was safe-"

"That's trapping them Theo."

"No no it's not trapping!, I mean.. ok so it kinda is- but in a nice way. Once they realise it's okay they'll calm down and..and this is a terrible idea. One can't trap someone in a nice way, can they?" Theo pouted slightly.

Thomas seemed to smirk at this, he hadn't really smirked a lot today, this was proving a harrowing experience for everyone.

"No, no I don't think so Theo."

Theo slumped back

"I guess..I guess we leave it then?"

This surprised all his friends, who hadn't expected him to say such a thing given his excitement earlier.

"Really?" Sadie asked, no doubt voicing everyone's thoughts

"I mean..what else can we do? Every idea just ends in scaring them or making them leave for good- which are two options I'm not liking."

"So..we kinda just came full circle then didn't we? This was our initial reaction after the footage.." Thomas sighed.

Silence fell over them all. Until Maisey piped up.

"Maybe..I..okay.. the girl seemed really interested in the camera. We can't treat them like animals. We can't leave stuff like food out without seeming obvious. We can't leave stuff they'll see as any sort of offering either. So what if we just feed their interests? Daphne, was that her name? She, she seemed to like the camera right? So what if we left a phone? Innocent enough. It's your home after all, leaving a phone in the kitchen isn't that crazy of an idea. We might even win over Riven? I think that was his name? well we might win him over too. If we cant give them food to eat, give them food for thought? And maybe from there we can decide where to go next. We might learn more about them from it. Plus if they could see one our of camera rolls on our phones they'll see our group pictures, and might deem us friendly?"

Henry fiddled with his fingers, considering the idea, as did Sadie. Theo seemed to be on board with any idea that seemed rational. Thomas perked up with scanning the coffee table.

"Henry, if we do this, it's got to be your phone. If they do look though pictures, they might see the footage of them on Theos. That's a definite red flag. We will one hundred percent never see them again."

Henry stood.

"Well then. I'm going to disarm the traps. I believe we have a plan"

The clock ticking was once again the most apparent noise filling the empty kitchen, pairing once again with the moonlight and tonight the addition of the occasional drip of droplets falling from the tap.

And finally, two pairs of small feet, followed by two smaller voices.

Slipping through the tile Daphne continued their conversation, hurrying out like she had the night before

"-wait to see it! I hope it's still here!"

Riven who rushed after her panted as he exited the wall

"I'm sure it is Daph! Just- phew- let me catch my breath, yeah?"

Daphne stood star struck. It was still here!

But something else had caught her eye.

"Riven! Riven!! Get over here!!"

Riven had immediately noticed the lack of traps, he was sure Daphne did too, but she was more focused on her newest find, th box. The lack of traps made him itch. It was a good thing there was absolutely no arguing with that- but why the sudden removal? Those traps hadn't been touched in ages..the traps were gone, the strange box had appeared something was off. But before he could think any further he heard Daphne yelling his name.

Thinking his friend was in danger, scrambled to get over as quick as possible, only to see she was perfectly fine. Leave it to Daphne to unintentionally give him a heart attack. But then his eyes met the object that captivated her, and he felt he very well could collapse there and then.

Another human object- like that strange box from their last venture- which was sure enough still there, it's little red light blinking- something about it still unnerved him, he just couldn't put his finger on it, though he was almost sure it had something to do with the missing traps..

But this one was different. It was flat, its surface covered in the same sort of sleek glass from the circle on the box.

His concerned paired rather poorly with Daphne's astonishment. But before he could even speak she'd already pressed her hands against it, and snatched them away instantly. He sucked in a deep breath at this- but calmed when nothing happened. This could be a trap of some sorts..he needed to ease her away from it.

"Huh...l guess they don't do much..odd. We should leave it alone.."

Daphne wasn't one to give up however

"No no, it has to do something! Humans are far too creative to build something so..unexplainable and have no reason for it!" Unafraid this time, she softly brushed her hands over it only only notice another feature, her excitement making Riven jump.

"wait! Look here, there's bumps on the side!"

She scooted over to them. One was a long line, the other a short one. She pressed it experimentally but nothing happened.

She cocked her head and looked to Riven

"Maybe I need to push harder? Here go on the opposite side and hold it steady"

Riven swallowed, reluctant to do so, but found his legs giving in to the command. Still, nothing happened.

After a second failed attempt, her giddy smile was morphing into one of confusion.

"Okay... oh right! Maybe it needs to be pulled? But..no they wouldn't make sense. If it's too difficult for us to pull at this height it would be way to small for a human." She sat in concentration and regarded the second shorter line.

Maybe?

She pressed down and suddenly light filled the room!

She gasped aloud and scurried backwards, Riven who was equally shocked, let out a yelp, almost falling off the counter- but managed to stop just before the lethal fall.

Daphne gasped his name and hurried over to her friend skidding before him "gosh! Are you okay?!"

Riven who was collecting himself let out a shakey breath

"S-sure.. didn't expect that."

Daphne found herself laughing at this

"Me neither.. but I was right! It does do something!! Come on we gotta figure out what!"

Riven was less enthusiastic, but hesitantly made his way back over. The glassy surface had gone black once more.

"Okay..let's try this again"

With a push, the illumination was back and the pair stared down, ones eyes like the stars themselves, ones with fear and caution.

Daphne inspected the sight before them. A picture of mountains and a gorgeous lake in the summertime shone before them. And this time, despite his better judgement Riven founr himself in awe

"Woah.."

"Do you think it's a doorway? Can humans do that? No..too big. But do..do you think we could?"

It would be Riven this time who carefully reached forward and tapped the expanse before them.

Only for it to deny entry.

"Huh..I don't think so"

Riven couldn't believe his own sudden lure to this stange object, fascination with human stuff was his counterparts thing, not his. And yes here he was almost captivated by the sight before him. He noticed a strange detail near the tip of the moutain top

"what are those numbers up there?"

Daphne scratched the side of her head, and tugged on her hair in thought, reading them out.

"Zero Two..dot dot One Zero? Um maybe some sort of code?"

The screen went black abruptly and Daphnes face reddened a little disheartened.

"Oh..maybe I was wrong"

She pressed on the side once more and the image was back, as were the numbers- only before them the numbers changed the zero and two remained the same on the left but on the sight there was now a pair of ones.

She scanned the magical glass in intrigue unable to figure the mystery out, but words found there way anyway.

"And here I thought humans only conquered healing magic, I have no clue what this power is but it's..beautiful."

Riven pulled his eyes away from the phone, watching her instead, his cheeks burning ever so slightly- but he coughed it aside and read the words below the numbers in smaller writing.

"Tues, May, two..what do you think that means?.."

Daphne couldn't fathom an answer

"No idea.. oh! Wait! Humans measure time differently right? I heard from the borrowing squad they have names for not just days of the week but the months too. May is a summer month from what I recall? Tues could be the day Tuesday. But it isn't Tuesday until sunrise surely? It's still night..maybe the magic is wrong? Two is odd though, I'm lost on that"

She longed for an explanation, questions were bombarding her mind- and then another detail caught her eyes.

"Look- 'swipe to unlock' unlock...as in like locks from the big glass things- windows?..but..but I don't know how to get those locks open..it's why we use the walls after all- and to hide I suppose"

She gave a contemplative hum, and looked up at the window across the room.

"Swipe..swipe.. like to swipe something? Wait Daph maybe we have to do some sort of action to 'unlock'?"

Daph whirled around to face Riven again as it dawned on her too

"Excellent idea! Alright!"

But then she paused

"But what does that mean? Swipe at our surroundings?"

Riven shrugged, equally lost and in search of answers.

"We could try it?"

And so the two made exaggerated movements at the air, hitting and swiping with all their might, but the screen went black once more.

They both huffed at this. Riven gave a determined nod and Daphne excitedly pressed the button once more. She'd never seen her friend this interested in human stuff, and she didn't want to let the opportunity slide.

We the light springing back on they tried again..and again.

"Maybe together?"

In unison they tried again, but there arms went opposite ways, and to avoid getting hit, Daphne slipped forward falling onto the object.

Rivens eyes widened and apologies spilled.

"Daph! Sorry! I should've asked which direction. You okay? Here"

He held out his hand to pull her up but she was giggling at the silliness of it all. She took his hand assuring him

"Riv I'm fine! Don't worry so much it was only a-"

As he pulled her up her arm unintentionally brushed on the glass and below her everything changed.

She sprung up at this.

"Wait! That worked?! Maybe it likes humiliation.."

Hand in hand they gazed down below mouths agape. The view had changed entirely and hundreds of squares filtered before them.

Daphne fell to her knees once more to try something. Wordlessly, her palm pressed against a square and it immediately grew in size to cover the expanse entirely.

But it was what was in the square that made her heart stop.

"Riven.."

"I..I see them Daphne"

People their height, all sitting at a table- Daphnes mind was blown.

"Are they..borrowers? H-humans know about us? No no this..this can't be true! If humans know then why are we living in secret out in the forests? And look Riv, their clothes! The furniture! They all fit perfectly.."

Riven found fear melting into him once more, pushing out that previous joy and shock.

"Daphne..this.. this is a human object and.. they," He pointed at the group below "are our height. What if..what if this thing..captures borrowers? And makes them p-pets stuck inside a trap forever? Maybe they removed the rat traps to capture us alive in this instead?!"

For the very first time, Daphne found herself almost frightened of humans. It had never truly hit her until this very moment and the implications and lurking danger of of her visits loomed over her like an impending doom knotting up her stomach. Thought it didn't exactly last long. She was back to her curious mindset almost instantly.

These borrowers looked happy? There was a boy with dark skin and curly hair, he had a playful smirk and mischievous hazel eyes, he was making some symbol with his fingers, holding them over a fair skinned sandy blonde girl with bold green eyes and freckles. Beside them two sat another girl whom had short red hair with a slight fringe, her eyes were closed in the picture from her warm cheerful smile, her cheeks were blushed and she had dimples- a complete opposite to the boy beside her, he had his arm around her shoulder affectionately- his eyes were dark behind two strange glass circles, his skin was quite pale, perhaps accentuated from his pitch black hair, he was sulking at the boy beside him who looked the most joyus of all, he gave a toothy smile matching his untamed wavey hair and wild look in his eyes- which were equally enthralling on their own as one was a pale blue and the other was washed with light green- that teasingly looked at the grumpy boy.

Daphne couldn't describe it well, but inside she felt an odd sadness? She'd never seen such a group, and a part of her found herself wanting to meet these borrowers. They didn't seem trapped to her. They seemed to be living the life she longed for.

Riven who had since calmed himself took note of Daphnes sudden change.

"Daph...are you okay?"

She could only shake her head in silence, the tick of the clock and drip of water echoing loudly in her thumping head.

"I don't understand it Riven" She whispered.

"I mean.. if humans know..why have we been made hide away? Is this truly what happens when a borrower is seen? Everything is their height..everything is normal..does Father know of this? Is that the truth being him refusing to let me borrow? Because being caught means living a normal life? Because that against the borrower way of life?"

She was almost mad at that, if her father did know she'd be furious. A whole new way of life and his controlling ways shielded her from obtaining it.

She had a conflicted look on her face- and Riven didn't like it. Her being this distraught felt so wrong- but he didn't want to interupt her, it would probably frustrate her to not voice her worries. Thought it appeared she had finished when her darkened eyes met his.

Riven wasn't quite sure how to react. It was almost as if she wanted to he trapped if it meant living like this. But why would anyone want that?

"I..I don't know Daph. I wish I could give you the answers you want. Though their smiles could be part of the trick after all..maybe to allure borrowers in. I know you want to know more Daphne, but maybe it's best we leave this be. I just..I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Especially when I could've done something about it. I care about you okay?"

Daphnes eyes widened a little, her heart fluttered at his words, and her concerns seemed to flutter away. A small smile touched her lips

"There we go. Much better"

He guided her back to the object, scanning the various faces. They did look happy. He supposed he envied that too. But they needed to make it black again. They couldn't risk leaving evidence of it being touched.

"Now..how do I make this go away?.."

He tapped the glass but nothing happened. Thats when beside him Daphne noticed something she was floored she hadn't caught before, eyes widening she grabbed his arm.

"Riv! Look!"

She pointed at the screen, then across the room.

"The table-"

His eyes snapped up from the phone to the dark interior of the kitchen, to where the moonlight fell on a table.

"Those aren't borrowers Riv"

And as if she had never been upset, Daphne was back to her old habits in no time. Her eyes glistened

"They're humans! It isn't a trap! Though I still don't understand it- though it explains the clothing! And the furniture!"

With this newfound information she scrutinised it closer.

On the table sat a strange colourful board, paper and two weird green circular things..but what she couldn't get over was the strange shapes- figures!

"What do you think they are? They're our height?"

Riven found a part of himself wishing she understood the risks of her interests, wishing that this was a trap so that she'd stay away from it. It was a little selfish but he couldn't help it. He could keep Barney at bay, but humans..

Still, he followed her pointed finger to the figures and swallowed thickly upon seeing one in the wild-haired humans hand. He pictured himself.. or worse, Daphne in the same grasp, encaged by the terrifying giant. It made his stomach turn.

Daphnes curiosity moved on and she stared longingly at the image

"I..I wish we could talk with them"

Riven wasn't drinking but somehow he still managed to choke. He gave her an incredulous look, his stomach dropping even further at her words. Gods..

"Daphne? You..you can't be serious"

She only smiled sheepishly, predicting she'd get such a reaction. She was gonna drive him insane

"Gods Daph! They're..they.."

Daphne interupted him before he could finish.

"They just..well..they seem nice is all. That short haired girl has lovely rosey cheeks, the blonde girl is so pretty too her eyes look like the could tell a story of their own. And the guy beside her seems so sneaky- in a good way though! Kinda playful. The grumpy one is kinda creepy though..but if the smiles are anything to go off I'm sure he's nice all the same..I wonder what those circles on his face are"

She pointed to the crazy haired boy "But I really like that ones smile..it's so..crazy? it looks like fun. They all look fun.." She stated longingly at the group "could you imagine it? Meeting them?"

Riven shook his head vigorously, he couldn't believe her enthusiasm. "Not a chance Daph. That's insane!"

Daphne scowled dramatically "I'd never actually do it Riv, I may want to- more than anything- but I'd never put you in that level of danger. Is it so wrong to picture it?" She sighed inspecting them once again

"What I would give..just to spend one day..just one day out here amongst humans, see their way of life, have my questions answered- like what this object is!"

Rivens shoulders slumped. He'd never understand that view. But..but despite the danger, he felt pity. It must be frustrating, to long for something you could never have. In some way he could kind of relate- though his wants were more personal. He watched her eyes filled eith desire, a sad smile tugging her lips. He supposed it was..fine- so long as she never acted on it. So long as they were never seen, day dreams could suffice.

"It's not something I'd dream off but... I get it." He noticed the sky outside was a growing gradient of deep blue to pinkish orange "hey, sun's gonna come up soon..wanna head back?"

Daphnes eyes darted to the window and nodded slowly, only they fell on the other strange box. She gave a small giggle.

"All this madness and I never figured out what that other thing was. I guess I do get easily distracted after all"

Riven laughed at this. That was an understatement to say the least.

As the pair left, the red light kept ite continuous blinking, as it captured the pair, the pair that had unknowingly already been seen by five humans.

#g/t #giant #gianttiny #tiny #borrower g/t #borrowers #g/t story

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robzombies-hotwife · 2 years

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I think the 3rd most annoying type of online film critic is

"This movie sucks because of one TINY visible error on screen that no reasonable human being would ever notice without watching it in HD, zooming in, and pausing."

"There's a tiny error with one absolutely miniscule historical (or otherwise) detail that nobody except a specialist will know or care about."

As far as historical accuracy goes, I do think that the threshold is different if the film/show is set during a time that people have living, specific memories of. For example, a show set in the 1980s with teenage characters will probably be watched by people who were actual teenagers during the era and the creators should strive for year-by-year cultural accuracy. However, something like "these otherwise accurate Regency costumes have machine stitching!!!" is pretty damn unreasonable. Of course, it goes without saying that they should be accurate with historical events and general fashion/cultural stuff in every era, but nitpicking tiny errors is annoying and exhausting.

#the number 1 most annoying is cinemasins type critics who are DEPERATE to find plotholes in anything they aren't being spoon-fed #the number 2 is ''ending explained'' because literally just watch the fucking movie (and learn to be comfortable with artistic ambiguity)

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damnedtreasure · 6 years

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*sifting through my bookmarks* what was the dragon bagel fic called

#i did not realise how absurd that sounded until i thought it #i remember it being well crafted #except for one tiny miniscule detail #which was the name of the creatures?#i remember loving it but gosh. dragel? why dragel #i really dont wanna rag on someones stuff bc i really do remember it being good #but dragels.

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grapejuicegay · 3 years

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just thinking about baby patpran with their tin can phones asking each other what are you doing because they don't really have anything to talk about they just want to talk to each other

and they probably do this up until pran is sent away, just talking about anything and everything and nothing in the dead of night just because they want to talk to each other and not pretend that they want nothing to do with each other

you always end up with the one you like pran says like he always knows who pat likes and he probably does because they're not just friends they're literally best friends they know everything about each other they tell each other everything (except for one tiny miniscule ahem detail about a crush pran isn't telling pat)

which also makes pat asking pran why he didn't say bye before leaving even sadder imo because it's not just that he didn't say bye when pat saw him in school, that was just the last time he saw him because pran cut off their late night tin can conversations too.

and pat can say the guitar was gathering dust and he tried to sell it all he wants but he already showed his hand the same episode when he still had the cans because he didn't just keep the guitar he kept everything that connected them

pran is like secretly sentimental and keeps the guitar pick and writes songs but pat will keep everything that reminds him of pran and of course he makes that board it's his way of being loud and of course the tin phones are on top of the board when before they were in a drawer in his room because he gets it now and he's always going to be loud about it

#I haven't watched a full episode in like 2 weeks #the brain rot just ebbs and flows #and i guess today is a full moon high tide kind of day #bad buddy #bad buddy series #bad buddy brain rot

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blueprint-han · 4 years

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desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay skznta event, written for @stayndays !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it! ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”.

“Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them.

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock.

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.”

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose.

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date.

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too.

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter.

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it.

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion?

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own?

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it.

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long.

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now.

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch.

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across.

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all.

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.”

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned.

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon. You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door.

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod.

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up.

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days.

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly.

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it.

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly.

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.”

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?”

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.”

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course.

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

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yoursinfulurges · 4 years

Text

AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom.

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst.

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back.

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you.

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health.

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion....

You were conflicted to no doubt.

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago.

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were.

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit.

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower.

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit.

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some.

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area.

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother.

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back...

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark.

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race].

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....)

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met...

🕸🕷🕸

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony.

"Dad!"

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker.

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question.

"Are you sure she's mine?"

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of.

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly.

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!"

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress.

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight."

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold.

"I want a cheese burger...."

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator.

🕸🕷🕸

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you.

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through.

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes.

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up.

"What do you think is happening up there?"

"Who knows"

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.'

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you.

He was insane.

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall...

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine.

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you.

All 108 suits....

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far.

Peter....

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road.

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground.

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more.

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this.

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening.

There!

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down.

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded.

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon.

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was.

Brock Rumlow....

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him....

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you...

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening...

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!"

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

Tag List:

@spacebitch2 @babebenhardy @notasofti @blowing-mikey @juliae03 @starlight-starks @fivesecondsofsarang @ssebstann @lunaticbarnes @kye06 @jbtomlinson-blog @spideylovin @juliet-winterson @emilymarie0422 @emborrachada @marvel-is-a-mood @used-avocado @cherrysruin @watson-emma @songofcosplay @spideypooler03 @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @honeymarvel @ariethlyn9 @unbelievableholland @ilovepeterparker13 @usedtobepettyonly @zalladane @freelynerdlygirly @hotpocket01 @hothw22 @itsteph13 @lostredrobin @mydoctorwho13 @littleninjablake @it-sel @holywater-burns @charismas-world @tylers-ankles-beebos-forehead @flowerchild1216 @spideynugget @the-frnkiero @misshale21 @galaxystern08 @alyssam71 @ghostmaster83 @its-shaula-wii @crying-perfectstorm @bubblegumbarnes @well-this-is-just-awkward

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findrahil · 3 years

Note

prompts! pick a pairing where they’re both fresh out from Mandos, coming to terms with their newly made bodies

hello! sorry this took me a while, i'm in the middle of midterm season and don't know what any of the words in physics mean :') anyway, russingon under the cut!

Everything was so new. So new, so familiar. It was odd, terrifying in a way, thought Maedhros—and that name still did not quite suit him; it was a name for a bygone warrior-prince, but it would have to do. He could not be Maitimo again; he had never liked being Nelyafinwë. He would learn to live with Maedhros again. And he had Findekáno to call him—

“Russandol,” came Findekáno’s beloved voice, like liquid honey drizzling rich and sweet from the back of a spoon.

He could live like this, Maedhros thought dreamily, on the golden sound of Findekáno’s voice and the gentle warmth in his amber eyes. He needed nothing else, nothing but Findekáno. How he had thought to remain apart from Findekáno, to safeguard him from the way everything Maedhros touched turned to ash and tears, to give him the chance at a happier ending than he could ever hope to have with Maedhros dragging him down, was beyond him now. For Maedhros knew himself, and he knew he was selfish. It had taken only one heartbroken look from Findekáno, one murmured, “I’d have thee, Russandol, and no one else,” one chaste, tender kiss to his knuckles; and he had let Findekáno convince him.

“Some days I still cannot believe it,” he said softly, tracing every fine detail of Findekáno’s face—the darkness of his brows as they drew together, the fullness of his lips, the birdlike way he tilted his head slightly—with his eyes. Valar, he had missed that questioning head tilt. He had missed every tiny mannerism, every miniscule detail about Findekáno. “I am so lucky.”

Findekáno’s gaze softened. He reached up to cup Maedhros’ jaw, leaned in to press their foreheads together. This too he had missed without even knowing it: the warmth of his husband’s touch, the feeling of every small callus and every gentle brush of skin on skin. He was not weathered and weary as he had been in Middle-Earth, barely registering any feeling over the monotonous drone of the Oath, the burden that seemed sometimes to even become physical. No, here in the Blessed Lands his skin was sensitive and his soul was, if not healed, then healing; and when Findekáno’s lips brushed over his own, he sighed, his eyes slipping shut, and chased after the sweet sensation when it departed.

“I love thee, Russo,” breathed Findekáno. He was close, so close, almost close enough for Maedhros to lean forwards and steal another precious kiss. But then he spoke again, and Maedhros forgot everything except the way words sounded in his mouth, tender and smooth like the flow of stream on stone. “Let me show you?”

Hardly had Maedhros nodded before Findekáno’s mouth was on his again, this time hot and hungry and demanding. It was the kind of kiss that lovers shared after a long, long journey apart, after an Age in the Halls that granted peace but not love; it was the kind of kiss that tasted of pent-up desire, and that odd, heady mixture of grief and joy, and the silent promise that I’ll never leave you again, not as long as we’re both here. Maedhros felt Findekáno’s hands wind through his hair and tug, just hard enough to send sparks skittering down his spine at the sharp, sweet tension. Findekáno drank the moan from his lips, then twisted his hand in Maedhros’ hair again and broke the kiss, laughing softly as Maedhros whined, his hips bucking helplessly against Findekáno’s body.

Then Findekáno was sinking to his knees, and something instinctive in Maedhros protested against that, but it didn’t matter a moment later when Findekáno’s nimble fingers worked open the laces of his trousers and took Maedhros’ cock into his hand. Findekáno worked him over, wrapping his hand firmly around Maedhros’ cock and stroking, smiling when Maedhros moaned. He kissed the tip first, laid little kitten licks around it until Maedhros was gasping, thighs trembling, on the verge of pleading. And then Findekáno gripped him by the thigh with his free hand, fingers digging into soft flesh, and Maedhros let his head fall back against the wall with a broken moan. He was so sensitive, every sensation so intense as if he had never felt its like before.

“Finno, please—ah!” Stop teasing, he had meant to say, but no sooner had Findekáno’s name left his lips before Findekáno looked up at him with mischief in his eyes and took Maedhros’ cock into his mouth, bobbed his head to take him deeper, swallowed around him when he reached the base.

Maedhros sobbed softly, filthily; he knew he would not last long, not engulfed in this new and familiar and foreign and intense world of sensation. Findekáno’s hand was strong on his thigh, holding him tight enough to bruise—and Maedhros knew he bruised easily, and looked forward to learning to live with the marks of Findekáno’s ownership on his skin once more. He hovered, uncertain, torn between tangling his fingers in Findekáno’s beribboned hair and staying back and letting Findekáno choose for him. Both were tempting, but oh, how Maedhros wanted to be good, how he didn’t want to go too fast or do anything Findekáno might not like—

Findekáno pulled off his cock with a wet pop. “Go on, Russandol,” he murmured, his eyes dark, his mouth red and slick with spit; and the way he said Maedhros’ name, low and rough, made Maedhros bite down on his lip. “Fuck my mouth. I can take it.”

Gods. Findekáno would be the death—or the new, brilliantly sharp and sweet life of him, Maedhros thought dizzily as he wound his hand through Findekáno’s hair, thrusting into that hot, eager mouth with an abandon that shocked even himself. From the corner of his eye he saw Findekáno reach down to fist his own cock, and when Findekáno moaned Maedhros felt it, felt heat coil low in his belly. He shifted his hips minutely to slide deep into Findekáno’s throat, and Findekáno was moaning again even as he choked on Maedhros’ cock, and his hips were bucking into his hand, his eyes beautiful and desperate and beginning to fill with tears. And then Maedhros was coming, sobbing out his release, his hand twisting in Findekáno’s frizzy hair, all a prayer of perfect piety in Findekáno’s name.

Spent, Maedhros slid down the wall, and found himself with an armful of Findekáno, whom he noted vaguely had also come, and who was now nestling into Maedhros’ embrace, pillowing his head on the solid warmth of his chest. Their fëa reached out, seeking one another, twining together in the light-gold expanse of love; and Maedhros, feeling a soft smile cross his face, pressed a kiss to the top of Findekáno’s head.

#maedhros #fingon #russingon #silmarillion #my writing #prompt fic #answered asks #silm #nsft

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goddamnitdazai · 4 years

Text

Little Promises {S&S} | Chuuya

Part of the Salt & Sugar Series | N.SFW | 5K words [9:30] Chuu <3: I’m going to be a little late baby. Order that bottle of wine for us? Rarely did a date start off without one of those texts from Chuuya. He made reservations in the ‘earlier’ (according to mafia time) hours of the night to avoid a situation like this. In what he called the ‘perfect sweet spot’ between him getting off normal work hours and before having to deal with anything that would come up later in the evening as most of the real mafia business did. Lately, more attacks have been occurring directly against the Port Mafia rather than an assault against Yokohama. Nothing that the Black Lizard couldn't handle but Chuuya wasn’t one to sit out of a good fight. He’d gone with Hirotsu to go handle..something, someone most likely, but assured you he’d be finished in time for dinner.

Five or ten minutes wasn’t a big deal. Annoying, yes. But you knew what you signed up for. Being with Chuuya made the irritation worthwhile. Just his smile was enough to erode any negative feelings weighing on you from the day. Sighing quietly you order a bottle of his favorite wine and watch the stars twinkle through the glass. The restaurant itself was gorgeous. Brand new on the eightieth floor with a deck spread out around the entire outside. Chuuya was able to get a table in a heartbeat. The best one in the restaurant. Secluded right next to an expansive window showcasing Yokohama’s glittering amber skyline. Your reflection stares back at you in the window, restless fingers tapping on the newly filled glass of wine. Waiting. [9:45] Chuu <3: On my way back to the office, Boss needs something. Wait for me at the bar? We can sit outside instead. For a man who couldn’t hold that much liquor the wine Chuuya liked was strong. Your head was already buzzing even with the bits of spicy edamame you’d popped in your mouth as a distraction. Your posture deflates further when you read the text flashing on your screen. Deep scarlet liquid sloshes in the glass before passing through your lips to etch a burning pathway down your throat. The dress Chuuya had bought you fit perfectly against your curves. Silk. Red--his color. A sign you were his. The diamond choker he bought for your birthday suddenly feels too tight around your neck. You hated eating alone. [10:15] Chuu <3: Shit, I’m sorry baby Boss needs me to go take care of something. I’m really sorry, I’ll try to make it quick. Half the bottle churns with a sickly heat in the base of your belly. His chair was still empty. You whip your phone from it’s idled place on the table and tap out a response. [10:17] Chuuya? It’s been over an hour. Where are you? [10:45] You’re not coming are you? [10:50] I charged a bottle of wine to your card. I’m going home. Your shoes land somewhere in your apartment with a loud thump. Keys are next missing the wooden end table meant for them and your purse. Fuck, you were slightly more drunk than you realized. Overpowering vehemention towards the man supposed to be treating you to a nice dinner was the only reason you hadn’t stumbled out of the cab. If you had any type of superhuman strength your heels would have stomped four inch holes into the pavement. Your hand clumsily fumbles for the light switch as you make your way into your apartment muttering curses on Chuuya’s name the entire walk from your door to the kitchen. Compared to Chuuya’s two story penthouse your place was small but cozy. More decorated and homey-- Chuuya liked that about it, he said. Most of his walls were barren except a few pieces of expensive art he purchased on a whim. Chuuya preferred sleeping here over going home when he was out working late and you were already beneath the covers. Coming home to his lover was a treat sweeter than wine according to him. Your shoulders slump. It had been a few weeks since Chuuya had taken you on an actual date. Executives didn’t exactly have frequent pockets of unoccupied time. Leisure was more of a luxury to Chuuya than the most expensive wine in his collection. But, at least in the past few months, he’d been trying to spend more time with you the way a normal couple would. However his promises were falling shorter than you anticipated and at a much higher frequency than expected. There was nothing normal about your situation.. but god damn having a nice dinner with your boyfriend maybe once a month didn’t sound unreasonable. You drag your hand down your face and trudge to the fridge flinging the door open unceremoniously. There wasn’t much in here other than the few healthy snacks Chuuya left. Your diet mainly consisted of take out or to-go meals from the convenient store down the street. Chuuya hated it and usually preferred places that offered healthy meals, but the man rarely got home before ten at night and was exhausted the moment he crossed the threshold. Hence the dinner date. Your frown deepens. At some point you’d grabbed a water bottle but you weren’t even in the mood to open it. The fridge shuts with a harsh echoing click as you spin on your heel and head towards your bedroom. Between steps your bra ends up on the standing lamp and the matching panties get lost in the shadows. It took an hour to pick out that lingerie. Chuuya tore everything in his haste unless it was something he wanted to see you in more than once--he would have loved that little set. “Fucking asshole.” You snap to the empty bedroom, falling face first into the mess of pillows and blankets. It smelled like him. Unintentionally you inhale deeply cherishing the familiar scent of his shampoo and cologne mingling together. His lingering warmth contrasted the cold emptiness of the bedroom for a few moments bringing a comforting elation, and then the realization that you were in fact without him knocked you right back down. Chuuya was a workaholic. You knew that from the beginning. Working parallel with him exposed his dedication within the first week. A tiny bit of you (that was beginning to grow larger) had begun to truly resent Chuuya’s workaholic tendencies. The Port Mafia was important to him, you got that, but..weren’t you important too? You flip on your side to stop your head from spinning in rapid circles. The wine wasn’t sitting well on an empty stomach but at this point you were too tired and upset to get up and eat. Nothing sounded good anyway. Chuuya’s shirt you often slept in felt like a weight in your hand. “Fucker.” You hiss, throwing it onto the small chair in the corner of your bedroom. Fine. If you weren’t important enough to have fucking dinner with then you wouldn’t bother texting him again. This was pathetic. You try to focus on the wobbling lights of the city through your bedroom window. Gold and neon flecks blur like water droplets against a deep navy sky. A heavy melancholic silence fills up the apartment. Between the wine sloshing in your stomach and the pounding of your head sleep would most likely evade you tonight. Welled up vexation had suddenly melted to pure sorrow, choking you quietly as you lay curled up in the blankets. Finally, little sobs part your lips bringing a few tears in tow. This was stupid, it was just dinner. Chuuya didn’t do it on purpose but why the hell did it feel like a knife twisting in your heart? “Fucker..” you repeat, squeezing your eyes shut forcefully. You’d deal with it tomorrow. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ At some point you’d passed out holding Chuuya’s pillow tightly in your arms. Unfortunately the thing to awaken you wasn’t the gentle kiss of sunrise or your lover’s tight embrace. The wine you’d downed had resurrected with a vengeance that had you sprinting to the bathroom. From the darkness still drenching the apartment morning hadn’t come quite yet. Your stomach heaves all the contents in a burning violent wrench that barely makes it into the toilet bowl. There’d be bruises from how hard your knees hit the tile but at least it caught all the mess. “Sh-shit..ow.” You mutter, spitting the rest out before wiping your mouth with a piece of toilet paper. “______?” Chuuya’s voice resonates from the living room. “_____? I’m really sorry. Baby...I’ll make it up to you..” Chuuya speaks softly, almost deflated. His voice hits you like a ton of bricks. A miniscule burst of energy helps you stand with aid from the sink at your side. The sudden rush of blood sends your head sloshing in a circle again nearly pushing you back down to the floor. With a deep inhale you force yourself to stand straight again and splash water on your face before looking up at the mirror. Make-up, it had smeared all down your cheeks and beneath your eyes from crying and rubbing against the pillow. You groan at your appearance and grab the mouth wash. Chuuya’s ears perk. “Baby? You okay?” His footsteps are light and quick until they reach the bathroom. “Baby! Are you alright!?” He’s at your side in an instant wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you to face him. “Don’t---” You press your hand to your forehead, “dizzy. Wine.” You mumble leaning back against the sink. Chuuya’s expression changes from worry to soft concern melded with guilt. His hands steady you with a gentle grip, coaxing you forward with unnecessary slowness (though it was appreciated by your stomach and head). All the crying had caused your eyes to swell enough that the details of the apartment, especially in the dark, were hard to see. If Chuuya hadn’t been guiding you back to your bedroom there’s a good chance you would have ended up face first on the floor. “____…” the guilt in his voice just made you feel worse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, gentle ungloved fingers reaching for a tissue from the box on your night stand. Your vision was, at the least, bleary but the striking sunset tendrils framing his face stood out beautifully against the low light coming from the bathroom. “Hold on..” Chuuya murmurs, rising to his feet in quick steps. You sit in silence sniffling a bit and trying to keep the bile in your throat. Your eyes flutter shut to keep the light out. The blankets beneath you had bunched uncomfortably at the edge of the bed leaving you lopsided from sitting in the center of the mattress. Any attempt to shift could send whatever was left in your stomach flying, so you wait. Something creaks. Floorboards, then the mattress. Chuuya’s touches are two steps above gentle. Whatever it is, it’s cold. Something soft and cold in his hand over your eyes. It takes a few seconds for it to register. He’s cleaning the smudged make up off your face. Acts like this were the reason it was so hard to stay mad at the man. His gestures were sweet and honest. Showing you love in the only ways he really knew how to. Physical touch, gifts and sweet words after being gone for too long or bailing last minute. Your throat clenches as your fingers grip the loose sheets by your thighs. “Baby, I’m sorry.” Chuuya says it again. Your teeth cinch the inside of your lip. “You promised.” Chuuya’s shoulders sag but his hands keep working the smudged mascara off your face. His other hand nimbly massages the back of your neck finding the pressure point to relieve your headache. “I know.” What else could he say? “I don’t have a different excuse. Boss needed me. It was important. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. We can have dinner tomorrow or another night. I swear.” Chuuya tries to coax your eyes open with a soft rub of his thumb on your cheekbone. He knew all your spots and that’s what made it hurt the most. “But you promised.” You repeat, almost childlike in the inflection of your voice, but your eyes open. Immediately you’re mesmerized by the expression change on his features. Chuuya, when overcome with too much, tended to drop his head in defeat allowing his bangs to hide him from the shame he felt. Your fingers on his chin keep him from succeeding. “It’s…” you swallow the dry lump in your throat, “I need to be as important too. I’m not asking you to drop whatever Boss has you do when I want attention and I know you’re going to have to leave sometimes when shit comes up unexpectedly... but fuck...you need to give me something. Anything.” You set your hand timidly on his. “Unless the fucking world is collapsing...I need a promise I know you’re going to keep, Chuuya.” His eyes widen a bit, soft blue glimmering and reflecting bits of your distorted face in their tides. Chuuya stays silent for a moment but moves closer on the bed shifting you carefully until you’re on his lap, legs draped over either side of his thighs. His arms come around your waist (where they belong) to pull your torso flush with his. The hum of his ability tickles your skin as he leans himself back until his head hits the pillow. “Give me a little time to come up with something?” He finally breaks the silence. Hope diminishes and the swelling in your chest grows into a thick knot. “Okay.” You reply against his neck. There wasn’t a chance in hell Chuuya didn’t catch the desolation in your tone, but he says nothing. His fingers begin to detangle your messy hair in feather-soft strokes. Chuuya tended to melt into you without trying. Curl up around you keeping you comfortable enough to fall asleep in any environment. This position draws your face to the crook of his neck magnetically. A place molded to fit your head perfectly. Often, it was the only place that properly hid you from your thoughts and exhaustion when the world became too much at once. You inhale; his skin pebbles. He always smelled like sea salt and vanilla. He swears he puts cologne on but after working so much his natural scent clings to his skin and it’s much more intoxicating. His left hand slithers up and down your back drawing nonsensical patterns in your skin. Down your shoulder to the valley both blades create, following your spine lazily, methodically. His dexterous fingers spread open to reach the skin that encases your rib cage touching light enough it’s almost a tease. Chuuya’s gestures come from the depths of his emotions that so often tumble beneath the surface. Trained in the art of persuasion and deception he’s better at hiding what he’s thinking than he lets on. It’s all a matter of if he cares enough to do so or not. You tangle your legs together with his, thankful you’d forgone wearing anything to bed. Summer heat tended to creep into your bedroom despite the air conditioning, and the man beside you could melt chocolate with his touch. With Chuuya's skin constantly overheating (Arahabaki in the shadows) it was surprising his layers didn’t bother him. On cold winter mornings it was magnificent against your chilled face. In the summer he’d laze about in only his underwear with the air conditioning blowing, keeping you just cold enough to need the warmth from his skin. (He claims it’s not on purpose but you like to think it is). Heat had begun to spread the moment he pressed you up against him and held you like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip. Right now the little crook beneath his ear that curved down his neck forming a broad muscular shoulder happened to be the perfect temperature to soothe your headache. Chuuya cuddles you closer when he notices the tension dissipating. His head turns slightly to rest against your forehead, the soft ghost of his breath trails over the shell of your ear each time he exhales. Whatever alcohol remained in your system had slowly begun to recede with Chuuya’s presence. Falling asleep rather than passing out cold seemed to aid in the depletion of your headache, and truthfully, being with him cured every part of you. Scientifically correct or not--it always worked even when you were pissed at him. Chuuya’s chest softly begins to vibrate as your eyes flutter shut. A gentle tempo that remains tranquil but familiar.. Chuuya’s humming finally settles the ball of nerves tied up in your stomach. The last remaining irritation of the night quietly begins to melt away at the edges leaving your heart frayed and tender. Pure exhaustion was overpowering your will to stay awake and wait for Chuuya’s answer. Against your own command your eyelids droop and soak your environment in black. ++++++++++++++ Fuck that wine. From the moment you peeled your eyes open it felt like someone nestled their way into your skull to continuously pound it with a ball peen hammer. Your legs twist in the sheets as you try to get comfortable again and turn away from the sunlight sneaking through the window. Your arm smacks against the mattress, it felt strikingly cold. “Chuuya?”. The only response you receive is a small rustling from outside the bedroom door. A soft hum. Music? Something. You flop onto your back and force your eyes open. Thankfully the dizziness subsided permanently, unfortunately it’s counterpart (a killer migraine) still throbbed to the point that you were halfway convinced your eyeballs were physically pounding. “Chuu?” You call again, twisting on the bed until your bare feet hit the hardwood. Chuuya’s shirt fits comfortably over your head. Instinctively you inhale sharply holding the collar close to your nose before it settles and the smell of eggs draws you out of the bedroom. Normally you’d walk out completely naked but you felt beyond shitty. Lazily you tug up a pair of sweatpants and meander out into the kitchen in search of your boyfriend. Chuuya turns over a shoulder and gives you a soft smile. His back muscles were getting bigger, or perhaps the way he was holding the pan made them bulge. Regardless he looked damn good cooking you breakfast in a tight shirt bathed in morning light. “Good morning baby. Hungry?” Your stomach growls loud enough to echo down the street. Chuuya laughs and sets two plates down at your small table. Omurice, toast, and a few strips of bacon he’d picked up from some fancy market in Tokyo the last time he went. “Good. You need the protein after throwing everything up last night.” Chuuya pads over to you arms immediately wrapping around your waist snuggling you close against his bare chest. “I’m sorry baby.” He says for at least the fifth time. Two soft kisses to your forehead, one on your nose and a final on your lips. You slump against him letting your arms remain limp at your sides. “I figured out what I can do for you though. What you deserve.” “Oh?” Your arms find themselves around his waist, fingers spreading out to feel the rigid muscles in his lower back flex beneath your touch. Chuuya nods forehead now resting against yours. Sunlight funnels through the window scattering amber over the floor. Cresting Chuuya’s right side and across to the middle of his throat bathing him in light. The man truly emulated warmth and fuck he was more gorgeous than the sunrise itself. “Breakfast together. Every morning. Some days I’ll cook for you. Some days we’ll go out before work, and some days…” Chuuya begins to trail soft kisses down the side of your throat. Catching your breath suddenly becomes much harder with his mouth tasting your skin, “we’ll have breakfast in bed. I’ll eat you...and then we can eat together.” He chuckles darkly, waiting for the words to unfold in your head. “How can I turn that offer down?” Your fingers glide up the back of his neck carding through his hair. Chuuya sighs into your touch but continues the lazy, deliberately gentle line of kisses over the curve of your shoulder then backwards until he reaches your collarbone. “My place---” you gasp sharply, Chuuya loved to bite that spot on your neck, “or yours?”. Chuuya hums in thought hands now trailing down your curves around to the swell of your ass. “Whoever gets off work last goes to the other’s place. So, probably here a lot.” Chuuya squeezes, low growls emitting from his throat when you jolt into him. “Means you gotta actually buy food for me to cook.” You rise up on your toes moving closer and away from his grip on your ass. You couldn’t give in easy just yet, where was the fun in that? “Mmmm..but what if I like starting off the day with your cock?” You muse, teasingly dragging the sharp edges of your nails down his shoulder blades. Even through his shirt Chuuya’s shoulders were overly sensitive. Another set of animalistic growls erupts from him. He squeezes harder and nips at the center of your throat. “Guess I’ll have to give you what you want then, won’t I?” He smirks crookedly. You yelp when his hands dip between your thighs splitting them open to lift you up and onto the counter. “But first,” he murmurs, thumbs digging circles against your inner thighs, “I get my breakfast.” Chuuya leans into you, hips slotted between your trembling thighs so he can kiss you until you’re dizzy. Your hands wind up back in his hair holding him close. You inhale him greedily, savoring the taste of him in your mouth. Your sweatpants join Chuuya’s shirt on the floor in a puddle of fabric. The heat from his body sweeps you up into the clouds. You weren’t sure if it was the hangover, the speed in which Chuuya had you spread open on the kitchen counter or a combination of them both but your head was already fogged. Chuuya’s breath along your thigh keeps you lucid enough to feel every movement he makes. The tickle of his hair on your leg, the gentle prodding of his thumb spreading open your wet lip and the oh so lewd sweep of his tongue up your pussy. “Fuck!” You gasp, hair tugging roughly at the bundle of red hair between your fingers. Chuuya’s chuckle vibrates up your core. His tongue expertly flattens against your pussy, long strokes beginning at your entrance ensuring to taste every inch of your folds all the way up to your clit. The edge of his tongue flicks over the swelling bud once or twice before descending through your lips again. Chuuya moans into you, muttering praises of your taste between licks and prods of his tongue deep inside you. “Ch-Chuu!” The knot in your stomach was near ready to snap. “Do it baby. Right on my fucking tongue.” Chuuya commands, looking up at you from between your legs momentarily before returning to his work. Chuuya’s two fingers hold your pussy open for his tongue to explore. Dipping in and out, traveling up to tease and suck on your clit until stars burst behind your eyes and you’re moaning incoherently. Chuuya doesn’t waste a drop. “So good..” his praises are saturated with lust, “fuck you taste so good.” Arousal smears across his cheeks and lips as he cleans the mess between your legs. Gentle licks and motions, just enough to begin overstimulation to carry over into what would come next. You curl over him trying not to fall off the counter. Chuuya gets to his feet, hands remaining on your shoulders to give you leverage as he discards his sweatpants revealing his fat hard cock red and dripping pre-cum. You lick your lips and reach for him, pumping it a few times in an off-beat rhythm. “Already fucked out baby?” He taunts playfully, lips still glistening with your cum. You pout at him and jerk him forward by the hair. Chuuya laughs, using the motion to line his cock up with your weeping entrance. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” Your hips jerk forward when the head rubs up against your clit. “Chuuya!” You huff, switching tactics. His eyes widen to saucers moan loud and deep enough it rattles in your chest. Your fingers tweak and tug at his pebbled nipples egging him on to submit. Or piss him off. Regardless, the outcome would be the same. “Do you want it that bad? Just one touch..” you mimic his teasing tone. Chuuya’s eyes narrow, chest still puffed out towards your hands. “I always want you.” He replies, punctuating the last word with a jerk of his hips. Your head lolls back in surprise, the burn of his cock stretching you out to the hilt makes your toes curl. “Ohfuck!” You choke on air; Chuuya is quick to grip your hips and bite down on your throat. His pace is relentless. Needy. Sticky, hot and slick. You keep one arm wrapped around his neck the other slanted back on the counter for balance. Chuuya buries his face in the crook of your neck as he fucks your hard and deep. Your knees end up by his ribs allowing you to cross your ankles behind him. The angle change makes Chuuya moan deep against your skin. Somehow, his speed picks up sending you bouncing up and down on his cock. Every stroke inside you hits that sweet bundle of nerves that keeps you moaning his praises. “Fuck--” he grits his teeth and slides one hand down to hold you up by your ass lifting you off the counter. He grunts again, moving in just a few steps into the center of the kitchen. Chuuya drops to his knees with the aid of his ability and places you on your back, hips following the natural path of gravity to push his cock deeper inside you. “Fuck..there..” he murmurs, shifting his hands to your thighs pressing them back until your knees reach your shoulders. “Just like that baby..fuck you’re so god damn beautiful..” His eyes glisten, gemstone blue clouded in the haze of arousal and pleasure. This position was so lewd and fuck it turned you on knowing Chuuya was watching you like this. Vulnerable and split open by his throbbing cock. Chuuya tilts his chin down mesmerized by the view of his cock pistoning in and out of your wet pussy. Cum and slick squirting against him with every harsh thrust forward. Your back arcs off the floor; the head of his cock relentlessly slams into your g spot until you’re cumming again. “G-goodgirl!” Chuuya sputters out, pounding into you three more times before he’s spilling inside of you gasping your name in a sultry, silky voice only you get to hear. Chuuya rolls his hips a few more times in rhythmless sputters before collapsing (gently) on top of you. Sweat matting his bangs left and right, skin a rosy pink and body taut. You wrap a shaky arm around his back, eyes fluttering closed. “Mm..you doin’ okay?” He asks, pushing himself up with one elbow to look at you. “Yeah…fuck..” you couldn’t even think straight let alone articulate just how good you were feeling now. Chuuya smiles--the rest of the world doesn’t compare to the brightness of it, you think. “You’re forgiven.” You finally say, long exhale following. Chuuya beams and kisses your nose. “I am sorry baby. And I promise we’re going to eat breakfast together every morning.” Chuuya rolls to his side bringing you with him. Your leg ends up thrown over his hip and his arm pulls you flush to his chest. “I love you ______. I love you so fuckin’ much.” Chuuya drops kisses along your cheek as he speaks. “I love you too, Chuu.”

#chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs #bsd #chuuya fic #my writing #my writing chuuya #salt and sugar #chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd fanfic #chuuya nakahara fanfic

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rosesisupposes · 3 years

Text

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor."

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself. That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes.

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences.

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup.

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?"

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted.

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly.

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around.

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely.

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point.

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling.

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued.

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing.

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait. Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up.

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later.

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked.

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.”

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.”

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest.

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses.

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them.

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded.

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.”

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion.

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ‘continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island.

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent.

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked.

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked.

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose.

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing.

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island.

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly.

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words.

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark.

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred.

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

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mingot-studios · 3 years

Text

Things currently polluting my mind (will be added to as i think of things)

How bad the Star vs. Finale was, and weather i should even bother trying to watch the show again at this point

The fact that the next JoJolion chapter is coming out soon and I STILL haven’t read 107 with my mom even though I’ve already read it

Not being caught up on One Piece and having 0 IDEA of whats happening at this poin as well starting to flaws with the series (racism, transphobia, and homophobia) that i knew was there but chose to ignore and weather it should hinder my relationship with the series. Also wanting to murder Oda for demoting Franky to ‘Pervy Grandma’ (srsly wtf oda)

Upset Infinity Train was cancelled even though i never watched it, and wonder why the fans cry for it to come is suddenly not happening?

The fact i’m going to be returning to in person schooling which is my personal HELL

my brother leaving for college upstate (Me and my brother have never really been that close, we fight alot but I cant imagine life without him)

The fact that my procrastination has gotten so bad that I nearly had to retake PE, World History, and English

The Owl House coming back on the 12th but i had downloaded the first 2 episodes but haven’t watched them and debating if i should, also having a meltdown over Disney screwing the show over and having its third be 3 or 4 (i cant remember) 44-minute specials

The fact that me and brother STILL haven’t finished our Yume 2kki Let’s Play

I haven’t been watching anime regularly with my mom

I haven’t posted anything to my DeviantArt or YouTube in months

I have so much energy right now but no outlets

I still haven’t tried out my drawing pad i got for my birthday last year

I have so many drawing ideas but my spiral sketchpad is filled up and I have yet to get a new one

Ive many intricit and detailed story ideas that i know im gonna forget if i dont write them down bu due my procrastination i haven’t done so im prolly gonna lose everything

The fact Thurston Waffles hasn’t posted anything since late April as well as the fact that he’s got Kidney problems

So many ideas for videos but I only have WindowsMovieMaker and the HumbleBundle my mom got me idk YEARS ago won’t install

I’m gonna be 17 at the end of September, which i only have until next June before I graduate High school, have to give up my Chromebook, start thinking about college and getting a job, possibly moving out and living on my own, the knowledge that my parents are in their late 50′s and early 60′s so hey might be gone sooner than most parents and I dont know how to function without my parents doing everything for me

These weird tingles ive been getting in my body for he pas couple days

The fact that im not gonna a kid soon and im gonna have to grow and stop doing whatever i want whenever i want and i’m gonna never accomplish my dream of creating a successful cartoon and will probably end up at a dead end job I HATE just to make ends meet and eventually dying alone because I dont wanna be in a relationship or have kids

Everything is too overwhelming. The light, the sound, my thoughts, its all too much. I wanna curl up into a tiny ball and disappear from this awful experience called life

Capitalism

i hate being so passionately when i’m upset, everyone else is calm but i have meltdowns and freaks outs over things i shouldn’t even care about or are miniscule (Comes with being autistic i guess)

I have 0 patience and i hate it

I’m starting to regress back to being a childish brat after all the progress i’ve made

i’m constantly surrounded by either criticism or praise that contradict each other so i dont know what to believe about myself

the fact that i have so many great story ideas but i cant write a cohernt thought with proper grammer or sytax or spelling o save my life, nor the art skill or the patience or the tech to draw comics

i haven seen my therapist in days and i need help but i know im not actually gonna change

having gender panic

I have no in person friends and ive forgotten how to interact with people

ive become a noodle limbed nerd

Ive gotten super skinny

I want someone o break through my shell and help me change bu I know thats just a fantasy and im the only one who can do that but im too lazy to put effort into it

everything i used to enjoy suddenly feels tedious monotonous repetitive and uninteresting

I feel trapped and scraed

The fact after being bulied so much the only way i can really assert myself is to get violent and angry because they would want me breakdown and cry

I have this image in my head of who i want to be; And badass that people including adults, are scared of and know not to fuck with me or they’ll get hurt (Basically Jotaro, bu I’ve had this image since before i even knew what jojo was) And the fact I KNOW that i’s a pointless endever and that i only dig my own grave when i get mad but its like ingrained Branded into my my psyche so im always going to larp that vision of myself but not get anywhere and only regress further

I want to address my problems and change but I never do and stay static and regress

I cant take crticisim even though i know its true

The reason im so scared of writing fanfiction is because i know its gonna be a mess despite what i think is a great story and people will end up mocking it and what little self confidence i have will shatter

Star Vs wasted potential

the fact that I dont know where to take the whole “Rubi dies at the end of he first season but comes back o life except she’s not actually she’s just a walking meat sack containing an anchint eldritch god that will, sooner or later, burst out of her and destroy her body, and she’s fighting for control of her ow body due to Skarlotus trying to devor her soul and Data’s medience is only delaying the inevitable” storyline of my concept cartoon, The Crypto Club

I have an AMAZING idea for an Invader Zim storyline that has fascism, rascism, mass genocide, child soldiers, political intrigue, propaganda, baiscally space hitler and more (okay that came out sound REALLY bad, but NONE of it painted as good!) It also involves Zim and Dib coming together to stop an even bigger threat and there is a really ironic ending that brings my OC GA83′s story full circle

#the owl house #yume 2kki #thurston waffles #star vs the forces of evil #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojolion #one piece #vent #save infinity train #infinity train #amphibia #gravity falls #the crypto club #invader zim #Princess Ovilium Midorihato Metamorphosis Androma Serugi The First #Princess Ovil

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dannypuro · 4 years

Note

You said your askbox was open so!! From Something Telling I am very invested in the mutual pining of Feuilly and Baz and just that individually they were like. Whispering their feels to their friends. I am parched for any details of. Them. If you are amenable. BYE <3

YOU!!! YOU UNDERSTAND!!!! YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL ASKS AND GIANT COMMENTS UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANT PARTS OF SOMETHING TELLING ma’am i owe you my life. i adore you. and yes, without further ado... A Very Long Post about the boys.

feuilly moves into bahorel’s apartment building when he first moves to france, like, five or six years before the start of Something Telling. and he doesn’t speak a lot of french at ALL, at first, because he wasn’t expecting to move, but he got an opportunity with a gallery kind of last minute and he only had time to panic and duolingo it up a little bit. but he moves into baz’s apartment building, all the way up in the tiny attic apartment, and he doesn’t hire any movers because he’s broke, and that would be fine, except the elevator breaks sometime between when he goes out to find some furniture and when he gets said furniture delivered to outside the building. and now he has to figure out how to get this stupid second-hand couch up five flights of stairs and he doesn’t even know anyone in the country he can call for help.

cue bahorel, coming back from the gym and all sweaty and gross. (nasty.) and he’s never seen feuilly before, but he is CERTAINLY seeing him now. 👁👁. and they have an awkward little conversation--all “hey, dude, do you, like, need a hand?” and poor feuilly desperately trying to remember his duolingo to figure out what the fuck this hot guy is saying to him. bahorel is instantly enamored--feuilly is fucking pretty, okay, and he’s funny and his accent is cute and baz just fucking knows feuilly’s smarter than him and he’s so fucking into it. just. he’s so into him.

and the thing is, baz is pretty sure feuilly’s maybe into him, too--he helps him drag the couch up the stairs, and they make conversation, and he thinks that he’s flirting, a little, and he’s definitely ogling baz up a bit. and, like, yeah, sure--he knows he’s hot, and feuilly’s smoking hot, in an overworked, tired, starving artist way, so... yeah. he’s totally gonna sleep with his brand-new hot neighbor.

only, then they start talking about why feuilly’s moving into the building--he tells baz that he’s new to paris, new to france, and he doesn’t know anybody, doesn’t even really speak french, and he moved for work but he doesn’t really know what he’ll do outside of that, and he’s just so! fucking! charming! and smart! and baz is like. right. well. 🥺, dude.

they get up to feuilly’s apartment (and HOOOO, feuilly’s pretty strong, actually 👁👁 wow 👁👁 what a coincidence bahorel is shredded as well👁👁 maybe we can hook up and be shredded together👁👁) and set the couch down. and bahorel looks around his empty little attic apartment and takes in his nearly-empty kitchen and his one beautiful houseplant in the middle of the room, because that’s where the most light is, and he can’t just LEAVE. not when feuilly doesn’t have any friends. feuilly’s awesome, baz already knows it! he should meet baz’s awesome friends!

only, feuilly’s kind of- feuilly’s kind of leaning in, a bit, and bahorel has hooked up with enough dudes to know when someone’s putting on the moves. and he’s SO into it, and he almost just kisses him, almost hooks up with him on the couch that they just hauled up five flights of stairs together, only-

only, if feuilly’s a one-night stand, he won’t want to meet baz’s awesome friends, and he seems so lonely. so bahorel takes one for the team. and instead of leaning in to make out with the hottest dude he’s ever met, he’s just like HEY MY FRIENDS ARE HAVING A GET-TOGETHER TONIGHT WANNA COME YOU CAN MEET THEM THEY’RE SUPER NICE AND COOL. (oh, god, he really hopes feuilly wants to.)

feuilly’s a little taken aback, for obvious reasons, but- but he does want to meet bahorel’s friends, and mostly, he wants to spend some more time with bahorel, and it’s a shame that he wasn’t reading the room right when he thought baz was into him, but, well, you can’t have everything. maybe he can’t get laid by his super-hot neighbor, but hey, if he can meet some people who don’t mind that he doesn’t actually speak french yet, and if he can get to know bahorel a little better, he’ll take it.

feuilly goes to the party. jehan adores him, obviously. feuilly doesn’t, like... get what’s up with them, yet, since he didn’t watch french media growing up and therefore missed all of their child-stardom, but he likes them just fine, anyways. jehan’s like 20 and is blazed out of their mind and is having a medieval phase (one of many). feuilly is confused, but also within 90 minutes realizes that he would INSTANTLY throw hands with ANYONE if it was for jehan’s sake. so.

jehan’s all like “go talk to grantaire! he knows all sorts of things about art! he’s working on painting me naked!” so feuilly goes to talk to the lump in the corner but like. listen. grantaire’s having a hard time. he doesn’t make an awesome first impression. not awful, just... he’s having a hard time. feuilly gets it. they become better friends a little later, mostly because bahorel keeps dragging feuilly around with him whenever he’s free. (not like feuilly minds)

but feuilly doesn’t make a move on bahorel again. because he must have misread the situation, right? otherwise they would have fucked. they’d BE fucking. too bad bahorel doesn’t like him like that. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

bahorel DOES like him like that. duh. feuilly’s awesome. but he hasn’t made a move on bahorel since that first afternoon. he’s probably just not that into bahorel, past the one-night-stand type stuff. oh, well, at least they’re friends!

life goes on. they hang out a lot. like, a LOT. they’re totally each other’s best friends. feuilly learns more french. (baz is actually super relieved when he can’t quite manage to get rid of the accent, even though he would never say so, because that would hurt feuilly’s feelings. baz tries not to act like a dick around feuilly, even though he kind of is one around other people, sometimes. he just... wants feuilly to like him.) feuilly gets absorbed into the group. he picks up another job, in addition to the work he’s doing for the gallery, and he’s making a little more money, which is good for both of them, because feuilly can afford meals that aren’t mostly rice, sometimes, and bahorel doesn’t have to spend all day every day wondering how he’s going to be able to get feuilly to let him pay for his food this time around. (if they were dating, baz thinks, if they were dating, he could take feuilly out for dinner and pay for it and pay for the wine and for the dessert, too, and feuilly wouldn’t be able to give him that look he shoots him whenever baz “accidentally” orders the wrong dish from the thai place down the road, so what if it always happens to be feuilly’s favorite, shut up, man, it’s a coincidence)

but feuilly’s making more money, so he decides to move out of his shitty attic apartment, because it kind of sucks, and it’s miniscule, and he’s an adult, damn it. he finds a new place that is marginally larger and marginally less shitty, and it’s not even that far away, just a couple blocks, and he tells baz he’ll be moving when his lease is up that year.

bahorel just wants to beg him to move in with him, but he only has the one bedroom, and feuilly’s not his fucking boyfriend. so he helps feuilly move, because he’s a good buddy, and he gets hammered with grantaire, after, because grantaire is lonely for someone he hasn’t met yet and bahorel is terrified that feuilly isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore.

feuilly, meanwhile, is across town at grantaire’s apartment (sans grantaire) getting blazed with jehan because he’s terrified that bahorel isn’t going to want to hang out with him now that they aren’t neighbors anymore. (jehan’s all 🥺You Are Always Welcome At My Humble Abode🥺 and feuilly’s very touched but he’s pretty sure he’s totally in love with bahorel and he’s scared and he’s also not sure that jehan even pays rent. so.)

they totally keep hanging out. obviously. (maybe a little bit less than they used to, but if baz thinks about that he’ll fucking cry.) bahorel feels a little bit like his heart is going to break, which is totally lame and which was not the plan when he agreed to help move a couch three years earlier. it’s just... there’s nobody like feuilly. there’s nobody even CLOSE to being like feuilly. and feuilly doesn’t like him. and so he spends a lot of time at grantaire’s place, and jehan finally gets their own apartment, so he’s free to cry into grantaire’s shoulder all he fucking wants.

feuilly goes on dates, sometimes. bahorel could totally treat him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

bahorel hooks up with people, sometimes. feuilly could totally fuck him better than any of those dickheads. damn it.

and then grantaire gets a weird new roommate, or something. baz doesn’t know, fuck, nobody tells him jack shit. but he stops hearing from grantaire for a couple weeks, for the most part, and then he gets the party invite in the groupchat, and fuck, if there’s a housewarming party, he shall attend. feuilly mentions something to him about R’s new roomie being some philosopher, or something, but bahorel was kind of busy watching him fold up little origami flowers out of newspaper, so he missed all that. it’s cool, he’ll catch up.

apparently, grantaire’s roommate is from the 19th century. apparently, grantaire also has a massive fucking crush on him. huh.

when they first meet, feuilly and enjolras are kind of hilariously enamored by one another. not in a romantic way, just in a Very Intense Admiration type way. after they meet at the housewarming party, enjolras is like “I Must Find A Way To Speak With Feuilly Again, For He Is A Brilliant Mind And A Good Man” and combeferre is like... want me to invite him over? and enjy is like “No, I Must Pen Him A Letter. Yes. This Is A Good And Rational Plan.” (he spills coffee all over the letter right when he’s almost done and almost cries. ferre just invites feuilly over anyways.)

feuilly, of course, is freaking out about whether or not he can find a way to hang out with enjolras again. because! ahh!!! that’s François-Marie Enjolras, political revolutionary and philosopher!!!! feuilly’s read his essays like five times!!! what reason would he have to want to talk to feuilly? but also, like... he did want to talk to feuilly--at the party, he’d talked to feuilly for hours, and he’s so smart and a little funny and he’d listen to Feuilly go on and on about slavic history and he hadn’t looked bored once, and just- Ah!!!! and he’s trying to figure out if it would be weird if he asked enjolras if he’d want to meet over coffee when he gets combeferre’s text. (it’s something like, enjolras just composed a letter trying to ask you if you’d want to hang out with him do you want to come over before he uses up all of my printer paper? and then, also, don’t tell him i told you about the letter he’s kind of freaked about making a good impression) and feuilly’s just like. :o

and both grantaire and bahorel see enjolras and feuilly embarking on this sweet, awkward, smart person friendship and they’re like. Oh Shit. They’re In Love With Each Other. Shit. because of course feuilly would fall in love with enjolras--feuilly’s too smart for bahorel, anyways, baz has always known that, and it makes sense that he’d fall for someone who can keep up with him. and of course enjolras would fall in love with feuilly--feuilly is kind and super smart and he knows all sorts of things about modern philosophy and he’s hot, okay, and enjolras is too smart for grantaire, anyways. ugh. baz and R get hammered and cry about it together, but the shitty thing is that they can’t even be too angry, because it’s so obvious.

meanwhile, enjolras and feuilly are across town talking about their stupid crushes on their hot beefy friends. commiserating, yanno? feuilly’s all “sometimes i wish i just kissed him that first day i met him, sometimes i wish i hooked up with him at that party, maybe he would have started liking me after” and enjolras is all “why does he never wear shirts with SLEEVES, i do not know what to DO with myself!!!”

and then one day feuilly and baz are hanging out and baz is like “haha grantaire has the biggest crush on enjolras” (because he can’t keep a secret to save his life.) and feuilly’s like.... “grantaire likes enjolras?” and baz is like “uh YEAH dude. DUH” and feuilly’s like. “that can’t be right--enjolras told me grantaire doesn’t like him back” and baz is like... “bACK?” and then he’s like “WAIT ENJOLRAS DOESN’T LIKE YOU?” and feuilly is like... no?

they realize that their friends are idiots. and they try to help, really, they do--feuilly keeps suggesting that maybe, maybe, enjolras can’t know that grantaire doesn’t like him if he’s never actually asked, and he keeps pointing out things that grantaire does that nobody actually does if they’re not totally gone for somebody; bahorel is straight up just like “R bro enjolras wants to be your boy so bad” and R is like I Am Electing Not To Listen To You.

and then-

and then, they all go out to a bar together. they get hammered, etc. etc. and they’re laughing about how grantaire and enjolras are oblivious, how could they not know that they like each other, everybody keeps telling them to go for it, and then-

hold on.

hold on, because- because that’s what everybody tells bahorel about feuilly. that he should just go for it. that maybe it’s not as hopeless as he thinks. and feuilly’s just sitting there, and he’s so fucking pretty, sometimes, honestly, and bahorel loves him so much, and he’s drunk, and he can’t stand not knowing even a second longer.

#i'll post the bar scene later tonight hold yer horses #bahorel x feuilly #les miserables #les mis #kiaronna

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