#my therapist told me that its a gift and a curse

[doegraham]

i really like that people are sharing their experiences w/ hyper empathy on here but i see a lot of the same stuff. its not necessarily bad, yk, but i feel very alone when i look for stuff abt hyper empathy and find 20 memes about crying over stuffed animals, while im going through a depersonalization episode because i spent too much time talking to one friend about their problems and i forget who i am. my empathy makes me sensitive, caring, compassionate, and gives me a drive to help people, but its not all stuffed animals and crying when people raise their voice. i forget my personality, my wants and needs for someone else's, i trade my thoughts and emotions for those of people around me, i get exhausted when i interact with people because of everything i read on their faces. empathy is a double edged sword!!!

[lilmisssona]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋 23 Reasons, Why I Love You 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Pairing: Idol Bf! I.N × Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 5.4k+

Warnings and Tags: SMAU, Cursing, Established Relationship, mentions of cheating, basically INNIE'S being a d*ck here, angsty beginning, fluffy at the end.

A/N: My first one ahhh, it's my birthday gift for our maknae on top! It's a bit long so buckle up and Enjoy! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Reuse And Translation Not Allowed 🙅‍♀️🚫

✮⋆˙Main Masterlist ✮⋆˙

Four Days. It has been four days, since you last saw Jeongin, your boyfriend. Normally the day gap wouldn't bother you, as you were accustomed to the feeling of being alone.

Your boyfriend being an idol, would leave for days for concerts and interviews; sometimes even weeks...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

But this time its different. This time it was because of an argument. A stupid one at that. Over minimal things, over both of your assumptions.

And you've been fighting your urge everyday to not go knocking at his room and slapping some sense into him. After all it wasn't your fault anyways...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

"Babe, I was only trying to help," You argued. "Really YN ?" " I don't think you are" Jeongin paused before muttering...

" I don't want YOU out of all people to be pitying me "

"Is it that hard to go to a therapist Innie ?"

You softly cooed at him, looking up to his familiar doe eyes...But only an unfamiliar icy cold look stared back at you.

"If not, then let me take care of you, how does a warm bubble bath and some massages sound? ''

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled. He flinched and withdrew his hand from yours.

" WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALL TREAT ME LIKE A BABY ??? " He screamed.

" I'm not a baby anymore! I can take care of myself "

"Why are you..." He broke down, hot tears streaming down his face....

" Why are all of you telling me to do this, do that! I am fucking tired of it !!"

"Channie told me what's going on..."

" You don't sleep much nowadays, are always zoning out in practice and only come out of your bed to eat when the members call to you "

" You know you can always talk to me Innie ''

Your eyes are blurry now because of the tears so you looked down at the floor.

" So this is all a plot you made, so that you can get rid of me. " He glared at you.

" What ?? " You stared back at him, shocked.

" What does going to a therapist and taking care of yourself, have to do anything with me getting rid of you"

" And why would I do that!!!"

"Don't lie to me yn, I know you've been crushing on my best friend, Heesung, since a long time"

" I've seen the texts " He smirked.

" What The Fuck Jeongin ??" You spat back, glaring at him with tears in your eyes.

" What made you even think that I'm cheating on you ?"

"Idk" " You met him behind my back at the cafe last week."

"And you also said, don't tell Jeongin,"

" I watched you get all giggly with him"

"Oh... " You chuckled, relief washed all over you as you realised what's going on.

" You're completely mis reading the situation babe, it's not what it looks like "

" They always say that..." He muttered, clenching his teeth..

" Is that why you've been ignoring all my texts since the last week ?" You asked him calmly.

"You know what leave me actually"

"It'll do us both something good"

" You can finally get the peace you want."

You gasped, his words hitting you like a dagger in your chest.

" Do you even know what you're saying Jeongin ?" You screamed at him.

" Do you know why I met him ? No, right ? "

"Then how can you even assume I cheated on you "

" I don't know YN, it just doesn't seem right"

" I know I haven't been able to give you much time as I've been stressed out recently due to the upcoming comeback"

" I am dead tired inside and you.... " His voice is hoarse from all the crying..

" If you're happier with him, then I guess.."

"Jeongin...if that's what you think of me...I don't think..." You trailed off

" I should leave, I don't think I can do this anymore"

You watched him leave, closing the door behind him, a little too harshly.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

The sound of the oven beeping, made you snap out of your thoughts. You looked around, and lazily got up from your couch to the kitchen.

Taking out the reheated pizza and putting it on a plate, you aimlessly scrolled through channels until you found one, a boring sitcom. You looked at the screen mindlessly and munched on your pizza.

You were half an hour into the plot when a notification popped up on your phone screen.

Picking it up you checked, it was an event reminder...

Reminder: INNIE'S Birthday 🎂 8th Feb

You threw your phone to the other end of the couch in frustration. You buried your head in your hands as fresh tears streamed down your face.

Oh how excited you were, to plan his first birthday. It was also your first anniversary with him. As this was the day, 8 Feb, one year ago, that you met him, in a cafe....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

You two hit it off immediately, talking till hours until the cafe owners kicked you out. After a few weeks of dating, he asked you out officially to be his girlfriend.

You finally thought you found the one, he's the most amazing human being and the sweetest boyfriend.

Sure, it hasn't always been pink skies and rosy days, you have had your differences. He was away most of the time. But you understood...

You understood how difficult it is the manage the idol life as it is, let alone having a hidden relationship at that.

Because the moments you two shared together, melted all your loneliness and worries away. But now everything has changed.

The once familiar face of your smiley boy now gave an unfamiliar, immense pain in your chest.

What have you even done wrong, anyways ? You were planning a surprise party for him.

You wanted everything to be perfect. So you were taking tips from Heesung on which dishes he misses the most from his hometown.

Not that you don't know. But you wanted to make sure its to his liking. And also you wanted to invite Heesung to Jeongin's birthday.

It was going to be a surprise one, so you wanted Heesung to distract him anyhow, from going to your home that day.

At Least until 5:30 as you'll have everything ready by that time.... But he thought you...were...cheating on him. Oh how could he even think of that ?

" Don't lie to me yn, I know you've been crushing on my best friend, Heesung, since a long time."

" You know what leave me actually" "It'll do us both something good "

" Crushing on Heesung ?" "Since when did he think that I am crushing on his best friend ?"

You muttered to yourself.

Heesung is nothing but like an older brother to you and an amazing friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Another notification popped up on your phone. You got up again from your seat, to pick up your phone that you threw away at the other end of the couch. It was a text from Chan.

You read the messages but decided to not reply to them. It's been 4 days since the fight. And your pride will always get in the way to even bother to message him. After all it wasn't your fault he assumed such shitty things about you.

Still, your heart was not made of steel. There was still a soft spot behind it that was missing him, your boyfriend. So reluctantly, you picked up the phone again and replied to the message.

Grabbing your coat from the hanger, you stepped out of the house around 7:45. The breeze outside chilled you to the bones.

So you tucked your hands inside your coat pockets. You missed the warmth of your boyfriend's hands.... Sighing, you put your head down and walked through the path to the cafe....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

A familiar scent of freshly ground coffee beans greeted you as you opened the door of the cafe.

Chan was already waiting at the corner table and waved at you when he saw you walking through the door.

"You're here!"

"Sorry to make you wait." you smiled at him.

"I've already ordered your usuals, they should be here soon" He nervously smiled.

"Thank you Channie '' You replied, shifting your gaze suddenly to look at a couple on the right of your table.

Reading your expressions, Chan cleared his throat and spoke " So, umm, about Jeongin.."

" Right, how's he ? " You nervously replied as you fidgeted with your hands.

"Not good, '' Chan replied.

" He still doesn't talk to us or reply to our messages, let alone come out of the room"

You sighed, taking a sip from your cup of coffee

"We had an argument"

" Four days ago... " you replied to Chan, who nodded in understanding.

"He thought I was cheating on him..."

"What ?" " How could that boy even think of that..." He huffed in annoyance.

"I was planning his birthday party with Heesung"

" So I met him at another cafe a few times and discussed the surprise plan"

" Apparently he followed me one day and saw that I was laughing and talking with Heesung"

" And that idiot assumed the worst ?" He sighed and touched his temples.

"Seriously, I really have to talk some sense into him..."

" There's no point anyways..." You took a deep breath to calm yourself.

" He has changed..."

"No he's not,"

" I know him since long enough, so I know he's not changed..."

And Chan indeed knew him long enough to know that he's sulking, regretting all his life decisions...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Jeongin was tossing and turning in bed. Not a blink of sleep in his eyes. He felt frustrated, angry even.

How the heck can he even accuse his girlfriend of such a thing. She has been nothing but a wonderful girlfriend to him all year.

She was his sunshine and he was her smiley boy. How could he even think that Heesung and you were cheating behind his back ?

He muffled his screams into the pillow as tears streamed down his face.

He confronted Heesung that same day... Heesung was shocked, explaining to his friend, they had been meeting for a surprise party planned for him.

He was too ashamed to go back to your house now. Too ashamed to tell the members that he fucked up.

So he found his escape behind the closed doors of his dorm room. And that's where he's been camping, since the past three days....

He regrets everyday the things he told you that day. He was really stressed since the past weeks for the upcoming comeback.

He was so exhausted to the point of slacking in practices. The routine was killing him mentally and physically.

He was depressed, maybe...he thought. However, that didn't give him the right to lash out at you.

But when he saw your texts last week with Heesung with the code word - " Don't Tell Jeongin 🤫''

He was hurt, shocked even. Something in his mind told him to follow you and so he did... He watched you get all giggly with Heesung.

"Why do these two look so good together? ''

He angrily muttered to himself. He couldn't take it anymore. He left the scene, heartbroken…

Since that day he's just sleeping and practising everyday. He didn't even want to eat but when the members called for him collectively, he just sighed and came downstairs and ate.

When he finally got an off day to came home, he immediately packed his stuff and left for your house.

Seeing you coax him for a therapist snapped something in him as the next thing you know, he was spitting fire at you with his harsh words.

Oh how he thought you were cheating and even thinking of breaking up with you.

He left the scene before you can tell him what happened....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" How about you two talk it out with each other, tomorrow before midnight strikes ?" Chan asked.

" What do you mean ?" You curiously replied.

" I mean I'll slap that idiot out of bed and talk some sense into him"

" Then you two can meet at a designated place, and can talk it out wholeheartedly ?"

He let out a nervous chuckle, unsure of what you'll reply.

" That's not a bad idea, actually, but the pain is still there Channie, '' You sheepishly smiled at him.

" I don't think I can handle another argument, if it comes to that..." You buried your face in your hands.

" I thought he was the love of my life, but now...I don't know anymore... "

" Hey, hey, its ok YN if you don't wanna do this '' Chan reassured you.

'' But remember it's 27 hours to strike midnight 8 Feb."

" And I don't want to get your first birthday as well as your first anniversary with him to get ruined."

" But if you don't want to do anything I'll understand and make him understand too "

" Because at the end, it's up to you to, as you're not the one in the fault.."

You sat back and pondered a little over your thoughts. Talking out your differences is actually a very great idea, as you two can decide whether or not it's good to stay together again.

But the hiccups of something bad happening plagued your mind again and you massage your temples in frustration

" You know what Channie ?"

" Mhm ?" Chan replied.

" I'll let you know by tomorrow morning ?"

" That sounds good " Chan beamed as he packed his stuff from the table.

" Leaving already ?" You asked.

" Yes I have to prepare something for tomorrow.."

" What do you mean ?" You asked in confusion.

'' You'll know if you say yes " He smiled as you two waved each other goodbyes....

Hurriedly, you stepped foot into the house. The bitter cold biting your bones and everything underneath.

You immediately turned on the heater and removed your coat. You sat back on your couch and took a deep breath.

" Is it really worth to talk about it ?" You muttered to yourself.

" He was the best I had, but after what happened 4 days ago..."

" I don't know....uggggh!!"

You cried out in frustration wondering if you can face him again.

" But like Channie said, it doesn't hurt to get closure..." You thought.

" We can talk out our differences and if he still stays the same..."

" I will..." " Leave him" You shivered at the thought.

Thinking of the worst, yet still determined to get closure, you picked up your phone and messaged Chan.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" Hyung it's 6 in the morning, let me fucking sleep! Stop knocking please!!!" Jeongin screamed as he heard continuous knocks and kicks at his door.

" Not until you come out!" Chan screamed.

" I'll keep kicking the door Jeongin!! ''

Chan never called his sweet maknae by his name. It was always Innie or something sweet. So when Jeongin heard his name, he knew it was serious.

"Fine! If you don't open the door, you might lose your only chance to see yn again.." Chan screamed.

Hearing those words, something stirred in him and he hurriedly opened the door....Chan was shocked to see his condition. His hair was dishevelled, there were bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for days...he looked so weak, so tired.

" Oh My God..." Chan gasped as if he just saw a ghost. " Innie...I..my god"

" I know I look like shit Hyung '' Jeongin huffed.

Tears suddenly started brimming his eyes, as he looked down at the floor.

" I fucked up hyung " "I..I...lost yn, my love..." He cried.

" Hey it might not be so late, she still hasn't left Seoul yet..."

" Her flight to go back to her hometown, tonight is at 9:30 pm"

" We still have a lot of time to make it up to her" Chan reassured Jeongin.

" Hyung, I don't think...she will take me back" Jeongin spoke in between his sobs.

"Tell me Innie, do you love her ?" Chan asked calmly.

" More than I love myself"

" She means the world to me, she's the sweetest and kindest human being and I am so so lucky to have her" Jeongin wiped his tears as he spoke.

" Then why don't you show her ?"

" Show what ?" He asked curiously.

" That how much you love her, how much she means to you and what you will do to never break her heart again"

A light bulb sparked in his head as Chan spoke to him about the plan... He nodded and agreed to everything.

" Let's get you a makeover first and some fresh clothes"

Chan spoke as he covered his nose playfully

" You kinda smell ngl"

" Shut up!" Jeongin punched Him playfully in the stomach as Chan laughed.

" So the plan's set, lets call it, 23 Reasons, Why I Love You "

"You're so cheesy Hyung " Jeongin rolled his eyes.

" Hey someone has to be the romantic one here " Chan chuckled.

" You're right, Let's do this!"

Jeongin smiled with a newfound determination in his eyes as they both stepped out of his room to the living room.

" What, Jeongin did what ?! " Minho glared at Jeongin as he heard what happened from Chan.

" Yes my boy, you seriously fucked up " Hyunjin spoke soon after.

" I know that Hyune " Jeongin rolled his eyes.

" We came here to ask for your help not to listen to the obvious "

" What's with the attitude ?" Minho asked him in annoyance.

" Sorry, I am just so nervous, I don't want anything wrong to happen. Please hyung.... "

He pleaded to Minho, with his big doe eyes.

" Ugghh fine, Innie" Minho sighed,

" Just don't ever do this to them again "

" I promise it will never happen again."

" I will turn a new leaf "

" Then I'll bring the dishes by 5 then while its still hot."

" And I'll find some time in between the breaks to paint something before 5" Hyunjin spoke after minho.

" Right, practice..." He sighed,

" I missed out on so much for 4 days "

" Don't stress, we've convinced our manager for two more days off for you so that you can be with ynnie tomorrow and the day after..." Minho smiled reassuring him.

" Really ?" " You're a lifesaver hyung "

" Just don't think this will happen everyday " Minho snickered,

" My favours are only valid for limited hours of time"

" Understood!"

" Now go get some facials or something, you look horrible"

Jeongin gasped at Hyunjin's words.

" Ughh rude Hyune "

" What ? I spoke the truth " Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

" Fine I'm going with Channie hyung"

" Please keep the things ready before I return, I request"

" Don't worry, we got you bro! " Han replied as he arrived.

Jeongin whispered a thank you to everyone before leaving with Chan...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Meanwhile, you were throwing away every cloth you can find in your closet.

" Uggh, I look ugly in this " You cried.

" Nooo, this makes me feel bloated "

You were frustrated. You were trying on dresses for an hour but nothing seems to fit you.

" I don't have time for shopping " You cried to the thin air in frustration.. Just then, right on cue you heard a knock on the door. Cautiously you opened the door...

" Delivery for YN/LN ?"

" Yes that's me " you replied.

" But I didn't order anything ?..." You asked confused.

" Mr. Jeongin told me to deliver this to you "

" Ahhh, I see " You now understood what this is for. You thanked the delivery man and took your parcel back to your room.

Eagerly, you opened it and gasped.... It was a beautiful blue and white themed outfit, curated for you.

There was a beautiful blue knitted dress, a white coat, white boots and a cute blue bag. There was also a note attached to it.

'' Please let me make it up to you, one last time "

" Meet me at 5:30 there... J "

You smiled when you read his initials.

You gasped when you realised you're blushing.

" Ugh, YN'' You slapped your cheek. " Get it together, it's just a talk with him, not a date..." You sighed and stared at the box of clothes, contemplating if you should wear it..

" Fine, I'll wear it, I guess. '' You quickly wore your outfit on and did your makeup. You heard the alarm suddenly indicating its 5 now.

" Shit, I should leave now, or I'll be late"

Your uber arrived minutes after, and you reached the hotel. You took a deep breath as you stepped inside the vast doors of it.

" Hi, I am a guest of Mr. Jeongin ? Room no 23, I suppose"

You nervously spoke to the lady, at the front desk. She checked your name and your ids. After checking everything, she smiled and director you to the elevator.

Thanking her, you entered the elevator and pressed the buttons. It was on the 7th floor. As every floor passed by you, your heart beat increased. The dread of something worse happening hurts your chest so bad. You cursed yourself for overthinking so much.

The doors opened and you were greeted by a long corridor. You stepped out and walked to the end of the passage. There it was Room No. 23. You took a deep breath and opened the door....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

It was pitch black inside, as you turned the knob and entered

" Jeongin ?" You called out to the thin air, but to no answered.

" What the hell! Am I in the wrong room ?" You muttered to yourself... Confused and somewhat scared of the dark you decided to leave when the door suddenly shut in front of you, covering you in pitch black darkness.

You panicked and tried to bang on the door when a text popped up

Innie💕 : Look behind

Still half confused, you turned around and gasped....

There was a beautiful trail laden with candles and pink roses that led to the bedroom...

You were surprised yet curious. So you followed the path...

Every step on the floor had something written -:

🌹You're the most beautiful woman in the world🌹

🌹The kindest and sweetest🌹

🌹So lucky to have you🌹

🌹So proud of your accomplishments🌹

🌹You're my best friend🌹

🌹I am so sorry🌹

And then the last one,

🌹Please give me another chance🌹

You took the last step and reached the bedroom and looked up and gasped again....

It was beautifully decorated with balloons and floral wreaths everywhere. There was a heart made with roses in the middle of the bed There was also something written in the middle of the heart, with flowers and twigs -

" I love you to the moon and back" You giggled seeing it.

"Innie ?"

You called out, but there was no one... You looked around, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your left..

." Lilac and pink roses" your favourite, you thought. There was also a tray of your favourite food laid out, closed off with a transparent lid so that it stays warm.

"Mandu, Katsu rice and Jjajangmyeon ?" You giggled. There was a gorgeous painting of you on your right.

" Oh wow, thats me " you gasped.

You thought of how this was all Jeongin's plan to make it up to you. But the man of the hour was to be seen nowhere... You searched for him in the bathroom, the balcony and back to the living room. He was nowhere to be seen. You were lost in your thoughts, when suddenly you heard something....

**I never meant to break your heart, my love**

**But I stumbled down the road, just like a fool

does**

**I let my ego lead the way, oh, how it blinds**

**Now I'm left here searching for the words to

make it right...**

There he was, standing behind you, wearing a white shirt and blue trousers. His hair was brushed out nicely.

"He looked so handsome," you thought.

He played the guitar as he sang again.

**Heartfelt apologies, can't you see?**

**I'm drowning in regrets, oh, set me free**

**Let me show you, darling, let me prove**

**That my love for you is strong, and oh, so true*

You giggled and clapped as he finished his song with a bow.

" What's all this ?" You asked.

He didn't say anything, instead he held your hand and walked you from the bedroom to the bed. Confused, you tagged along... He motioned to sit on the bed as he sat himself. He then finally spoke...

" YN, I am truly so sorry for what I have done..."

" Will you please give me another chance ? I beg you "

" Jeongin, I understand that you're sorry but the words you told me that day hurt me so badly and honestly...I don't anymore"

You sniffled a little as you looked at him..

" YN, I am so sorry..."

" I don't know what came over me that day. '' He looked down as tears clouded his vision.

" The stress of the comeback burnt me out so much everyday..."

" The stress was too much to bear "

" You could've at least told me that you're suffering so much " you replied.

" Last week, when I was home and saw you giggling on the phone... I couldn't help but be curious, so as you left to shower, I went through your phone and saw the messages.."

" There it was, messages exchanged between you and Heesung, to meet that evening"

" And a - Don't tell Jeongin! at the end "

" When you told me, you're going shopping, my heart broke..."

" You were lying to me, I thought " " So I followed you and saw you there, at the cafe"

" Giggling and blushing with Heesung, my friend"

" My heart to shattered to pieces..."

" Everything I had, I was losing it..."

" I lost myself, I was lacking at work and now you..." He broke down in tears.

" Innie, I had no idea this is how you felt, I'm so sorry. "

" No, I'm the one at fault"

" I was so clouded in my head, overthinking everything and I assumed the worst..."

" I started slacking at work after that, didn't eat, didn't sleep much"

" The members were disappointed in me " And then when you told me to go see a therapist..." He spoke in between sobs...

" I don't know why, Something broke in me.." "

I thought I am a failure and everyone wanted to get rid of me..." you squeezed his hand to reassure him...

" Innie, these meetings were just for planning your surprise birthday party"

" I couldn't hold it any longer that day." " I snapped at you, telling you we should break up..." He buried his face in his hands.

" Innie please don't cry, its not your fault...I shouldn't have lied to you, I am really sorry " You replied.

" When I called Heesung that day " He continued, after wiping his tears.

" I realised I fucked up so bad"

" It was all planning for my birthday"

" I felt so ashamed of myself. I thought you will never want to see my face." You wiped his tears with your hands.

" So I hid in my dorm room and didn't get out untill today...."

" I am truly so sorry ynnie, I hope you can forgive me one day.."

"Innie " You held his hand.

" I am so sorry I have made you feel like that " He looked back at you,

" Before you leave for your flight, let me make it up to you, one last time ? "

" My flight ? " you asked confused.

" Yeah it's at 9:30 right ? Channie hyung told me"

" But I don't have any flight, I'm not going anywhere... "

" But Channie hyung...Oh "

He realised it was all a plan by his Channie hyung to get him out. He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

" So you're not going anywhere ? " he asked.

" No " you replied.

Suddenly, he hugged you tightly. You were surprised by this but melted in his arms as he held you tight. You missed this. He smelled of the familiar cologne you loved so much. It felt like bliss, like old times....You two pulled away after sometime.

" If you're not going then let me show you, How much I love you"

" Let me show you 23 Reasons why I love you "

" Why 23 " you chuckled.

He cupped your face in his hands.

" 23 is a very significant number in our relationship."

" 5:23 was the time we met on the 8th of Feb an year ago."

" It was on the 23th of March that I asked you out to be my girlfriend. We've been together since 321 days, 2 hours and 23 minutes"

" Oh my gosh, you remembered ?" You smiled.

" That's not all, I promise you that I'll be the best version of myself "

" You make me complete yn and I wouldn't have it any other way "

" You're the most kindest and beautiful person in this whole world... " "I am so so lucky to have you "

Tears streamed down your face as you smiled at him. He's very sincere this time, you thought. Suddenly he went down on one knee

" Will you, my sunshine, make your smiley boy happy again for forever and ever "

You put your hands on your mouth and gasped

" Oh My God are you proposing ?"

" No its a promise ring actually "

" It's a promise from me to you that I'll be the man, you wished to be with "

" I'll go to therapy, I'll work on myself and be the best version of the person, you fell in love with "

" Innie, what if we fight again ?" You asked, cursing yourself inside for overthinking again.

" I promise to you that I will never raise your voice at you "

" I'll be there for you as much as I can "

" Even if I have to fight with my managers, I will"

" I'll leave the company if it comes to that "

You squeezed his hand.

" Innie, I trust you, just promise that you'll share everything with me, however good and bad, instead of suffering by yourself "

" I promise "

" Then I'll gladly accept this ring, my smiley boy " He eagerly put the ring through your left ring finger, it was a gorgeous diamond princess solitaire ring. It was simple yet so beautiful. You widely smiled as you looked at it, glistening in your finger.

Grabbing him by his neck you kissed him. He melted as your lips touched his, he deepened the kiss as if you two were longing for this. Both of you giggled as you pulled away slowly, breathless.

" Woo-hoo " There was a pop and clap sound as you looked at the living room. All the skz boys were standing there smiling as you two pulled away.

You were a little embarrassed thinking of how long were they watching you two.

" Congratulations you guys, so happy for you " Chan beamed.

" I knew it, he can do it! " Minho exclaimed

" Did she like the painting and the song lyrics ? I wrote them!" Hyunjin spoke from behind.

" I bet she did!" Han high fived Hyunjin As he spoke.

" Seungmin, are you crying ?" Felix asked him, shocked " Shut up, I am just happy for these two " Seungmin replied. " Yes, very happy " Changbin wiped a tear in his eyes ith his thumb.

Both of you smiled as you looked at the scene. He held your hand as both of you walked to the boys, who were smiling and cheering for you.

A new beginning has started for you. With his hand in your hand, a new promise has begun to keep the relationship going.

No matter what comes, you two are in it together, forever and ever!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

A/N: This is the end! Thank you for sticking by for so long. I had so much fun making this, I hope you like it too ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Make Sure to like, reblog and comment!

Taglist: @atinyniki @minholing @cheesemonky @bunnystruggles @michelle4eve @writingforstraykids @skzoologist

@iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @livelovelaughmiko

@teenageshepherdpeachfan @gho-ster @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

@seungseung-minmin @ezlynkisses

@elmoslungcancer @cuddlylonelyperson

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[ricksroaches]

Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 13 ~The Reunion~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Obstacle Course ...

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

"What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said." 

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money. 

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  The full moon illuminated Jamie's and Claire's path as they made their way to the cottage into the cold night. It seemed they were the only two people in the world, walking in comfortable silence, lost in their own respective thoughts, and the only sounds to be heard were their footfalls and the dance of the trees. Inhaling deeply, Jamie pulled Claire into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the crown of her head, and in turn, her arm slid familiarly under his jacket to settle around his waist. For the first time in five days, every cell in his body was alive and buzzing, and it felt amazing to hold and have her close again.

Earlier, after the excitement and stramash outside Christie's apartment building had settled, they'd gone back in search of Quentin. It hadn't taken them long to spot him where he'd leaned on the wall outside the pub working his phone, most probably trying to call Claire. Though Quentin had looked like he could go for a few more round of drinks, to his relief, he hadn't put up much of an argument when Claire had firmly suggested it was time to call it a day. They'd escorted him back to his lodgings, making sure he had everything before heading for home.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them. 

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom. 

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa." 

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did." 

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief. 

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie." 

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?" 

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it." 

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!" 

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home." 

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?" 

Jesus! "Outside." 

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself. 

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?" 

"Aye." 

"Where did her hands go?" 

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?" 

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?" 

"Oh, um ...around my neck." 

"And what about your hands?" 

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there." 

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably. 

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy. 

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?" 

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..." 

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours." 

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted. 

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?" 

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need. 

"Is that what ye want?" 

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want." 

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?" 

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop." 

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough." 

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard." 

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly. 

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach." 

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!" 

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen. 

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated. 

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

Signing off now and wishing you a fabulous weekend. Stay safe and always take care! X

[bonny-kookoo]

Lavender Love (JJK x Reader) 💐💜🔞

🦋 Pairing: Florist!Jeon Jungkook x Mute!Reader

🦋 Genre: Florist!AU, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers AU, smut

• Selective mutism : a severe anxiety disorder where a person is unable to speak in certain social situations, such as with classmates at school or to relatives they do not see very often. It usually starts during childhood and, if left untreated, can persist into adulthood.

🦋 Warnings: mentions of past trauma (no mentions of what exactly), anxiety attack, it’s not romanticized in this so it’s no ‘hero in shining armor knows what to do’ kinda thing, mentions of vomiting and overall just a very uncomfortable situation, Jungkook is actually kinda lost, mutual pining, awkward reader, very very VERY soft smut, like Jesus Christ it’s so sweet, mentions of therapy, hopeless romantic kook, he researched so much just so he can help :(, protective Kook!

🦋 Summary: words only hurt people around you, so when you meet this kind florist while picking up your friends order, you swear to yourself to never speak a word to him. He however, seems to have different plans.

(Again, I want to point out that anxiety attacks are a real thing, and hardly ever ‘just pass’. If you’re uncomfortable with these things, please skip this fic as it is a major part of the story. Everyone experiences these things differently, things depicted in this are personal experiences. If you think you have problems like this, please seek professional help. You’re not broken, you maybe just need a little hand to guide you back on track. Stay safe everyone 💕)

This is a oneshot! If you have any asks, Ideas, or drabble requests for this universe, throw them my way!

You don't remember the last word you spoke to a stranger.

It's probably hidden somewhere, and you'd find it if you really searched for it, however, you didn't really crave to be remembered about what happened afterwards. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You don't remember your school days.

Again, these memories are there, you know it. Yet you've turned them around like a picture hanging on a wall, neatly framing an incident that scarred you to the point of seemingly no return. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You pull your facemask a bit as you waited at the red light, folded paper in your hand, which was hidden in the front pocket of your sweater. People around you didn't really look at you, not caring, and you favored it greatly. You felt your fingers get clammy however, the closer you got to the corner store. Hopefully Miss Jung was there; she knew your mother, and didn't really mention your habit of silence much. Hopefully.

But the closer you got, the more you felt your skin grow cold.

That was not miss Jung.

You desperately wanted to text Yoongi, telling him that you couldn't pick up his order, but he was sick, he needed someone to do it, and you knew you could do it- you had to start somewhere. Your therapist had praised you last month so greatly, telling you how good you were getting at conversing, even if it was just through text or post it notes- it was more than you did a few years ago. But your feet slowed down, hands beginning to shake. You stood against the wall near the entrance, evening out your breathing as you tried to ground yourself again.

You could do this.

Entering the store, familiar bell ringing, you felt a bit more calm as the scent of the various flowers filled your nose. You'd often stayed under the counter when Miss Jung had been working when you were young, her presence calming to you as she didn't care about your 'issues' as others had called it. She always let you make flower crowns and tiny rings, showing you what every one of them meant, uncaring that you never answered her. She always said your smile was enough.

"Hello! How can I help you?" He asked in a friendly manner. His voice was melodic, probably nice to listen to whenever he talked away, making you slightly jealous. Your own was weak, fragile from lack of use. He smiled at you as you hesitantly walked forwards, unfolding the note Yoongi had written and placing it down in front of him, making him pick it up, reading it. "Oh? Lazy gramps can't pick them up himself?" He chuckled, and you wanted to disagree, yet you stopped the thought while it formed. "Ah, I'll get them for you, but are you sure you can carry them all yourself? There's multiple boxes, and eh-" He began, grinning before picking at his skin on his jaw. "-not to be mean but you're kinda short." He said, and your eyes widened. You shook your head, and he leaned his to the side. "No? No what?" He asked, and you began to grow uncomfortable. Your gaze shifted towards the note, pointing towards it, then at yourself, before you nodded. "I eh.." He trailed off, before he smiled encouragingly. "Ah, you're shy? Don't be, I don't bite!" He playfully said, and you could feel the tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

It was unfair really. You wished you could be more open, tell him all you wanted to say, be just as confident as he was being- yet here you were, confusing the guy to no ends just because you couldn't open your mouth. It was pathetic, really, and before you knew you felt the tears gather. You were growing frustrated, hands growing clammy as you tightened them into fists, breathing becoming uneven as you desperately tried to calm yourself. "Ah- you're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He tried, hand on your shoulder not helping one bit. He was now confused, maybe even scared, and it was your fault. Why were you being so difficult? Why couldn't you just tell him like every other normal person could? Oh yeah, because you weren't. You were absolutely fucked up, useless for society, not even able to work a proper job-

"Y/N?" The voice sounded dull, as if someone held their hands over your ears, the rushing of your own blood drowning out everything else as your hands and feet became rigid, frozen in place by the overflow of oxygen. "Jungkook dear, please give her space- Y/N sweetheart, can you hear me?" You knew she was talking, but her voice wasn't reaching you at all as the tears fell, sobs wrenching your gut to the point of feeling sick. "Oh sweetheart, come on, quick-" She hurried, unnoticed by you helping your locked body outside through the backdoor with Jungkooks help, who had a worried look on his face as he watched the scene unfold. "Jungkook dear, can you get me a bucket real quick?" He nodded, dashing off to clumsily get a small water bucket, cursing as he knocks down several others, glad that there wasn't another costumer. He got back just in time for Miss Jung to manage to hold the purple plastic container underneath your face as your body shook, bringing back up whatever you'd eaten in its absolute frenzy. "Shh, its okay.." She hummed, before addressing the boy again. "Can you cut some lavender please? A branch should be enough." She asked, as he nodded again, eyes barely leaving your figure. Was that his fault? What did he do wrong? "Jungkook." Miss Jung said to knock him back to reality, as he nodded, walking towards the several flowers as he took out the gardening scissors from his apron, cutting two small branches instead of one for good measure.

When he walked back outside the backdoor, you'd already laid on your side, Miss Jung carefully running her hand over your back as you seemed to still have issues breathing properly, sobs still present as you choked on air. He wordlessly gave his boss what she'd asked for, as he watched her rub the flowers between her hands, the scent filling your nose slowly. It helped after a moment, slowly calming your senses back down, exchanging your now returning sense of hearing and vision with a raging headache. "I'm so sorry I-" He began, but miss Jung sent him a look, shaking her head. She'd just managed to bring you back, she didn't need to throw you back into the circle again.

"Jungkook, can you go help the costumers please?" She asked as she heard the bell, and he hesitantly nodded, before returning.

Well, this ended well.

The next day, Yoongi had you by his side as he stepped inside the flower shop. "Hel- Ah! You!" Jungkook exclaimed, making you shrink in on yourself, readying yourself for whatever he had to say. Yoongi however, voice raspy from his cold, cut him off.

"Yah you idiot, can you ever just do what you're told?" He exclaimed, as Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, fluffy hair falling a bit to the side from the movement. "You got my shit?" He asked, and you gently pulled at his sleeve, a sign that he should at least stop cursing. "Sorry." He mumbled down to you as Jungkook watched the silent exchange with interest. Yoongi coughed, snapping the younger boy back to his senses as he walked to the back, coming back with two boxes. "Thanks." Yoongi simply answered, holding both boxes even though he could see the question in your eyes. You both got ready to leave, as Jungkook stopped you.

"Wait!" He said, rummaging around underneath the counter before he pulled out a tiny envelope, wrapped with a purple ribbon, holding it out to you. "As uhm.. a sorry. For yesterday. I didn't know." He offered, and you took it, nodding. So now he knew. Great. He simply waved, as Yoongi bumped you with his elbow, signaling you to go.

In the car, the older boy suddenly sniffed. "Did he pack the wrong flowers or why does it smell so much like lavender?" He asked, and you shrugged, before remembering the gift. Opening the ribbon, you found a small sheer bag, dried seeds of lavender inside, as well as a note.

'Miss Jung said, writing is easier. So if I didn't screw up yesterday, text me? :) '

"That fucker!" Yoongi laughed before coughing again, making you smile a bit. What exactly was that supposed to mean?

It meant exactly what he said. He genuinely started to reach out to you after you'd texted him your number, sending you random pictures of bouquets he did during the day, of scenery he encountered on his way to or off work, memes, or simply asking you how your day was. He slowly found out more and more about you, never really asking why you didn't speak- because the more he began to unravel your personality, the less he cared about that. He found out that you liked sports, you played in a soccer team, and worked as an online tech support from home. He thought of it as absolutely the coolest thing ever, even asking to see a game of yours if you'd let him.

Which had led to this moment.

Jungkook was sitting down, several girls side-eyeing him as they wondered why he was there. His dark attire and several piercings, as well as the ink painting his arm that he'd exposed due to the heat as he'd rolled up the sleeves of his sweater completely covering up the fact that he actually worked with delicate things such as tiny flowers, able to make the best flower crowns of all time. He denied their request to sit with them, texting you instead that he was there, and where he sat. He watched as you read his message before looking up, finding him as he grinned, waving. You meekly waved back, shy smile on your lips as he heard the whispers from his side. He gave them a look to shut them up, before leaning forward, eager to see you in action.

He was mesmerized as he saw you run, every step you took seemingly perfectly timed and placed. You were the shortest one out of your team, but that did not put you at a disadvantage at all it seemed; you ducked under another player trying to push you almost expertly, making him jump up and push his fist into the air in victory as you scored.

When you were done with your game, he'd already walked down the stairs, meeting you as you smiled at his figure, a bit taken aback by his choice of clothing. He always made sure to cover up his tattoos in the flowershop, Miss Jung not too fond of him scaring away costumers who had a more traditional view on things. He held up his hand before lowering it a bit for you to properly hit it in a high five, internally beaming at the fact that you'd slowly grown more comfortable with him. He carried your bag for you, shaking away his stray strands of hair that had fallen into his face from the slight wind. "Ah, here." He remembered, giving you your facemask back, remembering that you always liked to wear it so people thought you were maybe sick and just didn't talk because of that. But after months with him; you didn't need it anymore. So you simply took it from him, putting it into your pocket. His eyes widened a bit but he smiled afterwards, actually growing a bit shy.

And he almost tripped over his own feet as he felt your tiny hand grab his to hold.

"Oh Y/N! Jungkook is already changing. He said you're both going on a date?" Miss Jung winked at you, making you look down shyly, fingers pulling at the hem of your skirt a bit as you nodded. He'd asked you out a few days ago, immediately replying that you could also just stay at his or your place, and that you didn't have to go out. You'd thanked him for it, and you both decided to simply get a shit ton of junk food to take home to his place, planning on watching a short movie and maybe playing some video games after. "I'm happy. He's a good guy, but don't tell him I said that, his ego is too inflated already, that poor boy!" She hummed, as Jungkook whined from behind her.

"Yah, my ego isn't inflated at all, what are you saying?!" He said while pouting, making you chuckle a but under your breath. He smiled, walking up to you as he waved at miss Jung. "Thanks for closing the shop, we'll be on our way then!" He exclaimed, and she just nodded, smile genuine on her lips.

"So!" He said, stretching his arms above his head before he took your hand, walking across the street with you as he led you both to a fast food place close by. "I thought about The Cat Returns tonight?" He asked, and you nodded, happy with his choice. Against the stigma floating around him judged by his attire and collections of tattoos and piercings, Jungkook was actually a huge fan of Studio Ghibli and everything romantic. He was a bit cheesy, but you'd grown to appreciate it- maybe even love it. The more you both conversed and spend time together, the closer you felt yourself getting with him- without forcing yourself to. It just came natural with him, the hand holding not making you feel weird or as if people were staring, his jacket around your shoulders never feeling heavy. Being close to him was comforting, hearing his voice was soothing, being with him was.. like your personal stack of lavender, always ready to calm your nerves.

So when you were walking to his place, apartment still a bit foreign to you since you'd only visited him a handful of times, you didn't feel any pressure. You simply took off your shoes, immediately greeting his two pet rabbits in his living room, crouching down to pet them. "I feel like you only love me for my pets." He explained playfully scandalized, making you grin as you continued to run your hand over the soft fur.

"Alright!" He'd exclaimed as everything was set on the table, his arms on the back of his couch. "Will you stay with them or actually sit down with me? I'm getting lonely." He whined, and you rolled your eyes before you skipped to the couch, stumbling a bit as he chuckled, catching you as you almost fell onto his lap. "Easy there tiger, and here I thought you wanted to take things slow." He laughed, voice low as he turned on the movie, very aware of the blush coating your cheeks.

It started to cover his own soon as well however, as you slowly but surely started to cuddle up to him.

A kiss was what started it. One, then two, and the third deepened the feeling of want. You thought you'd feel pressured, hesitant, shy, or maybe even scared- but you didn't. This was Jungkook. And Jungkook was your safe place.

"Wait.." He hesitantly said, eyes almost shut in a way as if he was hurt, holding your shoulders as he looked at you. "I- I'm sorry, I don't know what came over myself there.." He chuckled, shifting a bit as he suddenly pulled on his sweater to hide his growing erection. He'd never been ashamed of it in the past, but now, it seemed out of place. It felt as if it made him look like he couldn't wait, as if he was impatient, or taking advantage of the situation. You simply took the receipt of the food, turning it around as you clicked the ballpoint pen on his table, writing.

'It's okay. I want to.'

His eyes widened as he got more serious. "You don't have to. I can totally wait." He said, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched you write another line.

'There's no one I'd rather go this far with.'

His heart began to beat heavier, if that made sense. It felt as if every beat was suddenly more meaningful, louder, more present than ever, as he watched you write.

'I'm yours.'

You gently laid the pen down, now looking at him as he smiled, kissing your lips again deeply as the thunderstorm outside raged on, lightning brightening the room for a second as he couldn't seem to stop kissing you. "Thank you." He hummed, before diving in again. "Thank you." He said again, before made you sit on his lap, straddling him as he chuckled in bliss. "I promise I'll take good care of you." He vowed as you'd closed your eyes, simply giving yourself to him as his hands held you safely. "Now, and forever." He whispered, before he stood up, strong arms underneath your bottom as he carried you out of the living room, into his dark bedroom that only occasionally lit up from the lightning outside. The rain hit the window harshly, yet he didn't seem to hear it at all as he let you fall on the mattress back first, chuckling as he almost fell on top of you, making you giggle.

The sound prominent in his ears as he swore he could've cried.

"You sound so beautiful." He hummed against your neck, his words never wiping the smile off of your face as he moved you to lay down properly, clothes slowly loosing purpose as every item slowly met the floor with a soft thud. He praised every curve, every flaw you saw in yourself as he closed his eyes in pure bliss, no need for visual confirmation to know that you were perfect to him. For the first time in forever you felt free, completely safe and guarded as he moved above you, silent gasps and sighs the only thing present as he stood up for a moment, having to search for a condom before he met you on the bed again, giggling like school kids caught doing mischief as he struggled to open the package, making you laugh at him.

He decided he loved that sound.

If someone was to ask him what he thought your voice sounded like, his first reply would genuinely be that he did not care. It wasn't mandatory in what you both had, he'd learned that over the months and months he'd spent with you. Words surely made communication a bit simpler, but he didn't need them to show you his love and adoration for you. It proved his worth way better than words ever could.

Wrapping the safety over his length he kissed you again, seemingly hooked on the simple gesture as he held himself with one hand, the other one guiding him into you, slowly, as to not make it hurt.

He'd never hurt you.

He didn't rush, there was no need to. This wasn't about reaching a goal, a high, or any end of some sorts. He simply relished in being close to you, in the huge amount of trust you gave him willingly, naturally. He felt honored, as cheesy as it sounded, he felt as if there was no bigger achievement in his life than knowing that you gave yourself into his arms simply because you cherished him just as much as he did you. He held you tightly against him as he slowly moved, pace slow and almost lazy as you slightly squirmed and reached around his shoulders, holding him close as well, both of you existing, nothing more.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you, maybe it was the high of his own happiness in knowing that he held your heart, but he soon felt himself grow sensitive, hand reaching between your bodies to roll your pear between his inked fingers, making you mewl underneath him.

He decided he loved that sound as well.

Your back arched as you came undone underneath him, clenching center helping his own release to happen shortly after. He gasped out, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, suddenly laughing as if he was drunk. And he kind of was; drunk on the realization that this had indeed happened, that he actually was here, holding you, having you all for himself. He slipped out of you after a moment, pulling the condom off of himself as he tied it and threw it into the bin close to his bed, before slipping underneath his blankets, holding you close, sighing in gentle comfort as no words were spoken. Until you moved a bit, lips close to his ear, as you whispered.

"I love you."

And he decided, he loved that sound most of them all.

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Four

(Gif's not my own.) 

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Four

Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.

This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.

They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.

“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.

Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”

Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.

Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.

The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.

He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.

Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.

He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.

It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.

"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.

He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade.  He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?

"Help!"

Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.

This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.

°°°

Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.

It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.

He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.

Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.

That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.

The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.

After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.

"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.

Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.

"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.

"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.

She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."

She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.

"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."

Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."

She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."

His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.

"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"

With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."

They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.

She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.

His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?

Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.

So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point.  Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.

She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.

"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.

"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.

To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.  

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”

His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.

"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."

"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"

He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.

"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.

"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."

“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."

Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"

He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."

She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."

"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."

He shook his head. "I meant in person.”

"Oh, I never realized.”

The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”

Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.

°°°

Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.

First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.

His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?

Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"

He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.

The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.

"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."

"He seems a little down..."

"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!

“Explosion. Two men dead.”

He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.

All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.

He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern.  “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.

Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.

There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.

What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.

Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.

In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!

The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.

It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.

"Oh shit!"

Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.

"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.

Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."

Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"

Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.

"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"

Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.

"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.

Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"

Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."

The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”

@colourmeinblue​ @hail-horror-queen​ @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl​ @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​

[jinxedpanda4life]

DamiRae Hospital AU?

  No I am not writing one, if I could write well I would though! So here are some HCs for a hospital AU.    If someone decides to write this then I’ll be your first reader. Also I am sort of basing things off of Grey’s Anatomy just a bit and my limited knowledge of the medical field.

- Starts of as 1st year residents, specialties may vary

- The “Titans” are residents and 1st years that show great promise, this doesn’t really play a role its just what people call them behind their backs

- Dr. Kori Anders is a OBGYN (women parts and birth) resident, a year or two away from finishing

- Dr. Richard “Dick” Grayson is is a surgery resident, trained by the hospital owner Bruce Wayne (who is a world renowned surgeon, has awards, etc), specifically general surgery

- Dr. Garfield Logan is pediatrician (kid doctor) res, bonds well with kids, but is considering going back to school to become a vet instead

- Dr. Jaime Reyes is an oncology (cancer doctor), having had cancer as a teen and is now forever trying to rid the world of it, works mostly with kids and teens

- Dr. Jonathan Kent is a physical therapist that works with pain management. Up beat guy and is always trying to brighten his patient’s lives.

- Dr. Damian Wayne is a surgical intern, blood thirsty little thing, hoping to become a neurosurgeon (brain, spine) (or cardiothoracic (heart, lungs) both are competitive)

- Dr. Raven Roth is an anesthesiologist (the drug person that knocks you out) and is starting her surgical internship (she wanted to do more than just help people get high essentially or whatever) has no current preference for any specific surgical field

- Add in characters:

-- Dr. Jason Todd, trauma surgeon (fits too well)

-- Dr. Timothy Drake diagnostician (medical detective basically) 

-- Dr. Donna Troy gynecologist

-- Terra Markov is a nurse (i don’t like Terra but nurses are the actual best)

- Story stuff:

- Damian and Raven meet as they are put under the guidance of the same resident

-Damian has an automatic dislike for Raven because she knows everyone already and is equally, if not much more, knowledgable about surgery, the OR, the ER, protocol, etc  He also thinks she is cold because she rarely shows emotion (pot kettle Damian)

- Raven can always be found in the medical archives researching old cases and studying new ones, Damian stumbles upon her when looking for an old cardiomegaly case (enlarged heart).

- Raven gets along with all of the past ‘Robins’ making her a go to intern

- Garfield can be seen whenever he is not needed trying to flirt with Nurse Markov and often goes to Raven to sulk 

- Damian and Raven are always early to pre-rounds and are typically the first ones there (usually early in the morning, getting there before 500)

- Jon bumps into Damian more often than not and they start becoming friends (Damian is reluctant at first and is still you know Damian about everything), Damian even recommends patients to him 

- Though Damian doesn’t want to really ‘hang out’ with anyone he reluctantly hangs out with the Titans, because of Jon and Dick

            - When in a large group when at a bar, club or whatever Damian tends to stay close to Raven because 1) they actually have things to talk about 2) she isn’t loud

- Raven & Damian are both assigned to a case that is frankly befuddling and have to start spending long nights and early mornings together to figure it out

- Over that period of time they learn things about each other:

-- Raven learns: 

Damian has a dog (Titus) and cat (Alfred) 

He is single (Kori told her) and lives in an apartment close to the hospital

He has lived in various countries

He is trained in multiple martial arts 

He prefers his tea with brown sugar and a slice of lemon 

His eyes are a true emerald color with a ring of gold and flecks scattered within 

He may hide it well but when Raven compliments him he becomes flustered

He speaks to himself in Arabic when he curses, trying to remember something, doesn’t want anyone to know what he is saying

He isn’t always an asshole

When he actually smiles a true and genuine smile, she has heart palpitations

-- Damian learns:

Raven has two tattoos (neither are a bird), a gang tat (she is saving up to get it removed), and a mantra in Azarathian; Azarath Metrion Zinthos

She immigrated from Azarath when she was around 8

Her notes are in Azarathian

She actually feels a lot of emotion and knows how to control them

If she is not reading about a current or past case she is reading any book or file she can get her hands on, he has caught her reading in multiple different languages; Azarathian, English, French, Russian, Arabic, Dutch, Mandarin, (could be more or less)

She lives alone and has a cat, Nevermore, and thanks to Dick he already knew she was single

She likes all tea, no matter how prepared, but prefers the sweetener to be honey

Her hair is black but shines purple, especially under the ER lights

Her eyes are a purple that at first glance look blue, like Elizabeth Taylor, he realizes though her eyes are galaxies on their own 

When she smiles the world actually stops moving, her eyes shine like stars and he never wants the world to start moving again

She always wears a necklace with a gold and ruby ring at all times (it was her mother’s wedding ring)

- When Damian starts having le feelings for Raven he considers actually seeking medical advice as this has never happened to him before

- Raven tries her best to contain her feelings when at work, going so far as one day a month staying home just to scream, cry and feel her feelings

- It does not help that new feelings towards Damian start popping up, especially since he starts bringing her tea and hanging out with her at work

- During the middle of their 2nd year of residency someone holds Raven hostage in the hospital to fix someone that person loves (this person had connections to Trigon and knew who Raven was)

- That was not a fun time for either Damian or Raven; Damian was outside the hospital pacing trying to figure something out with the other Titans trying to calm themselves and him down

- Shots are fired and when all is said and done, Raven gets shot in the abdomen and the hand (she was in ICU for a hot sec)

- Damian seemed to be there every time Raven woke up, he was always checking on her during rounds even though he wasn’t on her case

- Raven did have to have surgery on her hand and in her abdomen (idk where i’m not getting that specific), she hated being, in her words, coddled 

- Even though Raven was right handed (the one that got shot) she learned how to do everything, writing, eating, going to the bathroom, etc. (many of the other residents are impressed since she keeps working on it after her other hand heals)

- Raven’s room also becomes a space for other residents to destress and just vent about their day. She listens and gives advice, all without looking up from whatever she was doing. 

- During this time Raven becomes hooked on Pretty Pretty Pegasus

- Raven’s room is also full of cards, flowers, etc all from fellow staff and some from patients. When she leaves (she spends a couple weeks in thanks to multiple surgeries, recovery, and other minor injuries) all of the gifts litter her apartment, the cards end up in a box by her desk, she presses the flowers, and stuffed animals are donated to children’s shelter (she keeps some that she has grown attached to)

- During this time Damian is more of an ass than usual (people notice and tease him)

- Damian at some points keeps working without breaks/sleep for hours on end. Dick pulls him aside after noticing, scolds and forces him to sleep in one of the on call rooms. (He really wanted him to go home, but Damian wasn’t leaving)

- Once Raven was discharged Damian and Garfield help her back home (clothes + gifts + Raven w/a healing hand/other injuries = need help) the other Titans would have helped but were needed at the hospital

- Garfield leaves after dropping off Raven and Damian (and her stuff) as he is called in on a Peds case (could be fake, may not be) and Raven & Damian spend the rest of the time basically watching terrible movies. (with Nevermore sitting on both of them)

- That is the night Damian realizes that not only does he like Raven, but he like likes her. He starts devising plans on how to get her to date him. 

- All his plans basically are thrown out the window because of one reason or another (he kept overthinking it)(poor guy)

- It is not until their 3rd year of residency that Raven realizes her feelings towards Damian (Have I made it clear she likes him? I can’t remember...)

- She realizes her feelings when she has to crash at his place for a night (because he lives ridiculously close to the hospital, like how expensive is that??) and he tries to make sure that she is as comfortable as possible 

- She never realized how much he cared for her? Like she was always helping him out and there for him but she never realized he reciprocated that care? *Shocker*

- Raven becomes kind of a mess because of all her emotions that she is trying to bottle up. (all the corks are disintegrating and the jar is overflowing)

- Raven is during her Ortho rotation (bone surgeon people, they are cool, ik from experience) that she actually gets a good release for her emotions (setting peoples bones and drilling and hammering in pins is actually therapeutic) 

- Raven thinks that may be the specialty she chooses

- Damian saw her as a mess and could not fathom why she was said mess, he figured it was about a romantic interest after someone made an offhand comment about her love life and she became a blubbering mess (very un-Raven like)

- After all of well *motions with hands* that Raven asks why Damian doesn’t have a s/o or someone

- He says there is only person that he has been meaning to ask out (looks pointedly at Raven)

- All Raven says is “Go for it.”

And that is where my HCs end. Now if anyone who happens upon this post decides to write a Medical AU with any of these please tag me, tell me, message me. 

You do not have to give me credit, I just want to read it. 

This took me a couple of days to write up, so if it is disjointed I apologize. 

If anything needs to be corrected for any reason let me know!

 I hope this fuels some imaginations!

-I may post more HC AU things if they come to mind, we will have to see.

[averykedavra]

Love Runs Its Course

Is it clear yet that I’m just using this as an excuse to write sappy, indulgent human AUs with queerplatonic relationships? Because if not, I need to try harder. Anyway, commence coffee shop AU.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Call My Name by the Unlikely Candidates! You can find this story on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: Everyone has a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.


Pairing: Pre-relationship Anxceit.

Words: 9501

Warnings: death and murder mentions but nothing actually occurs, anxiety, minor panic attack, cursing, self-deprecation, scars, mention of a car accident

If there was one thing Virgil hated about people—which there wasn’t, he hated a ton of things about people, from their annoying voices, to their questions about what he was going to do with his life, to the way they always stepped a little too close to him, to the fact that they generally existed and that put a cramp in Virgil’s style, but if he had to pick one thing—it’d be that they always asked about his soulmate.

He kept his timer covered. Countdowns freaked him out, and he’d rather not be staring at his wrist all day. He had a general idea of when he was going to meet his soulmate—probably in the next year or so, or maybe he should have met them by now, or maybe something had gone wrong and he’d never meet them ever and that was why he didn’t look at the goddamn timer. He tried not to think about soulmates in general. It was easy enough. He just focused on panicking over the things he could control, like his college courses and remembering his coffee order and not destroying every friendship in his life.

Soulmates were an enigma, an unknown, and Virgil did not do well with unknowns. They promised a person—or persons—who would understand you, complete you, show you a path you’d never even considered.

That was a terrifying concept. Virgil did not like to be known, for starters. He’d perfected the angry-emo look over the years, complete with shredded jeans and liberally-applied eyeshadow, so he would be the exact opposite. Intimidating. Off-putting. People looked once and looked away, and that was just what Virgil wanted.

He didn’t need a soulmate coming in and prying him open.

He was doing just fine on his own.

Except everyone kept asking. They’d glance down at his wrist, covered by his favorite purple hoodie, and ask if he’d met his soulmate yet. If they were dating. If they planned to get married. Apparently, by the age of twenty-one Virgil was supposed to have met his soulmate, even though he hated going outside and the world had literally billions of people in it. And planning to get married? Virgil wasn’t out of college.

Fuck people.

Sometimes, Virgil would just growl a noncommittal noise and ignore the question. If he was in a talkative mood, he’d say “Haven’t met them.”

Some people took that as a cue to change the subject. But others immediately started reassuring Virgil that he’d find them soon, that the universe would bring them together, and how long did he have left anyway? And Virgil was stuck in the conversation until he could find a polite way to leave, or his friends could bail him out.

They didn’t seem to get that he didn’t want reassurance. That being without his soulmate wasn’t a terrible isolation. He had friends—shocking but true, and something Virgil was still getting used to—and he had a life. He wasn’t going to drop everything to chase some mystical match. He had exams coming up. And soulmates were bullshit, anyway.

Roman would probably take offense to that. But they were. Virgil wasn’t about to trust fucking fate to pick out his missing piece or whatever. God might not play dice with the universe, but it was still a pretty weird matching game—or it was like when the whole class got gift bags and they tossed different gifts randomly into each one. Some people got toy trains or glitter pens. Virgil got a small wooden duck.

Yeah, that was what soulmates were like. Surprise gift bags filled with good toys and bad toys, and some people lucked out and some people didn’t, and some people’s gift bags got lost in the mail, and it was really fucking stupid to have gift bags anyway because who even asked? They’d just been handed them, sparkly and crinkly and leaking confetti, and been told “Here, you get this, take care of it.” No opt-out program. No “thanks, but no thanks” option. Just a heavy gift-bag filled with stuff nobody wanted, being told that they were special for having it.

And of course there were timers.

Because it wasn’t horror-movie enough to have a person specifically assigned to your soul. There were timers, and the numbers counted down, thick and black and rolling through the years, then the months, then the days and minutes. It was like being branded. Virgil had tried to scrub his off in ninth grade, just to see if he could, and the skin around it was left raw but the numbers never disappeared.

Virgil hated numbers. He’d never liked math, and numbers usually came in statistics about death or statistics about poverty or algebra he didn’t understand. And timers. Numbers came in timers and counted down to the moment where Virgil would be stuck with someone for the rest of his miserable existence.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

Yay, soulmates.

Virgil guessed he should count himself lucky that he hadn’t met his yet. It wasn’t all luck, though—like he said, he barely left the house. But his soulmate wasn’t in his college, either. He’d been worried about that. Or maybe his soulmate was just as antisocial as he was. Maybe that’d be alright. They could avoid each other for the rest of their lives.

He covered up his timer, tried not to think about soulmates, and let the anxiety hum in his chest as a constant low-grade buzz. He’d made it this far. Everything was fine right now, no matter what his wrist said, itching under his hoodie and a black smudge in the mirror.

Everything was fine and Virgil was going to graduate college and become a graphic designer and live with several pet spiders and die at a ripe old age from colon cancer. Soulmate-less and perfectly happy.

Well, as happy as he could ever get, which wasn’t very.

People said that was because he didn’t have his soulmate yet. As if diagnosed anxiety and low self-esteem would be magically fixed by some asshole walking into his life and smiling at him. And they wondered why Virgil hated soulmates.

So yeah. Maybe Virgil wasn’t happy happy. But he was alright, and he was alive, and he had friends and a life and some kind of future. He’d stayed on his feet, which was more than he or his therapist really expected, and he had a job, too—at a coffee shop, but a job. It didn’t pay well and each shift was a nightmare and Remy the manager wasn’t the hugest asshole but was still a little bitch, and Virgil hated it utterly. But it was a job. And fucking student loans weren’t going to magically vanish if he just ignored them. Much as he wished that was possible.

He wished the universe spent less magic on soulmates and more magic on paying off student debt. Now that would be useful.

“Student debt,” he’d recite to himself after the third customer called him a name.

“Student debt,” he’d mutter as he mopped up a spilled caramel machiatto.

“Student debt,” he’d remind himself when Remy popped out to talk with his soulmate, which left Virgil with extra shifts he couldn’t say no to, because student debt and also crippling social anxiety.

“Student debt,” he’d groan into his pillow as he collapsed in his bed, surrounded by textbooks he didn’t know well enough to avoid studying the next morning, wondering whether he should just quit school and become a mime. At least it didn’t involve talking to people. Or studying. Or spilled caramel machiattos.

On nights like that, he wondered if he’d even manage to get up the next morning.

But he always did.

Here, queer, and full of fear. Alone, on his own, and fine with never being known.

And working at a coffee shop at three in the afternoon, trying to memorize his science notes in-between orders, the day cloudy and soupy and making Virgil’s purple hair frizz up under his hoodie. His nametag had broken mid-morning, forcing him to duct-tape it in place. And he’d ran out for some groceries during his lunch break, and the groceries had fallen out and now he had to buy new ones in the time he didn’t have, and he hadn’t actually had lunch and was running on three shots of espresso that made him even more jittery than usual, and in general Virgil was about three seconds from curling into a ball on the counter and waiting for the world to stop existing.

That was when he walked in.

Afterwards, Virgil figured he probably should have had some huge moment of shock. A love-at-first-sight thing. Or at least, he should have noticed the guy before he was at the front of the line.

But he didn’t, and even when the dude was right in front of him, he’d just nodded and asked “What can I get for you?” in his best I’m-a-helpful-employee-and-three-seconds-from-killing-everything voice. Vaguely, he noted that the guy had a black beanie and dyed blond tips and a bored smirk like he was also three seconds from killing everything but in less denial about it.

Guy rattled off his order, Virgil nodded and tossed it over to Remy, told the guy to have a seat, the dude nodded and adjusted his beanie, shaking out his wrists--

And froze.

The next person in line bumped into him. He just stood there, staring at his hands, then back up at Virgil.

“Um, you can sit down,” Virgil said awkwardly. He’d been joking about the killing everything--ugh, if this was gonna be a scene, Remy would kill him. And he really wasn’t in the mood to shepherd some customer out the door.

The guy kept staring at Virgil. Virgil decided to stare right back with his patented don’t-fuck-with-me glare. That didn’t send him packing. Guy just kept on staring, and Virgil looked back at dark brown eyes and an old scar on a tan cheek, and blond curls and a flannel shirt and a mouth dropped open.

“Dude,” Virgil said, trying to crack a joke to deflect from his growing discomfort, “stop staring. I get that I’m awesome, but we do have other customers.”

Other customers who were starting to whisper. Remy was shooting Virgil a glare over the coffee machine. Shit. Some asshole was definitely making a scene on Virgil’s shift, and fucking dammit, of course he was.

“Hello?” Virgil waved a hand. “Dude, hello? Why are you just standing there like a deer in headlights?”

He hated himself the minute he said those words. Now the asshole was gonna snap and kill him or something.

“You--” Asshole pointed at him. He seemed to lose his words as soon as they came, just pointing a few more times. Then he turned his wrist over.

A black zero. It shone in neat ink on the skin.

“Um, good for you?” Virgil said hesitantly. “Sure your soulmate is very lucky. I don’t get what--”

Then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Fuck. Fuck, piss, shit, goddammit, why.

Almost automatically, Virgil pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie.

A zero.

Virgil opened his eyes and closed them again, shook his wrist like it was a flashlight with an iffy battery, turned his wrist over and back again, rubbed at the skin. The number refused to change.

He’d met his soulmate.

Virgil looked up slowly. Asshole was still standing there, looking both patient and somewhat terrified all at once, with his stupid beanie and stupid flannel and stupid, stupid timer.

Fuck.

This.

Shit.

“We’re soulmates?” Asshole asked, as if it wasn’t abundently clear.

Virgil opened his mouth to snark “Yeah, apparently, and fuck this” or say “Maybe, who knows?” or ask the dude if he was ever going to sit down and let Virgil do his goddamn job.

He swallowed and closed it again.

His hands started to shake.

“We’re soulmates,” Asshole said, sounding not entirely pleased but not completely disappointed. It was like a package he’d long expected had finally delivered, but the edges were scuffed up and a few pieces were missing. Which was pretty fucking accurate. Poor guy--he might be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Virgil.

Or maybe he did. Virgil knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

Just that they were soulmates.

A gift in a gift bag, shoved into his hands in the middle of his shift, dropped on his doorstep with no return policy.

Here. You’re meant to get this. Keep it.

Virgil tried to take a deep breath and found his chest was too tight to allow it.

Shit, fuck, shit.

“Hey,” said Asshole Soulmate, stepping forward. “Are you...you look like you’re definitely taking this well.”

Oh, really? Virgil would have snapped if he wasn’t busy hyperventilating. Can’t imagine why my soulmate showing up out of the blue and ruining my shift wouldn’t be fucking ideal!

“I--” he stammered out instead. He looked wildly for an exit. He couldn’t be here anymore. Asshole was going to start asking questions, and he didn’t have answers or explanations, couldn’t piece together anything that explained how terrified he felt--

Breathing exercises. He used to know them. They’d all gone from his head. Fuck, shit, fuck. The whole place was too small. Too loud. The air was too hot and too still and brown eyes watched him, too concerned, too close--

“I have to go,” Virgil burst out.

And he pushed his way out from behind the counter, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out of the shop.

The door slammed shut behind him.

The last thing he saw was the face of his soulmate, staring after him, looking like he was three seconds from swearing as much as Virgil currently was.

In his head, of course. He didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Virgil ran. He tore down the sidewalk, sprinting around corners and skidding away from the road. People were probably staring. He couldn’t see their faces, though. They blurred around him. Too many colors, the air was thick and heavy and pressing onto him and he couldn’t breathe--

Virgil ducked into the nearest subway entrance. He stumbled his way down the steps, sure he was going to fall. Somehow he managed to get all the way to the bottom. A few people were gathered at the edges. It was blissfully cool.

Virgil’s feet rung out against the tiles. He rushed over to the turnstile and tried to push through. Fuck. His card. Fuck, fuck--Virgil yanked on his zipper, breaking it, and practically tore his way into his backpack. It took him three tries to scan his card. He slammed open the turnstile and sprinted into the station, took the first turn he saw, and ended up next to an empty track with a glowing sign proclaiming that the next subway was in fifteen minutes.

Perfect. He’d just stay here for fourteen, then. Subways themselves freaked him out--too loud, too sudden, and the people on them always sent Virgil shuddering--but the cool underground darkness of the station was a relief. No one was here to stare as he sunk to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest, stuttering his way through his breathing.

Five things he could see.

The dim yellow glow of the lights far above him, the dark tunnel, the dirty stairs covered in gum, the old mosaic walls, his smudged sneakers.

Four things he could feel.

His hoodie, soft and comfortable around him. The strap of his backpack around his arm. The cool floor below him--probably filled with disease and germs, but Virgil was past thinking about that. His bangs falling over his face.

Three things he could hear.

The scuttling of a rat--ew--the whistle of a subway far above him, the distant strains of a street performer strumming their way through Stairway to Heaven.

Two things he could smell.

He could smell a lot of things, all of them very bad and most of them unidentifiable. He took another deep breath. His own sweat, and moldy pizza. Maybe. It could be moldy anything.

One thing he could taste.

Virgil ran his tongue over his lips. The remains of this morning’s espresso.

His heart was hammering just a little bit less.

Virgil took one more deep breath, leaned back, and kicked out his legs. The pavement was cold and rough under his hands but helped pull him back into his body a little more. The rat shimmied into a hole and disappeared.

Ten minutes until that subway came.

So.

He’d met his soulmate.

“Fuck,” Virgil said out loud to the empty tracks and the lurking darkness around him.

Nobody responded.

Okay. Virgil met his soulmate. This was fine. This was fine! He’d just never talk to the guy again. They’d go on their own way and never have to interact again. The dude probably wouldn’t want to see Virgil again, after Virgil had run out of the coffee shop like he’d been lit on fire.

That was another problem.

“Shit,” Virgil said, more quietly. He didn’t think he’d be fired for it. Remy would be pissed, but Remy liked Virgil well enough, and Remy wouldn’t fire him over a panic attack. Still, it was really fucking embarrassing. And he’d have to go back. He had a shift to complete today--

Virgil paused and shook out his hands. His whole body felt like it had been wrung through the wash. Or run over by a subway.

He pulled out his phone.

One text from Remy: girl u ok?

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed.

It took him three minutes to compose a text back.

taking the day off. u dont have 2 pay me. sry.

Virgil tapped on the ground to the rhythm of Remy’s little dots, trying and failing not to overthink what Remy was typing.

paying u anyway, but u owe me a cappucino tmrw, bitch

And then:

soulmate guy is still here btw. says he’s waiting to see if u want to come back

Virgil’s heartbeat, which had just reached a relatively normal resting rate, skyrocketed again.

The guy was still there? Didn’t he have stuff to do? A life? Why was he waiting around for some dude who’d stared at him then run out of the shop like a fucking weirdo?

Well, they were soulmates, weren’t they? That was the sort of romantic shit soulmates were supposed to do.

God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a fucking romantic. That’d be the worst. Virgil didn’t do romance, period. If Asshole Soulmate was looking for someone to smooch and bring flowers, he was out of luck.

Except it didn’t matter. They would never see each other again.

Virgil didn’t want to see him ever again.

He read Remy’s text again.

The sign above the tracks read three minutes left. If he didn’t hurry, he’d get caught off guard. He needed to go back up and walk home, then spend the rest of the day playing video games and eating snacks and practicing some fucking self-care.

He read Remy’s text a third time.

“Fuck,” Virgil remarked, just because he could, and because he hated everything about this.

He stood up, adjusted his backpack, and walked back up the steps.

The hot air hit him like a wall when he stepped outside. He shook himself and wished for a second that he could be comfortable meeting people without his hoodie. But he hated life without it, and he looked fucking awesome in it, so now he had to suffer.

Virgil pushed through the crowds, head low, and made his way back to the coffee shop.

It was still crowded when he peeked through the glass windows. Remy and the others were bustling around in their aprons--that’s when Virgil realized he hadn’t taken his apron off. Fuck. He untied it and shoved it mercilessly into his bag. Then he straightened.

A small tap sounded on the window.

Virgil looked over and almost spiraled into a second panic attack.

Asshole Soulmate was staring straight at him.

Virgil looked at him, gave him a little salute, and started to back away.

Asshole Soulmate gave him a piercing look. He was sitting at a small table, his laptop in front of him. He looked about Virgil’s age, Virgil figured, and he had a few piercings in one ear. That scar Virgil noticed earlier dipped into the curve of his mouth and made him look perpetually smirking. His beanie was lopsided like he’d been pulling at it. For some reason, Virgil found that kind of endearing. He had a firm nose and those deep brown eyes and long fingers that tapped at his laptop even as he watched Virgil--

And it didn’t matter what he looked like, because Virgil was leaving.

Something twisted in Asshole Soulmate’s expression when Virgil turned to walk away. Virgil pushed down the guilt in his chest. This was better for both of them. His soulmate would see that too, eventually.

Another tap on the window.

Virgil looked back despite himself. Asshole Soulmate was scribbling something on his notebook. He held up one finger as he wrote, clearly telling Virgil to give him a second.

Virgil gave him that second, shifting from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets. It was a mistake coming here, it just made him look weird, he needed to go--

Asshole Soulmate pressed his notebook against the window.

In neat black cursive were the words I will be here for twenty-four hours. If you’re interested in stopping by, I can make room for you on my schedule. The coffee here is mediocre, and tell your boss to add more sugar to the scones.

-Janus

Virgil stared at him.

Asshole Soulmate winked--actually winked, what planet was this guy from--and gave Virgil a secretive smirk. As if they were in on the joke together.

Virgil had never been more fucking confused in his entire life.

He’d met his soulmate, stared at his soulmate, and ran away. And said soulmate was waiting for him. Said soulmate was a dyed-hair college student with a smirk that screamed hide your wallet and neat cursive handwriting and glittering brown eyes.

His soulmate.

Janus.

J-A-N-U-S. Clear and dark against the window.

Virgil swallowed.

Janus. A weird name, but not bad, and it definitely matched the general weirdness of this guy. He swung the notebook away from the window and returned to typing, somehow completely ignoring Virgil and yet making it perfectly clear he knew Virgil was still standing there. Like a lost duck. Alone on the sidewalk, watching his soulmate tap at his computer at the smallest table in the coffee shop.

Another chair was pulled up on the other side. Room for two.

If Virgil wanted.

Virgil didn’t want.

Virgil turned away. Virgil walked home, backpack swinging from his shoulder, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a soulmate. Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and eating ice cream, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want trouble. Virgil ate reheated chicken and old celery for dinner, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a relationship. Virgil curled up on the couch and listened to his music, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want someone to complete him, someone to be stuck with him, someone who was a perfect match for Virgil according to the universe, but who knew what that actually meant in practice. He knew nothing about this guy.

And he didn’t want to learn.

Because he knew how this went. Love would run its course, and then there would be heartbreak, because Janus would learn that Virgil was just a screwup with dark clothes and anxiety and trust issues and a life with no trajectory.

Janus would stop waiting. No matter if the guy was a romantic or really nice or just stubborn, eventually he would give up.

Everyone always did.

Including Virgil.

Virgil didn’t want Janus, and he knew Janus wouldn’t want him, and the smartest thing to was just to move on with his life.

The zero on his wrist itched.

Fuck soulmates. Fuck Janus. Fuck the whole entire fucking universe.

It was eleven o’clock, and Virgil couldn’t sleep.

He wondered if Janus liked hugs. He wondered if Janus liked old, weird costumes. He wondered if Janus liked makeup and horror movies and drawing and coffee. He wondered if Janus was his age. Maybe they went to the same college. He wondered if Janus used the same hair dye he did, and if they could help each other with their hair, because Virgil always did it on his own and ended up staining his hands and his face and the whole kitchen sink.

He wondered if he was a fucking idiot for even considering this.

No, he knew that. Virgil was an idiot. Virgil was a complete fucking moron who looked at a dark hole, knew how to avoid it, and thought about falling in anyway just to see what it was like.

Just to see what he was like.

Janus, with his stupid smirk and stupid cursive and stupid hat.

It was a really stupid hat. Only Janus could even pull it off, and he barely did. It was just on the edge of charming and if Virgil was being really uncharitable, it was crossing that edge into straight-up ridiculous.

Virgil wondered how he got his scar. Where he got his shirt. What he was working on in the coffee shop, whether he’d been there before, who told him. He’d ordered a scone. He had complaints. Maybe he liked to cook and bake. That’d be pretty cool, Virgil missed home-cooked food, he usually just microwaved some takeout--

What was he even thinking?

Virgil groaned and turned over on the couch, grabbing one cushion and pulling it over his head. Fuck home-cooked meals. Fucking beanies. Fucking domestic little scenes that he now found playing out in his head, as if that was realistic, as if he hadn’t just met the guy and immediately ruined it and decided he’d never see him again.

Soulmates.

Fucking soulmates.

Fucking soulmates who were probably still at the coffee shop. He’d said twenty-four hours. He’d still be there. It was a twenty four-hour shop and he’d still be sitting there, maybe working on whatever he was working on, smirking with that smirk of his and waiting for Virgil.

Stubborn. Kind of stupid. Maybe a little desperate, too.

Virgil was all three, so he had to respect that.

It was midnight now. Virgil should be sleeping. Sleep deprivation was bad for his anxiety, which was already a thick mass in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have his second panic attack of the day, and that’d be a fucking nightmare.

Virgil sighed and curled up tighter on the couch. He wasn’t tired. His brain was running at the speed of light and kept circling back to Janus, Janus waiting, Janus his soulmate and bound to be disappointed but what if--what if--

Virgil wasn’t a hopeful person. He liked being either pessimistic or downright cynical--it left less room for disappointment.

He was hoping now, though, and it terrified him.

“Fuck!” he yelled into his empty apartment.

The only response was the dull throb of a party downstairs, a steady beat that made Virgil’s head swim.

He’d never wanted to be stuck in the city. But he hadn’t thought he could handle the college dorms, so he’d grabbed an apartment, and found he could handle that even less.

Virgil was a mess. A failure. A twenty-one-year-old disappointment with a test tomorrow and a brain that wouldn’t shut up and a bunch of pipe dreams he knew would never come true. This was just one of them. Soulmates, lucrative jobs, moving to Venus and becoming a planetary god--they all seemed like crap in the light of day.

It wasn’t day, though. It was late at night and Virgil’s brain was fried and the heat had finally died down. It would be nice outside. Walking around the city at late wasn’t super safe, but he’d take a switchblade and some pepper spray, and the coffee shop was just down the street.

He was actually considering this, wasn’t he?

Fuck.

Janus was waiting for him. Janus wouldn’t leave for twenty-four hours, and at the very least, he should give Janus an excuse to stop waiting. Janus would need some sleep.

Virgil needed some sleep too, and Janus was the thing keeping him from it, the face in his mind when he closed his eyes.

He should at least apologize.

Virgil sighed, rolled off the couch, pulled on his hoodie, and slipped into his shoes. He double-checked the lock on the apartment door, ran his hands over his pepper spray, and took the stairs because the elevator might get stuck or catch on fire. He walked as fast as he could down the sidewalk, avoiding the crowds of people under the neon lights, clouds drifting over the sky and skyscrapers gleaming in the distance.

The coffee shop was lit up when he approached. He told himself Janus was probably gone. He was fucking with Virgil, maybe, or he’d just gotten bored and went home. This was stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and Virgil could just turn around and go home--

Janus was still sitting there. He was nursing a huge cup of coffee and a plate next to him with a half-finished croissant. His chin was in his hand and he kept yawning, but he was still blinking blearily at his laptop screen.

Well, fuck.

Virgil sighed. He’d come too far to turn back now, and any minute Janus would look up and see Virgil standing outside the coffee shop again.

Okay. He was...he was going to order some coffee. And he’d sit down and if Janus motioned him over, he’d sit with Janus. But he wouldn’t make the first move. That meant he’d have plausible deniability if...well, he didn’t know exactly what, but maybe if Janus was trying to argue with him or kill him. How would he know?

Midnight coffee shop. The perfect place for a murder.

Virgil shook himself. It wasn’t empty. Remy was right there. And if shit got real, Virgil had pepper spray and could bolt out of there again.

This was fine.

This was completely fucking fine.

Virgil took a deep breath, buried his hands tight in his hoodie, and opened the door.

Virgil barely ever took late-night shifts at the shop. They weirded him the fuck out--he preferred to stay inside when it was dark. And when it was too sunny, and when it was crowded, and just generally, but especially at night. Night was filled with murderers and vampires and shadow demons. Weirdass people got coffee at midnight and Virgil didn’t want to ever have to deal with them.

And now he’d become one of those weirdass people.

And he was seeing the coffee shop in a whole new light, the floor gleaming with yellow, the windows practically opaque except for pricks of red and white lights from the city around them. It was dead quiet except for the low hum of music, the occasional shifting of one of the only customers, and Remy wiping down the counter.

Virgil let the door swing shut behind him. It thudded way too loud and he jumped. All the customers looked up. Old dude with a salt-and-pepper beard, younger woman with long blue hair and more piercings than skin, and Janus. Janus. Janus looked up at Virgil and raised one eyebrow.

Virgil pointed to the counter, hoping it conveyed “I’m gonna get a coffee and decide whether or not I’m gonna bolt again. Stay there.”

Janus nodded and turned away. The light from his laptop illuminated the planes of his face and the way his eyes kept flickering up to Virgil. Virgil hunched into his hoodie and pointedly ignored him.

Remy gave Virgil a searching look when Virgil reached the counter. “Hey, babes.”

“Hey, Remy.” Virgil looked around at the menu. “Espresso with--”

“Hold on, no way.” Remy tipped his sunglasses down and shook his head. “You had one this morning, girl, and that stuff ain’t good for you.”

“Says you,” Virgil pointed out.

“Shut up, this stuff is my lifeblood. But there’s still hope for you.” Remy took a swig of his own coffee. “Anyway, you won’t sleep for a week if I give you more espresso, so nah, girl, try again.”

“It’s midnight,” Virgil complained. “And Rem, I’m not gonna get through this conversation without it.”

Remy paused and sighed. “I guess the customer is always right. One espresso, double shot--”

“Triple shot.”

“Double shot, bitch, or I’ll throw it at your head.” Remy slid over to the coffee machine and started it up. “So...you’ve got a boyf.”

Virgil almost hissed. “I do not!”

“Fine, you’ve got a pre-boyf.” Remy popped up and began filling a coffee cup. He glanced at Janus, who was studiedly not looking at them, though Virgil was pretty sure he was listening. “He’s alright, kinda fine, the hat is stupid.”

“The hat is stupid,” Virgil agreed.

Janus stopped typing. Virgil watched to see what he would do.

He turned around and flipped them both off.

Well. That was more entertaining than expected. Virgil smirked and returned the gesture, and Janus snorted before returning to his work.

“You’re made for each other,” Remy drawled.

Virgil growled, the smile immediately falling off his face. “Give me the fucking coffee.”

“Yikes, girl, would a ‘please’ kill you?” Remy slid Virgil’s coffee over. “Now pay up.”

“I’m an employee.”

“And I’m fabulous and don’t want to be here. Tough tits, emo.”

Virgil groaned and slapped a five on the counter. “One of these days I’m quitting.”

“Sure, babes.” Remy slipped the bill into the register and gave Virgil a little wave. “Say hi to your pre-boyf. And don’t worry,” he added, smile growing a little softer, “I’ll kick his ass if necessary.”

“You couldn’t fight your way out of a coffee cup,” Virgil said, but he gave Remy a little salute anyway.

And with coffee in hand, he took another deep breath and walked over to Janus.

Janus had already moved his things off the table, which meant there were several stacks of binders and textbooks by his feet. He shuffled a few papers, stuck them under the lid of his laptop, and closed it slowly. Virgil nodded at him and sat in the other chair, kicking at the ground, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t espresso. It was a pumpkin spice latte. Goddammit, Remy.

“Hello,” Janus said slowly, and Virgil looked up.

There was a good three inches of space between them. It wasn’t enough to make Virgil feel less trapped, less gutted under Janus’ gaze.

Virgil fidgeted with his coffee and kicked at the table leg instead. It made the whole table wobble. Janus gave him a look and steadied his notebooks.

“Lot of stuff,” Virgil remarked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Do you usually bring the Amazon Rainforest to a coffee shop?”

“Yes, I carry it upon my back as penance for my many crimes.” Janus snorted. “Patton dropped it off later, after I decided I was staying.”

“Patton?”

“My roommate.” Janus waved a hand. “I figured I would get some studying done while I waited.”

“You’re in school?” Virgil asked. He wished he’d brought his fidget toy or something. Instead, he was left sipping a pumpkin spice latte and staring out the window instead of at Janus. Janus didn’t seem to mind, but still, Virgil wished he could curl up in his hoodie and disappear.

“College,” Janus said. “You?”

“College.” Virgil shifted. “I’m--assuming the same one?”

Janus shook his head. “I actually live in Britain. I just teleport here for the coffee.”

Virgil stared at him for a second before his tired brain realized the sarcasm. He snorted in surprise. Janus looked weirdly pleased with himself.

“What do you study?” Janus asked after a few seconds.

“Oh, um--” Virgil shifted. “Graphic design.”

“Graphic design,” Janus repeated, a smile playing around his lips. “So your career aspirations are poverty and well-designed party invitations.”

Usually, that would make Virgil angry. He didn't like when people made fun of his major. But the obvious tease in Janus’ voice, plus the way he laid it all out on the table, made Virgil weirdly relaxed. Janus could bite back. And that was kind of a relief. He wasn’t just a bland nice guy, which meant maybe--just maybe--he was a little bit equipped to handle Virgil.

“What about you?” Virgil asked.

“Double major,” Janus said. “Theater and psychology.”

“Got it.” Virgil smirked and decided to take a risk. “So your career aspiration is being a super villain.”

And Janus laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth, eyes crinkling.

It was a nice laugh.

Not that Virgil cared, of course.

“Of course, can’t you tell?” Janus asked, still chuckling. “I think I could pull off a cape.”

“Sure,” Virgil said, a little bubble of confidence forming. “Just like you pull off the hat.”

“I don’t understand all the hat hate!” Janus exclaimed, a twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he was teasing again, and Virgil usually hated sarcasm and in-jokes. Too confusing. Too double-edged and shifty. Except with Janus, it was so blatantly obvious every time, and Virgil didn't have to worry about hidden meanings. He just got to...talk. And tease back.

He almost never got to do that.

“Surely you’ve worn a hat once,” Janus continued, folding his arms. “You must understand the art if you’re to judge me. Have you worn a hat?”

“Wow, pretty quick with the personal questions there,” Virgil said. “You don’t even know my name.”

“It’s Samantha.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil paused. “Um, not literally. I’m ace. And--aro.”

And Janus looked ridiculously relieved. “Oh, thank fuck, you’re sensible. I was worried about that.”

A flicker of hope in Virgil’s chest. “You’re--”

“Aro too.” Janus waved a hand. “And sexuality is a quagmire that baffles me. We’re on the same page.”

Virgil almost smiled.

“What is your name?” Janus asked idly, stirring a spoon in his coffee and watching Virgil with that same piercing look. “I've been calling you Emo Soulmate in my head and it’s not at all annoying.”

“Well, you were Asshole Soulmate,” Virgil said, and enjoyed another laugh from Janus. “But no, I’m not telling you my name. You’re a stranger.”

Janus gave an offended little gasp and pressed a hand to his heart. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fucking rude, Emo Soulmate.” Janus shook his head sorrowfully. “No manners at all.”

“Deal with it.” Virgil gave up on his pumpkin spice latte entirely. He shot Remy a glare. Remy was cleaning the counter again, humming to himself and occasionally giving Virgil finger guns. Virgil flipped him off and Remy cackled.

“So,” Janus said finally, “if names are off-limits, is there anything I do get to know about you?”

“I told you my major.”

“Lots of idiots are graphic designers, you’re not special.” Janus paused. “I...I feel like we got off on a less-than-great foot--”

“Yeah, you think?” Virgil caught himself before he could continue. “It, um--wasn’t your fault though. Um. Go on.”

“Thank you,” Janus said smoothly. It was unfair that he got to be so poised and Virgil was still trembling under the table. One of the customers left, the door thudding shut behind them, a blast of night air whipping Virgil’s bangs and making him shiver in his hoodie. “As I was saying, I’d--I’d like to get to know you.”

“Creepy,” Virgil said. “What do you want, an ice-breaker session? What color matches your soul?”

“Yellow,” Janus said immediately.

“What--” Virgil laughed. “You actually have an answer?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Janus spread his hands. “What about you?”

“I don’t--” Virgil covered his mouth as he laughed harder. “Dude, no. Just--no.”

“You’re probably black,” Janus said, undeterred.

“To match my coffee and my soul?”

“And the emo aesthetic, of course.” Janus paused. “Actually, I think you'd be more purple. Since you like purple.”

“I like purple?”

“I would hope so, since you’re wearing that hoodie and fidgeting with the sleeve like it’s your only lifeboat in a sea of insanity.”

Virgil flushed. “Um. Yeah. I do like purple. I--made this hoodie, actually. Back in high school. It’s a comfort thing, makes it easier to feel like I’m hiding, which makes my brain shut up for a bit.”

Then Virgil decided he was going to die in a hole, because why had he said all that, Janus was gonna be weirded out--wait, since when did he care about that--

“It looks good on you,” Janus said, and Virgil almost choked on thin air. “It’s stitched quite well--edgy yet strangely charming.”

Virgil recovered himself enough to smirk. “That’s what I was going for.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Janus glanced out the window. A car careened past them on the street, headlights swirling in the darkness.

“It’s late,” Virgil said idly, because he might as well just dig himself deeper at this point.

“You were the one who chose to meet at this time,” Janus pointed out.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” Virgil asked. They were entering dangerous territory, but he clenched his fists and soldiered on. “Fall asleep on your mountains of paper, alone and bereft?”

“Oh, darling, no.” Janus swirled his coffee. “You see this? Seven espresso shots. If I want to stay awake, I do.”

“Remy let you have seven?” Virgil blurted out. “Not fair!”

“It’s because I seduced him,” Janus said with a poker face.

Virgil snorted. He didn’t like his laugh much, which wasn’t usually a problem because he didn’t laugh very often. Now, though--maybe it was the late night, but he almost couldn’t stop himself.

“Anyway, it’s not like I’m new to this,” Janus added, taking a sip of coffee. “I am double-majoring, after all.”

“Yeah, and that’s fucking impressive,” Virgil said. “I think I’d die of stress.”

“The jury’s still out on me,” Janus admitted.

Silence again. Virgil tapped his fingers against the glass. It was cold beneath his touch and he shivered.

“I still like the question idea,” Janus finally said.

“Then shoot,” Virgil said, shrugging. “I don’t bite.”

“I doubt that.”

Virgil grinned and bared his teeth. Janus hissed back, his nose wrinkled. It was actually really adorable.

Janus composed himself quickly, though. “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Spiders,” Virgil said without hesitation. “Favorite food?”

“The souls of the innocent.” Janus snickered when Virgil did. “I suppose...caviar?”

“Caviar,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head. “You can’t be real, you pretentious little fuckwad.”

“Charming, do you treat all your acquaintances this way?” Janus didn’t sound mad at all. “And I’m most certainly real. Unless I’m not.”

“Dude, don’t give me an existential crisis, c’mon.” Virgil bit his lip. “Your turn for questions.”

“Favorite book?”

“Black Cauldron. Favorite movie?”

“The Godfather. Favorite musical?”

“Um, Heathers.” Janus gave Virgil an of course look and Virgil swatted at him. “Favorite show?”

“Pride and Prejudice miniseries, 1995.” Janus paused. “I’m simultaneously learning nothing and everything about you.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause this is shallow shit,” Virgil said. “If you wanna actually know what I’m like beneath the eyeliner, you have to dig deeper.”

“Am I allowed to?” Janus asked.

Virgil opened his mouth to say no, of course not, vulnerability was his kryptonite and trust was his poison, and in fact he really had to go.

“Yes,” Virgil said.

Janus looked surprised. He couldn’t possibly be more surprised than Virgil felt. Virgil, who figured he’d lost control of his brain or something, because he was talking to a stranger who was his soulmate and it was midnight in a coffee shop and Janus glowed golden against the dark windows.

“Well, then.” Janus tapped on the table. “Where did you grow up?”

“Stalker,”  Virgil muttered.

“You did say--”

“I know, I know.” Virgil hunched his shoulders. Honestly, that wasn’t as bad as he expected. “Outside of the city, actually. Few miles out. Suburbs.”

“You in suburbia? Perish the thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a good match.” Virgil chewed on his lip. “Do I? Get to ask you questions too?”

“Yes. My turn.”

“Hey!” Virgil complained. Janus laughed.

“Who’s your best friend?” Virgil blurted out before Janus stole his question.

“Look who’s the stalker now,” Janus drawled. “I...Patton, my roommate, I suppose. I don’t--have many close friends.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “me neither.”

There was a long moment of silence. Remy had gone in the back and all the customers except for them were gone. The tables and floors gleamed in the light. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, muted by the gentle hum of music and the bubbling roar of traffic. It felt surreal. Too polished, too bright, too sharp to be real. Like Virgil would wake up tomorrow and know he’d never met his soulmate, his timer still counting down, Janus just a figment of his imagination.

Virgil looked down at his wrist for confirmation. A zero, in black ink, outlined in yellow by the harsh lights of the shop

“What do you want?”

Virgil looked up at Janus, who had that penetrating expression again, like he was trying to commit every bit of Virgil to memory. Virgil didn’t get what was so interesting. He had purple hair and purple patches on his jacket and messy eyeliner and probably some sort of scowl. But Janus looked at him like Virgil had all the secrets of the universe and Janus was decoding them, one by one.

Again, it should have been scary.

Virgil wasn’t scared.

And that, in itself, scared him.

“Be more specific,” Virgil said. “Like, right now? Right now I want some real coffee, for starters.”

“Not that,” Janus said, waving a hand. “From...life, I suppose. What’s your biggest dream?”

Virgil shifted. “I dunno. I don’t think about it much.”“You don’t?”

“Nah, anxiety makes it pretty freaky to think about the future.” Virgil thought for a second. “Um. I guess...I wanted to be a fashion designer, when I was little.”

Janus tilted his head. “What changed?”

“Didn’t have the time or materials.” Virgil shrugged and looked at the table. “Or...the drive, I guess. High school was rough and I needed a career path that gave me a quick buck.”

Janus snorted. “So you chose graphic design?”

“Shut up!” Virgil complained, swatting at Janus again. Janus dodged out of reach, grinning. “They both have design in them!”

“Whatever you say,” Janus chuckled.

“Anyway, yeah.” Virgil fidgeted with his sleeve. “Making clothes, making stuff--I still like to do it. So I guess that’s my dream, maybe.”

Janus looked thoughtful for a second, and Virgil felt like an idiot. Being a fashion designer was stupid. And here he was, dumping his life and regrets on a stranger. Fucking idiot.

“You’d be a good one,” Janus said, and once again, Virgil was thrown completely and utterly off guard. How did someone so surprising still set him at ease? “Of course I haven’t seen your work, but I like your jacket, and I think you’d be good at it. However, you have to promise to make me any outfit I want when you become famous.”

“Oh really,” Virgil said, feeling completely fucking exhilarated by the compliment. Which was pathetic, but it also gave him another burst of confidence, so worth it. “Let me guess, a cape, a red-and-black tunic with gold trim, a supportive uncle and firebending powers--”

“Scar jokes,” Janus said, his mouth twitching. “Bold.”

Virgil’s confidence immediately left him. “I--yeah, sorry--that was--”

“Funny,” Janus interrupted. “And it’s better than just ignoring it. I have a scar, it looks incredible if I do say so myself, and Avatar is a great show.”

Virgil smiled sheepishly. “You sure?”

“You’re fine.” Janus was silent for a long time, twisting his fingers together. Lights played across his face. The scar was old, Virgil noticed, and ugly, like it had never gotten properly stitched back together. Virgil rubbed at a grease spot on the edge of the table and let the quiet stretch between them.

“It was a car accident,” Janus said, his voice soft. “I was seven."

“Oh,” Virgil said, hating himself for not thinking of anything else. “That sucks.”

“Yes, it did.” Janus folded his hands on the table. “Your turn to ask a question, Emo Soulmate.”

“Oh! Yeah. Right.” Virgil bit his lip. “Um. Greatest fear?”

“Coming for me psychologically, I see. Excellent plan.” Janus shrugged. “Government control, I suppose. Or dying in obscurity.”

“Yeah, for me it’s just dying,” Virgil said, “but good for you.”

“Thank you.” Janus laughed and was silent again for a few more seconds. And Virgil usually hated the quiet, but this quiet was nice and comforting and felt more like a lull than an awkward pause, and why was this guy taking everything that usually made him anxious and somehow making it fine?

“Why did you run?”

Virgil’s fingers spasmed on the table. Well. So much for that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to respond,” Janus said slowly, “but I’m curious.”

“I--” The words stuck in Virgil’s throat. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Janus’ voice dipped. “Me?”

“No!” Virgil was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You’re--you were fine. A little awkward, but that made sense, and...yeah. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good,” Janus said, and Virgil was surprised by the relief in his voice. He’d been worried about that, hadn’t he? He’d thought Virgil saw him and didn’t like him, or maybe he was even worried about his scar, and yet he’d still waited just in case Virgil came back and changed his mind.

God, Virgil didn’t deserve this soulmate.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Virgil said. “I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Janus’ face was achingly soft. “I’d just like to know.”

“Yeah. I--” Virgil curled his fingers. “I was just--scared. I was scared of...soulmates. Having one. Being one. I guess I--I never really wanted one, and you just showed up, and I know you didn’t ask for me as your soulmate but--”

Janus didn’t prod Virgil or push him to continue, which weirdly, made him gain the courage he needed to keep going.

“I’m not--” Virgil waved at himself. “And you’re--ugh, I just, I hate what everyone says about soulmates, that they’re supposed to complete each other, to fix it each other. You--I’m not--you can’t fix me. I’m not--I’m anxious, I’m a mess, I’m not going to be good enough for you and you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life! That’s not--” Virgil swallowed. “That’s not fair to you.”

Janus was quiet. Virgil slammed his mouth shut, sat on his hands, and decided he was going to leave the city and become a strawberry farmer. Strawberry farmers didn’t have to talk to their soulmates and brace themselves for inevitable rejection, because Janus got it now, and now he was going to leave--

“I don’t like people,” Janus said.

Okay, yeah, Virgil didn’t expect that. He looked up hesitantly. Janus looked more determined than ever.

“Society is an illusion and the world is corrupt,” Janus continued. “Most people I meet are either mindless, dull, or sickeningly sweet. It’s a very rare person who actually manages to entertain me, and even rarer for them to be kind and funny and intelligent and very clearly a good person.”

Virgil stared at him. He thought he knew where Janus was going, but that couldn’t be right--why was he--

“And I’m a liar.” Janus shrugged. “It’s a defense mechanism. I’ve barely trusted anyone in my life, I lash out when people antagonize me, and I’m such a fan of vulnerability in general.”

“Mood,” Virgil said, his brain still screaming what the fuck is happening.

“So I’m not perfect,” Janus said. “And I must admit...I hoped, for a while, that a soulmate would magically erase those problems. It’s what society tells us. I had higher hopes than were healthy. I projected a lot of things onto that soulmate--trust and honesty and a chance to be--more than myself. To be, to use your word, fixed.” Janus laughed a bit. “But then I actually met you. And...no.”

“Rude,” Virgil muttered.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Janus leaned forward. “You’re not--you’re a person. You’re edgy and snarky and a little nervous but it’s incredibly adorable, and you make me laugh, and even though you were clearly terrified you came back and gave me a second chance. It’s hard to project anything onto you when you’re actually here, sitting in front of me, and that’s when I actually realized--” Janus shook his head. “You are not my soulmate because you’re supposed to fix me. And I am not your soulmate because I’m supposed to solve your problems. We’re soulmates because we make each other laugh, and because I think your hoodie is cute, and because you didn’t make any comments about my scar. We’re soulmates because we make each other feel better. Not perfect, not ‘fixed,’ just a little bit better. The rest of the work we have to do on our own.”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“So.” Janus swallowed. “I completely understand your reservations, but...it’s getting late, and I think we both need some sleep. So I’d like to request your number?”

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed. “That whole dramatic speech was just a ploy to get my number? Shame on you.”

“You caught me,” Janus said. His face softened. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just...it’s hard to let go of all the expectations. But how about we try? How about we be you and me for a while, and see how that goes?”

“But--” Virgil shook his head. “Soulmates--they’re supposed to be your whole life--”

“Supposed to be. As I said, society is a sham.” Janus reached out a hand and laid it on the table, palm up. “I’m not asking for your whole life, and I never will. I’d--I’d just like to be a part of it.”

Virgil tried to catch his breath. His eyes were stinging. He giggled a little, because he couldn’t help it, and because Janus was staring at him with such open hesitation and fuck, he was cute.

He was cute.

He was Janus.

Janus was his soulmate--and Janus was Janus, and that was more important.

Virgil looked at the zero on his wrist, turned it over, and took Janus’ hand.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “That--that sounds great. Actually.”

“Lovely, darling.” Janus smiled, bright and beautiful, and Virgil was dizzy with affection. “In that case, may I have your number and your name?”

“Whoa, two at once? Easy there.” Virgil chuckled and tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “Um. My name’s Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Janus repeated.

“Yeah.” Janus smiled wider. “It’s lovely to meet you, Virgil.”

Virgil looked back, at the guy he’d been so afraid of, the soulmate he’d hoped he’d never meet. Who wanted him. Who knew who he was and wanted him anyway.

Virgil’d had it wrong and also right, which pretty much added up. Yeah, he’d been wrong about the whole running thing. Janus wanted him. Janus waited, and Janus smiled, and Janus thought he was funny. Janus wanted his number.

Yeah, Virgil thought he’d been fine on his own. But he was so much better than fine with Janus across from him, holding his hand.

He’d been right, too. Soulmates didn’t matter. Not that much. Janus was his soulmate, and who the fuck knew what that meant? Not Virgil. It was just some gift bag dumped randomly on his doorstep, a timer clicking down to zero.It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Because Janus was Janus, and Virgil’s skin was on fire where Janus touched it, and suddenly his wild dreams of a roommate and home-cooked meals and dyed hair didn’t seem too far off at all.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate, because even if he wasn’t, Virgil would stay.

Meant for each other? Maybe. Destined? Apparently. Supposed to complete each other? Yeah, only in the loosest of terms. Virgil was still Virgil and Janus was still Janus, soulmates or no.

And for some reason--for some incredible reason--that just made things better.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Virgil liked him no matter what.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” Janus said again, as if he was repeating it to himself, rolling Virgil’s name around in his mouth. It sounded beautiful in his voice. Janus had a beautiful voice--thick and smooth and deep, like a river Virgil would gladly drown in.

And he glowed bright in the yellow lights of the coffee shop, the world rushing outside, the darkness kept at bay and the world polished and gleaming and on fire.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, finding that he was smiling wider than he ever had. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud  @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @somehow-i-got-an-account  @starlight-era​  @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @demoniccheese83 @thatgaydemigodnerd @arya-skywalker @rainbowbowtie​ @lookingforaplacetosleep @a-fandom-trashdump @legendsgates @dragonwithproblems @snowdice  @locked-prism  @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @sign-from-god-complex @hitmewiththatfanart33 @cottonwoolsocks @callboxkat @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @hekking-happy-nonsense

[breathlesssky]

a poem about my shitty ex roommate that i’m starting to worry i resemble

if that aint annoying enough. anyway here:

the mirror looks into the lake  and somehow they cannot see themself at all all they see is lake but they are looking at a mirror

we are telling our friends about how we should’ve known  we are counting red flags on our fingers like i counted reasons there were to love you

you’re telling your friends some story about me being an asshole  i’m telling mine some story about you being patronizing  we’re  painting the town red in each other’s blood 

deep down, we aren’t so different  i saw you for who you were and i didn’t think you were worth hating and when the world turned its back on you i didn’t 

i’m sure that’s not the story that rolls off your tongue  i can’t ask for it to be  it’s so easy to call someone crazy  it’s so easy to make me your villain  it’s so easy to make you mine  i’m trying not to make you mine 

I want to leave this town now If I could,  i wouldn’t stay another moment

the closet doors slam  your closet  it’s my closet  it’s my room  why can’t i take your name off of it

the way i think the way i sing  the way my mouth curls around my words and spits out phrases you gifted me  i wish i could return them 

your ashtray  your curse your birthday  scribbled out on the calendar  your name in my therapists notes  your name in my journal  your name on the fucking mail  your name your name  your name 

my voice screaming at you  your voice screaming at her  a whirlwind of she said she said  (i can’t tell who is right anymore) 

my heart throwing knives at you  the guilt that flood when one lands i’m stuck wondering what we could’ve been if i didn’t let the hurt inside of me bubble over the pot and burn your hands i didn’t mean to burn you 

the current apologizes  to the dead girl  with water in her lungs but she’s still dead 

your laugh  your candle your necklace i got you for christmas  i wanted so badly to make a home for us here it is  ash  the fire department came too late 

the flame calms itself down to a flicker but when it turns to talk to the house  it’s too late 

In my dreams  it’s you with a knife  and me on my knees  it’s the look on your face you had when you told me about revenge  i should’ve seen this coming i would have never seen this coming 

your towels  your shirt  your handprint on the bedroom window  you left your mark here no amount of windex can change that 

the earthquake retreats to the tectonic plates  there’s still a hole here 

deep down, we aren’t so different  we talked about that a lot  i was wrong about us  two healers do not fix each other  turns out we only helped because we hurt what do you do when you start to hate someone who reminds you of yourself 

the post breakup gossip is piping and fun  there’s no boundaries on how far you can go  you’re free to let all that anger out  and oh, that anger can scald 

you’re probably using every word Webster has to define bitch. or monster. or toxic.  i’m doing the same thing.  i hope you’re at least laughing at me  i hope i’m an easy target  i hope i gave you an outlet for that

we are not so different we are both trying to mold this story into the best thing it can be  we are both trying to find a way to be the hero  we are war torn explaining to our troops why our cause is the right one  i’ve never believed in that kind of morality 

i hope you know that the only reason i can hate you these days is because i hate myself  whether you know it or not yet, the things you hate about me are tattooed on you too. 

the mirror looks into the lake  and realizes that the only thing  it can do  is hate the reflection 

[lokispettigerr]

To Summon A Witcher: Geralt x Reader Chapter 1 (NSFW) Smut

Summary:  Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city's colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.

Taglist: In reblog

Word Count: 1769

Warnings: This shit spooky, fam.  Graveyard, and corpse mention.

A/N: This is the first-ever Geralt fic I have written. I hope you enjoy it! Leave me your thoughts in the comments or in an ask!  

“Yeah, it’s this huge guy with stark-white hair, golden eyes, and seriously, a body that could pick me up and snap me like a twig,” I told my best friend, Genny.

“Sounds hot. I’m not sure I understand where this is a problem?” She swirled the coffee mug around, stirring up the settled liquid in her latte. “I mean, unless you are waking up to find that these dreams with the ‘Daddy-white-haired-tree-man’ are really wet dreams that soak your covers through… I could see that as being a problem.” She laughed a musical beautiful laugh. I danced around her comment, not wanting her to know how I felt when I woke up from the dreams of the mysterious man or the nature of some of the dreams which truly did feature bare skin, hard muscle, and moans that rang out in unison.

“Genny, I have never seen this man before in my life, yet he has been in every dream I have had for months now. I just don’t know what it means.”

“Sure, but you’ve had to have seen him somewhere.” She looked around us now, glancing all about the outside patio of the coffee shop that was nestled between a bakery and a uniquities store. People were milling about, their arms full of shopping bags or clutching briefcases or talking on their cell phones. “Honestly, I want to see this guy.” Genny licked her lips. “Maybe he is nearby right now,” she whispered, “Either that or he was the main stud on some porn. Yeah, that’s likely it.”

I stared at her blankly. Why did everything have to come back to sex? I mean, to be fair things always came back to sex for the both of us and this was likely one of the reasons why we enjoyed each other's company so much, but this was serious. Dreams mean something, or so my mother taught me to believe.   And I couldn’t help but think that the man in my dreams had something to do with my current predicament. After all, they had started shortly after things took a turn for the worse.

I’d felt it on more than one occasion, and lately with the way things were going whatever beasty was following me seemed to only be growing stronger.

It had first started on a cold, wet day. The rain had been steadily falling for more than a week, but that day the wind was stirring maddeningly and there had been a tornado warning.

When the storm began I was at work and after the numerous alerts and warnings, me and my coworkers were all told it would be best if we left. In my rush, I dashed out of the door with only my keys.

I had forgotten my bag and my phone and all the contents that I had slowly collected over the years and kept in a satchel as a sort of talisman to ward off evil spirits and the like that seemed to want to attach themselves to me.

The satchel contained an odd assortment of things: a small vial of salt, a clay statue with its own strikingly unusual appearance, a stone of jet, a globe of labradorite, and the tooth of a black cat that all helped me to feel safe, to be protected and to walk unnoticed throughout the world-- at least in the realm of those things not living.

From childhood, I noticed shadows, without shape or form. Most of the time they were harmless. As I grew older, I became more aware of other creatures and entities. The shadows would go from playful to predatorial.

I quickly grew scared and when my mother found out she took me to see a children’s therapist. The apparitions did not stop, they poured forth latching onto my fears, my desperation and hopelessness. It was as if I had become a house for them to dwell within.

I became haunted.

I passed through the hands of multiple therapists, too many to even count. None of them could help me. I was a child becoming a teen that was out of their depth. They either pitied me, despised me, or feared me.

Eventually, my mother heard tell of a spiritual healer, who was no more than a witch, yet she was the only one who could help.

Instead of claiming that I was delusional or sick, the healer praised me for my abilities and told my mother I was gifted, however, the healer sensed the dark energies threatening to consume me and crafted the satchel that had been blessed and enchanted with wards to keep me safe.

And from then on, I carried it with me wherever I went.

That is, until the day the tornado hit.

I’d left work feeling hopeful that I would make it home before the storm became dangerous. But the further I went, the harder the storm raged. I lived in an aged and historic town and was lucky enough to be within walking distance from my work. A few blocks and I would have been home.

I dashed through the rain, taking care not to slip and hurt myself. My keys jangled loudly against my hip.

Rainwater was pelting my eyes and I had trouble seeing. I was soaked. Lightning flashed while thunder rumbled threateningly.

If I would have left a few minutes earlier from my work maybe things would have been different.

If I would have not forgotten my purse with the enchanted satchel within maybe things would be better for me.

Being a human means making human mistakes and mistakes breed consequences that are not often too kind.

I’d rounded a corner at the French district, splashing through puddles when I came to the wrought iron, overgrown with ivy and tangled weeds, entrance of the graveyard.

People often said the graveyard was haunted, cursed.

There were ghost walks and spirit tours that brought groups of people to this very cemetery so they could “Oooo” and “Aahhh” and romanticize about all the horrific deeds that had taken place here. They would return home or to their inns or their taverns and tell the stories they had heard over a beer with a friend, or sitting in front of their fireplace, or tucked into a cool bed on a winter night.

The locals all knew this cemetery was bad news, nothing good ever came of it except for the endless revenue of the ghost tours that the cemetery enticed.

I planned to continue on down the block, straight past the graveyard, but a harsh streak of lightning cut through the sky overhead and thunder cracked so loudly I could feel it deep within my very bones.

Though I cringed at the thought, I knew that if I cut through the graveyard I would be home in half the time.

I gulped and with a look of harsh determination on my face, I ran into the graveyard, pushing my body through the gate.

It closed behind me with a harsh clang, but I continued.

I wasn’t interested in taking my time like some of the tourists do when they come here to meander and ponder while they look at the ancient graves, too old to even have names or dates on them, or too overgrown with tangled foliage for anything to be made out.

There was a worn path beneath my feet, and the rainwater had caused it to be treacherously slick with red clay mud. It threatened to be surpassed and covered in its entirety by tall and leggy green weeds. They slapped relentlessly at my calves and thighs as I ran through.

The weeds made me run blindly. I thought if I stayed on the path it was safest, but I was wrong.

My foot caught on a thick, twisting root that lay horizontally before me. It snaked from one set of graves to another, likely gaining nourishment from the rotting corpses underneath the ground.

I fell, catching myself on the heels of my hands. My pants leg was ripped open and a sharp, sudden pain could be felt above my knee.

I sat up, thoroughly covered in mud and grime from the cemetery, my hair completely soaked through, my clothes stuck against my skin and inspected the gaping wound above my knee. It wouldn’t need stitches, but as soon as I got home I would have to place some butterfly bandages on the wound, or it was sure to leave an ugly scar.

A wet warmth spread along the skin of my knee as my pants soaked up the blood that was pouring forth.

Just then the wind gushed maddeningly, causing the trees in the graveyard to sway and the grey Spanish moss to dance. The trees creaked and groaned with their movement.

Nearby I heard a clicking noise and I couldn’t place it to anything natural. I shifted, sitting up straight, remaining still so I could hear whatever the noise belonged to.

A shadow crossed my periphery and I turned my head towards the movement.

Whatever it was, was using the headstones to hide and shifting between them, manipulating the shadows of the graves to appear “natural”.

But the feeling of dread I had that I often associated with the shadow beings from my past was all too familiar.

My hands fumbled around for my purse. I would grab the enchanted draw-string satchel and would put an end to this shadow thing coming after me.

It was then, I realized my mistake. I had left my purse at work.

“Shit!”

The clicking grew louder and before me, the shadow began to take form.

I knew I couldn’t turn around. All I could do now was keep moving forward, towards home-- towards safety.

The shadow-being before me darkened, swirling and shifting menacingly, and I rose to my feet charging through it.

When I passed through its still collecting form, I felt a cold that seeped into my bones and gripped with a deadly claw around the deepest parts of my being. It was as if, in doing that it knew me. Everything about me.

My darkest desires, my deepest fears, my hopes and my failures.

I ran from the storm.

I ran from the graveyard.

I ran from the shadow that threatened to abolish me.

Things have been a nightmare since and the depression I was treated for long ago with the help of the spiritual healer is slowly lurking back.

I am certain the shadow beast followed me home, and what I am most uncertain of is how to get rid of it.

**** Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1! Please get this fic out into the tumblr verse by reblogging, commenting, and even sending asks if you feel like it! If you would like to support me head on over to my Patreon where you will get access to my fics before anywhere else and much more! Or fuel me with Ko-fi! Until next time! Peace, Loki’s Pet Tiger

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.3

Sorry for the long wait but... Here is part 3 of WINTW? :D Enjoy!

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi​ @oikawalmart-hq​ @extrasugafree​ @bbykiyoomi​ @apricotjihyo​ @simpformiya @colorseeingchick @something-that-idk

links: part 1, part 2, part 4

To answer your question from 2 nights ago, the reason why you never saw Akaashi leave his house was because he got up early for volleyball practice and arrived late as well. Due to the circumstances, the both of you made a silent agreement to go home together. Only if there was practice of course.

School had already ended and the walk back home finished. Seated on your desk, you practiced your quirk. Morphing the leaves into different shapes and sizes, manipulating the soil to quicken its growth or whatever your mind could think of.

The little sessions you were doing made you remember your childhood. The day you found out about your quirk was similar to what you were doing. 4 years old with a soiled shirt. A gigantic carrot in the back of the house followed by leaps of joy of having a daughter with an enlargement quirk. It wasn’t until you were 6 years of age that you realized you could not only enlarge things but manipulate them as well.

Not long after, your quirk finally showed its potential.

Matter Manipulation. The thought of having such an intense quirk scared you. But, being that gifted, being a hero would probably be a walk in the park

Upon seeing just how blessed you were, they ended up boasting you in their agency. Once the word spread, they received a letter coming from Endeavor’s agency hence the arranged quirk-marriage.

It always made you wonder. Why didn’t you develop romantic feelings for Shoto? Maybe it was how the situation began or because he took care of you like a brother you’ve always yearned for. Probably the latter.

Leaning onto your chair, you put the plant back in its original state. Something as little as that shouldn’t have been so tiring on your part. If anything, it felt as if your quirk was slowly disappearing.

“How would it feel to be quirkless though?”

Recalling the Shie Hassaikai Raid, Overhaul had envisioned a world without quirks. Maybe he was just born in the wrong dimension. He was a hypocrite, of course. In a way, every single being relied on their quirks to the point where things were patterned after them. Remembering the Quirk Singularity theory, maybe the garbage man wasn’t a hundred percent wrong.

“Jeez.” You dragged your chair to your window and peaked at the neighbor’s. Bless him for pulling the curtains to the side. “This dimension’s turning me into a stalker and praising a villain.”

Reaching for your phone, you scrolled through some group chats and found what you were looking for. You promised those 2 girls you would call them, but with how you were not able to use your quirk for everyday living, you just fell asleep before you could hit the dial button.

“Hey girl!” Asami greeted as she adjusted her video. Her room was the embodiment of a pink princess. Pink walls, pillows, and even her chair. Mina entered your mind. How was your alien friend doing?

“How was the volleyball practice?” Akiko entered the video conference. Hair a mess and screen focused on the upper half of her face.

“First. Mimi was right.” Seeing that Akaashi’s room was still empty, you looked at the two girls on the screen. “Bokuto-senpai is really beefy. He’s tall too. Reminds me of a very hyper owl.”

“Did you hear his slogan?” Asami was a fan girl. It was clear by now.

“Slogan? You mean his ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’?” A loud screech echoed through your walls. “Yes. I hear it multiple times a day. It’s pretty cute though. He’s like a child on steroids.”

“What’s the second point?” Akiko asked.

“I almost got hit by a ball. Other than that, that’s pretty much it.”

“And who saved your clumsy ass?”

“Akaashi-san did. Bokuto-san’s setter.” The gasps and their sudden change of posture was something you were not in the mood for. “And no. Before you two go feral, nothing else happened. That’s it.”

“No fun!” The two girls exclaimed.

The rest of the call, you managed to get a bit more information about the two girls. From random memories you don’t know about, small mannerisms that they do when they get all excited, or even just the gist that they would do anything a friend would do. When you heard about the problems they were having, hero instinct kicked in.

Their problems were nothing compared to what you had back home. Giving advice made you feel like a therapist but seeing their thankful expressions, it was all worth it.

When the morning came, you opened your window and looked at your neighbor’s. Any minute now, he would do the same and ask if you were ready to go. With the small window of time, you stared at the gray sky. The clouds looked heavy with rain. Though you had your jacket ready, you couldn’t help but miss your personal heater.

“I wonder how half and half is doing?” You began to drift. Staring at your palm, you made sure it was facing the opposite way from Akaashi’s window before activating your quirk. Despite only practicing on a plant, you could feel your quirk gaining a bit more power. “35%. And it’s too straining, even for me. Fuck.”

“Everything alright?”

Clenching your fist immediately, your eyes snapped to the direction of the voice. Mouth slightly open. Just how long had he been watching.

“I honestly don’t know but it’s fine.” You shrugged. “No practice today?”

“Coach said to take a break for today. We can head to school now if you want.”

“D’you wanna grab a snack bar first?”

“Okay.” Closing both your windows at the same time, you proceeded in getting ready.

It wasn’t long before both of you were inside the convenience store. Your eyebrows furrowing at the sight of foreign snack bars. The one’s back home usually had certain nutrients that enhanced quirks a tiny bit. Sort of like a coffee rush. The one’s in front of you were a bit dull. Or maybe you weren’t sure which flavor to get.

“Akaashi-san.” Gunmetal blue eyes met yours. “What can you recommend?”

The small tilt of his head was rather pleasing to look at. Watching how he scanned for a potential candidate, Akaashi reached for a blueberry-oatmeal variant. Flipping it to read the ingredients, he extended his arm a bit and offered you the snack.

“Bokuto-san likes that flavor. You might too.” When you took the snack from his hand, his eyes widened a fraction of a second. Sure, he felt random sparks but this one was a bit more intense. Brushing it off, he ushered you to the cashier. Offering to pay for the food, he watched as your eyes brightened up a tiny bit.

As he was paying, you exited the convenience store. That small jolt of electricity was something much bigger than the ball incident. Peaking at your hand, you activated your quirk and saw how the yellow glow was brighter than before.

‘What the hell even is this? If this is the second time for this to happen then something must be up. But, Akaashi doesn’t have a quirk so there’s no way our quirks are colliding or some shit. Or maybe he does have a quirk he’s just not telling it. But maybe this is an after effect of having a quirk in a different place?’ Your thoughts would make Deku’s mumbling look slow.

The glow on your palm suddenly expanded till it just burst like Bakugo’s explosions. Eyes widening at the feeling of not being able to control your own power.

‘What the fuck??’

Being so lost in thought, you were startled when you felt a hand pulling your arm. The next thing you felt was your body colliding with another. Your cheek touching his tie as his arm was protectively wrapped around your shoulder. Looking up, you saw how his eyes were focused on a bike that had stopped a few feet away.

“Are you okay, miss?!” The biker exclaimed. “My brakes gave way!”

“It’s my fault, mister! Sorry.” You bowed but struggled a bit. Akaashi still holding on to your shoulder. “I was distracted and so lost in thought I probably didn’t hear you calling out for me.”

After apologizing to the man for not taking into account your surroundings, you offered to help in fixing his brakes. Though he refused, you waved him off and told him a wire or screw must have been loose. So when he turned around and apologized to Akaashi, you quickly put your quirk to use and repaired the brakes.

With things going back to the way they were, the both of you were now approaching the school. Every few steps, you would stare at his hands. Come to think of it, you wondered if he saw the explosion coming from your palms.

“About a while back,” You opened the topic. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s nothing.” He answered. Eyes focused on the approaching school gate. “Just be more careful next time.”

“Yes sir.”

“I do have a question, though.” Hearing you hum, he proceeded. This time his gaze was towards you. “Why are you carrying firecrackers?”

‘So he did see.’ You mentally cursed. Even if you used the ‘it was just light reflected from the glass windows’, there was no way the tall male would believe you. Trying to think up a reason, you began to chew on your lower lip.

“AKAASHI! (Y/N)-CHAN!”

‘Oh thank the quirk gods…’

“I HAVE GREAT NEWS!” Bokuto said as he jumped with excitement. Just in time, he managed to catch you eyeing his childhood friend. There was a moment of silence that even Akaashi wondered why he suddenly stopped yapping. “Anyway! Karasuno and Nekoma will be visiting us during the weekends for some practice matches. AAAHHH! TSUKKI AND KUROO WILL BE THERE AND WE CAN HAVE ANOTHER MATCH, AGAASHI!”

“I’m looking forward to it, Bokuto-san.” He turned to face you as all you three head up the stairs towards your respective classrooms. “You’ve never met the other teams right?”

“No. But I did do research~” One of the lighter things when it came to learning about this place. The teams were pretty interesting and it would be awesome to witness a match with other schools.

Sliding the door open for you, the both of you entered your room with a few greetings here and there. Once the bell rang, you took out your notebook and pen. Again, you caught yourself thinking, what was going on in your own world? Was there another you struggling as well? Twirling your pen, you allowed yourself to drown in your thoughts.

- - - -

and yes! part 4 is now up :) mostly because nothing much happens in this chapter and i had to make ya’ll wait :* Akaashi’s lineup is still accepting tags :) comment if youd like to be a part of it

[eccl3ctic0n3]

This Is My Personal Testimony of How God Found Me When I Was Lost.

I Am A Witness and My Testimony is of Jesus Christ the living Word of God

What you FEEL and what you THINK are valid and extremely powerful as these are the things you BELIEVE to be TRUTH thus this is your REALITY!

This is your belief system. Unless you suffer from mental illness therapy and counseling can be very helpful. Just talking about it and getting it off your chest is therapeutic in itself. No matter if it is a friend or a therapists getting things out instead of bottling them up and holding them in is great relief.

I was diagnosed bipolar type I when I was 23 years old. I am 41 now and it has only been in the last 5 years that I have been able to overcome, heal, grow, and experience breakthrough.

Traumatic experiences such as verbal, mental, emotional, physical, or sexual abuse to losing a loved one or friend has a lifelong affect. Therapy and medicine are just tools to help you and give you the skills, knowledge, and some understanding, so you can cope and learn how to manage with the pain and symptoms that remain.

I don't know who needs to hear this but I am telling you from 18 years of personal experience. Actually, 41 years as its only been 18 since I began treatment. Where doctors and medicine failed me for 13 years God did not fail me. I got lab ratted on all that time with powerful psychiatric medications. I spiraled out of control and my behavior landed me in the psychiatric ward of prison in the infirmary. 10 weeks I was locked in solitary confinement on 24 hour lock. I was deemed incompetent and unfit to stand trial. I was looking at two F1 Felonies with sentences from 5-99 years each. For 10 weeks I literally lost my mind and was experiencing full blown psychosis. It was in an instant that God found me and restored me to sanity. I did not find God. He found me.

I was lost and could not tell the difference between my dreams and reality. I slept in 15 minute intervals. In one dream I dreamt that I murdered my two children. I bashed my daughters head into the wall. My reality was this place I was in where no other person is visible was like a purgatory and I was awaiting my judgment to be thrown into hell.

I was on my knees in my boxers bleeding from my head and knuckles. I was head butting and punching the walls. As I was on my knees I was singing, ''My Girl, My Girl, Talkin Bout, My Girl." I was only thinking of my daughter and that I was never going to see her again.

The guy in a cell next to me screamed, " Shut the fuck up!" I just screamed back and told him to come on over and shut me up. What was he going to do we are in solitary confinement. 😅

I lost track of time and I was still singing and I began to cry out to God. Literally bawling and begging I screamed for God to help me. Don't you know the guy who cursed me came to my door and asked me to call his momma for him to bail him out. I laughed and said ain't you the same mother fucker who told me to shut up? Before he answered I just said whatever! Just write the number on a piece of paper and slide it under my door and I will get to it.

Mind you that for those 10 weeks I could not even read or use the telephone because I just didn't know how. The hands on the clock just spun round and round. Still on my knees sobbing I noticed the piece of paper slide under my door. I forgot all about it and I couldn't read or use a phone anyway. But I looked closer and I seen the red writing. This guy tore the last page of his bible out to write the number on. The red writing just caught my eyes and the first thing I seen was this. Revelations 22:16 I Jesus, have sent My angel to you to testify in the churches. I am the Root and Offspring of David, the Bright and Morning Star. As fast as you could snap your fingers I realized that I could read first of all. I then noticed I felt completely normal. I was just wondering wtf am I doing in my boxers bleeding on this floor? 😅 I got up took a shower and cleaned up. The guard came by and stopped giving me a strange look and asked if I was ok. I just said Im fine Im waiting on lunch its almost noon. I could read the time cause the hands stopped spinning.

Finally I got to use the phone and I called home and asked how long I was there. I said 2 weeks? My mom said you been there almost 3 months. I did 6 months and got both charges dropped down to a misdemeanor and 4 years probation. 2 years was deferred. I literally signed out of jail on a PR Bond. No fines, fees, or court costs at all.

That was 5 years ago in October. I never could forget or deny what happened. I knew immediately what the verse meant and what I was told to do. So I have done it this entire time everyday almost on social media.

I had never read a bible before and I was far away from God. I was really on the fence about the whole Jesus thing. What I know now and I knew at that moment was this. Jesus is God! He is the Father, the Son of God, and the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of God and of Christ. There is only one. Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and Sovereign Lord over all of creation.

I believe the words of the verse exactly for what they said. He sent an angel to me which is a ministering spirit and a messenger. I got the message loud and clear. So I do exactly as He has told me to.

It has been 5 years and I have not even had a cold. My doctor is weaning me off medications. It was by no means an easy 5 years at all. I suffered with overcoming addiction and the mental illness symptoms I was and still am learning to cope and manage.

There is one thing I learned in addition to all these things since then in talk therapy. I was raised by two narcissistic, one mentally ill, and completely abusive except sexually.

After all those years and all those medications and numerous doctors did not do for me what the Great Physician did in a moment of time.

Don't get me wrong. God has revealed to me that He has gifted these doctors, nurses, therapists, and the scientists or chemists that make these medications. Give or take these crooked sons of bitches.

Just know that God is Hope. Faith or Belief and any good thing at all about man is of God. He is Love. How is Jesus God? All things are possible with God. Just trust Him. Don't worry or be afraid. He has commanded us to be strong and courageous for He is with us wherever we go. He will never leave us or forsake us. He is faithful to keep His word. If He said it. He meant it. It is the Truth. Jesus said His words are Spirit and Truth. These words are Life and Jesus is the Way. The one and only true living God is the living Word of God. He was manifest in the flesh. The holy bible has been tampered with by man and today even more with hundreds of versions. However, man is foolish to think he could ever stop the Power of the Spirit and Truth that is the Word of God Jesus Christ.

Is the Father the Son or the Spirit? Is He 3 in one or one in 3? Don't split hairs with vain debates and argumentative subjects that no man can answer. There are simply things of God that man will never understand. Our finite minds cannot imagine, fathom, dream, or even comprehend the great things of God. He just said don't trip. I got this. Be still and know. Trust Me and Believe In Me. Have Faith! Never give up Hope. Without Hope this Life has no purpose and we have meaning at all. There is just certain death. Then we are worm food.

If it is all just a big story and we die only to find out that's it just black and nothing then fine with me. If we die and it is true and we chose not to simply believe and have the faith the size of a mustard seed. We'd be cursing ourselves not God from hell forever. We would know He was right and we have no defense or a word to say before the righteous Judge.

Life and death. Facts. Choose life or death. It is the most logical, reasonable, sane, and simple choice for anyone in their right mind. So anyone who says its blind faith and completely disregards facts, logic, or reason. You know just as God says. He has used the foolishness of this world for His wisdom. He makes those who are wise in their own eyes, puffed up with pride, and too stubborn or hard hearted to simply admit they do not know. Men fear what they do not know. Rightfully so. You should fear God. Both revere and be a very afraid of the One that can take your life and cast your soul into hell. He gives and takes away. Simple as that.

So remember no matter what the situation or circumstances shit is just temporary. All good things must come to an end. As do the bad. So suck it up, be strong and courageous. Has He not commanded us? He is with you wherever and nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus.

To anyone suffering right now I am by no means minimizing your pain. I feel you 1000% You don't have to believe a word from me. Just know there is someone who is always with you and you are not helpless or alone. You may be weak and in complete darkness that seems like hell. God is light in the darkness. He has the keys to death and hell. So weather life or death, heaven or hell. You gotta trust and believe in Jesus. If not it is your own doing. Most of our problems are self inflicted we bring em on ourselves.

This may be the hardest part for me to tell someone in depression just dwelling and can't let go. Do you know what depression is. It is YOUR THOUGHTS and YOUR FEELINGS. It is therefore YOUR BELIEF and thus YOUR REALITY!

This is self-centeredness. Depression for a while that is justified is one thing. Wallowing in SELF-PITY with the attitude WOE IS ME. MY LIFE SUCKS and nobody understands or knows what I I I am going through. No one could possibly relate to YOUR SUPERIOR PROBLEMS! GET OUT OF YOURSELF for a while. Have an attitude of gratitude. You are alive and if you can feel emotions and you woke up today then you KNOW that you are alive. LIFE is a gift from of GOD. He so loved all of us that He GAVE HIS LIFE so that anyone who BELIEVES in HIM Should Not Perish...SHOULD NOT! But HAVE RIGHT NOW AS IN THIS PRESENT MOMENT. EVERLASTING LIFE. God gave us HOPE of ETERNAL LIFE the FREE GIFT of SALVATION is the LORD OUR GOD JESUS CHRIST the ONLY BEGOTTEN of the EVERLASTING FATHER the King of Israel is the Holy One (Christ) or Anointed (Messiah) our SAVIOR and REDEEMER. Not by might nor by power but by that Holy Spirit of PROMISE which is the PLEDGE of our inheritance.

The only reason one would die when God gave us His Life so that anyone whomsoever at all Believes. The Way is the Truth and He has become our Salvation. He is the very HOPE, FAITH, and LOVE that abides forever. LOVE being the greatest. No one SHOULD die. It is a choice!!! Just like you choose to wake up and be grateful saying Thank You God. Bless you Lord Jesus for the Spirit translated "Breath or Air" of Life and the LIGHT we all see and we have heard the word of God preached and proclaimed to us all. So no one has an excuse to even say I Dont Believe! That is our free will and choice. Another gift from God. He wants you to choose Jesus and dont worry but be happy. Rejoice!! Make some noise!! God is good all the time. All the time God is good. We all have a reason for the very BREATH of LIFE that was blown into Adam's nostrils and he became a living soul. Adam just means man. Human. In His image and likeness. Male and female created He them. If you believe in Jesus and the Good News aka Gospel of the Kingdom and Eternal Life you have every reason on every Day the Lord has made to be grateful and choose to be happy. The Eternal One is the Alpha and Omega. The Ancient of Days is the First and the Last. The Almighty. Beginning and End. Genesis to Revelation. Death and Life He gives and takes away.

I pray you don't waste another moment having a pity party if you don't have an actual reason to be stuck feeling sad for an excessive period of time. It is selfish. Ungrateful.

Your THOUGHTS and FEELINGS are powerful. They are YOURS though. You and you alone have a God given free gift of grace to Think for yourself and Regulate or Control Your Feelings and Emotions. It takes time and it's a process of growing up and becoming a man or woman. He has not given us a spirit of fear, but of POWER, LOVE, AND A SOUND MIND. SELF DISCIPLINE your MIND. We have the MIND of Christ. The Spirit of God and of Christ. The Kingdom of heaven is within. God the Father, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit is all within. What does it say? The Word is near to you, in your heart, even in your mouth.

It is Finished!

Revelation 22:16 21st Century King James Version (KJ21)

16 “I, Jesus, have sent Mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the Bright and Morning Star.”

Isaiah 44:6-8 21st Century King James Version (KJ21)

6 “Thus saith the Lord, the King of Israel, and his Redeemer, the Lord of hosts: I am the First, and I am the Last, and besides Me there is no God.

7 And who, as I, shall call and shall declare it, and set it in order for Me, since I appointed the ancient people? And the things that are coming and shall come, let them show unto them.

8 Fear ye not, neither be afraid. Have not I told thee from that time and have declared it? Ye are even My witnesses. Is there a God besides Me? Yea, there is no God. I know not any.”

[js116]

Silent Planet’s Everything Was Sound

22 May 2021

A wee bit of background before we get to the main event:

Silent Planet is an American post-rock metalcore band from California headed by retired psychologist/therapist Garrett Russell, and Everything Was Sound is their second studio album. Released in 2016, this concept album did nothing short of blow my mind; the total runtime is 41 minutes, but it took me a couple hours to write out everything I picked up from each song. 

Everything Was Sound has thirteen tracks, standard, so that is the album I listened to for this review! For the purpose of sticking with the album’s story concept, I’ll be adding my standout lyric quotes with the description of the song, rather than sticking them at the end. 

- I want to post a warning before I get into this album: this one covers topics some may view as disturbing. There are mentions of death, suicide, war, several mental disorders including depression and eating disorders), politics, and generally dark themes. This is where you should stop reading if any of these will bother you. -

The concept for this album revolves around the idea of the “panopticon,” which describes a circular prison surrounding a central guard tower. There are bright lights shining down from the tower so that the prisoners cannot see into the tower, where they are told there are guards watching them constantly. The prisoners are isolated from the guards and each other, being unable to see into the tower or other cells due to the walls and the lights. This setup removes the autonomy of the prisoners, and the paranoia that the guards are constantly watching (whether there are truly guards in the tower or not) removes the will to try to escape or act out. 

This concept is introduced in the first track of the album, Inherit the Earth. This first song begins by referencing the events of the previous album’s last track (Depths II from album The Night God Slept, in which the viewer has a vivid vision in the forest before falling asleep) as having happened only a few hours before, and now the viewer is waking up in the woods to find it is starting to rain. The viewer (us) stumbles through the rain and the forest under they find a structure: the panopticon. They enter the prison to escape the weather, and so we are pulled into the story of the album -- a metaphor for the human condition. 

“We inherit the earth, we inherit the war / I inhabit the wound, I dwell in the harm / Oh how far we fall: We’re casualties of time / Oh how far we fall: Forgive existence.”

The second track, Psychescape, (and each subsequent song, except the last one) introduces us to the contents of one of the cells: Schizophrenia. The theme of this song is paranoia and delusion, and the tower’s lights and watching guards are revealed to us; there are two distinct, conflicting voices. 

“I waited on the tracks of reason / But my train of thought never came / It never came.”

“Scrawled across the walls the suffering saint cries out: / ‘Is it madness to retreat from the myopic gaze that holds us captive?’”

Dying In Circles, the third track and second cell, holds the prisoner Organized Religion. Heavily rooted in Biblical principles, I was surprised to find this track used those principles to highlight and call out the hypocrisy of the modern church; the gatekeeping, neglect of those in need, the isolation of outsiders. Silent Planet calls on systematic religion (particularly modern Christianity) to return to its original purpose: to care for others, rather than turn them away or determine their worth as an organization. They are charged with trading their religious superiority for the awe and compassion for humanity they once had; to return to being a religion about the life of God, rather than being solely about his death. I really do love the idea of the “Image of God” being represented by a homeless person sleeping on church steps. 

“Beside the shadow of a frozen chapel / Under the marriage of cross and crown / Outside the privilege of the ‘chosen ones’ / The Image of God is sleeping on the ground.”

“We are the eulogy at the funeral of God.”

“Trade your certainty for awe.”

The fourth track took me for a spin, personally, as I’ve encountered the prisoner described here myself. Understanding Love as Loss opens with a few brief lyrics outlining the suicides of writers Sylvia Plath (“Searching for solace in a toxic temple--” death by toxic inhalation), Earnest Hemingway (“Fragments of lead climbing through your head--” death by shotgun to the skull), Virginia Woolf (“Stones load your coat as you wade through the winter current / Dancing with the dead on the riverbed--” death by drowning), and David Foster Wallace (“Wanton hanging of the wise pale king.” death by hanging). 

The line immediately following the deaths of these writers stuck out to me, as a fellow writer who has struggled with depression: “And I see myself.”

The title of the song explains that love is sacrifice; you lose a piece of yourself when you love someone else. Lose that piece, Silent Planet urges in this song; lose that piece to another person instead of losing yourself to your suffering. 

Lead vocalist Garrett Russell: “[Sometimes with depression,] the world feels like there’s no color. Even if you can’t see the color, be bold enough to ask someone to describe the colors of the world to you.”

This song was my favorite this far into the album, for its bare, unflinching honesty on the subject. The footnotes for this song in the album booklet include the number for the National Suicide Hotline. I respect that. 

The fifth track, Tout Comprendre, draws its title from the first half of a French quote, and translates loosely to “To Understand All.” This song is an interlude, meaning it does not contain any lyrics, and it is the first of two interludes on the set. 

Immediately following Tout Comprendre comes Panic Room, a track that tells the story of a veteran who has come home, but is mentally haunted by the war. The lyrics take us to bloody battlefields in desert sands, and lay out the plague of terror-memories. Panic Room’s prisoner is PTSD, and it delves into the American treatment of returned veterans and their struggles with armed-conflict trauma. 

“Praise me for my valor, lay me in a crimson tower / Justify my endless terror as my ‘finest hour’ / Treat me as a token to deceive the child / Whom we fatten for this scapegoat slaughter / I learned to fight, I learned to kill, I learned to steal / I learned that none of this is real, none of this is real / None of this is real, NONE OF THIS IS REAL”

Just after this verse, there is a brief, almost total silence, before the song resumes. There are several breaks like this in the music; periods of calm between the intense music. 

We move on to the fifth cell and seventh track, REDIVIDER. This song threw me off at first; I thought the words were being reused and rearranged before I realized the song is a palindrome. About halfway through, the lyrics flip to mirror the first half of the song. 

“Death ran away then life flooded in world / This I am: Imbalance, beautifully so / Hands connected, perhaps… / Then dead reflections saw you / I did, didn’t I? / I didn’t, did I? / You saw reflections dead then / Perhaps, connected hands… / So beautifully imbalance: Am I this world? / In flooded life then away ran Death.” 

The fifth prisoner is Bipolar Disorder. 

Nervosa is the name of the eighth track; this one disturbed me the most out of all of them. My first impression of this song was, if you’ll excuse my Irish here, “Holy sh*t.” None of the imagery prior to this song was nearly as vivid and disturbing as it was here. The clean vocals (singing instead of metal-screaming) are very well done, capturing the desperation of the situation in a very raw way, which is fitting for the theme of the song -- this cell’s prisoner is the deadliest of psychiatric disorders, bulimia nervosa. The entirety of the lyrics are well-written (although, again, vividly disturbing), so I chose the most poignant of them.

“I am not my own reflection / I am not myself, I am not myself / I am haunted by a non-existent lover / The spectre, the ghost, the self-starving host / I am haunted by a non-existent lover / I was gifted with the vision but cursed to be the witness.”

This song, too, contains links to help services for eating disorders in the footnotes of the album booklet. 

We come now to the second interlude, C’est Tout Pardonner, titled after the second half of the French quote, the entirety of which translates to “To understand all is to forgive all.” The prisoner held in the two of these is ignorance. 

Just as C’est is the second, contrasting half of Tout, which was followed by war-themed Panic Room, so Orphan, the second, contrasting half of Panic Room, follows C’est. 

Orphan relays the perspective of orphans of war, the prisoners of this track. Particularly focusing on crimes against peaceful civilians (especially in the Middle East), Orphan also describes the reunion of two brothers on opposite sides of war. 

“I’m finding the violence -- it looks like me.”

“Terrified little son, encumbered by your sword / You can hide your fear, but won’t shed the weight of your humanity -- Humanity / You can face me toward the mountains / Where I meet our mother’s gaze / Too blinded by this hatred / To recognize your brother’s face.”

The eleventh track, No Place to Breathe, was both ahead of its time and should not have had to be written in the first place. The prisoner in this eighth cell is fascism, specifically within enforcers of the law. It dives into how easy it is to turn a blind eye to issues like systematic racism, police brutality, and inherent injustice, if these things do not affect us personally. There are three murder victims, (Eric Garner [2014], Hernan Jaramillo [2013], and Kelly Thomas [2011]) all killed by police, whose last recorded words are attributed in the song: “I can’t breathe.” 

Does that sound familiar from more recent news? This album was released in 2016, to give some perspective on how things have changed. 

“We shout at fascists, hands fixed on asphyxiating those in need / Place your hands to the pulse of this city / Keep your ear to the ground / Hear him gasp, / ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.’”

The ninth and final cell is explored in the twelfth track, First Father (which is the partner of a song called First Mother from their previous album). The final prisoner is the grief over losing a loved one. Switching between a rushing, loud tempo and a low-toned quiet of guitars and vocals, the song captures the process of moving forward through personal loss. 

“‘You pulled me through time,’ through the edgeless night / I’ll learn to love as you learned to die / I’ll begin to feel again and finish the chapter you couldn’t write / Candles in the dark, defiant to the night / Defiant to the shadow / You pull me through time, through the edgeless night / I learned to love as you learned to die.”

With the thirteenth and final song, we’ve literally come full circle and are finally at the prison’s central tower, where we discover we are the guard watching the prisoners. Titled after a line from the first track’s lyrics (”We inherit the earth[...] We inhabit the wound”), Inhabit the Wound tears down the guard tower, freeing the prisoners from the confines of their situation or disorder. Each of the nine prisoners reaches into themselves and retrieves a seed, which is planted in the place of the tower. The album closes with this image:

“The earth, with a final gasp, shook free from our inventions. Grace and nature reconciled as I heard ‘it is finished.’ The final seal was broken, the concussion blew me back -- I teetered on the edge of re-creation and the wrath. The nine lovers stumbled out of their shells of brokenness, they reached inside their wounds to find the seeds borne from their suffering. Coalesce upon me to plant the tree of life inside the heart of the machine. Reach inside -- heal the wound -- make us whole.”

I found this album to be an absolute masterpiece, and metal isn’t usually a preferred genre of mine. I’ve got to give this one five out of five symbolic and vivid frogs. Well done, Silent Planet, both in composition and in raising awareness about different types of struggle.

Next week I’ll be reviewing an album that was recommended to me, and that was released today: Twenty One Pilots’ Scaled and Icy.

Thanks for listening with me!

[sharada-n]

prompt: papyrus dealing with quarantine by deciding he can NOT stay in his house for six months so he moves into the forest to become a cryptid covered in flower.

This gave me a good ol’ chuckle and made my own quarantine mood a bit better so thank you Anon! Have a thing:

The search lasted for three days.

Three days that didn’t feel like three days, more like three months or three years, or three hours. Time was beginning to blur for Sans in a way that was uncomfortable and way too reminiscent of something else entirely he rather not think about. His human therapist had told him this was not an uncommon experience during a period like this and he hadn’t corrected them.

How long had Papyrus even been gone? Sans wasn’t about to admit he didn’t know, because he rather suspected Undyne would break every single bone that made up his body if he did, and he really needed those bones. But the truth was he hadn’t even noticed his brother was gone at first. Things were crazy - had been crazy for weeks now - and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. Sans didn’t leave the house unless he had a good reason to and more than anything he had a good reason not to now. He mostly spent time in his room, read books, scrolled the vast internet and slept. There wasn’t much else to do really.

And Papyrus did... Sans didn’t know what Papyrus did during this time, but he thought it would just be the same things Papyrus did any other time when Sans wasn’t looking. But then the dishes in the sink kept piling up and the heap of socks on the living room floor started to reassemble the pyramids of Egypt and Sans had thought, ‘I sure do wonder when Papyrus is gonna pick those up’, before ordering take-out from Grillby’s for dinner.

The next morning their electricity got cut because the bill hadn’t been paid and Sans realized that maybe the dishes and the socks were a bad sign.

Panic didn’t set in immediately. Papyrus had taken his violin and the pet rock, so Sans was pretty sure he had not been kidnapped. Unless the kidnappers were looking for a concert and a dissertation on proper pet care, at least. But he called Papyrus about a gazillion times and his brother did not pick up. Sans texted, and Papyrus did not respond.

The search lasted for three days, during which Sans had exaggerated his original assessment that “this must be Papyrus’ idea of teen rebellion” into “this must be Papyrus’ idea of a midlife crisis” until he arrived at the final and most logical conclusion that Papyrus must be absolutely, most certainly dead.

Papyrus was not absolutely, most certainly dead. He was quite fine, as he assured Sans multiple times, while Sans tried to not channel his inner Undyne (not a phrase he would often use) and break Papyrus in half. Mostly since that was a fight he was not prepared to have, and was definitely not going to win. But it simmered beneath the surface as Papyrus stared at him, a wreath of baby’s breath and wild ginger on his head, blinking at him with the innocence of a fawn.

For all Sans knew of his brother, this was quite the opposite.

“You scared me half to dead,” Sans said, solemnly, seriously.

“I see you are being hyperbolic for dramatic purposes,” Papyrus answered, then went back to braiding another flower crown of red and blue blossoms.

There had been no reception in the forest, was a much more simple and less gruesome conclusion.

Sans sat down, and pulled up his legs before he lost one of his slippers into the stream running through the meadow. “Well, not me maybe. But plenty of people.”

Papyrus scoffed. “Hardly my fault they made me a being of myth, Sans.” He plucked some blades of long grass to tie his creation together. “Humans are fanciful.”

“Tell me about it...” Sans groaned.

The only reason they had found Papyrus, the only way they had any idea of where he had disappeared to, was because Alphys had shown them an internet forum full of bizarre sightings humans had made in this area. Rumors spread like wildfire that something strange was living in the woods, something that wandered away from the paths and could only be caught by glimpses through the branches. Something tall and dangerous that abducted children and made them its dinner.

That last one was probably just a remnant of the superstitious humans had built around monsters over the year, but seeing a walking skeleton in the middle of the forest on your evening quarantine stroll was sure to upset folks. And the distant sounds of violin in the night did not help.

Sans shook his head. “Are you coming home?”

The question was considered for a moment, then Papyrus shrugged. “Am I?”

“Hey, I asked first.”

“I rather like being a creature of myth, Sans.”

Well, that was one way to put it. Sans was pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before humans with cameras and popular youtube channels would be trampling through these woods in search of the cryptid rumored to live here. Papyrus would probably appreciate such a thing. “I think they’re gonna build you a gift shop, Pap,” he said.

“They better sell T-shirts.” Papyrus turned to Sans and put the flower crown on his head, adjusting it so it wouldn’t fall off easily. “I’m sorry, Sans.”

“For what?”

“For leaving without warning. For getting tired of sitting at home and not being able to go anywhere or do anything. It feels like...”

Papyrus didn’t finish his sentence, but Sans could do it for him. “Like the world is ending?”

“How come people think I’m the dramatic one,” Papyrus shot back, but then followed it up with, “maybe not ending but it certainly feels like nothing will ever be normal again. And that can be scary too.”

Sans knew what that felt like and Papyrus knew it too.

“And living in the forest like some horrifying bedtime story for human children is not scary?”

Papyrus pushed him aside playfully and one of his slippers slid loose, falling into the stream with a little splash. Sans cursed but for once Papyrus ignored him.

“I’m just saying it’s fun. It’s not normal, and so the not-normal turns into not-not-normal, and feels a little more normal.”

Sans watched his slipper float on its merry way, a lost cause. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” Papyrus declared, “I should know, I’m an urban legend and have probably been around for centuries.”

Sans scoffed but didn’t disagree.

"Are you going to stay?” Papyrus asked, like he didn’t really care. The pet rock was sitting in the moss in front of them, dainty little flower crown on its head. Papyrus had his violin in one hand, like he was waiting for an answer to decide to play or not.

Sans knew he would play anyway.

“I think I have to, bro,” he answered, putting both hands behind his skull so he could lie down in the moss. “My slipper is probably gone all the way to the ocean by now. No way I’m getting that back.”

“You can teleport.”

“Too tired.”

Papyrus started to play a tune, his favorite, one that was easy to fall asleep to. And Sans could sleep anywhere, so that worked out perfectly.

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange part 4

Shorter but a paris update for her life and a little on gotham with Jason as Robin while Tim is a hero Stalker.

Marinette is 7 when she changes schools, ordered into the Dupont school chain by her teachers since she was getting ‘difficult’ and contradicting their ciriculum. When they challeneged her on this, she went to the school board with Rolland beside her of all people.

The board agreed on one thing, Marinette’s contradictions were not only factually correct, but were done to prevent the outdated ciriculum from hurting her classmates. Instead of punishing her, she got to skip a gade and was given to Dupont as a ‘highly reccomended gifted student’.

Her first day she met Max, who also skipped a grade. The pair bond in five seconds over a new programming focused on learning emotional intelligence. Uncle Riddler was showing her it, and Max got his hands on a various ai bases. This led to then teaming up and designing the one and only Markov together, if only in schematics.

A week in and the two notice that some kids are being followed around by a guy with a bat. They report it. Again and again, but no one can find him.

One day he catches the pair on their way to Max’s—they wanted to work on their ai together, ok? The guy tries to hit Max, saying something about them being lucky metas that needed to suffer.

Marinette’s gotham training kicked in. She caught the bat, ripped it away from him and hit him in the chest with it, while yelling at max to run.

At the end of the incident, videotaped by a bystander, the Dupont Stalker was arrested.

Marinette was given another name by the police, ‘fille de batte’ or bat girl. Her having family in gotham only made the nickname more popular.

This put her on Kim and Alix’s radar. Kim wanted a challenge for fighting and competitions, and this tiny kid did that—to an adult! New friend and rival!

Alix was went from shock to joy as Marientte does art. She does art. Art friend to rant to found!

Nino ran into Marinette not long after Kim and Alix attached themselves to her and Max. Nino became their judge for Kim challenges. Including Mari pinning Kim to the mat, or deciding who did a circus move better (Mari won acrobatics).

Chloe doesnt go to dupont until next year, and sabrina is in another class, mildly concerned for Marinette.

In this au, again, Dupont is considered a ‘i would not be shocked if there were metas there’ school for gifted kids in any way.

Marinette is sent there for her insane science obsession at the time, but is also put in their arts program with Alix to develop as an artist with her medium, fabrics and fashion.

And if marinette redesigns hero outfits as “monsiuer ross, scribbles have more style, let alone fashion sense” alot, well. Kids get obsessed a lot and the Justice League is a common one, as are known villians. Her everyday outfits having different hero schemes—oddly enough some forensic scientist she’s obsessed with from some american city ended up in her mix—well. She’s a kid and showing signs a few types of anxiety.

Possible social and OCD and a developing case of perfectionism common to the arts program. The school has her see a therapist and know she isnt telling them everything beyong mild concern for her gotham family, and confusion over people just ‘not getting things’ as she is terribly smart and good at finding patterns and how do people not see it?

By the end of the year Marinette is in a strong friend group who’s parents and hers have decided to have joint custody during the school year.

She was now (forced) to learn vietnamese from Kim’s Grandparents, italian from Rolland (her nonno that has a Thing for tradition and somehow married Gina and raised Tom mostly on his own while running the bakery to boot), english from Father/Strange, Mandarin from her Maman and she started Arabic to talk with Nino’s aunt who kept saying marinette was her future in-law and point out that nino and her are friends, not dating ma’am.

However, Nino endured most of this with her-not the italian or Mandarin, but the others. Kim couldnt get Arabic but mandarin was a breeze for him. Alix cannot get vietnamese or arabic but Mandarin is her jam after french. Max just speaks french and english, he understands the others he just cant get the sounds right, ok?

When Marinette goes back to Gotham that summer, she ends up dealing with Hero Stalker Tim (jason is robin now) while looking for Red Hoodie who No oNE is telling her what happened and she’s worried, ok?

Tim feeds her obbsession with fixing problems. He sometimes sends her building layouts of places Catwoman stole from. And then the jewlry reappears thanks to a nervous Marinette coached by Rose and Ghoul while Frost handles her post-fix it freak out. Tim also may or may not get helped by her alot during Batman Stalking Time as she teaches his butt how to sneak and complains he’s worse than penguin.

Tim hates that, works on it, and still has nonidea who she is. He does admit to figuring out who batman may be, but needs more evidence so...

Marinette hits him becuase “thats dangerous!” And tries to lecture him in identites.

Batman’s radiowave was used for said lecture.

“And it puts their families in danger you, uh, hero stalker! And stuff so no more identity investigations!”

“They have the same builds, and did signsture moves from—“ the signal cutout.

He and Jason are more careful... ish. They change channels and monitor the old one.

Sometimes Batman catches Marinette and Tim talking about coldcases and she has asked three times if he heard anything about Jason’s street kid identity. Jason is feeling guilty about this as she’s his Pixie Pop. This lets Bruce know that the probably-clark’s-kid would keep Jason away from GCPD and CPS.

When a convo leads to Batman finding out Tim and Marinette have considered asking the police for help with a case of medicine that needed to be recalled as it was beign used to mule drugs contaminated the batches and hurt patients, but turned it down after she saw some taking bribes from Fish, Batman lets Gordon know and an investigation is launched.

While Bats is away, Jason visits marinette as Robin and tries to get her to bats for more information and a lecture on heroing without adult supervision. Maybe.

Only she’s currently stealing from a sleeping selina at another HQ. A Selina who has stopped trying to stop marinette and let riddler turn her house into one of his ‘traps’ to stop Marinette’s ‘return theiving’.

Jason gets stuck in a trap. Marinette is gone by then, scared Robin will tell Superman about her and he’ll hurt her family or something.

Catwoman is annoyed at Marinette’s sucess. She goes to stop the girl after leaving him tied up for Batman with a message: leave her new kitten-to-be alone.

Follow up talk post-Caught Marinette reverse theiving.

“Blame the Council’s decrees. She’s their little princess, and my new neice,” Catwoman watched Batman carefully.

Confused Batman in interrogator mode. “You mean the Court of Owls, arent they disbanded?”

“Bats, the council is gotham’s underground. Apparently Two-Face made the contracts as penance for scaring the Princess during a breakout. Unless you want an organized attack by the council, steer clear of her.”

Batman conencts the dots and curses himself. The girl he was looking for last summer is the Princess of Gotham’s underground. It will be hell finding her. And Superman/Clark will lose it when he’s told.

He lets the JL know about it, saying ‘possibly kyptonian clone, female child. Gotham’s underground is calling her their Princess. Connor and Kidflash tailed her last summer during the arkham breakout while Robin was with the Titans. Be alert for a small asian girl.’

That was how Marinette ended up on the JL watch list and how Superman had another existential crisis.

Dick freaks out with the Titans over this. Becuase kyltonian raised by villians is terrifying. Jason forwarded the message and adds on “she’s a good kid and wants to help. Somehow keeps zsasz and joker from killing people, so its not good to take her away or issolate her from the villians if you find her. From what i remember, she is terrified of her family beign put in danger. The others wont listen to me. If you can, pass this along to the other sidekicks and your allies—none of them trust me enough to listen. I cant talk to her as a civilian like i used to either for obvious reasons. And she’s terrified of me-Robin. Maybe you can get through to her, or someone else can. Just talk to her first, she’s more reasonsble than she looks”

Dick doesnt read the add on until much later and regrets it.

He met marinette once. She was a very excited kid babbling about aerodynamics in acrobatics and asking about that. Not hero things, not power things, or justice league but That.

He tried to be nice but he was having a horrible mission, saw the girl floating as she rambled and tried to grab her.

She freaked out and bolted, sort of. He got slammed into a building, or would have had she not caught him, rambled in french while trying to apologize (he was a but stunned from the throw, and rebooting as villian-kyptonian was... nice?) and put him on the roof, hit his communicator and said one thing.

“I think i broke your robin? All are robins like bird bones or something?”

He regained a functioning brain as that. That was something he could respond to.

“I am human thank you!”

That seemed to be enough for her as he moved to get up. She waved bye and bolted, something about Rose being mad at her for being late...

“Titans. I think we might have been wrong about the kid...”

Later with Young Justice the info was passed on.

Jason asked if anyone read his attachment and was met with silence. He groaned and told them “so another team she’s going to avoid... great.”

Marinette added the titans to her list of ‘people to aviod—tetch and Jerimah were the worst. Luthor and Cadmus were under them. Then the entire Justice League (they would tell batman or superman. Snitches.), followed by GCPD, CPS, the Bat Family and now Titans. She wonders if she needs to add anyone else, and hates that she cant talk to heroes. They could help with controlling her powers instead of suppressing them but she cant trust them not to give her to superman like batman did with Rose to Poison Ivy and she’s pretty sure Superboy too.

Next time, times marinette accidently put together identities and curses Hero Stalker Tim for her now knowing.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Yuri on Ice Fic: Now’s My Curtain Call

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: Yuri on Ice!!!

Pairing: Victor Nikiforov / Yuuri Katsuki

Characters: Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, Others mentioned but don’t appear

Rating: General audiences (1 curse word)

Warnings: None apply

Additional Tags:  Retirement, Reminiscing, Introspection, Insecurity, Songfic, Yuuri being Awesome, Yuuri not taking Victor’s crap, Angst and Comfort, Fluff

Summary: Inspired by the song “Stole the Show” by Kygo ad James Parsons. 

Basically, Viktor brooding before his retirement party, and Yuuri being the fabulous husband he is getting him out of his funk.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852626

                                                         *****

Yuuri felt his breathing grow slightly heavier as he made his way up all the bleachers to the top most row. He wrapped his hands around his elbows and rubbed them up and down to warm himself slightly. Even after spending an inordinate amount of his life in an ice rink, the cold never failed to bite him. He saw his breath coming out as a mist, a testament to the temperature of the huge rink that didn’t have the thousands it was made to hold occupying it. He walked slowly, not in a rush to get to his destination, but he walked with a purpose. They did have a party to be at after all.

There he was.

Viktor was sitting facing the ice rink, the stage of all their victories and failures, their jumps, their spins, their lives. The Russian man didn’t even react when Yuuri came to a stop beside him. Yuuri turned to look in the same direction as his husband, wanting to find what had him so captivated.

“This is it Yuuri.”

Ah, that’s what all this was about then. Yuuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting this at some point. Well no, he was expecting it tomorrow morning to be exact.  

“Viktor.” Yuuri replied, an unvoiced question and plea all wrapped in one. The two of them still did not look at each other.

“Sit down.”

Yuuri sat automatically, sinking into the rink chair, a slight shiver passing through him as the cold of the plastic chair seeped through his suit trousers.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Everything.”

“Oh?”

“It is hard to believe this is it.”

“Oh Viktor, you idiot.” Yuuri said, voice full of the fondness he felt in every cell of his body.

Viktor turned to look at him for the first time since he sat down beside him.

“Idiot?” The incredulity was evident in his voice.

“Idiot. So you are retiring. That doesn’t mean this is the end.”

“Yuuri that is exactly what it means.” Stubborn to the end, his husband.

“No. The end is when there is nothing left for you in the ice. Touch your heart and tell me there is nothing left in the ice for you.”

Viktor stayed quiet, speechless for a minute.

Yuuri tilted his head, resting his cheek against Viktor’s shoulder. “Vitya, you still have so much left to give. So what if you are not out there competing? You will still be there as a coach, a teacher, and most importantly, a friend. And what, you think just because you retire, people will forget about you?”

Yuuri pivoted his head, close enough to feel Viktor’s breaths on his face, before leaning back to sit up straight. Turning fully towards his husband, Yuuri grabbed  his hands into his own. He flipped them palms up and slowly traced his fingertips over the palms, making them twitch. A small smile crept into his face, and he moved to lace their hands together, the contrast of his warm hands to Viktor’s cool ones, giving him goosebumps.

“Are you going to answer?” he asked softly. He didn’t want to push after all.

Viktor was the most expressive man in the world, but he was also someone who had grown up with the spotlight pointed straight at him for half his life practically. When they had first started training together, Yuuri had been astonished that Viktor was so cheerful and energetic, so different to his own quiet life. Then they moved to Russia, and in his own home, Yuuri saw a different aspect of Viktor. And realized that he has been playing for the cameras, for the expectations the world had of him so long, he had driven himself to an unattainable level of perfection. Punished himself when he failed to meet them. They had been working on it, Yuuri pushing Viktor to realize he is so much more than an ice skater. He guessed the sudden reality of his retirement finally hit Viktor. He sighed internally, he really should have seen this coming.  

“I’m scared.”

“Of retiring?”

“Of what comes next.”

“What comes next?”

Viktor gave him a glare but Yuuri just quirked a small smile and squeezed their entwined hands.

“What comes next Vitya?”

Viktor seemed to deflate, seemingly trying to merge into the chair he was sitting on, and the only thing tethering him to his body being Yuuri’s hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you do.”

“No Yuuri, I don’t. Why are you doing this?” Viktor snapped, feeling annoyed with the Japanese man’s cryptic answers and seemingly useless prodding.

“Why am I doing what?”

“Repeating all my questions back to me for a start.”

“Because I don’t know if you are genuinely clueless or being purposefully being dense.”

Viktor made an incoherent noise of frustration. Yuuri let out a big sigh and shook his head before smiling at Viktor as though he were a slow child. Viktor felt his pout getting bigger.

“Vitya, you big baby. Listen to me ok? You are retiring. You know what you are doing next? You are joining Yakov as a junior coach. You are coaching me for my last season next year. You are coming with me to Japan and working in the onsen where okaasan is going to teach you to make katsudon in about a week’s time. You are going to go on a holiday with Chris through Europe and leave me to train while you have fun.”

When Viktor still looked dissatisfied, Yuuri decided it was time to pull out the big guns.

“Fine. Let’s say everything I said is wrong. Let it be. Why don’t you tell me what is actually bothering you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yuuri!”

“Bullshit Vitya. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Why are you being so mean?”

“Because my incredibly brilliant and charming husband is acting like a surly child who didn’t get the Christmas gift he wanted.”

Viktor just grunted and removed his hands from Yuuri’s and turned back to his original position, slouching and sliding in the seat till he was sitting on its very edge. “So mean.”

“What are you really scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“Vit-”

“No Yuuri, I am not being difficult.I really don’t know. I have been skating for almost two thirds of my life now. And that year long break with you was the best decision I made, but I always had this feeling I was coming back to the ice. And now, I am never going back and I just-” Viktor choked, finding it hard to breath as tears flooded his eyes and slipped out. He tried to bite back the sobs threatening to overwhelm him as he was tugged into Yuuri’s side.

“Oh my love…” Yuuri whispered as he rubbed small circles into his husband’s back, hugging him tighter and he pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He didn’t know how long they sat there like that, but eventually, Viktor’s sobs subsided and the man dislodged himself from Yuuri’s side to sit up straight. Yuuri handed him a handkerchief before he wiped his eyes with his suit sleeve.

Yuuri looked at his husband, feeling his heart tighten in sympathy at the struggle Viktor was going through. He was a little angry Viktor had just kept this all inside him for so long, because these feelings were obviously not brand new. But he understood why his husband didn’t share them if he himself didn’t accept them as something he was feeling. And hating a part of yourself and feeling helpless was a feeling he was too intimately familiar with.

Sighing softly, he turned his body and hugged his husband properly, one hand cradling the back of Viktor’s head, tucking it into his neck. Viktor was stiff for a minute before he went boneless, sagging against him, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. “Baka Viktor. How many times have you told me that whenever I am feeling down I should tell you? That if I ever feel less than, to let you know so that you can fight against my malfunctioning brain? Am I not your husband? Do you not think I would want to be there for you too?”

“I’m sorry Yuuri.” Viktor said, looking truly pathetic with his eyes puffy, and ears and nose red as a tomato. Yuuri melted, his hand moving from the back of Viktor’s neck to his cheek, his thumb caressing the tear tracks on the Russian’s face. He tugged his face close and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“My love you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Still…” Viktor started, only for Yuuri to cut him off with kisses peppered all over his face.

“Nothing” over his eyelid, “to” the other eyelid, “be” forehead, “sorry” other cheek “for” lips.

They lingered in the kiss before breaking apart, but still staying close enough feel each other’s breath shared between them. Yuuri moved back enough to see his beloved’s blue eyes, that icy blue which makes his heart race.

“Tell me a memory.”

Viktor obviously wasn’t expecting that based on the bewildered look on his face. “What?”

Yuuri smiled, leaning back. “A technique I learned while in collage was to think about something that made me happy. My therapist told me about this where when everything felt hopeless, I should remember a good moment in my life. And then another, and another, until I remember that happy moments are not a finite. Viktor I almost quit figure skating because I thought I had hit my peak and it was bleak. You were the one who helped me see that I still had a long way to go, you showed me higher peaks, pulled me along into the spotlight with you. You gave me the world Viktor. You gave me the world when I thought there was nothing left for me. So you are my living reminder that no matter how much my brain tries to convince me otherwise, I have happiness in my life. That people care about me. That I am not a burden. God, you know how much those things seem like lies to me, how much my mind tries to convince me that there is no one in the world who cares about me. You are there every time willing to fight for me against my own demons.” Yuuri stopped to take a deep breath, he had gotten more into that then he had expected, and got back to what he had actually wanted to say, voice backed with steel. “So I am asking you to tell me a memory of something that makes you happy. And then another, and another, until you realize that just because you had all these great memories doesn’t mean you won’t have anymore. I promise you now, just as I did during our wedding, I will by your side for as long you will have me. And I am just as ready to fight for you as you are me.”

Viktor looked speechless at the end of Yuuri’s declaration, eyes shining with tears again.

Yuuri leans in for another kiss, pressing this one to the corner of Viktor’s lips. “Your turn.”

Viktor gaped at Yuuri for another moment before closing his eyes and nodding. “Ok.”

Viktor’s voice was soft, afraid of haunting his own memories, infecting them with the misery he was feeling, but Yuuri had asked this of him, and Yuuri asked for so little, so he would give Yuuri what he wanted. “I…um… I remember winning the local ice skating competition when I was 7, I was leagues above them, and I knew it. After the competition and the awards ceremony, I got off the ice and changed before going looking for my coach. I was confused because normally he was always waiting for me at the edge of the ice rink, but this time, only Mama and Papa were there. I found him talking to this stranger, he was short, and chubby, and I didn’t like his face. But my coach called me forward and introduced him. It was Yakov. He told me that he thought I could do so much more if I came with him to St. Petersburg, and told my parents he would even take me on for one year for free. My parents were worried, but ultimately decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Plus I remember asking them over and over again, I did not know exactly how big a deal Yakov was, but my coach had showed me some footage of some of Yakov’s students. Yuuri, I liked figure skating, but watching those videos, they made it look like magic, like they were fairies or that they had wings, like it was no effort at all. And I wanted to do.”

Yuuri was smiling warmly, and nodded for Viktor to go on.

“I remember that first year with Yakov, being pushed beyond what I could take. My seniors would … not bully but they each were more concerned with their own issues than looking out for their juniors. If you weren’t willing to push your body beyond it’s limits, Yakov was not meant for you. I hated them for a while, and I can still feel the bruises and the bloody mess my feet were. Mama had moved with me to the city, unwilling to leave me alone so young. That first victory at Russian Nationals, I had never been so happy in my life Yuuri. Papa had come to see me in competition, and Mama made me all my favorite dishes after the competition. Yakov told me good job Yuuri. Which we both know is the ultimate praise coming from that gruff man.”

“That’s a good memory.”

“I can recall that dinner so clearly.”

“Tell me another?”

Viktor thought for a moment before a smile graced his lips. “My first Gold at the Junior Grand Prix. I was at the top of the world. It felt like every moment had been leading me up to that victory. The eyes of the world were on me and I felt like I could fly. I moved up to seniors after that, and my seniors actually respected me. Georgi was recruited at the same time. I had never really had a lot of friends my own age, considering that I had basically  grown up competing and just training. We didn’t get along a lot of the time. But this one time, Yakov had yelled at Georgi really bad and he had been in tears. And looking back, I was lonely. I found Georgi waiting outside the steps of the ice rink that day for his mother to come pick him up. It was the beginning of winter, and snow was starting to fall, so I told Georgi I would wait with him inside till our moms came. We sat there and talked for two hours Yuuri. I don’t even remember what we talked about but for the first time I could recall, I was happy in a new way. Thinking about it now, I was almost even happier about having a friend and confidant than about winning the gold medal. After that we helped each other, and we stood up for each other. Georgi was still in Juniors for another year before joining me in Senior level, but I am so grateful for the time we had.”

Viktor’s smile dimmed. “I’ve not been a good friend to Georgi for the past few years have I?”

Yuuri made a noise in the back of his throat. “None of that Viktor. Georgi told me when he retired that he was so happy with what he had accomplished. I know you and Yuri have developed this mindset where winning is the main goal, and the only one that matters. And there is nothing wrong with that Viktor. Others like Georgi and I? We want to win just as badly, don’t mistake me, but we are also grateful for the chance to compete, to perform. I love competing, it makes me push myself to do better, to learn, to be more. But what I love most is figure skating itself, not the medals and titles. True he may not have won as many medals as you, but he is also a figure skater who accomplished a lot in his own right. He is proud of what he did. You don’t get to make him feel insufficient.”

Viktor looked horrified. “No Yuuri, that isn’t-”

Yuuri silenced him with a hand to his knee, eyes still steady and determined. “I know baka. You are far too kind to think that, besides you would not have spared me a second glance if you actually thought that way. Could you have been a better friend to Georgi? Maybe. Probably. But you did not treat him like someone you had to be better than. You have only ever pushed yourself to be better than you.”

Viktor remained silent.

“Tell me one more memory?”

Viktor stayed silent for a long time, just twisting his wedding ring again and again. Yuuri gave him the space he needed to think.

“When I first started skating Stammi Vicino, I knew there was something off about the choreography, but technically it was perfect, and I trained and trained. I came into the rink at all hours, and nearly wore a hole into my skates with how much I practiced it, but it never felt right. Hell, even the gold I won for it made me feel like I didn’t deserve it. And then I saw you skate the same damn moves I had Yuuri, and it was breathtaking. I knew right then that I could not let you slip away again. And then, we danced Stammi Vicino together. Yuuri, when we performed it in front of the world, the routine felt complete for the first time to me. I had finally made it into what it was always meant to be, without even realizing it. It was a dance meant to be shared, a dance of love. And doing it with you,” Viktor choked, eyes glistening with tears again, but when Viktor looked at him, his eyes were twinkling with happiness. “That routine is my favorite out of all the routines I have ever done. And that memory is one of the best in my life.”

Yuuri’s own eyes started to get wet, so he rubbed his eyes before pulling Viktor in for another hug, holding his husband close. This time, Viktor held him just as tightly.

“It is my favorite too. Although I am really partial to Yuri on Ice.” Yuuri smirked. Viktor choked out a wet laugh before punching him with no strength. Yuuri laughed before rubbing his nose against Viktor’s. “You are my favorite.”

Viktor just smiled brightly at him and reciprocated a kiss to his cheek. The two stayed like that for another minute before Yuuri wiped off Viktor’s tears and cupped his face with both hands. “Now, if you are feeling good again, what do you say we go to the surprise retirement party that is not really a surprise but everyone is excited so indulge them anyways party?”

“That’s a long name for a party.”

“Baka Vitya!”

Laughing his usual bright cheer, Viktor laced their hands together and stood up. He then released one of Yuuri’s hands and pressed it to his side, stretching. “Come along then. Let’s go to the party with the really long name.”

“Yes, one I promised all our friends I’d bring you to about an hour ago.” Yuuri swung their hands between them, letting Viktor lead them out of their seats to the rink below, a comfortable silence settling between them.

As they went to leave the gym, Viktor stopped, one hand resting on the edge of the rink. Yuuri squeezed his hand.

“This isn’t your last time here Vitya.”

“Yes it is Yuuri. It is as a competitive ice skater.” Viktor said, voice far away. But then he turned to Yuuri and grinning. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Thrown off by the sudden change in attitude, Yuuri gaped at him, but Viktor just chuckled. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Yuuri’s eyes were warm. “Always.”

When Yuuri tugged Viktor towards the hotel where the party was being held at this time, Viktor went easily. After all, he had a bright future to look forward to. One not illuminated by spotlights and expectations. Stepping out of the building, Viktor felt like he could fly all over again. Letting out a shout, Viktor started running, he could hear Yuuri calling his name out behind him, footsteps pounding the pavement, but the warm breeze enveloped him in a hug, and he started running.

After all, you need a running start to take off.