#this shit makes me so fuckin sad and absolutely fuming

[roaringheat]

Still at my dad's place and found out he's recently gotten into multiple conservative podcasts and has been spouting transphobic shit the past couple days

[baldursgat3]

Part 2 of my Enemies to Lovers. 3.1k words this time. Once again. Got away from me. This chapter literally doesn't even contain Astarion physically it's all just Karlach. I just love her I'm sorry but I said slow burn and I fuckin meant it

Part 1

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.” “Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!” Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

At some point, the comfort and warmth of Karlach’s body as she carried you close to her chest wound up putting you to sleep. You'd tried to stay awake, hoping to scope out how your city had changed but you barely made it out of the palace before her warmth consumed you completely. It had just been so long since you'd felt comfortable and safe like this.

Safe? No you didn't feel safe. Not exactly. Well maybe a little? No! No not at all, you weren't safe with these people. They were all friends of Astarion's, they couldn't be trusted. How foolish was your exhausted mind that you allowed that vile man to convince you to be taken away again? Just because his warm, soft, beautiful- just because his friend said a few nice words?

Your mind tried to reconcile your conflicted thoughts as you slowly woke up. You were in some kind of tent. Nothing fancy, just some blankets and a bedroll, but it was far softer than the floor of your cell. It seemed to be daylight out, though it could've been absolutely any time. All you knew was that it was night when you left Cazador's palace.

Was this their game? How cruel. You were trapped in this little tent. There was only one exit and it led directly to your death. You were stuck in there, at least until nightfall.

You sat for a while, fuming about your new brand of captivity before your eyes fell on a small stack of books near the head of your bedroll. Books? Did you even remember how to read?

You hated the way your fingers trembled as you picked up one of the books. You still hadn't eaten anything, you didn't really feel like holding it, so you sat cross legged and rested it in your lap.

It had been so long since you'd held a book. You had always loved reading, it was the reason your old friends had pressured you into trying to go out more. You spent too much time reading. Well, reading never got you kidnapped and locked away for 200 years.

They weren't books you would've picked, but they were acceptable. Two of them were cheesy romance novels that you read sometimes and only in secret. The one in your lap was some adventure fiction about a dragon slayer or something. Not your cup of tea, but it was well written. And it wasn't like you had anything else to do.

Besides, the more you lost yourself in the book, the more the anger and fear of the day began to fade. It was easy to get lost in a world of grand heroics. You'd finished nearly 100 pages by the time you were interrupted.

The tent flap swung open abruptly - you'd been too engrossed in your book to hear anyone approach. Though it was largely blocked by the figure standing in front of it, several rays of sunlight struck your skin as you hissed and recoiled. You heard a soft “Oh shit!” before the flap closed and the sun was kept at bay once more.

You had never been burnt by the sun before. You hadn't seen daylight since before you were taken away from the world. It had only touched your skin for a moment and you could feel exactly where it had, like an awful sunburn. But still, your heart ached for the light. It was so close and completely out of your reach.

Karlach sat in front of you in your tent, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, I… kinda forgot you can't be in the sun.”

You were so torn. If it was anyone else you could've been nasty to her without a second thought. But she seemed so much kinder than anyone else you'd spoken to. The part of you that ached relentlessly for companionship, to not be lonely anymore, it begged you to ignore the other part of your mind that didn't trust anyone that was even remotely close to Astarion. You couldn't trust her.

But you still couldn't be mean to her. So you just sighed, throwing her a quizzical look, rather than a bitchy one. “Don't you live with a vampire right now?”

“Oh, well yeah… but…” She seemed hesitant to continue, though you only looked at her, blankly, leaving her no real choice. “Well he doesn't… okay so this is complicated.”

Over the next several minutes she laid out exactly what had been happening, the mind flayers, the cult, the tadpoles. Cazador had just been a pitstop on their world saving mission. It was difficult to imagine someone like Astarion trying to save the world. Karlach? She was hero material. Not that slimy little twink.

More importantly than anything, though, she very cautiously told you that the parasite they shared gave Astarion protection from the sun. Of course it did. He got everything, didn't he? Wasn't he lucky? You only stared longingly at the glow that came from outside your tent, and he was free to frolic about it in however he wished.

She must've seen the anger that flooded your face, as she reached out to try to comfort you. You didn't stop her as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “I'm sorry… For what happened to you. With him. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything from me, but I am sorry.”

“Why does he get to be in the sun? Why does he get to kill Cazador?” You were angry and tired and still so very very hungry. “He ruined my life. He ruined so many people's lives. He deserves to rot in the ground.”

“I… I don't think this is a conversation we should be having. You deserve to talk to him about this. I think you deserve to talk to each other, actually.” Her words were soft. As much as you never wanted to look at him again, she was right. This wasn't her issue, you wouldn't get the answers you needed from her.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself and reign in your anger. When you spoke again, your voice was much calmer, more even and less distressed. “So, then… why did you come here?”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and you suddenly realized how much warmer it was in your tent with her in it. “I came to offer you a snack.” She grinned, holding out her hand out to you with a closed fist.

You simply stared at her, looking between her face and her hand, mostly confused why she was taking so long to open her hand and actually give you something. “Um…”

“Sorry, did you not want it?” She pulled her hand back, just a bit. A confused, sad look crossed her face as she looked back at you.

“No, no!” It was the first time you ever managed any kind of excitement as you shook your head. “I do, I just… what are you… giving me?”

“A… drink…?” She seemed just as confused as you were. “Do you not drink blood, like Astarion? I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed-”

“You'd let me bite you?” Your heart lept into your throat. You'd never had anything but a couple rats in your miserable life as a vampire. Even then, that was so long ago and they had been given to you only as such wonderful gifts.

Karlach chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “If you want to. But I will pull you off if you don't stop yourself and I super promise I'm stronger than you.” She grinned at you and you felt your lips twitch upwards in response. It was the closest thing to a smile you'd managed in over a century. How odd.

You very gently took her hand in both of yours, staring at her as though you were waiting for her to jerk away at any moment. She didn't though, she just smiled back at you. “Might be a little warmer than you're used to.”

Used to. She thought you were used to drinking blood of any kind. It was still a strange concept to you but… if she was offering, it must not be an issue for you to worry about. Not morally anyway.

Ever so gently you sunk your fangs into one of her veins, piercing her warm skin as her blood dripped onto your tongue. It was definitely warm. Almost hot like coffee. It was… sweet though. Not like coffee. Like hot chocolate. A perfect cup of hot chocolate after too long spent outdoors in the cold.

It didn't really occur to you to think about how strange it was to compare someone else's blood to a children's drink, you were too consumed by your hunger. She was delicious, far different than any of the rats you'd eaten. You could feel her warmth as it seemed to radiate through your body.

You really didn't mean to lose yourself, you were just so hungry. Besides, you believed her when she said she was stronger than you. You only hoped she knew when you'd had too much because you were accidentally set to drink her completely dry

She might've been telling you to stop, you really couldn't hear anything over the fireworks going off in your head as you finally ate something. Or - someone maybe.

Still, you suddenly felt her palm against your forehead as she pushed your head away from her wrist. You barely had the strength to instinctively resist her. You were still starving.

“- make yourself sick, mate.” You heard her voice come into focus as you wiped your mouth. It took a moment, but you shook yourself out of your frenzy, glancing up at her with frightened eyes.

“Oh, I- I'm sorry.” You whispered. “I didn't… I really didn't mean to-”

“Hey, it's okay.” Her voice was bright as ever. “Might've been a lot but I doubt they'll need me to whack anything too big tomorrow.”

What was wrong with this woman? Why was she so kind? So happy? How could she smile so easily like this? It didn't seem like her trust even wavered in you at all, despite you barely even trying to resist your hunger. “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes softened, though the smile always remained on her face. “There's a lot of shit in this world. We've both been through hell, we know what it's like. Why would I want to cause more of that? Especially when I can help, instead?”

You wanted to laugh at her, a part of you was almost angry that she acted like she knew what you'd been through. She was so kind though, you just couldn't find it in your undead heart to be mean to her. Still, you sighed and looked away. “I don't think you understand what it's like to go through hell.”

She laughed. She was laughing at you, why was she laughing? You straightened up, a bit startled and a little irritated that she would do that. She must've seen it on your face, too, because she held her hands up in defense as she stopped laughing.

“I'm sorry, that wasn't nice.” She still smiled. “It's just- it's not your fault but gods, you couldn't be more wrong. I mean I literally went through hell. A personal attack dog for Zariel for ten years. I know you've got time on me but, I mean… front lines of the Blood War? Maybe we call it a draw.”

You stared at her quizzically. There was no way this woman survived ten years in the hells and came out like this. She was so… friendly? “You can't be serious.”

“Dead serious.” She thumped her chest, a loud banging sound echoing out as though she was hitting steel. “Gave me this to remember them by. An infernal engine right where my heart should be.”

It made sense, she ran hotter than anyone you'd ever known. If she had fires from the hells roiling in her chest, that'd explain it. Still, it baffled you. Devils stole her heart from her and she still smiled at you and laughed and bantered.

Her smile softened just a bit, taking on a sadder undertone. “So trust me when I say I know what it's like to deserve better. I understand a lot more of what you're feeling than you might think. You're surrounded by good people, though.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoffed, pulling your knees in. Karlach was the exception, but you were positive every other person in this camp was just as vile as Astarion. “You've been harboring a monster with you this whole time, someone must've okayed that.”

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.”

“Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!”

Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. Especially now that you've actually got a bit of energy from feeding on Karlach. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

“Astarion was a victim. Just like you were. It was just… in different ways.” She bit her lip, glancing down at her hands awkwardly. “This really isn't a conversation I should have with you. It's not my story to tell. All I can ask is that you give him a chance. Cazador controlled him too. He knows, more than anyone, the anger you feel.”

That was true. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Cazador had been using Astarion and his “siblings” for. It was hard to care how little say he might've had in the matter when your life was still over. It wasn't like you didn't blame Cazador but “Astarion still chose me.”

Your voice was soft now, tears welling up in your throat as you spoke. She wasn't hitting you with any new revelations. You had assumed Astarion had been manipulated or even controlled into fetching prey for Cazador. Various stories of him from your cellmates painted the picture of a man who didn't exactly want to be sacrificing strangers to an evil man but the point remained. He could've picked up any number of people. And he chose you.

Karlach didn't seem to know how to respond. You didn't know the woman too well but you got the feeling she wasn't speechless very often. Not that you minded when she was so friendly. Now though, you both just sat awkwardly in your tent, neither of you quite sure what to say.

Finally, after what was likely only about ten seconds that felt like a year, she spoke again, her voice quieter than you were used to. “He did.” There was no point in trying to make an excuse. There wasn't much sense in arguing. Obviously if he hadn't chosen you it would've been someone else, but what comfort would that be?

You had been miserable, starved and isolated for nearly two centuries. Stripped away from your family and friends, your home, every plan you ever had, everything. You were keenly aware it was selfish to wish such suffering on anyone else but, at a certain point, you stopped caring about your morality. You would've given anything for him to have chosen someone else.

It didn't feel good, when you first realized you felt that way. The recognition that your suffering had worn away at the very core of who you were. Thoughts and feelings you would've never imagined happening filled your mind. Violence and anger and bitterness. A deep, boiling hatred and a desperate longing for revenge. All emotions that you had never been terribly familiar with before all this, not really. Now they consumed you.

“I'm sorry.” Karlach's voice was gentle. Though her eyes displayed a kind of sadness, she still smiled. She still seemed so optimistic. You didn't understand. “Look, I'm not gonna make you do anything, but I think you should talk to Astarion. I'll be there too, if you want, so nobody kills anyone.”

You laughed. It was a short, somewhat bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “That seems smart.” You didn't want to talk to Astarion. He didn't deserve anything from you but… maybe Karlach did. She was the reason you were out of that shitty dungeon. Even if you were stuck in a tent, you hadn't realized how desperately you'd missed the fresh air. “Fine. I'll talk to him. But only if you're there too.”

Her eyes lit up and you could see her body move instinctively for a moment before she pulled it under control. She had nearly lunged out to hug you, before thinking twice about it. You would've let her. “Oh, awesome! Okay that's exciting. I promise, I think you'll feel better after this, I really do. I'll talk to him, maybe you can chat tonight. You know. When you can actually leave the tent without roasting.”

She smiled at you warmly. Clearly she had been banking on you agreeing to talk to Astarion, though you weren't sure why. Her excitement was contagious, though, and you found yourself smiling in spite of yourself. You wanted to hug her, you wished she'd gone for it and hugged you. It wasn't the sort of thing you felt you could go asking for yet though. So instead you just allowed the smile to remain on your face as you spoke. “Thank you. For- for being kind to me. Even though I'm… kind of a bitch.”

“Eh, you've got reason to be a bitch.” She gave your shoulder a playful shove. “Anyway, you need to rest. Finally had something to eat again after all this time, I'm sure you could use a nap.” She chuckled, rising from the ground in front of you.

She moved to the tent flap, carefully opening it this time to keep the sun's rays off your body. You couldn't help staring longingly at the beam of light on the floor, though. You glanced up as she spoke again, haloed now by the light from outside. “I'll go talk to him, you get some rest, yeah? Later!”

And with that she was gone. But still, you smiled. Her warmth still lingered. Besides, you knew she'd come back.

[inquixotic]

LIKE HALF THE RP, NIGHT 38.

daybeds, after movie night

with @guttcd, @heatwayve, @graftisms, and @dobits !

evelyn mendoza.

"okay, one bottle of very nice champagne." it's probably just sparkling wine, knowing the production's budget, but it's wine, and dante likes wine, and maybe it'll help lessen the sting of having that played a bit. it was one of the opened ones, because she was never going to be able to actually pop a bottle, plus that feels celebratory and totally not the mood. she crawls into the daybed on the side of dante, eyes watching charlene pace around next to it, immediately resting her head on his shoulder. "that was such bullshit of them to include that, sweet, i'm sorry," she says, a note of uncharacteristic anger striking in her tone, offering him the bottle with a sympathetic look. @nuve @deanna

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she's currently on a rant, pacing around and waving her hands around. "like -- why the hell would they pick YOU if they were falling in love with marcus? who fucking does that? does she think we're in fucking... i don't know! vampire diaries or something?" she's absolutely fuming, only taking a breath when evie makes over to them, her aura much more sympathetic compared to charlene's. her gaze softens as soon as they land on dante. "sorry -- this is about you. not me. wanna... talk about it?"

miles o'sullivan

he's been here w the squad so that frankie can pull callie in peace (🤪).

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

the sight of the bottle of cheap champagne does bring a smile to dante's face—though it's washed away with more words from charlene's litbottle rampage, pacing back and forth in front of them. if he watched any longer, dante would get dizzy. "it's okay," he says, half-heartedly. arm wrapping around evie with one hand, he uses the other to take a quick sip. "i don't think there is much to talk about. i did not know..." he trails off, thinking about romi's words about marcus. "but i knew enough. it's... that was a litbottle embarrassing, huh?" he tries to laugh it off, weakly.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

holy shit she did not see miles sitting there! "yeah -- for them. 'cus they apparently don't know what they fucking want." she grumbles, taking the bottle and occupying herself with the task of making sure everyone's glass has plenty of liquor.

evelyn mendoza.

there's a stubborn set to her jaw, understanding in how embarrassed he must feel for that, to have his feelings on full display for everyone to see when romi turned him down, then said all that about loving marcus. "they look like an absolute muppet, babe, for real." there's a pang of guilt too, for how confidently she had told him not to worry, and she continues on, "they had absolutely no fuckin' business saying all that to someone who isn't you. it's a bad fuckin' show, it's gross."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

he's still shaking his head. "it's okay. i mean—it wasn't nice to watch, but i do not think bad of her. her and marcus have been together the whole time. when she chose me after coming back from casa... i did not think she was going to," he admits. "and i know he still loves her, so... i hope they're happy." he takes a much longer chug of the champagne, before passing it to charlene. "it's just sad." he's sad.

evelyn mendoza.

"it is sad," she agrees, putting her annoyance on the back burner to give him a weird half hug due to the positioning on the bed. "and it's not fair. to either of you."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she chugs her drink along with him, mostly in an attempt to calm herself down. cus liquor is totally is the thing you need for that! "it is sad." she fills their glasses once more before  handing miles the bottle. if he's not going to say anything, he can at least be on liquor duty. charlene kneels down in front of dante, allowing her free hand to give his knee a small, sympathetic squeeze. "you're allowed to be sad. i know you really gave it your best shot, dee. really."  she looks up at him, a determined look on her face that shows there is no room for debate. "she was lucky to have you and stupid to lose you."

miles o'sullivan

"wait, back this up. did you tell them you loved them? and then they asked you for an open relationship?" he knows he loves to pretend a red flag's a green one but shit...!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

all of charlene's comments are nice but unwarranted, because after all this, he still can't think of one thing romi had done wrong. it would've been nice to hear about her feelings for marcus before watching it unfold on the screen, but judging from the clip it didn't look like marcus knew much about it, either. glancing at miles, he nods seriously. "when she chose me a few days ago... it did not feel like it," he tries to explain, slowly. "she did not even dance on me during the challenge because of marcus. and marcus and her were staying friends, and he told me he still cared for her. it felt like i was in the middle of it, no? sometimes two people don't know what they really want is each other." the smile he gives him is melancholy. "so i suggested we go back to getting to know each other, so she could maybe work things out with marcus. i told her i love her because i do. that does not change just because of everything."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it must be nice to not have the brain capacity to be mad — she wishes she was as chill as he was but she’s too petty. too protective of her friends. especially dante. she doesn’t want to make this about herself though, so she simply rest her check on his knee. “im sorry dee.”

evelyn mendoza.

her lips press together, blinking back any water in her eyes at how he's talking, like there's no hope in it at all. she really missed how worried he was about that, huh? "you're too good, babe." in general, for romi, he can take his pick. "they wanna hiding, for real." evie chews at her tom lip, glancing at charlene like maybe she shouldn't point this out, but continues on anyways. "that said...marcus may not even choose them, after bein' shot all over the place like a fuckin' pinball with them. what would that mean for you?"

miles o'sullivan

honestly, dante's experiencing what miles' nightmare had been about coming back. when they played frankie's tape, part of him had been bracing himself for a similar confession - one that hadn't come. fuck, he really needs to get up and find frankie soon. but saying something to dante, who could've just as easily been him tonight, also feels important. "for what it's worth, you did the right thing. like, it's tough to go with your gut in a situation like that, but...you got a feeling and you trusted it," for the amount of side-eye dante gets for being a litbottle empty between the ears, he strikes miles as remarkably intelligent right now. "it's no wonder she picked you, 'cause of the kind of guy you are, but sometimes people can't help how they feel, i guess. even if your feelings aren't changing, i'm sorry that the rest is. we haven't changed though," he motions to the bombshells around him, "we've still got your back."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

his hand runs gently through charlene's hair in front of him, offering everyone a litbottle smile. it's funny, but despite this being one of the lowest points of his love island experience, he also doesn't think he's ever felt so supported here. dante can't remember the last time he felt this supported, period. it made the whole situation a litbottle lighter. "thank you," he nods in miles' direction, because it feels like a lot coming from him. "no, people can't help how they feel. but that's okay. i told romi that what happens with her and marcus will not change my feelings of her, and i still agree." evie's question is a litbottle tougher, lips pressing together for a moment, before shrugging. "i don't know where any of this leaves me. but it's okay. i've had a lot of fun being here, and that will not change." he's already bracing for the worst.

angel reid

he'd made a hard left turn after seeing naomi and marcus embracing in the kitchen, not quite drunk enough to lose sense of when his presence isn't wanted. instead he heads for miles, crouches down next to him as dante finishes his sentiment. "you ain't goin' anywhere, big d," angel affirms. "got a lot of show left."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

dante really is too sweet. too selfless. if it was just the two of them or if she had enough liquor in her system she would probably be crying for him. like the drunk girls in the bar that cry cus she thinks the girls they just met in the bathroom deserve the world. instead she just nods at everyone's words, agreeing whole heartedly and appreciating them for being much more eloquent than she is. "how are you two holding up?" she directs the question to h miles and angel.

angel reid

"like shit," he laughs, finishing off his beer and immediately wishing he'd bit the bullet and barged in on marcaomi before this. "the girls went inside to hash things out," he tells miles, smacking his palm on miles' thigh. then he nods toward evie. "this one was right."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"i don't understand," he frowns, looking between angel and miles, then angel and evie. "what is there to hash out?" angel wasn't even in the movies, right?

miles o'sullivan

"oh? i don't know, i was okay. i didn't...think it was that bad," his brow furrows, a glance over at angel. he wasn't sweating about frankie's video, was honestly looking forward to teasing her about it, but wonders if this is just one of those things he hasn't been told. "right about what?"

evelyn mendoza.

she stares at angel like he's grown another head. "i told him it was too soon to be closed off, shouldn't feel like a second choice." she says, offhand, to miles. "what in the hell are you talking about, this one was right?"

angel reid

"and as long as frankie's in here, i'm always gonna be second choice," he fills in the expletives following evie's explanation. "frankie saw it, too. she was telling callie it was weird she chose her movie, asked if she did it to fuck with your guys' thing." and now they're probably making plans to continue the convo in the hideaway. to wrap it all up, he gestures again to evie, "ergo, this one was right."

evelyn mendoza.

she sits up at that. "that is not what i said, angel."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it's hard to defend callie when she has no idea why she keeps picking frankie for these challenges. "i don't get why calllie had to chose frankie's video. like, she rejected her."  she looks at miles when the 'second choice' comment is made, wondering if he's going to react but then evie corrects angel and she turns to look at her. "what did you say then?"

angel reid

"see, if we'd gotten to see my movie, we wouldn't even need to argue about this right now." 'cause yes you fucking did, evelyn.

miles o'sullivan

"well, if she thought it would fuck with us, it's not going to," miles shrugs. he's choosing to trust frankie on this.

evelyn mendoza.

she turns her attention to charlene, trying to push her temper down and speak calmly. "i said that frankie and callie were really intense, and i wasn't sure she would've picked him had frankie not fucked up with naomi, so he shouldn't be closed off early on. 'cause frankie was going to a constant," she says plainly, pausing to take a sip of her wine. "which callie said was true. but compared it to like, an ex. which is fine and fair." she'll withhold her opinion on a week not being enough to move on fully, though.

angel reid

he really appreciates charlene's validation, gives a motion of acknowledgement to her before his attention is whipped to miles. "dude --," he gestures to himself now, "i'm so totally fucked with." he catches only the last bit of evie's words to charlene, just enough to know that he's still right, he shakes his head. "i just thought it was so not the move." a glance to miles, he shrugs. "like, on callie's part. frankie was just as confused as me."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it kind of sounds to charlene like angel's summary of what evie said was spot on. if this was being said before tonight she might have actually argued against it but right now, she doesn't know what to think. if callie is pulling another romi and naomi where she's pretending to not know what she wants only to reveal that she was still into frankie all along. "it definitely wasn't the move." she stands back up, dusting her knees off some before offering angel her glass of champagne. "i'm sorry ang. i have no idea what is going on with her right now. maybe she had too many to drink?" she offers weakly

miles o'sullivan

he just leans on angel where they're sat together, his head on his shoulder. there's a warmth that blooms in his chest at the mention of frankie, but also, worry. he hopes that frankie's not all in her head about this, that she doesn't take the fact that he went to comfort dante as a bad sign – just fact that he wasn't stressed about the two of them. he's got no ability to try and gauge what's going on in callie's head because he barely knows the girl, "honestly, we had kind of a nice chat the other night about...this kind of stuff," miles suggests. "i'd be fuming if frankie had chosen her. do you think she's, um, self-saaging?" cheryl loves this word.

evelyn mendoza.

she setbottles back into dante, her eyes drifting across everyone's faces. "she shouldn't have picked her," she prefaces slowly, having much less sympathy for angel than she does dante or even miles, but still having some. "but it's hard to move on from someone you made plans with in a snap, even if she's serious about you, y'know?" she can't believe she's the one defending callie here, honestly. "did you tell her that it makes you uncomfortable? she knows that, right?"

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

is just listening because it feels wrong to chime in on this.

angel reid

"thanks, babe," he tells char, taking her glass and downing the entire thing. "being drunk's no excuse." except he'll definitely lean on that tomorrow as an explanation for why he reacted as badly as he did. "self-saaging would be, like, best case scenario," he chuckles dryly. he's pretty sure it's just 'cause callie likes frankie. plain and simple. "would you be fuming?" he hums more genuine laughter now, fingers scratching on miles' knee. "feel like maybe i gotta drink whatever chill dude juice you're sippin' on." water might be good, too. to evie, he nods. "'course. i think it's just hard for her to deal with. like, she never fucks up, is always super solid. frankie's just -- i dunno, her weak spot."

evelyn mendoza.

"dude." not an unkindly dude, mind, but a litbottle exasperated, maybe, because it kinda sounds like he's got her on some kind of a pedestal and that's just plain unhealthy. "she's human, she's gonna slip up sometimes." especially when she's got a weak spot like frankie. "you said you'd take being her second choice, right? it's fine if you can't, but like...i dunno. her making a mistake isn't the end of the world."

angel reid

fingers drum thoughtfully on miles' leg, he's half surprised by how much sense evie's making and is fully suspicious about it. "yeah, i dunno. she was just real fucking quick to pull frankie..." that does feel like the end of the world. but he did say that, told callie something similar, too. "i need another drink," he doesn't, but he pulls himself up anyway after ruffling miles' hair. "anybody want?" once he's got order, if any, he'll go ahead and exit stage left.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it sounds to her that angel just needs to vent and with evie being on the defensive and miles having no reaction at all, she doesn't blame him for wanting to leave.. "i'll go with you." she offers with a knowing smile. "whiskey sours everyone?" surely they could all use something harder.

evelyn mendoza.

"she pulled frankie?" her eyebrows do go up at that, but she withholds further comment as angel gets up to leave. whoops! tough love wasn't the move. "whiskey sour sounds nice, thank you both."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

he shakes his head at the offer, taking another swig from the bottle he does have.

miles o'sullivan

"i would have actually been fuming," miles digresses as angel gets up to leave, "i don't know. i know i've been chill about this stuff, but it's not like i love the fact that we've had to like, move forward in relation to callie a lot of the time," miles' brow furrows. he knows he's pretty even-tempered, wants to keep the good vibes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. "but i do trust her, and it's been really good lately," his neck cranes toward the villa, as if he's going to x-ray in on what chat frankie and callie are having. "i don't know. you don't think that's wrong of me?" he looks at dante, whose opinion he really trusts.

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

dante's surprised to see miles looking to him for advice, but he nods in agreement. "i think you would know if it is not right. just because something is not perfect, doesn't mean it should be rid of. love isn't always easy." it usually isn't, actually.

miles o'sullivan

"damn. that was really good. they should hire you to write those things in fortune cookies," miles nods thoughtfully.

evelyn mendoza.

"do you like...want me to go try to hear what they're saying?" directed to miles. she'd be mad with jealousy if she were him right now. "make sure dante's right."

miles o'sullivan

"you'd do that?"

evelyn mendoza.

"sure, yeah. callie already hates me, right? can't blame you if it's me."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"why does she hate you?" he frowns.

evelyn mendoza.

"okay, that's a litbottle dramatic," she huffs. she doesn't hate her. "she wasn't happy with me, that's all. might as well keep that streak goin' rather than subject miles to it, right?"

miles o'sullivan

"you don't want to be friends with her?" he pauses, leaning in, "well, okay. but if you do it, you can't say it was because of me."

evelyn mendoza.

she waves her hand, not exactly dismissive, but trying to be casual "i dunno. i just don't think she genuinely wants to be my friend. it's like, a whole thing. i'll get into it after i report back. and, no, i won't rat you out. i'll say i needed, like, more concealer and didn't wanna interrupt. it's perfect." with that, she pushes off and goes off towards the villa.

miles o'sullivan

there's a glance at dante as evie runs off, "she was almost too excited to go do that..." he trails off. hopefully this doesn't cause any problems!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"she must be very bored," he admits, with a small laugh. "her and eden and victoria. it's a shame we couldn't watch one of their movies." the reason behind that is completely lost on him, the fact that they probably have zero content.

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, notes, and warnings here!

chapter four: symbiosis

symbiosis: interaction between two different organisms living in close physical association, typically to the advantage of both.

VIRGIL

“Uh,” Virgil says, scrambling in the face of his mother—hair wrapped for the night, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, her arms crossed, “My—myself?”

Technically true, he guesses, according to some of the sensate’s personal beliefs about the connections they share with their clusters, according to Logan according to Dot. Like having other selves scattered across the world.

Andisiwe frowns. “At this time of night?”

Virgil shrugs weakly.

She frowns deeper. Then:

“You know,” she says, looking at him very intently, “your grandmother used to talk to herself at all times of day, too.”

Virgil stays silent. His mother crouches to sit with him on the floor, settling with a long sigh.

“About anything at all,” she continues. “She’d talk about the snow when this country hadn’t seen snow for ten years. She’d laugh when no one told a joke, cried when nothing sad had happened. She’d make recipes I’d never heard of before. You remember her pitha?”

Virgil nods, confused. Of course he remembers her pitha. They’d have it at every large family gathering.

“That’s an Indian dessert. She’d never left South Africa in all her life, but she knew how to make pitha and speak Tamil like she was born in Bangalore. Just like you were speaking a language other than Xhosa or English just now.”

Oh, Virgil thinks, then, oh.

“So unless you started taking language lessons while studying for your doctorate,” she says, staring at him.

Virgil chews at the inside of his cheek.

“No,” he says hoarsely. “No, I didn’t.”

She nods, accepting this. “How long…?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil admits. “A week and a half? Two weeks?”

“Not long at all,” she murmurs. “ I suppose it might skip a generation. She told me once it started when she was a child. A horrible headache struck her, and once it let up she had seven new friends all around the world. When they were all ten, maybe.”

Ten, Virgil thinks, mind whirling. God, to deal with all this at the age of ten?

“Sensates,” Virgil croaks. “We’re called sensates.”

His mother offers him a smile. 

“I know,” she says. “Tell me about them.”

“One’s here,” Virgil says, and he looks at the big, tall, tattooed man. “I don’t think I got your name last time.”

The man walks from his plush apartment rug to sit on the hardwood floor. 

“Patton Taumata,” he says with Virgil’s mouth, offering a bright smile to Virgil’s mother, sitting beside him. “Māori, New Zealander.”

And then Virgil feels what Patton does next—pull seems too strong a word, but it’s the closest he has.

Sitting across from him, looking vaguely disgruntled to find himself on the ground, yet still sitting at his desk in his home office.

“Janus Slange,” he says. “London.”

He slides out of Virgil’s body to find a spot to sit that’s a bit more refined.

Patton turns his head, and Virgil turns his gaze to follow.

“Roman Regio,” the actor says, looking up from his script to gesture beside him. “And my brother, Remus. Who is currently on his way to Mexico City, which he should have done as soon as he got accused.”

“This is such a dumb plan,” Remus groans, resting his head simultaneously against the bus window and Virgil’s bed. “I want all of you batshit hallucinations to know that I don’t come up with plans this stupid. My plans are refined in the way they cause utter chaos.”

Sitting in his bed in the barracks and beside Virgil, so close their thighs almost touch, giving Virgil a thrill that shoots all the way to his fingertips—

“Logan Zieliński,” he says to Virgil’s mother, careful to sound respectful. “I was just here. I’m Polish, but I’m currently studying in Antarctica. Space research.”

They’re here. All of them here. But Virgil sees Patton reach again—

EMILE

—and Emile beams at the sight before him. Patton turns to grin at him.

“Well done!” Emile says, filled to bursting with pride. 

Patton! Reliably being able to pull them all in to visit together! That kind of skill—coupled with the fact that Patton, back in his apartment in Auckland, is peaceably planning lessons with a sitcom in the background—can take other sensates months of practice to truly achieve. 

“Is this your mother?” He asks Virgil.

Virgil says, “Um, Mom, my—cluster parent?”

Emile makes an eh handwavey gesture followed by a thumbs-up. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with!”

“—is here right now. His name’s—”

He speaks at the same time as Emile does.

“Dr. Emile Picani, hi there—!”

“—and he’s American.”

Virgil’s mother’s brow wrinkles in distaste, but she does a good show of trying to hide it.

“That’s fair,” Emile says. “Americans are—well, y’know. You’ve seen the news.”

“This is my mother, Dr. Andisiwe Nkosi. My grandmother was a sensate too, apparently.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Emile exclaims. “There are sensates within biological families, of course—” he gestures to Roman and Remus, “—but things are still up in the air about if and how being homo sensorium passes down.”

“Dot said the number of sensates is rising due to epigenetic factors,” Logan says.

“Oh, you’ve met Dot!” Emile says delightedly. 

“She answered many of the questions I have,” Logan says, and for a blip, they’re all sitting in the barracks in Antarctica as Logan reaches for a notebook and pen. “But I still have many questions.”

“Entirely understandable,” Emile says.

“Wait, you got your questions answered?” Roman demands, and they’re all sitting on Roman’s apartment’s massive balcony overlooking Mexico City. “I just got this one—” he points accusingly at Janus, “telling me hey, surprise, you’re not actually losing your shit!”

Janus shrugs, and they’re all surrounded by monitors, blinking with so many different points of data it makes Emile a little dizzy. “He just showed up in the mirror while I was shaving.”

“Well,” Emile says, and they’re all in Emile’s apartment at home. Emile puts a kettle on the stove. “I’m here now. So what questions can I help you answer? Or, at least, activate the Archipelago to get some kind of answer for you. If you can think of some kind of subject, there’s probably a sensate that knows something about it, but I suppose we should probably start with the sensate-specific questions.”

Remus puts up a hand and asks, loudly, “Can I use the psychic connection with other sensates to have some kind of insane worldwide orgy?”

ROMAN

Sasha is out for a key art photoshoot, so Roman has the whole apartment to himself. Which is good, because he got a bit busy last night with the whole explanation of what exactly it is that’s been happening to him, and then yelling in disgust when Remus asked gross questions about it.

Roman’s considering if he wants to paint his nails—it’s not like he can keep it, if solely for movie continuity—just to have something to do with his hands when the door cracks open.

And in steps Remus—absolutely filthy, staring at Roman incredulously, a fake mustache plastered above his real mustache that he immediately rips off.

“It worked,” Roman says gleefully. “It worked!”

“First of all, cops ain’t shit, I probably should have expected literally every police officer to sleep on the job when seeing someone suspicious board a bus, but Jesus fuckin’ Christ, your security munches ass,” Remus declares, “They let a murderer get into your apartment.” 

Roman bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Remus says, pulling off the fake beard he’d donned. “It took five pesos of stolen fake beard and mustache to fool everyone, are you fucking kidding me—?!”

Roman slides off the couch, gripping his stomach, he’s laughing so hard.

“What?!” Remus demands, throwing off the overly large trench coat he’d been huddling under.

“You,” Roman wheezes, then, “you said the plan was stupid and it wouldn’t work—!”

“It is stupid! I come up with way better plans than this, you’re telling me that you came up with the stupid kid movie plan and I didn’t?! And it shouldn’t have worked—Roman, stop laughing, your fangirls are fucking batshit crazy, could you imagine what kind of weird Wattpad shit they’d get up to if they knew how easy it was to break in here?!”

Roman is screaming with laughter, because literally all they needed was a fake mustache and beard, and ooh Roman can tell that Remus is pissed that Roman came up with this plan first because it’s such a perfectly Remus plan. He isn’t sure how much of it is a sensate thing versus a twin brother thing, but all the same, Roman knows that Remus is absolutely fuming, which makes it even funnier.

Remus storms off, shouting, “Just for this, I’m going to use up all your fancy shampoo! I’m going to take the biggest, nastiest shit in your bathroom! I’m—I’m going to eat all your soap! I will! I’ll do it! I’m eating all your soap!”

LOGAN

It’s still a little startling to look over at his notebook and suddenly find himself in South Africa, but he’s gotten a little more accustomed to it since the night before. He’s been feeling a pull to South Africa all day, like an ache deep in his chest. He isn’t entirely sure why.

Virgil glances over at him and smiles, just a little. Logan smiles back. Virgil clears his throat and returns his attention to the textbook before him.

“Roman’s plan worked,” he says. 

Logan huffs, shaking his head. Honestly. It’s like those American movies when three children stack on top of each other and wear a large trenchcoat and a fake beard to gain access to the movies, but it actually worked. 

In retrospect, Logan’s sure that Remus would have foregone his escape into the wilderness if he’d known that donning a disguise and having his rich brother pay away the arrest troubles and their psychically connected lawyer argue before the court would have worked so neatly.

However, considering that nearly every aspect of that plan is absolutely off the rails ridiculous, the escape into the wilderness must have seemed like a prudent measure to take at the time.

“How’s your research?” Logan asks, sitting down on Virgil’s bed. 

“Pretty good,” Virgil says, his tone very casual. “I think the fact that abrus precatorius—”

“The scientific name for rosary peas,” Logan assumes. He is rewarded by a nod from Virgil.

“—isn’t native to Mexico and the fact that Remus hasn’t traveled for years on end is a pretty good basis for Janus to go on. Plus, abrin—”

“The toxin?” Logan clarifies and receives a nod.

“—is incredibly toxic, to the point where anyone ordering rosary peas would probably get pinged under some kind of monitoring system. So there wouldn’t really be a way for Remus himself to get them. Miguel Contreras, on the other hand—”

“The murder victim?” Logan says, startled.

“Yes—on the other hand, he went to Florida very recently. He got back three days before his death, in fact.”

“I thought they were native to Asia and Australia?”

“Yeah, they are, but rosary peas are an invasive species, and they’ve been clocked in the pine rocklands there,” Virgil says. “Symptoms usually occur pretty quick, but it can take up to five days to show up, depending on the method of ingestion. And considering the seed of just one pea could be fatal…”

“Then the cause of death could very well be found in Florida!” Logan says. “And the only thing they have on Remus—”

“—Are threats, exactly,” Virgil says enthusiastically. “And considering the way Remus is as a person, Janus could probably get those hand-waved away as being under jest, rather than an actual threat to kill him.”

They smile at each other again, Virgil’s lips twisting wryly. 

“I’ve been wanting to visit you all day,” he says abruptly, and Logan feels that flutter in his stomach again, the one he’s been feeling since they first met; he’s willing to admit to himself that it most certainly isn’t unease, now. It is a near antonym of unease.

“I have too,” Logan admits, trying his very best to keep his voice informal.

Virgil’s smile softens, a little. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Logan affirms, and the flutter in his stomach intensifies.

They stare at each other. Virgil’s eyes, Logan notices abruptly, are objectively beautiful. Framed by long lashes, his eyes are so dark a shade of brown they’re practically black, so easy to stare at, admiring the way a sudden shift in the lighting would illuminate the subtle honeyed depths of them. 

For a moment, Logan gets a flicker; he’s looking at his own eyes, blue and framed by his glasses, but the emotion in him doesn’t change, the fleeting thought of look how gorgeous, and suddenly he is back to looking at Virgil, and, as one, they look away.

Virgil coughs awkwardly. “This sensate thing—weird, huh?”

For the first time, Logan wonders if the feeling in his stomach is not entirely his own. If it is something shared.

But, Logan thinks, sneaking a look at Virgil taking notes, twirling his pen idly over the backs of his long fingers, he supposes that neither of them would be able to tell that, anyways.

REMUS

Remus is bouncing his leg so much that the cop near him is giving him a disdainful look.

Or maybe the look is because the cop thinks he’s a murderer. Whatever.

“Are you sure this is gonna work,” Remus mutters out of the corner of his mouth because he hasn’t gotten the hang of visiting someone in his cluster and going about day-to-day life like a normal person, the way more experienced sensates can. 

“Positive,” Janus says. He’s sitting crossed-legged beside Remus in his holding cell, where they’re waiting to be transported to the courtroom. Remus is pretty sure most lawyers shouldn’t turn up to court in pajamas, but considering that to the rest of the courtroom Remus is going to play at being his own lawyer, it’s all fine. 

“All they have on you is proximity and threats,” Janus continues. “And considering the voice in your novels, along with the parts in your dust jackets’ where you literally threaten your readers, I can get that set aside no problem.”

Remus inhales heavily and exhales just as noisily.

“Right,” he says. “Right.”

Roman flickers into sight just long enough to shoot Remus a thumbs up, and as Janus resumes spitting legal jargon, Remus feels his shoulders relax.

PATTON

“Be careful with our bezzie Buzzy Bee!” Patton says brightly. He’s crouched before Sophie, having helped untangle the string. “Let’s make sure we don’t tangle him up again, eh?”

“I will, Mr. T!” Sophie shouts, already on the run with the toy, and Patton huffs ruefully. It’ll probably be tangled up again by the end of the day.

A brief chill across his skin, and Patton shivers before he refocuses on the sunny afternoon, here, in Auckland.

By the time he’s stood upright, Logan’s beside him, in a white lab coat.

“Do you really need that much air conditioning down there?” Patton says. “Seems a bit overkill, mate.”

Logan shrugs, closing a door, hiding away some kind of equipment that looks very finicky and complex. “I’m not the one in charge of the facility.”

“Fair enough,” Patton says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be asked to join in on some kind of game, soon. You like rugby?”

“It’s not exactly popular in Poland.”

“Hm. Guess not,” Patton says. “Probably should’ve known that already.”

“The whole sharing knowledge aspect of this does seem to be rather dependent on a variety of factors,” Logan says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I automatically know the minutiae of New Zealand history and culture just because you might; I think we have to be doing something to trigger that sharing of knowledge.” 

Patton huhs thoughtfully.

“If you didn’t know how to drive a car, for instance,” Logan theorizes, “and I did, and you sat behind a wheel and needed to drive somewhere, I would probably be able to impart that knowledge to you.”

“I can ask Emile,” Patton says, ready to turn and look in on Florida, but he’s stopped by Logan’s frustrated, “how do you do that?”

“Hm?” Patton says, turning to look at him.

“This seems to come so effortlessly to you,” Logan says. “You drop in and seem totally at ease, you could control if we all came to see Virgil a couple nights ago, and by the reactions of those around you, you don’t seem to be talking to thin air—”

“Well, we’re mostly, surrounded by five-year-olds, they wouldn’t be too phased by the concept of me having an imaginary friend,” Patton points out. Logan doesn’t seem particularly amused by this.

“I don’t know,” Patton admits. “Emile thought I was just very communicative, for a sensate. That might be it; I’ve always been pretty chatty. It also might be because Māori have beliefs about how we are all connected—people, nature, all living things—so maybe I was a little more prepared to accept that I was literally connected to other people because I grew up with that as a sacred ideal.”

They watch children run and play for a few minutes; Manaia, diving to catch a football in the game of rugby that had assembled; Sophie, racing between everyone with her Buzzy Bee clack-clack-clacking behind her; Oliver, shyly joining in on a game of hopscotch.

The grass sways in the light breeze, the sun had peeked out from behind its clouds, leaving the entire playground awash in light and warmth. The laughter of children carries on the wind. Patton’s coworkers occasionally look up from their tiny charges to smile and wish him a good day.

“It’s really rather nice here,” Logan says quietly. “I’ve never been remotely near this continent. Coming to research in Antarctica is the most travel I’ve ever really done.”

“Do you miss home?” Patton asks.

Logan considers this.

“Some things,” he says. “Kluski, makowiec, honey mead. Newspapers written in my native language. The coffee shop I studied in throughout all of university. Proper herbata góralska. My mentors. The ability to go to a grocery store. My mother.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“But I love the research I do here,” Logan says firmly. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be able to study down here.”

“It sure seems like it,” Patton says, his admiration clear in his voice. 

“This whole situation threw a bit of a wrench in the works,” he says.

“I think it did for all of us,” Patton says. “Not all bad, though. Remus would probably still be on the run if he hadn’t connected with Janus.”

“No,” Logan muses, a soft flush touching his cheeks. “Certainly not all bad.”

Unbidden, images flash in his mind; black coffee, an expanse of wide sunny road, the sensation of dirt under his fingernails, purple jacaranda blossoms.

Patton tries his hardest not to grin. But—

“What,” Logan says defensively.

“Nothing,” Patton says, not hiding his smile, and Logan huffs irritably.

“You know,” Patton says, “Emile’s been dating someone in-cluster for, like, nine years? They were the first people that they saw, of the people in-cluster. In-cluster relationships are apparently pretty common, which I guess makes sense. Sharing feelings, knowledge, everything—it sure can bond two people together.”

Logan’s flush deepens. 

“Just sayin’,” Patton offers cheerfully, and he goes off to join a game of hopscotch, leaving Logan with his thoughts.

JANUS

The language is different. The procedure is different. The situation is, most definitely, different. 

He’s used to English, English law, English crimes. He’s been a barrister for years, jumping from one firm to another because the latter had seen partner potential in him; it paid much better, too, which certainly hadn’t been a negative. Janus had become a well-polished lawyer, a viper in the courtroom, a boomslang to his rivals. 

He’s good at it, is his point. He’s always been good at it.

He stands, surveying the judge. A different uniform, but a similar dime-a-dozen judge. He’s seen this type dozens of times. He could debate them in his sleep.

But as he looks to the side—Remus sitting, Roman beside him, the rest of the cluster in a line past them, just peeks of their profiles past the twins—he remembers why he started to study law, too.

Because he wanted to be able to get himself and his brother out of any and every sticky situation they could ever stumble into.

Janus stands when he is bid to. He takes the oath, Remus’s mother language tripping off his tongue like it’s his own. It is now, Janus supposes. 

Roman reaches over and grips Remus’s hand. Remus pinches Roman as hard as he possibly can, but Roman doesn’t flinch.

Janus begins smoothly, “Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the court...”

[wincestisasincest]

She Moves Me (John Lennon x Reader)

So I actually wrote this a while but forgot to post it. Kinda cheesy but oops. 

What-up, y’all. I’m angry. And I just realized that I see a lot of fics where John comforts the reader when they are sad/lonely or stuff like that, but there really aren’t a lot of fics where he comforts the reader when they’re angry. 

I am here to remedy that. 

(Btw if you want to listen to the songs they’re all Muddy Waters, individually called “Just Make Love to Me,” “Mannish Boy,” and “She Moves Me.” 

Description: You are big angry and John, resident constant aggro, actually has a useful solution. 

Words: 1,599

Pairings: John Lennon x reader

Warnings: Umm nothing bad but the lyrics to the songs tend to be a little bit racy. Oh and also swearing

You slammed the door behind you and slumped down against it. You could feel your face beginning to flush and your fists balling. 

Your chest was rising. 

You didn’t want John to see you like this. Sure, you wanted comfort, but you also wanted privacy. And worse, you were a girl. John thought that you were cute when you were angry, with your face contorted into some fiery expression like you were about to give someone hell, despite the fact that you normally couldn’t hurt a fly.

But right now you didn’t wanna be cute. You wanted to be angry.

“Tryna break the door, are ye?” John’s voice called from the kitchen you shared. He was probably pensively reading a book and sipping tea with his thick, blocky glasses on, as he usually was when you came home from work. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m about to go out.” It took all of your effort not to snap at him. You didn’t have time for banter. You didn’t want to see anyone. 

But it was too late. He could hear it in your voice. 

You unloaded your bag on the counter. Really, you didn’t even know why you had bothered coming home. You wanted to go out. And maybe kick something. 

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He was lingering in the doorway now, watching you holding yourself back from throwing a tantrum. 

His expression was a characteristic smile. You didn’t need to look, you just knew it was there. You were afraid to look up and ruin it. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You said that in a snappy voice.”

“It’s not you,” you were still looking at your feet, “It’s just been a fuckin’ long day.” You released a deep breath, which slowly turned into a sigh. 

“Shit. Must’ve been.” The floorboards creaked, and you could tell that he was moving closer to you. 

“I just,” you staggered back a little bit, “it takes absolutely nothing to not be an asshole! Nothing at all! And that’s just so hard to get for some people.” 

“Dare I ask what happened?” 

You finally managed a look up. Your matted hair was falling in your face, and it gave you an almost terrifying appearance. John seemed even a little bit taken aback. You never had a particularly threatening appearance, but damn if you didn’t get very close there. 

He returned to the smile again.

“Don’t say it.” You muttered.

“Say what?” He asked coyly.

“You know damn well.”

“I can’t help it. If you already look cute all the time, it’s only natural that you look cute when you’re angry.” He crossed his arms. 

“Goddamnit, John.” Your face spread into a small smile, but you were still absolutely flushed with red. 

There was a small silence as you brushed your hair back into place. Your fists were still balled. You still wanted to punch something. Maybe John could join you. He was good at getting into fights. 

You gave him a side glance. 

“Wanna go start a fight?” 

“What?!” He chortled. He was grinning, but still caught off guard. 

“I need to punch something.” 

“Temper, temper. What would your mother say?” He tutted and sat on the arm of the couch.

You wanted to say something back, but you were still fuming. You hated it when he condescended to you, though you knew he meant nothing by it. He was trying to cheer you up. 

You breathed in stiffly, still having no reply. You could feel your eyes beginning to water. You felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum. 

“Hold on, lemme get something.” He got up from the couch and began to rattle around in the makeshift box of records that you kept just next to the record player. 

Of course, given John’s hobbies, it was absolutely stacked, but you had added a fair amount of your own to the stack. Though, that’s not what he was reaching for. 

The record he held was dark in color, though you couldn’t quite make out what was on the cover. 

“John, what in the-”

“I used to do this shit all the time whenever I got pissed but me fists were too tired.” 

“So never?”

He put the needle on the record and you immediately recognized the sound. The scratchy blues tones of Muddy Waters, one of his favorite artists, began to fill the small room, launching into the first number. 

I don’t want you to

Be no slave

His voice was something else. 

“Come ‘ed, come ‘ed.” John pulled you forward by your hands, though you refused to break apart your fists.

I don’t want you to

Wake all day

Normally, you would’ve had some witty question, but you just looked at him, your face in the pits of confusion. 

“Well?” Crap. You didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.

“Hear me out. Try singing to it.”

I don’t want you

To be true

“What? John, I-”

“Come, on, I know you know the words.” He wouldn’t show it, but this sly grin was his way of pleading. 

I just want to make

He seemed convinced. You relented. 

“Love to you.” You sang in unison with the record, very softly.

The guitar kicked in. Your feet began to sway. You looked at John, who’s eyes were closed for the briefest moment as he took in the music. 

“A little louder, yeah?” He cocked his head to you.

“I’d rather not make your ears bleed.” 

“It’s not about sounding good, pet.” He was a little more sage than usual. 

“I don’t want you to wash my clothes.” You were a little louder this time, though you could already feel your throat beginning to burn. 

“I don’t want you to keep our home.” A little louder. 

“I don’t want your money too.” Your voice scratched a little bit in the back. You had a fair amount of rasp as you hit the high note. 

“I just wanna make love to you, baby” You pointed at John cheekily.

Now, the guitar really began to show itself, crackling all over the rhythm. It was energetic, and you could feel your feet moving along with it, but more than that, it was visceral and raw. 

You could feel yourself ready for the next verse. John was tapping his foot and muttering along the lyrics.

“I don’t want you to cook my bread.” You had fully committed to loudly yelling one of your favorite blues songs. 

“I don’t want you to make my bed.” 

“I don’t want you because I’m sad and blue!” You hopped lightly, like you were performing on stage. 

“I just want to make love to you.” You pointed at John like you were aiming a gun. 

The guitar kicked in again, and this time you swung your feet jovially. You were a good dancer, at the very least. You moved your arms in rhythm, and pulled John into the heat with you. 

It wasn’t a great dance, nor a nice dance, but damn if it didn’t get all your energy out. 

The song faded away, but you smiled. You knew what was coming next. 

The guitar wailed. You hummed along with it. It wailed again. You were in the trance. 

Then the rhythm thumped into place. 

“Now when I was a young boy! At the age of five!” This song was great to yell along too. 

The riff thumped again. There was an external harmonica source. John was next to you, his harmonica in hand, playing along, watching you with excitement. You continued to yell the lyrics. 

Slowly, you made your way through the song, loudly declaring to whoever would listen that you were a man. You and John in the center of the room shouting, with him occasionally turning back to his harmonica. What a pair you made. 

You’d forgotten that you were even angry by the end of the song.

You could feel sweat coming down your face. You clung onto John, giving him a half hug and half grasp for stability.

The guitar announced the entrance of the next song. You were about to pull away but John’s arms tugged you a little closer. He placed his loosely around your waist. You caught on and landed yours on his neck, still holding tight on his chest. 

She moves me, man

Honey, and I don’t see how it’s done

You gently whispered the lyrics along, while John remained silent, resting his head on top of yours as you gently danced. This song was a lot slower, but still quite bluesy. 

You gently swayed, both content. 

She moves me, man

Honey and I don’t see how it’s done

She got a pocket full of money

Little doll don’t try to help me, though

“John?” Your face was still planted squarely in his chest. He smelled like sweat, but you could imagine that you did too. 

“Hm?”

“I feel better now.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled, “That used to help me a lot.”

“But you did it by yourself?” You looked up from his chest for a little bit. He was thinking.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Well, you won’t ever again.” You promised, before collapsing back into his chest again and pulling yourself even closer. 

He was silent. You’d caught him off guard. 

“You neither, (y/n).” He said at last, before pulling you closer. And there you stayed for a while, as the song drifted on.

She shook her finger in a blind man’s face 

“Once blind but now I see”

She moves me man

[jaegerboob]

WIP ROUNDUP!!

i was tagged by @trashpocket​ (hey bae ;)) and since im lonely here on tumblr and have no one but the void to yell at, i won’t be tagging anyone :((

okay let’s start off with my published WIPS lol i have quite a collection and boy do i regret posting most of these, but anyway that’s here’s my hot girl shit

"i’ll figure it out with a little more time” - (if u knew me at my thai BL phase no u didn’t :)) anyways this was a supposed to be a pretty short fic that features an oblivious Sarawat not knowing how to navigate his feelings towards Tine and Tine being an equally giant dumbass. their school is hosting a school dance and Sarawat’s emotionally constipated ass doesn’t know how to SPEAK and just ASK Tine to go w/ him. i swear i might be the author of this story but i also get mad at these fuckers

“we’re boyfriends?” - ah yes another Thai BL fic, i will admit. i have NO idea where to take this story lmao. i still wanna finish it tho cuz i hate disappointing ppl. the fic starts with Ae and Pond making a dumb bet so Pond will stop jerking off in their shared room and promises that he won’t do that as long Ae dates someone random and based off of Pond’s choosing. sweet bby Pete wanders into their campus accidentally  and gets picked. Ae does the deed and tells Pete they’re dating. Ae thinks that Pete and Pond are scheming to make his life a living hell but lo and behold Pete has actually fallen in love with him (heheheh) 

“i wanna ruin our friendship” - hello lgbtq+ community :). we all know where this fuckin title is from don’t be sneaky. so here’s my KilluGon college fic. I initially wrote this like two years ago and uploaded it on wattpad lmaooo then i edited it and posted on ao3 and once again i have no idea where to take this (ive forgotten what my original idea for this was lol) so basically Killua and Gon are really close friends and Gon is sortof a player in this AU idk why khdkadha but anywayz all of Gon’s exes have left him bc they’re jealous of Killua but Gon would never pick his current S/O over him so HAAA. it all goes to shit tho when Retz decides to trick Gon to taking her back for the school dance and idk what path to go for T_T 

AIGHT now for my UNPUBLISHED WIPS buckle up yall this is a LOT. all the titles are WIPS so that’s why theyre iffy lol

“pussy talented”- (don’t mind the title lmao i just wanted a cat pun in there somewhere) basically, Bokuto is a firefighter and Akaashi an editor. They work near each other and Bokuto often visits Kuroo, who works with Akaashi. Ofc Akaashi falls in love at first sight but then he overhears that he has a "Kenma" waiting for him at home. Akaashi assumes that he's probably Bo's boyfriend and then leaves him alone, making Bo confused as hell. Little that he knows that Kenma is actually a grumpy calico cat.

“killugon flower shop AU” - Wing owns a flower shop and Killua helps out with Zushi along with Alluka out of boredom and one day Alluka asks Killua to help out with her client then he meets Gon and is immediately smitten until Gon says that he's looking for something that he can give to a girlfriend (it was actually Ging's request lol), lots of misunderstanding, Killua being too shy to ask the handsome stranger out and Alluka and Zushi being done with his shit 

“rice isn’t the only thing getting crushed here” - Osamu falls in love with one of his most loyal costumers—Akaashi and he thinks he might just have a shot at it until one day while Akaashi is ordering a bunch of riceballs, Bokuto Koutaro of Japan's National Volleyball team enters the restaurant and sweeps Akaashi of his feet, unexpected angst and a generous helping of unrequited pining :)) dw this fic can go two ways: Bokuto is just Akaashi's best friend who he hasn't seen in months or b. Bokuto is actually Akaashi's fiance maybe i’ll write both endings heehee

“killua is sad and gets lovebombed” - while staying in Whale Island, Killua thinks he that he doesn't deserve Gon and tries to leave him while he's asleep but his plan is stopped when Gon wakes up and they both end up revealing their true feelings for each other

“excuse to write charles getting fucked by two delicious men” - Erik and Charles have been in a relationship for years now and basically fell out of love so when Erik gets promoted and has to move, Charles agrees and so they break up. Charles turns to Logan (who harbors a giant crush on Charles) for companionship and sleep together once. Logan says it was an accident but Charles wants more and they establish a FWB situation of sorts since Charles isn't ready yet. But then Charles gets into an accident and can't remember what happened the past year and a half so he still thinks he's with Erik. Meanwhile, Erik is living a luxurious yet empty life and when he gets the call from Raven about Charles' situation, he immediately goes back running.

“killua in whale island” - KilluGon are like 20-ish and Killua visits Whale Island and Ging just happens to be there as well. Killua thinks about how even though Gon and Ging are near identical, Gon just looks so much more handsome. (probs just a oneshot) 

 “another horny cherik fic” - Charles is a demon who was accidentally summoned when Raven, Hank and Ororo uses Erik's blood to perform a demon summoning ritual (as a joke) they didn't know it would actually work so now Charles is stuck with Erik because the human absolutely refuses to sell his soul

“IwaOi overboard AU” - Oikawa is a rich pretty boy and Iwa a college dropout who works at his uncle's repair shop with his younger brother Tobio and cousin Kyoutani ( both 5 yrs old). One day he gets called over to fix one of Oikawa's cars and after a failed and disastrous encounter with a drunk Oikawa, Iwa leaves the mansion fuming. Later in the day, it's discovered that Oikawa got in a car crash that took away his memories and since Oikawa apparently lives alone, he has no one to get him. not until Iwa comes ofc and with a malicious and vengeful intent, he tells Oikawa that they're dating and live together in his crappy apartment

“dancer Akaashi” - Akaashi is a dancer, Osamu is a bartender at the bar he works at and has also been in love with Akaashi for the past two years. He doesn't confess since he knows Akaashi doesn't like romance but then enters a bright eyed cheery Bokuto who sweeps the unreachable Midnight Moon off of his feet, bokuaka but im leaning towards bokuosaaka since akaashi deserves two boyfriends

“watch me be poetically horny for Akaashi Keiji” - Akaashi is a vampire and Osamu, a skilled artist. Akaashi posing nude and delighted at how beautifully Osamu portrays him. Osamu says otherwise. 

Cherik College AU - drift by great gable.... late teens cherik... Erik being a misanthropic horny bastard and Charles a snarky piece of shit.... they get paired up for 7 minutes in heaven... turns out Charles has been ogling him for a while now..  hmmmm,,,.,. ( i wrote this when i was drunk and my og draft is too long so take this instead lolz) 

“ BokuAka (NSFW) ” - Bokuto pushing off a guy who tried to hit on Akaashi while they're at a club. Akaashi gets so turned on he immediately drags Bokuto to the bathroom where he gets his facefucked in one of the bathroom stalls or Akaashi getting his face fucked in a dirty alley at the back of a bar after Bokuto gets into a fistfight.

“KuroKen (NSFW)  ” -Kenma does top during sex but but he's just really lazy to put in the effort 

aight that’s it oh damn i just now realize how much i have T-T bruhhhhhhh and this isn’t even all of them damnnn 

[cilldaracailin]

Hammer To Fall

Thank you so much my beautiful Tumblr friends for your love and comments on the first part of this story I posted yesterday. It just makes my heart fill with love and happiness. :) 

Here is the next part :) (Again it’s all fiction and I do my best with the details as best I can to my knowledge)

2

“Even the most patient people get tired of understanding when you push them to their limit. Even the most patient people get tired of listening when you push them to their limit. Even the most patient people, get tired.”

Taron pulled a post-it that got stuck on the glasses on his face and read it. ‘Don’t forget who gives better squishy hugs but cwtch is a good replacement for me’. He bent down and picked another one up. ‘Thanks for letting me play whatever I wanted when I wanted and for helping me to sing again’. In his hands he held the post-it notes he had written for Robyn when he left her house. He stood on the top step, blinking as he tried to gather his thoughts. He was dumbfounded and completely taken aback that Robyn had appeared in front of him on the steps of Bryant Park in New York where he was filming and even more so with the anger and livid tone of her voice as she spoke to him. He had never seen her look so annoyed before, every feature on her face filled with a rage and he could almost see her whole body shaking as she confronted him. He played back what she had said to him, and found his own temper starting to rise, annoyed that she had turned up on set to accuse him of not taking her opinion into consideration. He looked up as he saw Matthew walking up the steps to him.

“So that is Robyn. Fiery little thing.” He said. “What on earth did you fucking do to her?”

“I did nothing to her.”

“You honestly think I believe that Taron? She just called you out. What did you do?”

“It’s stuff to do with the media and shit she had written about me.”

Matthew pulled one of the post-its from the suit Taron was wearing. “‘Nothing more powerful than a woman in a pants suit’” He read from it. “You sure it was her?” He asked.

“Her fucking name was under it.”

“Taron, that woman has just given you a proper bollocking in front of the whole of Bryant Park and the film crew, after flying here from Ireland to do so and just wore her heart so obviously on her sleeve, while defending her own honour and name. Do you honestly think someone who was out to slate you would do something like that? Travel all the way here and then walk onto a live film set to do so?” Taron had no answer for his director. “And did you really tell her maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t of saved your life? In a voice mail?”

“I thought you read what she wrote.” Taron quickly changed the subject of the conversation, not wanting to answer Matthew’s question.

“How the fuck do you know it was her who wrote it?”

“Her name was under it.” Taron spat back.

“Are you that naïve Taron? After everything you as an actor has been through? To believe right out what the media and internet says?”

“It wasn’t just the name Matthew. It was the words in the sentence too. Private words and nicknames that only Robyn and I have for each other.”

“And it sounds like you didn’t even give her a chance to explain herself and don’t huff and puff at me like that. You cannot take the high ground here Taron without letting her explain anything. You going to let that beautiful woman walk right out of your life, a life you have because of her, over a misunderstanding and lack of communication on your part. Be a fucking man Taron and go after her and talk to her properly. Let her talk without judging so quickly and you had better go now because I tell you something, you let that woman walk further than four blocks, she is gone forever and from what you have told me about her, she seems like a woman you do not want to have walk away from you forever.”

“Did you even read the article?” Asked Taron now frustrated with his director for taking Robyn’s side.

“Yeah Taron I did because you practically threw it at my face yesterday and made me read it but it was the picture I preferred to look at. You both looked so relaxed with each other.”

“All a fucking act Matthew.” Growled Taron. “She doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“So, a woman you think who doesn’t give two shits about you, flew all the way to New York to come and see you and to clearly try and talk to you.”

“You call that talking? She stood there and yelled at me.”

“Because you are being an arsehole Taron! Have you even given her a chance to talk to you about the article and picture?”

“Don’t see the point.”

“Don’t see the point? Jesus Christ Taron. That woman saved your life in Florida and as far as I can see has been nothing but a wonderful friend to you since then and has been a strong emotional rock for you.”

“She broke a promise to me Matthew and did something that has caused such hurt for my family.”

“And you have the proof Taron, apart from a name on the internet? Get your fucking head of out your arse Taron and go after her and talk to her.” Matthew walked up the steps to stand behind Taron. “Do you want me to call you mother and tell her what you have done?” Matthew gave Taron a push on his back. “I have called lunch. Go and find her now.”

With a frustrated sigh, Taron took the steps three at time and quickly made his way through all the set gear and toward the barriers and jumped them easily, walking onto sixth avenue. He was completely wound up from head to toe and had absolutely no idea why he was even bothering to walk down the blocks away from the set to try and find Robyn in the crowds. He was fuming with his director and felt so stupid as he tried to find the back of her head among the people strolling along the footpath. It was such a waste of a walk and he picked up the pace a little bit with long strides, his hands in fists at his sides. It was another conversation he had no interest in having and it was only because Matthew threatened to call his mam that he was now taking to a light jog as he crossed the road at thirty-sixth street. He looked through the happy shoppers and caught a glimpse of her, her arm in the air hailing a yellow cab. Groaning he took to a light run heading her way.

“Robyn! Robyn!” He shouted. “Hey Robyn!”

She had her hand on the silver handle of the car when she heard his voice calling her name through the crowds and turned her head to see him running her way, dressed in a wonderfully fitted black pinstripe suit, wearing the glasses for the part of Eggsy and it made her heart jump. She was so busy delivering her perfectly practised speech that she had rehearsed over and over on the plane, that she never even took in how he looked and he looked beautiful dressed as Eggsy and she hated herself for thinking so when she was so angry with him.

“Robyn, wait.”

She opened the door of the cab and kept her hand on the top of the door as Taron ran up to her.

“What?” She asked with an obvious hint of irritation in her voice. “You suddenly have the time to talk to me now? You are not needed on your extremely important movie set?”

“Robyn, look…”

“Don’t even start with me Taron. I am so fucking mad at your that I can’t even look at you right now and if you even start with any of that shit again, I swear to God, the back of my head will be the very last thing you ever see of me.”

“You are the one who flew all the way to come and see me Robyn.” Answered Taron defensively.

“Yeah to try and sort this fuckin shit out Taron. You leave me all the voice mails but don’t give me a chance to even try to defend myself. You just stand there and judge without even listening to me and then you bring my whole character down with a few words.”

“Well if the shoe fits.”

“Goodbye Taron.” Robyn stepped into the cab with one leg but Taron grabbed the door of the cab to stop her from pulling it closed. “You really need to step back Taron. I am leaving.”

As Robyn went to pull the door again, he held firm. “Just stop for a second.”

“Yeah because I am going to listen to you? You won’t listen to me, I am not giving you the same curtesy Taron. You want to be an absolute shithead, by all means go ahead.”

“Robyn stop!” Taron stepped around the door of the cab and stood with his hand still on the door in front of her, standing on the step, giving him an even better height difference between them and he could properly look down at her. Even though he knew she was angry, he had never seen such sadness and hurt in her eyes before and tears were waiting ready to fall from her lashes. Her whole body language just screamed that she had given up on him and it scared him a little at how quickly and easily that had happened and it actually made him begin to worry that she really was ready to walk away from him just as quick as that and was very serious about doing so. “Just… Stop.”

Robyn had one foot in the cab and one on the road and Taron was now standing right in front of her with his hand still on the door of the cab keeping it open. The winter sunshine that was low in the sky but not yet set behind the high rise buildings, reflected in his eyes through the glasses he wore, the brown that only appeared in his iris’s when he was emotional charged, so soft and striking, that Robyn found it hard to keep her eyes on his. “I don’t know what you want from me Taron. According to you, I have gotten everything I need from you.”

“Robyn…” He tried to keep the frustration he felt from his voice. “Will you just come back to set with me.”

“And do what? Have another one-sided argument? I am not wasting energy I do not have on more useless meaningless words Taron. I am not going to listen to you slate me for being myself or for accusing me of doing something I haven’t done. Especially when you won’t let me get a word in edgeways and defend myself.”

Taron went to take her hand but Robyn pulled back from him as if he had given her an electric shock and it stung him hard when she reacted to him like that. He had always found comfort in holding her hand and she had rejected him without a second thought.

“Will you come back to set with me and we can talk.”

“We can talk, or you can talk?” She questioned still clearly angry with him. “Do you even know how to have a conversation? It works two ways.”

“We can talk. The two of us.”

“Before I let this car go, you need to assure me that if I go with you, it will be a proper civil conversation Taron. I will not be subjected to any of the shit you have already put me through and if you even try anything, or say something so hurtful like you already have, I will walk and I will not look back.”

Taron looked to the woman who are staring at him, once again her eyes piercing through his soul and he felt his heart drop with a little guilt as he saw alongside the sadness in her eyes, the pain he had caused her. “Let’s go and talk.”

“Please goes a long way.” She replied to him.

Feeling a wetness form in the corner of his eyes, he closed them and took a breath before taking one more look to Robyn. “Please.”

Taron took a step back on the footpath and watched as Robyn pulled some dollars from the pocket of her jeans and leaning into the cab, gave them to the driver, apologising for wasting his time. She then stepped out of the car and closed the door.

“Well, you want to talk, let’s talk.”

Robyn held her hand out, indicating to Taron that he had to lead the way and he started to walk, Robyn following him, just a foot step behind. Normally when they walked together the space between them was much smaller but now another person could have fit in the gap they made. It was a horribly uncomfortable silence between them that seemed wrong as the atmosphere outside of their tense circle was so jovial and optimistic but it remained that way as they walked back towards the park. Taron had planned on moving the barrier once he jumper over it but found that Robyn had made her own way through, not needing any of his help and he was trying to keep his composure which was quickly crumbling as his anger subsided. He knew immediately that the Robyn he knew and loved has been replaced by the hard-skinned Robyn he had heard about but never met, whose barriers had built back up so quickly and her whole stance as she walked just showed how offended she was and how much he had hurt her.

They walked past Matthew who stood with his hands on his hips. “Make up is free Taron, if you want to use it.”

Taron didn’t answer but accepted the available space Matthew had made for him with a nod and made his way towards the small trailer that was being used for make-up. It was the only trailer on the set, tents being used for everything else and Taron opened the door of the trailer, stepping back to let Robyn in first. Once she had made her way up the three steps and inside, he followed her and closed the door behind him. He took the glasses from his face and left them on the counter to his left once inside and pulled the tie from his shirt, opening two buttons, suddenly feeling constricted in his tight fitted suit.

“So, let’s get one thing straight before we get into this Taron.” Robyn stood with her arms folded over her chest. “I have never once disrespected you or your family in any shape or form in person, behind your back or online. I have been nothing but a constant form of support for you and I have given everything and more than I have ever given to a man before and opened up in ways I have never done before for you, taken risks for you and put myself out for the world to see just for you. I have never once lied to you or taken advantage of anything you could give me. I have never asked for anything from you and bent over backwards to keep you safe in more ways than one. So when you come for me over the phone accusing me of doing something so horrible without giving me the chance to defend myself, understand that from now on, I am here for me and not for you and I will say what I need to say whether you like it or not Taron.”

“Tell me you didn’t do it.” Taron quickly felt his emotional anger rise once again as Robyn spoke, feeling completely aggravated by her words.

“I have already told you this Taron. A million fucking times!”

“Then why is your name there? Why are there words that only you and I use for each other, private words that only you and me use.” He questioned, feeling completely cheated that their nicknames for each other has been printed for the world to see, names only they knew about.

“I don’t fucking know Taron. Seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Oh really? Explain it to me then.”

“Well you were in a movie depicting Elton John called Rocketman. Does that need another explanation?”

“But the chick thing?”

“The chick thing?”

“I call you chicken.”

Robyn took a step closer to him. “Yeah you have and a coward who won’t step up and take the blame, confess to something I have done. A keyboard warrior, writing shit behind a computer.”

“Well you like to read the comments Robyn. Always have.” Taron was livid with her, infuriated that she couldn’t own up to the fact that she had been telling him lies the whole time.

“I never said I didn’t Taron but since the beach and our promise to each other, I have read nothing. Fucks sake Taron, I even deleted my Twitter account.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t know how to use google.”

“You want my fucking laptop so you can check my history Taron?”

“You have never had to worry about the media they way I do.”

“Don’t give me that shit Taron. You were the one calling me three months ago apologising for comments your fans made about me.” Robyn took a step closer to him, pointing a finger his way.

“Yeah exactly.”

“Exactly what?” She threw back at him.

“I was the one calling you.”

“I never asked you too and I told you so many fucking times, it doesn’t bother me.”

“And now I realise why. It probably because you are the one writing it all.”

His accusations stung her in the worse way. “Jesus Christ Taron. I am about his close to walking out that door on you. It’s not all about you, you know.”

“No, it’s about my family who are being harassed outside their home because of this fucking picture. My sisters Robyn. My little sisters.” Taron tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke about the most important people in his life.

“Like I said, all about you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Just because you are in the public eye, you think everything affects you more.”

“Well it fucking does Robyn.” Taron took another two steps closer to her. “I am the one who has to go to the events and interviews and be baited by press into answering all the questions. I don’t need you causing such shit for me.”

“You are so selfish Taron.”

“Really Robyn?”

“Yeah really Taron. You take and take but are not willing to give and listen.”

“Give? I gave you your invite to Elton’s. I gave you that dress and ear rings.”

“All fucking materialistic things Taron. You know I don’t give a shit about any of that.”

“Doesn’t mean you haven’t taken advantage of it.”

“Taken advantage of it?” Robyn fumed, inching closer to him. “Tell me what I have taken advantage of and then tell me what I have given you Taron? I gave you your life. I gave you my home and bed for two weeks. I spent sleepless nights watching over you to make sure you were breathing while you slept. I offered my open arms to you when you needed support and comfort. I offered every emotional part of my heart to you without question and as much love for your family as I have for you. I stood by your side at Elton’s and did everything I could to get to you to be there for you because you needed me. You almost begged me to be there for you to help you. I may not have money Taron but I have given you so much more than money every could.”

“Ugh it’s such a load of fucking bollocks Robyn. You never cared about me.” Taron threw his arms up in the air and turned to open the door of the trailer. “Fifteen fucking minutes. All you ever wanted.”

Taron turned on her and walked down the steps of the trailer, running his hands through his neatly styled Eggsy hair, messing it up but he heard footsteps coming after him.

“That’s right Taron. Walk away from me. The same thing that every other man that has ever been in my life has done to me. Walked away when things get tough. Just because there is a strong woman standing up and defending herself, the man walks away. Can’t deal with the fact that a woman has more balls than he does. You just can’t face that fact that you were wrong. You can’t accept the fact, that I am so much more than you when it comes down to it all.”

Taron stopped and turned around to see Robyn behind him, her hands on her hips. “You think you know it all. You have only had a slice of what the media can do Robyn, how it effects every part of my life.”

“You think so.”

“I fucking know so.”

She took four long strides over to him, ignoring the small crowd that had gathered around them and stood right in front of him. “It affects me too Taron. I have my own fall out from all the media too. Parents asking me about my time at Elton’s and how I managed to get a ticket to such a party. Who was the man I was standing next too? Did I really save your life? Are the rumours about my love life with you true? The words under that picture don’t just hurt your job but mine too. Not that you believe me, but someone has taken my name and wrote such disgusting words with such hate and that news filtered back to my home town quicker than the articles about what happened in the 7/11 and now my job is almost at risk and my work relationship with my colleagues who look at me differently because of the language I supposedly used. I work with children and now I am seen to have used vulgar words and it makes me look fucking bad and I have to look parents in the eye. I have taken so many phone calls from angry parents who want to know why I am writing such disgusting things online, sexual things online, asking me if and do I realise I work with their children. My phone isn’t turned off at the moment because I don’t want to take your calls but because I cannot mentally listen to another human being accuse me of being rude and disgracing the name of the creche.”

Taron’s face changed as he listened to Robyn speaking, watching as she took some steps closer to him, her cheeks bright red with her rising temper and rage.

“My job is literally on the line and I lied to Emma this morning, telling her I was too sick to come into work and chose instead to fly to New York to see you. To see you Taron and then there is you. You were supposed to be my best friend. The one person I could count on to have my back through all of this and you treat me with just as much disrespect and fucking judgement as the parents. You call me up and accuse me right out without listening to me Taron. You were so quick to cut all ties with me. So quick to really believe that I would do something as low as write those words. You spent a whole two weeks with me Taron, right under my feet and how many times did you actually see me post anything on my social media. How many times did I actually post a picture, or write a comment? Over the last five months how many comments have I posted on your Instagram. Maybe two? Three? How many pictures have I added to my own Instagram? How many twitter posts have you seen me make? None except to promote a video the gospel choir made. I was always happy to help you with the fallout from the media Taron, always there for you. It is not my fault if a sneaky photographer takes a picture of us together on the beach. That weekend with you and your family in Aber meant so much to me and I had such a wonderful time and you know that.”

Robyn turned away from him to catch her breathe for a quick second, before looking back his way, ignoring the tragically sad look on his face and how his forehead creased with an uncomfortable frown. “If you honestly believe in your heart, one that is beating because of me, that I would do something so crude and offensive as to write under a picture of us then you are not the person I thought you were. Just a little boy, who is afraid to face the truth of the situation and instead of talking it out like a man, he accuses someone else for his own insecurities and issues.” Robyn took another step closer to him so her chest was pushed up against his. “Do you remember in the lift in the hotel in Holborn how you asked me if I trusted you and you kissed me but once the lift doors closed you stood back to make sure you hadn’t overstepped your boundaries? It was something I never spoke to you about but as soon as you stepped back, I knew there and then, that you were someone I would always trust with my life, with everything because you had shown me such respect. That’s respect is gone Taron. I figured there would always be people in my life who you let me down but I never, never thought it would be you.”

Without another word, Robyn stepped around Taron, walking through the crowd that separated to let her pass, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she just about held herself together. When Taron came after her and found her at the taxi, she decided she would give him his chance to talk but his version of talking was once again him being so insistent on placing blame her way and not actually asking her what happened or even trying to listen to her and she had found her moment to have her say, her honest say about everything that was going on in her life. It had been a twenty-four hours from hell. Worse than when she was trying to keep Taron alive in Florida and she had answered so many calls from rattled parents who were extremely upset with her over the article on the internet and she had spent nearly five hours after listening to all of Taron’s voice mails, taking calls from concerned parents over her attitude and behaviour, feeling that she had no right to be in such a position in a childcare setting when she spoke with such obscene and offensive language. When Taron had walked away from her, she had had enough of him and had just seen blood red and let him have one pent up emotional rant. She was more than ready to hail that cab now and try and get home to sort the whole mess out herself.

Taron was completely taken aback by Robyn’s words and as a lone tear ran down his left cheek, he turned his head to see her walking away from him again. It was as if he had been hit by a powerful wave of reality and his heart ached and his head hurt, his whole body shaking as his anger and resentment was quickly replaced by guilt and shame. He looked down to his shaking hands and ran them down his face, smearing his tears over his cheeks. He physically felt sick and realised his feet were moving before the rest of his body caught up with them.

“Robyn!” He took to a run, trying to catch up with her before she escaped past the barrier because he knew if she got out onto the street, she would easily take so many turns through the busy paths of New York and he would never find her. “Robyn!” He reached her just as she made to duck under the barrier and his hand caught hers, completely feeling rejected as she pulled his fingers from her. “Robyn, wait…”

“No Taron! I am not doing this again. I know exactly how you feel. You have already told me enough times. Enjoy your life Taron.”

“Please Robyn! Please.” Taron ran past her and jumped the barrier again so he stood in her way, the red plastic between the two. “Please.” He asked holding his hands up. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know Robyn but please, please don’t leave like this.” Tears easily fell from his eyes now, two slowly trailing down each cheek. “If you want to still go, I will not stop you. I would never stop you but if there is any part of you that still believes I am not a fucking arsehole and would be willing to talk again, please don’t go.”

Robyn was so emotional numb that the obvious tears on his cheeks had no effect on her. Whereas before, she would quickly take him into her arms and hug him tight, now she actually felt like punching him in his perfect face. Maddening rage simmered under her skin and she could hear how loud her heaving breathes were as she stood facing him, listening as he had the cheek to beg her to talk to him. “You had your chance to talk to me Taron and you have made your feelings so very clear on every matter.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t fucking deserve five Taron.”

“Then give me four.” In other circumstances, his comment would have made her laugh but if anything, his words exasperated her, and she made her feelings known by crossing her arms over her chest. “Please Robyn.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Not here.” He watched as her face scowled even more. “Let’s go back to the trailer.”

“Scared to air your dirty laundry in public Taron?” She asked.

Her words crippled him and his head dropped to his chest. “Please.” He whispered to her.

“You have three and a half minutes.” She answered him, uncrossing her arms and taking a step back from the barrier, giving him the space he needed to jump back over

[karenpage]

the way you said "i love you": prompt 22. muffled, from the other side of the door

Sorry I that I can’t believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me.

It’s six months after she’d told him to make it mean something. Six months, since he’d fallen a mile short of delivering and Karen’s got her footing in a life built without him. Not that she’d ever seriously entertained the alternative.

That, maybe, just maybe, she’d done her waiting, paid her dues in heartbreak and loneliness. Maybe just this once she gets to win, and Frank would be there by her side. A couple times a week at best, she knows he’d never stay, knows he has to keep moving, like a shark in bloodied water - at rest, they can’t breathe. At rest, they died.

But it has been six fucking months and the only way she sees the passage of time is that her bi-annual hair appointment is coming up next Tuesday, just a trim, keep it healthy. Cut off the dead ends.

She’d laugh at the irony if she wasn’t so entrenched in her unwillingness to let him go.

Karen’s not the girl who waits around and pines. She’s been in love with a dead man for years and that’s not about to change. So she does as she always has in the past; throws herself headlong into work. Freelancing for the Bulletin, doing private investigation for the law offices of Nelson, Murdock & Page, there are no shortage of distractions. Because that’s what her adult life has amounted to. Not being happy, but being focused on something else so wholly she didn’t have time to look at the shape her world has taken for too long.

She’d said it. Said love out loud, to Frank Castle, and she immediately should have known better. Caught up with him facing down death for the thousandth time, seeing his motivations skewed and all the leg work she’d done to prove his innocence, again, amount to nothing -- she was at her wit’s end. Worn to the bone and so sick and tired of pretending that the things people say and do to her don’t have a lasting impact.

No more silence, she’d made herself heard. And he’d thrown it in her face. Karen should have been fuming, spitting angry at the person she had and would stick her neck out for time and time again. Wishing that her love didn’t then feel like a guillotine.

Karen had anger, yeah. She’d had plenty of that but it had slowly ebbed until it became a dull ache, a nagging want that sits cold and lonely behind her heart. Karen moved on, moved forward, a good luck Frank whispered into the nascent glow of hospital lights, a kaleidoscope of primary colors painted by her unshed tears.

This isn’t her first choice, cradling a bottle of merlot in between her thighs while trying to reach her laptop and open it, all without spilling wine on her couch. Again. Alone in her apartment with only the pinging of her radiator to keep the quiet from swallowing her whole.

Karen’s mastered the art of pretending her pain away; if she doesn’t look at it, doesn’t give it any of her energy, it can’t twist itself into a big ugly beast. It can’t hurt her if she stays an arm's length away.

Tonight, she’s just picked a bottle of two buck chuck to be the deterrent, armor by way of dissociation. Matt will give her shit in the morning when she comes in smelling like leftover Thai and a distillery but its water off of a WASP’s back; she can handle midtown passive aggressive and is a black belt in smiling her way through rage.

That’s tomorrow’s problem because tonight? Tonight she’s going to watch the bachelor, she’s going to drink this entire bottle, and nothing on heaven or earth will make her feel guilty for stealing back a bit of normalcy into her life. The line between self-care and self-destruction is getting more and more blurred as her thirties continue to throw curveballs her way, but Karen’s smart enough to see it for what it is, even if tired enough to stand back and watch it passively.

She’s forty-five minutes into crying over artificial romance when she hears a loud thudding outside, muffled, but close - it’s on her floor, whatever it is (or, whoever). With walls as thin as these, she’s used to tuning out the lives of her neighbors. But, again, and a couple more times before there’s a knocking on her door and it just about startles a yelp out of her.

Karen grabs the .380 out of her purse and adjusts the hem of her sleep shirt. A washed out Georgetown logo on the front, grey and drab and on the theme with the overall mood of her evening.

“Who is it?” The peephole hasn’t worked right since she’d slammed it coming home from the hospital. It’s askew in the track so all she can see peering through it is the inside of her door. Which isn’t helpful, at all, hence the gun with the safety ticked back, her thumb on the hammer but her palm sitting on the grip, nowhere near the trigger.

There’s no one she expects, too late to be any neighbors or cold calling salespeople.

“It’s me.” A gruff reply.

Frank.

She’s not proud of the fact that she latches the top chain lock loud enough for him to hear it.

He sighs, even with a door between them and her eyes closed tight, Karen can all but see the way his nose twitches when he does it.

“Kar--- please I..” His voice catches, starts on the backend of another grumbled noise and then stops again. This continues as he works through whatever it is he wants to get out, the frustration thick enough that she struggles to breathe through it. “I got some things I need… need to say.” Muttered, sticking to the roof of his mouth like he’s retelling a memory, something distant, broken, far away.

Karen’s heart clenches in her chest, her palms now braced against the door with her gun left forgotten on the floor.

“Then say it.” Failing to keep the hurt from her voice. It’s as sharp as glass, cutting up her mouth on the way out and Karen can’t really manage to be sorry for it. If it’s pain, at least it’s honest. At least it’s something more than another ‘almost’ suspended like a mobile, mocking, just out of reach.  

Frank adjusts his posture, pressing his weight onto his good leg with the old wood beneath his feet groans sympathetically, “you really gonna just.. Have me stand out here like a jackass?” Trying at levity, she can even hear the start of a laugh.

Karen shuts that shit down with a quickness, “you are a jackass.” A pause, a beat, like he’s waiting for her to take it back, “so whatever you’ve got to say to me, Frank. You can stand out there and say it.” She does not care that she’s being petulant, stubborn to the bone and maybe Frank has come to recognize that fact; she’s always been a storm.

“Right, okay.” The door shifts in its frame and she can tell that he’s leaning against it, so she does the same, her back to faded wood stain, sliding down until the floor is solid beneath her thighs. It’s strange, this foreign, diluted comfort. Frank’s broad and safe and even with something between them, she can feel the way it rushes up her limbs, a slowly spreading warmth, that, by the time it reaches her heart, is entirely flame.

“When I…” his voice tremors, “when I said I couldn’t tell you how much it meant to me… that you’d been there. That you stayed. I-- Karen you called my bluff in a big way and I gotta tell you, I was really fuckin’ scared.” There’s laughter there, but it’s dry, dusting off the parts of himself vulnerable enough to get through this, “ ‘cuz I know you know. You… you have’ta know. I got to thinkin’..right?  That you’re stubborn, but not without reason. Maybe.. Maybe I didn’t have to say it because you already knew…” He trails off, swallowing, and his head sags backward heavily, another ‘thud’, and Karen has to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

Karen hates how quickly he’s come in, her whirlwind of a man, swept up all her sadness like she’s never been anything but glad. All the time he’s been away, gone in an instant and she wants to hold onto it, sharpen that loneliness into a point, anything to remind her why she’s mad. Why he’s saying this from her hallway and not in her arms.

“Talked myself in circles, sittin there in a fuckin’ hospital dress, my ass out, feelin’ every bit the piece of shit that I am and Karen I just--- I guess I was scared of somethin’ else, too. That.. that if I said it, you’d stick around. Put yourself into some maggot scum’s crosshairs again, for me. And I cannot… I can’t…” This isn’t the same machismo shit, not the puffed up chest and sense of guardianship. He’s not her sentinel just then, it’s a part of the confessional she’d never gotten to see. Not before.

“I know you can take care of yourself, Karen. Never doubted that. Not for a single minute. But I can’t -- can’t give you a life like that. Can’t offer you up… whatever the hell’s left of me and say it’s good enough for someone like you. And don’t go givin’ me the bullshit that you can decide that for yourself. I know that. I know you’ll fuckin’ pick me because you have shit taste in men.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Karen knows that Frank thinks about the same of himself.

Karen holds back a whimper; it takes all her mental, physical, and emotional fortitude to slow herself from diving into the deep blue sea of wanting him anyway. Because he’s right. She does. No matter what the fuck happens; gunshots, blacksmiths, bombs and blackbirds, one fact remains true in absolution.

That Karen Page loves Frank Castle, and he loves her the same.

“I should’a made it mean somethin’, Karen. I shoulda and I didn’t and I -- I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t even look you in the eyes when you left, shit.” He’s crying, too. She can’t see it, but she can feel it, a phantom mirror of the own tracking down her cheeks.

She’s quiet, and he’s quiet, but it isn’t the same silence that’s been eating away at her for weeks. It’s an understanding between what he’d said, and what she hadn’t.

“Karen?” Frank’s voice is hardly recognizable just then, rough and soft, somehow, less a whisper and more a plea.

She answers him with the sound of her three sets of locks clicking, and the groan of the door, and Frank scrambles up to his feet.

No words exchanged, he’s said enough, and when he steps through the threshold and into her home it feels a bit like he’d never left. Like her life had been holding its breath, waiting for him, and now it can let it out in a sound like relief.

“Hey,” she wipes at her face with the heel of her hands as he’s turning around, lowering the hood that had kept his face in shadow.

“Hey.” Frank offers her a weak smile in return.

And just like that, he’s home.

[huangfilms]

Florist!Donghyuck

summary: hi i really hate this person and i saw your sign that you make personal bouquets and i would like you to make one where it gives the message of how much i hate them if it isn’t too much to ask for 

requested by: a lovely anon!! thanks love❤️

(A/N) ajsdhgf okay so She Is Here!!! i don’t know what i wrote!! i always never know what i write cause when i write sometimes i just black out and suddenly its finished but i hope this is what you wanted you lovely anon!!! thank you for requesting <333

okay so you just recently went through a break up

that fool was the biggest asshole ever and you don’t even know w hy

so you broke up with them !!! good for u sis !! 

honestly they cheated on u with a close friend of yours and you just,,, didn’t care anymore

well you didnt care That Much Anymore

u still care to the point where u are 2day

and thats going to a florist to passive aggressively say how much u hate them in flowers

i mean u saw a sign that says ‘we make personalized bouquets!!’ so u hope they can just do this For You

so you walk in a lil angry 

and you have This Mad Face and the florist currently working thinks its the cutest thing

the florist is donghyuck

and he just sees you fuming and you look?? like a lil baby munchkin so adorable omg

and so hes just waiting for you to say something And Eventually You Do Say Something

he didnt expect this rant to come out of ur mouth

‘my s/o just cheated on me like a week ago and Yes i am still mad about it and i saw your sign about making personalized bouquets and i just wanted to ask if you can make the most Passive Aggressive bouquet so i can tell them that i hate them without actually telling them i hate them??’

and you say more but at the end of your little rant donghyuck is just trying to hold in his laughter because youre so adorable omg

and hes all like,, ‘sure sweets,,, also,,,,,,, do u need to talk about it? i can have it done by the end of the day and i could use sum company since ill b the only one on duty’

and u get shocked cause LMAOOO this cute ass florist really b out here! making ur heart beat fast! just by asking u to keep him company!

___ don’t fall for the first person to b nice to you since ur break up challenge [FAILED]

so ur like,,, ive got no plans so sure

and you just hang around and look through all of the flowers

and while youre looking around youre just asking him what each flower means

and some beautiful flowers have the most unpleasant meanings LMAOOO

and hyuck is just living for this cause you are just so adorable lkdfjha

it becomes like 5 PM so suddenly and you needa go home cause yo mama will b wondering where u been for the last few hours LMAO

so you tell him that hey,,, you gotta leave but youll come back tomorrow to pick up the flowers!!!

‘it was nice meeting you donghyuck ! im y/n’

and u see him melt from u saying his name

its the cutest sight omg

and so you just leave and hyuck is just in awe because wow ! youre adorable t h e

so he just spends the rest of his time making the bouquet of hatred

its not that much time, he closes the store at 7 since hes got a lot of stuff to do like hw since hes in his last year of highschool

but anywho

you come back the next day bright and early on saturday

and hyuck is there bright and early

and you just greet him with a big smile and then u remember why ur there and ur smile is g o ne 

so you asking him if the bouquet is done and how much it is and all that jazz

and he says that ur total comes out to an even $11 so u give him exact change and then u ask what kinda flowers he included

so he goes into detail about each of them (i know nothing of flowers just the most basic info like red roses mean a deep love or whatever LMAO)

then at the end of his explanation you just evilly grin and ask him to write on a card very nicely of the names of each flower he included

he does just that and then he gives you a big smile ! the actual sun? yes.

and you tip him some money and then you wave him goodbye! and then the actual sun is not shining anymore cause you left

when you give your ex s/o the bouquet, you tell them ‘here, search each flower that was written on this card and find out their meanings, have a nice life.’

and you just leave cause!! wooo frick them! u r free !

then u miss donghyuck even tho u met him like yesterday

smh

like he was real witty and funny when u guys talked

u just go home nd ur all like ‘SIGH’ and ur mom is just wondering if your okay LMAOO

but the next day u plan on seeing him just cause

but to make it not loo k like ur just trying to see him,,, u buy a SINGLE flower

when hyuck sees u walk in the shop he Lights Up omghhshs

The Actual Sun Im Telling You

‘hey hyuck!! how r u!!’ and he MELTS

YOURE SO DJSJJD AADORABLEKFJS

well anyway you guys chat for a while and you decide youre going to buy a carnation or something

‘just a single flower?’ and he shyly grins at u

you turn the cutest shade of pink abby uwus her way thru this headconnon pt three

then he chuckles a lil and you laugh a bit with him

while hes totaling up your single flower, you chat with him some more

‘here’s your flower, have a nice day!’ and he smiles His Smile u all know what im talking about

and youre Sad Again

this continues for weeks

you buying ONE flower, him being the sun, u guys pining talking

you guys get to know each other more and more over the weeks go by

and suddenly you have these???feelings??? for the sun??? yes.

but of course you dont Say Anything cause he might not like u like that and u would still like to talk to him even if its just as friends

but sis,,,, u have No Idea that donghyuck has been Pining Over You Since Forever

cause sometimes you ask him to pick your single flower for the day and its him confessing his feelings through flowers but you dont need to know that

the Cutest Shit I Know

but then he just sighs when you leave and he feels the hurt of unrequited love

hyuck bub,,, chill out sweetie

IF YALL WOULD JUST OPEN UR FUCKIN EARS THEN YALL WOULD BE TOGETHER BUT I MEAN I G U E S S

literally everyone is rooting for you guys,,,, i cant--

everyone sees The Eyes whenever you guys look at each other, but the other isnt looking at you

sometimes hyuck even turns Red just by looking at you, like you dont even catch him or anything he just turns red

but hyuck is just like,,,,, hnnngg maybe they like me,,,,,,,,, so he picks out an aster and tells u to search up the meaning for this one this time

(its a symbol of love/daintiness) 

and when u do your heart absolutely Soars

because!! he likes you too!!! what !!!

when you come back the next day you just find him and pull him into a hug and say ‘i like you too’ and hyuck turns pink and its dshalkadorablejdf

and so he asks you out on a date and its cute cause you say yes!

the day of the date he takes you to a flower field and he picks small flowers and sticks them in both your hair and his

ITS ! SO ! CUTE !

and many dates later hyuck finally asks you to be his! and u! yell ! yes!

saldkjhflakjsdh

OKAY BUT hycuk finding the most beautiful flowers to give you

like a red or white camellia !! (red means: youre a flame in my heart, white means: youre adorable!!)

and he just tells you the meanings cause you deserve to know and he wants u to hear it from him

ONE DAY HE GIVES YOU A BOUQUET OF DAISYS ! (innocence ! loyal love !) and hyuck is always shy when telling you the meanings

few months into your relationship, he gives you a red chrysanthemum,,,,, sister !

and you understand this one because you are IN LOVE with these flowers because they mean--

‘I love you.’

you then look up with a few tears in your eyes and you say--

‘i love you too, hyuck’ and you give him the biggest hug ever!!!

everything is soft everything is cute

im always soft whats new queens

but anyway!!! end!! hyuck as a florist would be so cute??? but him as ur bf AND a florist??? EVEN CUTER!

so! end!!! hyuck deserves the whole world omg

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