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vegetasleftsock · 4 years ago

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A Devil’s Smile (Vegeta x OC)

Part 1

Chapter 2

Saturday morning arrived. Golden sunbeams poured through open blinds in a window next to Milla’s bed. Waking up, she blinked a couple of times to try to adjust to the light.

“No use,” Milla thought to herself. “My eyelids feel like they weigh ten pounds each.”

She shifted onto her stomach and plopped her head straight into her pillow.

“So soft.”

Milla breathed in the scent of her pillow in a deep breath. It smelled like apples- the scent of her favorite fabric softener.

Suddenly a wave of realization and horror washed over Milla. She used her arms to push herself up from the pillow, eyes wide.

“Oh my god, what time is it?” Milla whispered aloud. She flipped over and began to rummage through the sheets to try to find her phone.

“Where is it?” Milla said, frantic. “Fuck!”

She unravelled her comforter and shook it until her phone made a loud thud on the floor.

“9:52? No! Fucking shit!”

“3 missed calls?? All from Janice?? Great.”

Milla clicked on the missed call and the phone began to ring. As she was waiting for the phone to pick up, she rushed to the closet, pulling her oversized t-shirt over her shoulders as she walked.

“Hello?” the voice in the phone said.

“Hey, yea,” replied Milla while hopping into one leg of her black slacks. “Is Janice there?”

“No, she left to run errands. Joey’s here though, I’ll give you to him,” said the voice.

“Thank you, dear angels above, for watching over me,” Milla breathed a sigh of relief that it was Joey, her bandmate and coworker that she was going to have to talk to and not her boss, Janice.

“Ya, you’re welcome. Although, I don’t know if I’d fall under the category of angel,” Joey laughed.

“Joey, I overslept.” Milla said.

“No shit. I told Janice I sent you to try to get more of that special printer ink from the Office Depot off of 5th,” Joey said.

“You told me that printer ink was discontinued,” Milla said, with a ponytail holder in between her teeth. Her hands stayed busy pulling her hair back and brushing out bumps with her fingers.

“Uh-huh. But I didn’t tell her that,” Joey said. “That way when you get here and you show up empty handed, at least you have a reason, ya know?”

“Oh ok, nice! Damn, Joey- I owe you!” Milla said.

“Just get me a pack of cigs and some pretzels for lunch and we’ll call it even.”

“You got it. Thanks again, friend.” Milla smiled.

“No problem bud. See ya soon.” Joey replied, and then hung up the phone.

Milla took one last look in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and silver jewelry hung from her ears. The jewelry was vintage and an emerald sat in the middle of each earring. The earrings were a prized possession- her grandmother gave them to her the year she started college.

A black blouse with floaty long sleeves and a bow tied loosely around her neck hung slightly off her small frame. The all black outfit made her look put together- professional. Greatly contrasting from the persona she wears at home and on stage during her performances.

A black and white cat curled through Milla’s legs as she leaned against her dining room chair to strap her tall chunky heels onto each foot.

“Okay, Chomps. I promise I’ll feed you in just a moment.”

Chomps continued to rub his head against her ankles and calves aggressively. Just as Milla placed her foot to the floor to walk to the cabinet where she kept the cat food, Chomps placed his teeth on her ankle and bit down- hard.

“OW, fuck, Chomps! Seriously?” Milla yelled. “I said I was on my way to feed you!”

Blood trickled down her ankle onto her heel, but she was already late. No time to waste.

Milla opened the cabinet and pulled out a measuring cup to portion Chomps’s food. He obviously had an food obsession issue. She dumped the food into his bowl, grabbed her keys and ran out the door.

She sat down into her small silver Jetta and started the engine. As she started her car, it reminded her of the night before.

That guy- the one with the black, spiky hair and the death glare. Milla allowed herself to reflect and replay her interaction with him.

She never even got his name. Not that she really cared. What was his problem? He approached her after the show at her car for what reason?

If he wanted to hurt her or be a pervert, there was nothing stopping him. Milla was strong for her small stature, but she was nothing compared to him. He was clearly ripped. She could tell by every muscle in his toned arms, folded over his chest that also appeared to be rock solid. His shoulders were big and built and even though he wasn’t the tallest guy she had ever met, he still towered over her.

“Too bad he’s fucking odd. He’s hot.” Milla thought to herself.

Before she could think any further about the situation, Milla had arrived at work. She walked through the front doors of the doctor’s office and found her desk, acting like she wasn’t an hour and a half late.

“Good morning, Milla. Did you find anything at the Office Depot? I really need that ink.” Janice, the office manager and Milla’s boss said.

Milla took a deep breath and spun around in her chair to face Janice.

“Janice, I’ve got some bad news about that. They discontinued the ink.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Janice said. “Did you ask to speak to the manager?”

“I did,” Milla said. “I even asked the manager to call the distributor and they said it’s production has been indefinitely suspended.

“Great,” Janice sighed. “Next time can you clock out if you’re going to take more than 30 minutes to drive across town? Thanks.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and left Milla at her desk alone.

“NeXt TiMe CaN YOu ClOck Out,” Milla mocked.

Even though Milla was annoyed by Janice’s never-ending passive aggressive remarks, she was relieved to be relatively unscathed throughout the day.

However, Milla didn’t get to take her lunch break, which means she didn’t have time to get Joey his thank you gifts for saving her behind.

Milla tied up any loose ends and threw her purse over her shoulder. She waved goodbye to her coworkers and she walked to the back of the office to find Joey.

“Hi, friend.” Milla said to Joey, who was slinging his Levi jean jacket over his broad shoulders.

Joey was about 6 foot, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was average build, but his arms and legs were lanky.

Any girl would normally fawn over Joey, but Milla considered him to be like a brother.

“Heading out?” Joey said while grabbing his keys from his desk and sticking them into his jacket pocket.

“Yup. Let me take you out to dinner since I didn’t get to buy you pretzels and cigs.” Milla said, starting towards the back exit of the office.

“I’m down. As long as I get something to smoke and we go somewhere that has the big kind of pretzels.”

Milla laughed. “Sure thing, dude.”

They both climbed into Milla’s Jetta and started driving to one of their favorite breweries, not far from the bar they perform at every Friday night.

On the drive over, Milla lit Joey a joint and told her the story of the guy from the bar. How he met her at her car, got defensive, but never even tried to lay a hand on her.

Joey took a puff and laughed. He told Milla that he assumed the mystery man was probably too nervous to tell her that she was pretty.

Once they got to the brewhouse, they ordered a full flight of beer, pretzels, and a medium pepperoni and basil pizza to share.

They discussed work, talked shit about Janice, and Joey talked about his multiple sketchy encounters with recent hookups.

“Alright, you ready to call it a night?” Joey said.

“Ugh, no I really wanted to finish my beer. It’s only 9:30.” Milla said, pouting at Joey.

“Normally I would stay with you, but I have to meet my mom for breakfast at 8. She’ll have my neck if I’m not there.”

“Understood.” Milla said.

“I’ll just grab an Uber so you don’t have to drive. You should too. Call me if you need anything and please be careful.” Joey said, knowing he couldn’t convince her to leave.

“Ew, you’re not my dad.” Milla laughed. “But yes, I will be extra careful if you insist.”

“Thanks.” Joey patted Milla on the back before heading outside to catch his ride.

About 15 minutes later, Goku, Bulma and Krillin walked into the brewery. They sat at the bar, close enough to Milla to get a hint of who she was.

Goku squinted at Milla. “Hmmm..”

“What is it, Goku?” Krillin asked.

“I feel like I’ve seen that girl somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on where.”

“Ha! I know,” Bulma laughed. “That’s the girl that got Vegeta all flustered!”

“From yesterday? The singer?” Goku asked. “She looks so different!”

“She probably works, Goku. Singing isn’t usually super lucrative.” Bulma explained.

“But she’s so good at it!” Goku said. “Excuse me, miss?”

Goku had moved over so that he and Milla were a seat apart. He tapped on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Uh- Hi.” Milla smiled. “Do I know you?”

The guy appeared relatively harmless and the two friends who joined him gave off good vibes. Milla decided to lessen her guard a little.

“Not really. We saw you sing last night. I just wanted to let you know that we all really enjoyed it!” Goku smiled. “By the way my name is Goku and these are my friends, Krillin and Bulma.”

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Milla. Thanks for the compliment and for coming out last night. I’d love to see y’all there next Friday as well.” Milla beamed, cheeks a little pink from the alcohol.

“I wouldn’t mind going again,” Bulma said. “Your singing is great but it was pretty great to watch Vegeta get all flustered too.” She laughed.

It suddenly clicked for Milla. The blue haired girl and the guy with the nice smile were the ones who were at the table with the grumpy mystery man.

“Vegeta?” Milla moved her head to the side a little. “That’s the guy who got embarrassed and left after I flirted with him, right?”

“Yup. That’s Vegeta!” Goku laughed. “He’s a little hard around the edges but he’s a good guy.”

“Hard around the edges. That’s one way to explain it.” Milla said eyebrows raised. She took another swig of her stout beer.

“Wait-,” Krilled said. “You sound like you know Vegeta.”

“Hardly.” Milla smiled. “He approached me at my car after the show.”

Bulma laughed. “So that’s where he went! It doesn’t sound like he made the best impression.”

Milla puffed up her chest and held her arms out to the side like she had big muscles. “If you knew who you were talking to, you wouldn’t be laughing. Foul woman!” Milla said, imitating Vegeta.

The four of them shared a laugh before Goku was pulled off his barstool.

“Kakarot! Did you forget about our night training? I’ve been waiting for over 30 minutes and I find you HERE of all places, doing god knows what with-“

Before Vegeta could continue, Milla placed her hand on Vegeta’s shoulder.

“Dude. Shut up, relax. Drink a beer or something before your head explodes.”

Vegeta’s face pulled in a snarl as he looked to see who would have the nerve to say such a thing. His eyes met with Milla’s and his expression turned from anger to shock.

Bulma, Goku, and Krillin sat and watched. They were surprised at Milla’s bluntness with volatile and moody Vegeta.

“You,” Vegeta said, brushing Milla’s hand off of his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Are you all just friends now or something?”

“And what does it matter to you?” Milla laughed.

“Ugh.” Vegeta scoffed. “You’re intoxicated.”

He crossed his arms and inhaled the air again. “And you’re bleeding.”

“What?” Milla furrowed her brow in confusion. She was definitely weirded out again.

He leaned down to follow the smell.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Milla cursed at Vegeta.

“Here.” Vegeta brushed his finger against the bite marks on her ankle. “Looks like some kind of small animal marked you.”

Milla then remembered that this morning she didn’t have time to attend to her wound from Chomps.

“Oh, you’re right. That was Chomps.” Milla and Vegeta’s eyes met once more.

“Wow, Vegeta! That’s crazy how you knew that just by smelling.” Goku said.

Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes in response.

“Who’s Chomps?” Krillin asked.

“My cat. He bites when he’s hungry, so I named him Chomps.” Milla said.

“Hmph. Your cat and I have something in common then.” Vegeta said while giving Milla a sly grin.

“Kakarot, I’ll let you play your little games for now. But I will not be as lenient if you fail to show for training tomorrow morning. ON TIME.”

Before Milla could even process Vegeta’s words, he had already left.

“Looks like someone has a little crush on Milla,” Bulma said and gave Milla an encouraging wink.

“What’s his deal?” Milla asked. “Why can’t he just buy me a beer or ask me out like any normal human being.”

“Probably because he’s a Saiyan!” said Goku. “And so am I!”

“A what?” Milla said, looking lost.

“I can explain it all later,” Bulma said. “If you’re free you should come over to my place tomorrow night and I can fill you in. I could make dinner for everyone!”

“Are you sure we can’t do it tonight,” Goku whined. “I’m hungry.”

“Goku, you just cleared the wing place we went to of their entire inventory for the week. You don’t think you can wait until tomorrow?” Krillin asked.

“I guess.” Goku pouted. He quickly perked up. “Can you come, Milla? It’d be so fun to have you there!”

“Sure, I can go.” Milla said. She was apprehensive, but the kind nature of the three in front of her and the craft beer bubbling through her system told her to not worry about it.

“Great! Do you have an iPhone?” Bulma asked.

Milla dug in her pockets and pulled out her iPhone.

“Awesome,” Bulma said. “I’ll just connect to your phone through mine and give you all of our numbers, and it’ll put your number into our phones.”

At this point, Milla was ready to go home and sleep. She nodded her head in agreement.

“You look tired Milla, do you need a ride home?” Krillin asked, aware of how quiet Milla had gotten.

“Please.” Milla replied, her eyes fighting to stay open.

“I can help. Where do you live?” Goku said.

“Apple Cove apartments. Not too far from the Sprint skyscraper.” Milla said.

“Got it! Put your hand on my shoulder.” Goku smiled at Milla, helping her onto her feet from the bar.

“It’s okay, Goku I can walk.” Milla said.

“Just trust me.” Goku looked down at Milla and held his hand out.

Milla reluctantly gave her hand to Goku and he placed it on his shoulder. Milla’s arm was almost completely extended, making the height difference between the two of them glaringly obvious.

Krillin chuckled. “Man, I thought I was short.”

“Bye Milla! See you tomorrow at the party!” Bulma said as she waved.

“Bye, nice meeting you. See you tomorrow.”

Goku placed his fingers to his forehead and before Milla could blink again, she was in front of her apartment complex.

“Holy shit, am I really that drunk?” Milla said, eyes wide.

“It’s instant transmission. Pretty cool, huh?”

“I’m not even going to crack open that can of worms tonight,” Milla said before hiccuping.

“Is it okay if I walk you to your apartment?” Goku asked.

“No really, you’ve done a lot. Thank you for all your kindness.” Milla said.

“Please. I wouldn’t feel too good if anything bad happened to you.” Goku said while scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay-“ Milla said reluctantly. “Promise you’re not creepy?”

“I don’t think I’m creepy?” Goku said innocently while looking at Milla.

“I don’t think you are either,” Milla chuckled between hiccups.

Goku walked Milla to her apartment, made sure she was settled, and even fed Chomps.

She was fast asleep by the time he was ready to go home. Goku pressed his fingers to his forehead and transmitted to the kitchen of Capsule Corp.

“Boy am I starving!” Goku said while rubbing his stomach.

“Kakarot.” Vegeta said, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Oh, hi Vegeta,” Goku said with his head in the fridge. “Did you come to get snacks too?”

“What I was doing in this kitchen before you got here is none of your business.” Vegeta said, pushing the bags of fruit snacks further into the pocket of his black sweatpants.

“Oh. Okay.” Goku said. “That Milla girl is really nice, the singer one?”

“So that’s her name. She has an attitude,” Vegeta stated plainly.

“I’m guessing that’s something you like in women.” Goku shrugged, a plate with an entire turkey in his hands.

“Kakarot-“ Vegeta growled, stepping closer to Goku.

“Good news, she’s coming to Bulma’s get together tomorrow night. You’ll get to spend more time with her. If you play your cards right, you might be able to have a normal conversation with her too.” Goku laughed.

“Why do you smell of her?” Vegeta asked.

“I took her home. She was pretty drunk and I didn’t want her to try to make it home alone.” Goku said in between bites. “You could’ve taken her if you would’ve stayed longer.

Vegeta scoffed and walked out of the room. “Training. 8 AM. DON'T be late.”

#vegeta x original character #vegeta x oc #vegeta fanfic #vegeta #prince vegeta #dragon ball #dragon ball z #goku #bulma #krillin

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laws-hat-headcanons · 6 years ago

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Masterlist Part One

Hi All!

Here is Part One of my Masterlist (since apparently I have written too much to put in one post!)

Part Two can be found HERE!! And again at the bottom of this post if you’re making your way through!

Updated 09/04/2021

One Piece:

Straw Hats & Multiple Characters:

Sleeping Patterns

With a crewmate that can turn in to a sea dragon

On an Easter Egg Hunt (Feat Arayya)

Pillow Fights

April Fools Day

Arayya (One Piece OC):

General Headcanons

General Headcanons Part 2

Arayya on Kid’s DF power

Straw hats thoughts on Arayyas books

Scars

Arayya x Law: Melting

On an Easter Egg Hunt

Writing, Opinions on Law and General info

Kid x Arayya: Pull

Music associations

Fluff Alphabet - H, J, K

Arayya x Law: Books

Basil Hawkins:

Kissing Headcanons

With an overly affectionate S/O

Relationship Headcanons

Bellamy:

Fluff Headcanons

With an S/O that saves him from Dellinger

Fluff Alphabet - Y, O, J

Brook:

General Fluff Headcanons

Cuddling with a short S/O

Helping his S/O with period pains

NSFW Alphabet - C, E, G, I

With an S/O that cleans his face

With an S/O that shows him panties she isn’t wearing

With an S/O who loves to kiss him

With an S/O who learns piano so they can duet

With an S/O who gets turned in to a toddler

With an S/O who wants to take a bath with him

With an S/O who has a fear of silence

With an S/O who is a relation of his old captain

With a Forensic Anthropologists S/O

Buggy the Clown:

NSFW Alphabet - C, E, G, I

Helping his S/O with period pains

With an S/O Headcanons

Cavendish:

NSFW Alphabet - D, F, G, W

Charlotte Amande:

NSFW Headcanons

Charlotte Cracker:

With a Virgin S/O ( NSFW )

With an S/O who gets injured by Mama

Getting Jealous of Mont D’Or

Getting Jealous over his S/O

Charlotte Galette:

NSFW Headcanons

Charlotte Katakuri:

Katakuri x Reader: Soulmate AU

With an S/O seeing his face for the first time

With a worried S/O after his fight with Luffy

With a Virgin S/O ( NSFW )

With an S/O that is insecure about their body

With an S/O who is hunted for being a witch

With an S/O that gets kidnapped

With an S/O that can control their size

With an S/O who wakes him with a blowjob ( NSFW )

With an S/O who gets injured by Mama

With an Oni Fiancee

Saving a Dragon shape shifter

With an S/O who cares for injured animals

Overhearing his shy S/O singing a flirty song

With an Oni wife (cont of Oni Fiancee)

With an S/O who is usually calm but can kick ass

With an overly affectionate S/O

With an S/O who loves it when he gets turned in to an animal

With an Oni wife and baby (cont of Oni Wife)

Getting a crush

Word Prompt - Ice, Heart, Night

Word Prompt - Flower, Heart, Rain

Word Prompt - Night, Cake, Bathing

Word Prompt - Hand, Heat, Stone

Katakuri x Reader - Fangs

Ticklish Headcanons

Word Prompt - Glass, Sun, Hail

Katakuri with an S/O who has a mask with his teeth on

With an S/O that gets too close

A Letter From: Katakuri

Charlotte Mont d’Or:

With a Witch S/O

Fluff Headcanons

Charlotte Perospero:

NSFW Alphabet - K, C, V, O

NSFW Alphabet - L, I, C, K

Fluff Alphabet - D, L, O, P

With a nervous/shy S/O

With a Virgin S/O ( NSFW )

With an S/O who hides their sketchbook from him

With an S/O who gets injured by Mama

With an S/O meeting his family for the first time

Comforting an S/O after a nightmare

Fluff Headcanons

Chu:

Chu Headcanons

Caesar Clown:

Word Prompt - Heart, Gold, Silver

Coby:

NSFW Alphabet - B, M, O, A

With an S/O who slaps his butt in front of the crew

Relationship headcanons

Word Prompt - Heart Emoji, Blood, Gold

Corazon:

NSFW Headcanons

With a Quail Devils Fruit user

Little!Law calling Coras S/O mom

Ticklish headcanons

Word Prompt - Gold, Cloud, Bloom

With an S/O suffering from depression

Crocodile:

With an S/O who wakes him with a blowjob ( NSFW )

With an S/O that likes to tease him

With a Virgin S/O ( NSFW )

Apologising to an S/O after hurting their feelings

With an S/O comforting a lost child

With an S/O who likes to snuggle up in his coat

Going camping!

Word Prompt - Snow, Night

Word Prompt - Bone, Snow, Heart

Emoji Prompt - Confessing, Soft, Breakup

With an S/O who has a secret pet Bananawani

Angst Prompt - 3 & 10

Word Prompt - Blood, Wood, Glass

Winter Event: Mistletoe - Awkward - G/N Reader

Donquixote Doflamingo:

With an S/O half his size ( NSFW )

With an S/O who isn’t afraid of him

With an S/O who loves him unconditionally

With a Virgin S/O ( NSFW )

With an S/O who wakes him with a blowjob ( NSFW )

Purchased as a slave

With an S/O who becomes a criminal to free him

Relationship Headcanons ( SFW & NSFW)

What Doflamingo looks for in an S/O ( NSFW )

Comforting an S/O after a nightmare

Fluff Alphabet - S, K, C

Finding out his S/O is hiding a dog

Emoji Prompt - Drunk

Dracule Mihawk

With an S/O that gets kidnapped

With an S/O who is a domestic goddess

NSFW Alphabet: C, K, A, Z

With an S/O that gives up being a noble for him

Fluff Alphabet - C, L, K

Finding out his S/O is blind

With a oblivious/shy S/O

Eustass Kid

Reacts to his crush seducing someone else

With an S/O who has a Rapping D/F Ability

Dealing with and confessing his romantic feelings

Kid x Arayya: Pull

As a Parent

Dealing with a Reckless S/O

Kid x Reader: Wet

Kid x Reader: Wet Part Two

Overhearing his shy S/O singing a flirty song

Kid x Reader: Apology ( NSFW )

Kid & Killer Friendship Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - C, J, R, V, X

Being rescued by an S/O

With an S/O who is usually calm but can kick ass

Getting Jealous over his S/O

Childhood Headcanons

Cuddling headcanons

With an S/O that flinches during an argument

Fluff Alphabet - F, M, Y

Fluff Alphabet - H, O, T

What Kid looks for in a crew mate

With a sick S/O

With an S/O that goes away for a while

How they act when they’re drunk

Word Prompt - Rust, Bone, Twist

Word Prompt - Bone, Wild

Emoji Prompt - Kiss, Random, Confessing

Kissing Headcanons

Accidentally hurting his S/O in a fight

Drunk Kid visiting his S/O

Word Prompt - Sand , Bloom

Word Prompt - Hail, Stone, Wild

Emoji Prompt - Drunk, Jealousy

Crying Headcanons

Kid x Reader: Caring

Ticklish headcanons

“It’s Just a Bruise” - Sentence Prompt

Angst Prompt 4 - Argument

Angst Prompt 10 - Crying

With a Mechanic S/O who’s inventions keep blowing up

Word Prompt - Glass, Grass, Heart

With an S/O that gets too close

Winter Event: Gift - Awkward - Female Reader

With a usually serious S/O who loves cute things

With a crush that tends to their wounds

Galdino (Mr 3)

SFW & NSFW Headcanons

Word Prompt - Moon, Soot, Bone

Gladius

Getting jealous over his S/O

Hatchan

With his mermaid S/O

Heat

Winter Event: Mistletoe - Fluff - G/N Reader

Izo

Winter Event: Mistletoe - Fluff - Female Reader

Kaido:

Adopting a daughter with a dragon DF power

Kaido’s Daughter HC cont

Kaku:

With a workaholic S/O

Kalgara:

Noland x Kalgara Headcanons

Killer:

Kid & Killer Friendship Headcanons

Being rescued by an S/O

With an S/O who loves it when he gets turned in to an animal

With an S/O that flinches during an argument

With a sick S/O

Word Prompt - Moon, Wave, Mountain

With an S/O who also wears a mask

Killer x Reader: Romance

Word Prompt - Rain, Stone, Thunder

Having a wet dream about his fem!S/O (Mild NSFW)

Confessing to his crush

A Letter From: Killer

Killer x Reader: Romance

Finding out his S/O is in a band

With a usually serious S/O who loves cute things

Visiting his crush while drunk

Killer x Reader: First

Little things he loves about his S/O

Kuzan:

NSFW Alphabet - C, E, G, I

Fluff Alphabet - I, C,E

Marco

With an S/O that flinches during an argument

With an S/O who can control their size

Reacting to Cosplay

Overhearing his shy S/O singing a flirty song

Word Prompt - Blood, Storm, Hand

Word Prompt - Night, Cake, Bathing

Word Prompt - Blood, Bone, Hand

Winter Event: Mistletoe - Fluff - Female Reader

Monkey D Luffy:

Luffy BFF Headcanons

With an S/O that has a DF power that makes them feel like a monster

Attraction and Need in an S/O

With an S/O that runs out of Chocolate

With a shy S/O in a bikini

With an S/O who has Epilepsy

With a crew member who is an Alien

As Asexual

Getting turned in to a girl by a DF User

Running in to his Ex

NSFW Alphabet - C, J, R, V, X

What he looks for in an S/O

With a daughter who eats too much halloween candy

Word Prompt - Blood, Hand, Wild

Crying Headcanons

With an S/O who is depressed

Ticklish headcanons

Mont Blanc Noland:

Noland x Kalgara Headcanons

Nami:

Fluff Alphabet - D, K ,Y

Relationship Headcanons

SFW and NSFW Headcanons

Kink Headcanons ( NSFW )

With an S/O who has a Rapping D/F Ability

With a shy virgin S/O ( NSFW )

With a Male S/O headcanons

Nefertari Vivi:

Relationship Headcanons

Kink Headcanons ( NSFW )

Nico Robin:

Comforting a crewmate (Reader) who suffered abuse as a child

Relationship Headcanons

Kink Headcanons ( NSFW )

As a Parent

With a Forensic Anthropologists S/O

Masterlist Part Two - Click Here

#Masterlist #Masterlist Part One #One Piece #Naruto #Bleach

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secretsantasides · 5 years ago

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Gift #7: Wishception

Gift for @pessimisticvirtuoso

Request: Soulmate AU with Analogical

Warning: this is ANGSTY as requested. There is some abandonment, internalised homophobia, self-hatred, manipulation (implied), emotional abuse (implied), financial struggle/poverty, panic, bad endings, injury/burning, intolerance, one-sided love, ambiguous soulmates, mentions of sex and nudity (nothing graphic), crying, ematophobia, insomnia, toxic relationships.

Roommates.

she/her and it/its pronouns are used for mentioned (side)characters. Everyone is either a cis male or an AMAB.

''That is 3.25, please'', the barista spoke as he rung the cash register and accepted the money that was pushed towards his hand. He took the bill and quickly grabbed the fitting change so the transaction would finally be over with.

Once he gave the money back, the coffee was already made by one of his co-workers and he received the cup. He handed it over to the costumer.

Polite words were exchanged and Virgil nodded with a service smile on his lips.

Empty, rosy, void of emotions.

He brushed his fingers through his purple hair and sighed. He turned away from the register and faced the inside of his work place.

The coffee machine was cleaning itself in-between and his colleague was running a rag over a few wet stains around the sink. The metal cover was supposed to be shining and gleaming in the low lights of the small cafe.

Technically, the small space was supposed to feel homely and safe. The narrow space saved money and brought people together, made them socialise and feel at home—a place where it was common to share space, bump into one another and just be close to other people. All Virgil saw was people forced together, made to interact with personal space being a rare commodity—something Virgil had so little of and wanted more than anything.

The dim lighting was supposed to be inviting instead of sleep-inducing.

The sweet smell was supposed to sugar-coat the pressure of passing time and encourage customers to shove more empty calories down their throat.

Dark furniture and opaque, warm colours welcomed and embraced but Virgil just felt repelled. He didn’t deserve to be embraced—and he obviously wasn’t ready to be comforted or loved.

He was not worth the auburn couches, the warm blankets or the colourful pillows. Virgil had never done anything to earn the feeling of warm tea easing the pain in his shaking fingers. He did not qualify to smell the spicy sweet scent of a drink made for him in exchange for money he didn’t have.

He prepared to rush out on a quick smoke break but at the ringing of a bell, he looked up from his shoes.

The door had opened.

The door swung shut, letting a weak blast of icy air that cut into the warm room.

It was so hot.

Virgil’s counter was too far back to let him smell the snow, the cold or the fresh oxygen but he could see some guests shiver for a moment, their noses powdered with the sweet frost of outside.

It might have been cold and it might have been cruel, but at least it wasn’t a trap for idiots.

He dragged himself back to the register, his heavy black and brown boots made his steps heavy, and he tried to hide his infinite disappointment with a forced smile.

A man with dark blonde and chaotic curls approached his sacred space.

Virgil has his lip ring pulled into his mouth where he could chew on it, and he to the inside of his lips until it was sucked in enough for his teeth to play with it.

He immediately let go, his teeth releasing the Titan and letting the opened ring snap back into place. Right now, talking had a priority over nervously biting his discomfort into unresponsive metal.

''Good day, Sir, may I take your order?'' his usual greeting came out a little flat.

Virgil had bags under his eyes darker than the eyeliner he had used in an attempt to make his eyes pop and look a little lessdead. After all, experience had shown that the tip jar usually ended up more filled whenever he had some makeup on.

It was a superficial, judgmental world.

The blond curly mess shoved his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. The black eyewear framed his tired, dark-yet-soulful steel eyes like portraits as he returned Virgil's exhausted stare.

The pale skin under his ocean eyes was darkened, and his lips were a faint rose colour. Virgil spotted a few faint freckles, barely darker than the skin of the new costumer's face.

Typical nerd.

The guest spoke up, his voice somewhat deep.

Something about it reminded him of a curious dog experiencing new territories and strange smells, tail between his legs and ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

Weird.

But who was he to judge? He had piercings in his face and wore makeup--despite being a guy. He was lucky he got a job in the first place and nobody called him a fag or tried to beat him up or deprive him of his salary.

He was lucky. He even had a scholarship.

Maybe he was weird.

Yes, he had to be the weird one and he still dared to be a prick and judge others despite being the one who should change to be less embarrassing.

''Good day. Double iced coffee. Dark, please.''

The order was quick and straightforward. It felt classic and oddly fitting despite out of place quirkiness of the person before him.

He nodded and turned to make the coffee at the machine. His skin, looking as if it had been made of olive oil and fresh baked baguette, showed as he pushed his sleeves up enough to have his fingers show.

The tall man let his right curl around a big plastic cup and he shoveled crushed ice into the big container before he pushed it under the machine.

He punched in the order so theclueless technology would do its part of the work. Saved him the trouble of doing a more active job.

He really did not like to work.

His upper lip pushed over the lower one and his teeth graced over his two lip piercings. This time, there were no favourites as the black plated metal was pulled between his teeth and he caught the titan, then let it go just to latch his teeth onto the half-rings as well and pull at them so much that his pierced through skin nearly hurt with physical abuse.

The black balls of his piercings scraped the insides of his upper teeth as he released the jewellery.

His sun-kissed skin seemed even darker in the dim light of the cafe. He turned back to Logan and quickly dialed some buttons before the cash register ringed again.

''Three, on the point'', Virgil declared and the guest got out his purse to pay the right amount.

It took him only some moments to get out a ten and hand it over to the barista.

For a moment, Virgil actually looked over at the guest, really making eye contact for more than a fleeting second. Metal and mahagony met.

The world was standing still and the lights around them seemed just bright enough to illuminate one another completely. They were exposed with flaws and abilities, with pain and joy and resistance.

Hearts. Beating and growing together. Their minds seemed to intertwine in a soulful hug, invisible to the eye yet very much tangible for their hearts.

Time was not running anymore. The colours and sounds around them faded in favour of showing their own true colours and reveal every sound they could and would make.

Logan felt his answer get stuck in his throat and he instinctively put his wallet away.

He was ready to abscond.

Never had he once believed in the idiocy that was surrounding the myth of people being chosen to belong together. Not once in his life did he even consider the name on his arm to be of any more meaning but a reference to epic literature.

Virgil Prafure.

It was an odd name. Strange, rare. So provocative. He had suspected the person to be from another country but he could not tell. The person before him seemed just as mysterious as the letters tattooed into his skin.

But was this a coincidence? Was this really a connection and did he really feel the other's feelings and could he hear his heart beating like he could feel his own organ burst in tired energy.

Was he just an exhausted fool who had been forced into a marathon of Disney films alike?

Stay tuned because Mister Science will find out.

''Keep the change'', he spoke quickly.

Virgil nodded, mind absent and gears turning.

Their eyes were still locked and their hands moved on their own. Money was put away into the usual spots and clamped into the register. Fingers rubbed over the seven bucks in his hands and the worker nodded again. His dry mouth swallowed down his questions and he turned to put the money into the near empty tip jar.

Was it really just the eyeliner? It felt like more, there was more between them. There was more in him.

Well, whatever it was, his heart did not like it. But that might have been nothing but the missing nicotine and the counter action that had been an extra shot of caffeine in his early morning cup. Yeah, that had to be it.

Or maybe it was no more but the caffeine slashing into his empty stomach instead of even a little bit of food. All he had eaten in the past four (going on five) days was a few leaves of fresh basil they had at home. He remembered the look of fire and disapproval his girlfriend had given him when he had made breakfast and dared to lay the table with a second plate.

A common mistake.

She had given him the sweet, sweet lecture. She was so patient with him, even after weeks and months of dating, she was still ready to let him off the hook easy instead of punishing him like he would deserve to. He knew he was too fat and she constantly reminded him of it whenever they met, when they hugged and when they made love. She would squeeze his upper arms, she would give his stomach a pat and let out these elongated vocalisations when he would join her for cuddles or dared slipping into her lap.

He was lucky she was so good with him, helped him vomit when he had eaten without explicit permission. He could basically feel her hand sliding down the curve of his back when he hunched over the toilet and hugged the seat for stability in his dizzy spells. She was always there for him.

He was lucky with her by his side, literally and figuratively.

There was nothing going on. There was no magic no shit no nothing and the only lingering voice he certainly heard in his mind was the echo of the coffee machine groaning and people chattering so loudly, he wanted to rip his ears off.

He needed to sleep but he had a project due and he needed to beg his professor for an extension. Again. This idiot would lose his scholarship like this. Then all he could be able to do was drop out of schooling and life for good.

Virgil could not afford fucking voices and magic. He needed to work and earn his rent and get his shit done and make his love happy because she really wanted something nice for Valentine's Day and he was the luckiest loser to have her around still despite being in debt and missing his due dates on a daily.

He had taken extra shifts because his shitty job did not give any Christmas pay like other workers enjoyed. He was basically working full-time yet he was treated like an intern.

She had been so upset when he had been able to merely afford a little house party with her friends and work colleagues for her birthday. She had cried for hours and he had ended up on the couch he had exchanged for another wave of debt just to make her happy. The door had been locked and only when he negotiated getting her an extra gift instead of his trashy art, she was happy.

Just more debt. He could not tell her that he would need to stop paying the bills if she wanted another present. But he could also not tell her how much money and how many hours he had invested in the painting he he had made for her. Even his art professor had been pleased. Virgil had considered giving him the painting instead or use it for his portfolio or promotion but he had been too late. When he had been back with a real gift, something paid rather than self-made, she had already sold his work for a few bills and gotten herself a big lunch.

When he had cried about that, he had lost his food all at once without her helping out (which was a shame ,considering the party had been a rare occasion of him receiving some snacks).

''Thanks''.

Suddenly, Logan's voice was hoarse as if he had been screaming for hours. Maybe he had and he just forgot. All kinds of things happened. He wouldn't be surprised. There were so many thing he had never heard of, so many incredible possibilities he did not know about-

But honestly, right now he just did not know. Anything.

And it scared him.

The barista nodded again and turned his attention back to the coffee after his tip jar was filled up with an additional bit of money.

He swiftly finished the order, his shaking somewhat alternating between being its worst and also completely gone at the same time.

And then, everything seemed to happen at the same time.

His co-worker was back from his what? Piss break? He returned and made himself some hot tea and poured it into a cup while Virgil retrieved the iced coffee and got a straw and lid ready.

He put the things together and was done building the order. His hands shoved the business away from him and at the same moment, Logan extended his hands.

Now, what did the Braniac think and why was this important?

Well, whether soulmates existed or not was easily answered. He had seen his parents and his friends fall in love and bond for years and decades, side by side.

He had witnessed it, he had researched it but he knew that soulmates could go wrong. People whose souls were connected could hate each other, they could be in love like friends or be strangers to one another-

Sometimes, most times, though, they were each other's love of their life.

Some more research he had done had revealed that there were no records of his soulmate online.

On another note, he had just expected that maybe, just maybe, his soulmate had changed names because of adoption. Or maybe it was a dead name, perhaps they needed to change it for their own security.

In the times of social media, everyone had a profile on one of these many platforms.

But one of the most important things he had learned was that soulmates had different soulmarks. While his was the name of his mate, there were several other soulmarks and indicators to show that you belonged together, as per usual, people who belonged together had the same kind of soulmark in a very similar spot.

While Logan had the feeling settled in his guts that Virgil was the person his mark referred to, there was just one solid way to prove his thesis.

He needed to see his arm. Arms, actually. It would be the safest to check out both sides just to make sure he did not miss anything.

With this train of thought, Logan did not particularly reach out for the cold cup before him but he as much as rammed his hand into the plastic container.

Cold, brown bean juice spilled over his and the barista's hands. Crushed ice pieces flew all over the counter and in an attempt at saving himself, Virgil reflexively moved backwards without letting his eyes move from the scene before him.

His back bumped into his co-workers, but it was not just about bumping into him and nearly falling to the floor.

No.

No, of course not because Virgil's life was a fucking nightmare. Everything was against him and he felt just how much life was against his wretched ass when near-boiling coffee soaked into his long, black sleeves and the wet fabric immediately stuck to his skin.

The heat bit into his flesh, eating away at his arm with boiling temperatures. It was an unbearable pain, close to the feeling of being impaled with more and more white hot anger piercing through any layer of his skin.

''Fuck!!'', he yelled out in surprise.

His face distorted into a mask of anguish and disgust as his glance wandered over the steam that rose from his soaked shirt.

''Virgil, take it off!'', his colleague screeched and pulled him over to the sick. The tap was turned on and cool water started running over his covered arm.

The punk sighed in relief but he felt it was not over.

Tears were pricking at his eyes and he could feel his heart thumping so violently it felt like the muscle was trying to escape his rib cage for good.

It reminded him of his landlord after he failed to pay rent on time for a first. He had been banging against the door so much, he had feared for the wooden plank to finally give in, tired of protecting the cowardice of his actions.If the door has had any soul, it was beaten to death until now. Other than that, he was convinced that not even a soulless piece of dead tree would stand up for him. In that seemingly infinite moment, the door had saved his life. It was still his lifeline, the protective barrier between him and the rest of the world with its society of strict, judgmental eyes.

Virgil's eyes were glossy from the tears he held back. All his impulse control had left was the hope of relief from the hot burning pain. The cool water soaking into his shirt made his pain somewhat more bearable but at this point, it all felt dull and the pain was seated deeper than just on his arm. It was deeply buried within him. It seemed as if it wrapped around his bones. Maybe it was just an invisible idea of pain that tripped into the space of his arm.

Was it even his arm anymore?

He did not know, he did not know anything.

All he knew and felt was the pain and the rush and the horrible panic his mind limited itself to. If his thinking was a community, it shut itself down and put barricades up just to have a safe space to frantically run up and down the streets while emitting deafening screams of despair.

Huh, even his mental images of his mind seemed gruesome.

''Fuck'', he cursed again, his lips unstoppable.

With his mind on lock-down, he at least did not have the psychic capacity to wonder about what other people thought or what they would feel about his shit. Heavens, right now, he did not even consider whether he could lose his job over all this because his reason was closed down for the season of emergency.

Alarms were started like fires in his neurological connections. It felt as if even his brain was on actual fire.

''Fuck'', he choked again. It was the most expressive his mind could be when voicing his well-being. Not that there was too much well-being to really talk about. Actually, there was very much none of it. ''Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Why.''

His voice was a silent hiss competing the continuous sound of numbing water running down his arm.

He heard someone tell him to take off his clothing, and orders and such were shot around the room like loose bullets during an inexperienced heist that got out of control way too fast.

His mind was reeling.

Slowly, the panic of pain dissolved only to merge into a new hysteria.

The intense stinging and biting was so old, so many seconds ago that his heart was spitting on the whole ado and spitefully rammed against his rib cage. Maybe he was wrong about that but it seemed like his heart beating so vengefully made his lungs hurt.

His breathing felt so flat and so... so empty.. No air was really arriving, not any efficient one anyway. It was thin and used and did not give him enough respiration.

Nice.

This was just short of another tragedy to make this day an even better disaster, honestly.

Lucky enough for him, the gracious hero of all, the panicking man who had caused the whole scene, was by his side by now and cutting the sleeve open.

Fuck, his lap had been attacked too but it was minor and frankly, he had been a really lucky bastard to wear pants that did not really absorb too much water. The apron that covered his torso down to the middle of his thighs with its tight fabric probably did the trick as well.

Maybe that part of his body would not get fucked up. It did not really hurt but maybe that was the adrenaline. Or the pure focus on his burned arm.

Wow, maybe he had actually been lucky. If you could call one lucky circumstance in a horrible situation within the most horrible life to be an actually lucky thing. Perhaps it was just prolonging the inevitable horror of his existence.

He did not know.

His mind was still too busy steaming to consider all of this shit.

Huh, steaming. Very funny.

The person next to him said something and carefully pulled the cut through sweat shirt sleeve away.

That was his only piece of clothing his manager had not shot down for this work place. He did not know whether he could afford another one and his paycheck was so far away.

''s-stop'', he breathed out and pulled his arm away.

How did he have the lung capacity to talk? He did not know but today was full of shitty miracles so maybe that was just adding up.

''I - I have work''.

The person was taken aback and suddenly his co-worker rushed back in. When did anyone leave?

''I called the manager! We will get someone to cover for you. The ambulance is on the way.''

The punk felt his breathing stop.

Stop. Pause. Put on break and twisted backwards.

Say what now?

The empty face of his co-worker shushed the guest away to no avail. Virgil felt himself being tugged over to the break room behind the doors that had this typical ''employees only" sign. It was so cliche but it was also so necessary.

Stupid people, stupid rules.

But rules could be nice and protecting sometimes.

The punk kept blabbering about something to do with work.

He needed to go back.

Had he not heard the bell? Had he not seen a new costumer?

He had to make money, he had to get tips. He needed to get his order done. Oh, and he had crushed his co-workers coffee. He would hate him now. Virgil fucked up again.

He always did.

He had fucked up. Fucked up.

He had fucked up. He always fucked up, fucked up fucked up fuckedup.

''Breathe, Virgil'', a voice instructed him.

Who?

The world around him seemed so blurry and his body seemed so far away. Everything was out of focus and so strange and somewhat it was darker and lighter than usual. His environment did not look like that. Why did objects stick out so much and how could he still not tell what they were when it seemed so clear, it kind of became razor blurry again.

''I-I can't. I have work, I have courses'', he whimpered in desperation.

His voice was so thin. So thin, like his wrists were thin.

If his voice had bones, they would be clearly visible whenever he used it. Audible? His mind did not make any sense anymore.

''I have a deadline'', he repeated, his mind blanking as the realisation hit him.

His shift was nearly over and he needed to go to his professor and beg for time and another try. He was about to fail, he could not drop out. This degree was nearly complete and he could not afford fucking this up. His scholarship was the only thing that made life bearable.

His girlfriend would give him so much shit for this. He was a loser and she would finally lose hope in him and leave him because he could not provide for he because he sucked and he was unstable and useless.

He was the real burden, not her being unemployed because of workplace discrimination.

Who discriminated against her again? They.. they were both white cis people- What.. he did not know but he believed her, he always believed her because she would never lie to him. In fact, all she said was honest, sometimes brutal but at least direct and clear as acid if not just as hurtful.

Oh he fucked up. He fucked up.

He would lose her and his job and his scholarship. Just because of a coffee, why had he hold onto this stupid cup. He should have been faster and more aware. How could he not have been aware, he was vigilant. That was even in his name- he was hyper-vigilant even so and he still had managed to fuck up enough to not get this right. He had fucked up, it was his fault.

His fault, his fault only. He always fucked up. He deserved to be left alone and abandoned. He deserved it. He had fucked up.

Virgil squirmed as he felt some dull sensation press into him. It felt so distant yet something firm about it seemed to almost be comforting. Water was running down his arms again. The stream was slow and cool.

It was the same as before but in a more private setting, probably to have less pairs of eyes stare into the mess Virgil had caused.

It took him a while to acclimate and realize that the room looked much different than the location he had been in before.

Odd. So odd. He had not moved, he knew he had been moved but he did not feel as if he had changed anything at all. Not a location, not his body. Nothing, really.

"No", he repeated and he squirmed further. The stranger trapped him between the sink and his own body.

In his mind, the only work he could hear was "work". He had to get back to work and finish and then meet his professor and present his project because he was done. He was actually done enough to hand it in and get a decent grade without failing this course.

It was not like failing the course was a problem anyway, he reminded himself. For some reason, he had decent grades - only soiled by the dirty record of breaking through ever deadline that has ever existed in the world.

He had been ahead of his birth - the one and only time he had ever been early and even then he had crashed the expectations others had in him.

Honestly, he nearly believed he would miss his own death or something. He was so busy trying to work for others or make someone happy or hand in his notes and do some project for them and meet all these demands. Fulfil all these requirements, that was his goal.

He had to.

There was no other way. If he did not get this done, he would not be able to graduate and get a decent job with good pay and a stable contract so he could provide for his family.

If he did not get this shit together, his only good relationship would break into pieces like the ice cubes that had been crushed for all these cool beverages he usually made from day to night.

Huh, somehow it was still funny to him that he could oversleep his own death because he was perpetually tired from overworking himself and running from one burning fire to another to put up with everyone's requests.

Somehow, he was never good enough. He was a weak yet constantly dropping sachet of water over a fire and he kept shedding some liquid into the burning abyss. However, he was certain that at some point, the flames would catch up to him and dry his insides out, have his liquid evaporate and eat him alive with bright flames catching and tearing at him.

''I need to work, get off'', he repeated again.

Up until now, his worries had been twirling him into a horrible dizziness and he surely did not felt anything but the irregular thumping of his heart.

It was probably knocking on heaven's door. Begging for relief and such. But Virgil was too busy for that, he had no time for panic and his heart and whatever else bullshit.

''Virgil'', the person spoke and a sudden shudder overcame him.

It worked like magic because the words flew through his wind and seemed to sweep his hurricane of thought away with the simple blink of an eye or the draw of a breath.

It was simple. It was most natural.

And it was frankly the most confusing he had ever been in a sober state.

He looked up, eyes open as much as his mind was blank.

The punk was met with the intensity of a steel blue, he thought was a joke made by the art industry when they gave their funny names to different shades of colours. To be honest, steel blue had always been something like a personal favourite. Destiny seemed to laugh into his face. It was his favourite and it had him left in a state of being so out-of-himself that he had forgotten himself and his world.

Now there he was.What had his favourite gotten him into?

He stared over at the extension of his torso.

It felt so strange to him, like a prosthesis clicked into his system but never having been a part of him before. It was not a replacement, it was just something so new that did not belong to him.

''I am okay'', he tried again.

The barista did not even hear how droopy and choked his voice seemed to the outer world. Then again, everything seemed foggy and generally unusual to him.

He did not really care, to be honest. He was just confused.

This voice.. this blue.. they were all he could see.

His whole body, his entire existence seemed so odd to him like he had never been aware of how weird Being was before. But these eyes.. this colour and the sound of a deep yet angelic voice seemed to be in his soul.

He did not perceive these things with his senses but with his soul.

''You are not, please stay where you are'', the guest instructed.

He barely saw the orbs move away and the owner of these soulful body mirrors seemed to move again. The silhouette was cut out from the rest of Virgil's background. It felt like these funny camera modifications of blurring out all that was not in focus.

Huh-

Funny.

So, essentially, the curly-hair stranger was his focus now? He could not really complain but he did not exactly have the capacity to flirt yet alone be groomed by some rando. He had a monogamous relationship with his Logan, sweet and lovely neighbourhood darling Logan Berry.

She was a beloved daughter but an only child, other than Virgil.

Despite their differences and how much she teased him about his bad habits like eating a whole plate or sleeping in when he could, the two loved each other and had been together for a while.

She was the light of his life. Whenever he saw her muddy brown eyes, he saw the sun-lit skin of trees and the calm life of slugs.

His thought continued flying in a tornado of nonsense.

Without her, he would have studied something funny like nothing at all or maybe had gotten into the cinema branch.

Who knew? He was a pretty salty bitch and loved giving harsh reviews with criticism he did not know how to fix but was quick to point out.

He had an eye for weakness, after all, he had been his worst nightmare of being a miserable weak spot all his life. At least this could have given him the opportunity to wake the best of his flaws.

But she knew better and honestly, being an artist made him happy too. It just also gave him a lot of anxiety and pressure.

Sometimes he wanted to drop out but what else was he supposed to do? He had gotten into a scholarship, yet again, with Logan's help, because his little loganberry was always by his side.

Man, his thoughts were so weird. They seemed to just flow into him like the water flowing over his burned arms.

He could hear the ticking of a clock in the background. When he looked at the side, he could spot a timer running. The stranger’s phone, possibly.

''Cant..'', he whispered but the other did not seem to care and carefully pressed him back into his position.

''Virgil, please do me the favour. This whole endeavour is my fault in the first place. I want to make sure I can give you adequate care until the ambulance takes over'', he explained calmly.

His voice was so nice...

''Who.. wh-'', he mumbled softly and curled into himself but once more, his action was discarded as mere attempt when the guest softly tugged him into a more comfortable position, ''what is even your name..?''

"Logan", the other spoke and Virgil's mind started twitching and churning in sickness.

That.. That couldn't be.

I believe I'm your soulmate, Virgil. I do have your name on my arm ", Logan explained to him.

Virgil only dignified the action with another groan but there wasn't any more he felt like saying. Not that he had chosen to make any sounds in the first place but sometimes things just happened.

His body has betrayed him already with all this weakness that made him unable to keep working even though he had to.

He needed to, indeed!

The nerd went on, his voice twitching and wiggling line the wagging tail of a puppy facing a treat.

"I felt it when - when our eyes met and the world. Virgil, the world seemed like it was standing still! Can you believe it?"

Now, even his fate kicked him in the butt. Well, it was less of this. A kick to his lazy butt usually was a thing his actual soulmate and girlfriend did to him whenever he slacked off and thought he could manage to spend money on this nice concert he had dreamed to go to. Or when he intended to buy that crushing album by his favourite band.

But she was always right because she knew better. She always knew when people were about to back-stab him or when they were lying and mean. She knew what he could and couldn't afford and what the good investments in life were.

She was his fate and she would only ever hurt him in the short-term to protect him in the long run.

This. This was different and it was only about seeing whether he was really loyal to her but he was and he would do his best to show it.

Logan, on the other hand...well, he seemed to feel strongly about this, like Virgil. But his feelings turned into a more romanticised version of events.

"And and", he continued and smiled, his lips twitching upwards, "I have never believed in soulmates. Not really, not for me. Virgil, I thought my mark had been a mistake and that this was just some weird magical superstition but I felt it. I felt us! I could feel you as if you have always been a part of me!"

But his fate said that it was all wrong. His fate said he had one of these people as soulmate. The string connected to his would seemed to ask for both or nine of them.

Why was there no last name to this mark? Why did he have an ambiguous mark like that?

Whatever.

He was sick and the voice making him dizzy and pushing the truth into him only made him want to puke and cry.

Virgil didn't deserve it.

"You're not."

He wasn't gay.

He wouldn't date this guy. He knew that this was bullshit and some sort of crazy thing. Fate was fucking with him. His hallucinations were fucking with him but it certainly wasn't his soul being attached to a guy like that.

" I'm dating someone. I've got Logan. We're together, we're dating - we.. We", he started but his voice rushed further and further. Virgil nearly forgot about oxygen when his pace picked up even more.

"You and I aren't soulmates. This is bullshit."

He moved his arm away, out of reach from Logan's careful touches. The curious fingertips were abandoned and he curled his arm around himself as if in a half hug.

The punk was protecting his gut or maybe he just tried to absorb the pain of his arm into his body if he just pressed the limb enough into him.

His burns missed the cooling sensation of the water and he commented on his pain with a vague hiss. Virgil willingly retreated his arms to let the water immerse his injuries once more.

Better.

The corner of his lips moved to one side, letting his jewellery shift along. His bottom lip popped out a bit as if to pout but all he could muster up were scornful, bitter words.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You must be confused or whatever. I don't really care. You fucking ruined my mark, the mark of me and my girlfriend's love and you think I'm gonna laugh and suck it up and jump into your fucking arms or what?

You think life is like that? It's bullshit. This is all fucked up, cracked up, dirty shit and I've got no idea what the fucking shit you ran into but I'm not your soulmate, I never will be and you have to leave right now, you-you life destroyer. "

The student nodded.

His head said acceptance but his face looked like he had lost the battle of battles, the one that should have decided the war.

And now he was standing there, having lost his youth and life and all his vitality for the sake of a fight he had ended before it had started.

He was disarmed and caught, but then spit out again because he wasn't even good enough to be kept as a trophy or to make an example out of his humiliation of believing in hope and soulmarks.

Magic had failed him. He.. He shouldn't have.

The unfamiliar warmth, that had crept into him when Virgil's and his eyes had met, faded from his heart and disappeared into thin air like the faint smell of pleasant vanilla.

Light, easy. Great yet so easily under-appreciated or dismissed.

And he had lost it.

"And for your information, I'll probably fail my deadline with that fucking ambulance you called up. Great job. If you're so desperate for love, you better try out some fucking online dating. I'm not your guy"

Logan nodded. Again. It was all he could do. After all he had done, after all he had caused it was almost a good joke to see that he was so powerless right now.

He started walking away until he heard another groan.

His heart was aching and life seemed to lose colours before him.

Hope was stinging in his eyes and laughing at his face with mean hands that teared at his skin, his heart.

"If my arms wasn't fucking burned because of you, I'd fucking give you a nice mark of mine", Virgil hissed to himself and sat up.

As Logan excused himself from the room. Phone in hand, timer ticking as twenty minutes of cooling time had run out, the ambulance rushed in.

At least some people could be of constructive use by now.

***

It had taken hours and Virgil was back at home, at last. Hospital bill and a doctor's slip in his hands, he knew he had to try and at least message his professor again and tell him about his accident.

Maybe that could be enough for making this clear and getting his art back into the play so he could ace this depressing course.

It was pressure to no end and he didn't know whether he enjoyed the dulling pain of rushing and brushing and colouring again and again and more and like this and that. This was mass-produced art at most but it wasn't his heart-felt pain of life, it wasn't the joy of his giggling heart or the hope in his curious mind.

The project was another painting, another photograph. It said "replicate this" and "interpret that" or "to be inspired by".

Bullshit too. But he did what he had to do do.

Maybe it was fine.

He quickly unlocked the door.

Or tried to, at least. The door wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed. The old plank was just there, vaguely resting against the door frame and leaving enough space for his right hand to slip in and pry the door away from its little slumber curled up against its frame.

His home was dark.

No Logan, no nothing. Not even lights.

Weird, usually she would be at home and do her nails or talk to a friend. It sounded cliché but she was busy so she did many things as once.

Well, maybe she was late. He was late too. She had been taking extra shifts and worked after hours and such because the company had made a lot of pressure.

He really should make her some food so she could relax when going home.

He could not help and fear the darkness was another unpaid bill he had forgotten about in his storm of obligations. The uncountable amounts of hands pulling and tearing at him to get his attention and have him finish all the issues that needed fixing - all these things caused him to fail at life every now and then.

However, he was sure he had paid this. Or Logan did. But he had been there and they had paid December and November together.

Virgil's arm was still hurting and his heart was stinging like something was ripped out of him but he really wanted to make her happy.

She deserved that.

She deserved more than he was anyway but he would always try his best to make up for it so she would never have to regret. So she would never have to think someone was much better and more suitable than he was.

There was plenty anyway.

He moved his uninjured arm to touch the light switch and he flipped it. His movement was casual and nonchalant as always. It was a usual business to turn on the light and make sure he could see something but apparently, the lights did not the the same.

The familiar 'click' sound echoed through the emptiness of his blank mind as the switch was flipped yet the darkness remained. The absence of light imposed itself onto his vision and it merely took a few more moments to get his phone out and turn on the torch so he could see something.

Shit, he must have forgotten to pay the bills again. Fuck, fuck. He needed to fix this. If Logan saw that, she would get really mad and he could not handle cleaning up after the messes of her tantrums. He did not have the time and his aching heart was not in the state to handle another break.

But he was sure they had paid it. He had been so sure of it.

His.. that was stupid, he was not heartbroken. He was not affected by some silly stranger showing up and getting their soulmarks mixed up.

The audacity to force his desperate ass onto others was something Virgil would never understand. His Logan was markless but he knew that some soulmark would develop later like when people marry and he just felt it in his head that they belonged together.

He knew it. He felt it. It was a truth he believed in.

Whatever.

Virgil quickly dropped his bag on the kitchen table and rushed to get some candles.

Digital torch in his hands and fingers floating around the drawers, he quickly pulled out some candles and spread them around the kitchen, as he lit them up. One by one, there was a little source of warmth and light filling the room.

Just in case this winter would have to be spent without heating as well, these candles would sort of work like a little campfire or a fireplace. ... rather a fireplace. They lived in a rental flat anyway and the fire alarm would instantly go off when there was an actual fire in their room.

Actually, this was kind of romantic. Maybe Logan would like that. After all, she kept saying that together, they made the best out of the worst and it somehow worked out every time.

He loved it.

His mouth twitched into a little smile and the light ultimately reached up to his face. His mind curled up to rest in the warmth and soothingly calm light of the candles surrounding him.

Virgil tended to the stove.

Huh, that seemed to work. Well, it was a gas-driven apparatus anyway.

He quickly got a pot and some food ready.

What could he cook, what should he make... They did not have so much food. Well, dang. He needed to go get some food tomorrow morning before class. He could just get up at five and it would be fine. Logan needed to rest after a hard day at work, especially if she has had to work into late at night like right now.

As Virgil started cutting up some vegetables, his mind had settled on the idea of making some nice chicken soup. They only had some frozen meat for it but it would be fine. Logan did not like meat anyway and it was just good enough for him.

It did not have any frost bites so it was fine. Only the best for his dear sweetcheeks.

As he chopped up the food, he felt his mind wander. Maybe creep and slither was the more appropriate term at the moment but that felt of little significance at the moment.

Did he not pay rent for the two and Logan handled the bills?

Sure, they both had their names on it but her bank account was connected to do the payments so he would not have to worry about that.

She was just too nice. She always allowed him to be a little late with the payment because he bought the food and provided rent. And also cooked. He really wanted to make up for his delays and all the unreliability he tainted the relationship with.

In his confusion he had dearly forgotten about all this. How could he had forgotten that he did not pay the utility bills?

...Logan usually paid on time. What had happened? Was she okay? Maybe someone had hacked her account and emptied out her money and now they were both in debt and had trouble handling the big apartment together.

Oh fuck, what if-

No. No.

He should not think like that. Logan hated when he did that and she would yell at him to stop and she was right about that because he would just start shaking and crying and he would do the ugly snapping.

Nobody deserved to be snapped at. He had even snapped at the guy Logan and while he had been a fucking dick, he had not deserved to be snapped at.

Virgil... He had just been so angry at people invalidating his relationship and feelings all the time and he was so so done over this prejudice of dating a markless.

Countless people had markless people as soulmates! The marks were often just delayed or worked with one-side only, as well!

He felt the darkness creep into his heart again.

None of this.

None.

He should just text Logan and ask her about the bills and then call their provider and tell them he would pay the next opportunity he had! It would be fine, people were usually so nice when you just talked to them and if not then,.. then they could get candles and it would be fine and nice and they needed to sleep more anyway and artificial light was bad for the mood, right?

He felt his throat feel like someone started choking him and he took a deep yet shallow breath.

His hand quickly got to the phone and he typed a little message to his dear.

This message could not be delivered.

Huh?

Curious. Why would that happen?

Well, maybe there were some server issues or something. Nothing too great to worry about. Sometimes that happened with the best messengers. He should just try another one or maybe a simple text message so she knew that the lights were out.

Was it all electricity or just the lights? He did not even know and he had a generally bad feeling biting at his guts like acidic bile burning into him. He just did not dare let it get the best of him in the sanctity of their home where Logan cared so much for him.

He carefully arranged the soup basis and made sure to set the stove to as low as he could possibly get so nothing would burn or overcook.

The punk picked up his phone again - his little torch - and went to get his things he had abandoned on the kitchen table.

Maybe he should call her?

Well, first things first were mailing his doctor so he quickly unpacked his slip and send it to his professor with a quickly apology and explanation.

He was still smiling but his lips felt strained and the excitement in his heart was so bare, so stripped and exposed that he felt as if this was.. not quite it. It did not reach him the trembling of novelty did not reach up to him or his heart and the electricity delighting his body was so far away.

He looked at the time. the clock already read 7pm. Odd. Just odd. Usually Logan would have texted him demands of certain meals and some questions about whether he was still in his course or had failed.

The usual.

But there was nothing still and that was more than confusing to him.

He bit the insides of his mouth, his teeth trapping the flesh between them before he bit threw and swallowed the tiny bits of rosy meat he cursed his own.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, something was wrong. It was wrongwrongwrong!!

His restless fingers pushed the phone around in his grip and pushed against the touchscreen, his empty taps selecting Logan's contact again and again but the screen did not accept his attempts. A part of him felt calmed down by the barrier between him and her but he loved her and he was worried and he wanted to know whether she was okay or whether something had happened to her.

Eventually, it worked and he carefully withdrew his hand to his head and trapped the device with the cracked screen between his fingers and his ear.

The familiar sounds of ringing were missing out and instead, his natural funnels had to be pestered with the usual ''The person you are trying to call is unavailable at this moment''.

His heart cracked and he could nearly hear the tears falling from is eyes and crashing down onto his heated cheeks.

Virgil lowered the phone and caught sight of a piece of paper his torch had shone onto.

There was a single note and the curved letters in big black ink of ballpoint pens just screamed Logan to him.

He picked it up, his hands still shaking as if he had spent an entire night outside with the temperatures in the negative.

As far as he knew, the cold temperatures made the body cold and the shivering was a protective mechanism the body started instinctively in order to give as much movement as possible so the burned energy would be converted to heat and warm up the body, possibly saving it.

Right now, his own shaking just made him sick or maybe it was the sight of letters that looked so wobbly and blurry through his thick,wet tears.

''Found my soulmate. Got my mark. It is not you. Do not contact me, loser.''

Virgil barely knew words or sights as he blindly marched through their apartment to look for the void she had left when she took all her things away. Most of the furniture was missing, even the bed was gone and not even a mattress was left behind.

The couch was gone.. all.. all.. There was merely the bathroom furniture left and some of his products. If you could call liquid soap a product but it would have to do from now on. then..then all else there was left in the apartment and his heart was the depressing light of candles and the devastating Virgil who curled himself up under the kitchen table.

Well, there was also a closet.

There had always been a closet in his life. Every night the closet around him had teasingly spread its doors for him to see the sweet outside world of coming out but he had never done it and he never would. It was comfortable in the sorrow of his own tears and the snot running down his miserable face. He was safe in the world of messy clothing and abandonment.

He was safe because he was used to it.

And there was nobody to change a thing about it.

..It was not fair...

His phone popped with a notification and he saw another message having arrived.

Maybe Logan had changed her mind? It would not take away the hurt from being called a loser. The word still seemed to shove him into imaginary lockers that did not exist in the empty loft of his heart but they were there, deeply buried under the heavy blankets of his heart.

No, even the last bit of hope was dying down on him.

''I am sorry but you missed the last extension of your deadline. You'll have a failing grade for the semester with a missing project.''

He sobbed and his heart was but a mess of shatters around him. His fingers were too shaky and slippery with the tremors of his pain and the damp liquid of his tears.

He had to .. to move out... to.. to turn off the stove

''Why..''

He curled up under the safety of the table. It protected him. It was all he had right now.

His hands gripped the light material of his worn out, patched up jacket.

Why did fate mess with him so much?

He merely felt bitter sobs and chokes for air being replaced by the hysterical insanity of insomnia paired with famine taking over his system and making him laugh a horribly distraught sound of gruesome horror.

There was no happiness in his laugh, there was not a single thing that identified it as an expression of laughter or joy for that matter. Only the mere idea of imitating this sacred display of emotion qualified his torn, terrible shrieks as alterations between manic laughter and ear-piercing wailing sobs.

He lost it all. Even his mind.

***

Logan stepped into his shared flat. Logan and Adam (or Ada, depending on the time and date and the given indications or less subtle clarification) were living together but sometimes Patton, its boyfriend, would come over and the two were shamelessly.... passionate about each other. So to speak.

Today, sadly, had been one of these days and Logan in his asexual glory could not help but shriek at the sight of his roommate and its partner trying to somewhat impale one another or whatever, The sight of strange genitals burned into him and the nerd quickly made his way over to his room while the couple minded their own business.

He heard Patton's little protests, her voice soft and nearly comforting but they soon turned into loud, drawn out moans. Logan could see the two move together, naked skin of dark and light tones wrapping around one another and merging into one.

EW.

Ew. ew, ew ew ew ew ew.

He slammed his room door behind him and quickly slammed the door shut. For some reason, he had expected the others to sleep after this film marathon but they were not asleep and he was sick, so sick and oh fuck.

Sometimes, he forgot how averse he was to all of this..this stuff.. His skin was crawling and shivers of disgust were running up and down his body.

The nerd was curled up on himself, before he slid down with his back pressed against the solid wood. He was hugging himself as his body contracted painfully and he felt bile burning at the back of his throat.

In a brief moment of clarity (due to nothing but being used to these sensations ganging up on him),he reached forward to catch his black plastic bin and hug its rim before he emptied his body into the nearly empty bag within it.

His disgust was quickly spewed into the container and he had the great mind and heart to tie up the bag and place it at the end of his room so he could get rid of the horrible contents the moment he would exit his room.

He was not sure but Logan felt that the love-struck couple would take some more moments together to be extra affectionate in the commons.

No, no. He could not go back to think about all of this. It would just make him sick.

Still, why did they have to do it right there? They knew he was more than just grossed out by the plain idea of such acts. He had honestly reacted like that before because he just was not that type of ace to be cool about sex.

Ugh.

He felt his energy drain.

Now that his belly was emptied out and his body had moved in all possibly harmful and torturous ways, he felt the lack of caffeine and the missing hours of sleep from the past night rain down onto him. His body felt wet and heavy like a sack of stones being dumped into chlorine-stinking water.

Everything was gross and he just wanted this to be over.

What exactly? He did not know.

Right now, the idea of taking a small break of life and feelings sounded like the most genius invention he had ever heard of.

And he kept track of the science magazine all the time!

The student decided to take control of what he could change. It would be, as always, rather literal so he made sure to undress his body completely and vest himself in more clean and silky clothing.

A shower would be due as soon as the room was cleared. He just hoped for Patton giving him a heads up about it because she was this kind of caring person.

It was a pure wonder she had not yet knocked at his door but he appreciated the time for him to arrive and adjust to.. this day.

Changing was slow and it seemed to drag out the last bit of energy that tickles his finger tips but once he had dressed himself in more casual clothing, he was sure everything was just a bit more bearable.

He set his glasses aside and took a sip of his water that he always kept next to his bed just in case he would get thirsty in the middle of the night. With his all-nighters and tendencies to stay up in the stubbornness to finish all he had started in one go, this happened much more often than it was probably healthy.

He curled up on bed this time and pulled out his journal so he could write down the events of his day and evaluate them. Many people had advised him to spill his thoughts onto skin rather than just keep them bottled up or worse than that, use his favourite coping mechanism.

Encapsulation - it was essentially about the separation of experiences and the feelings related to these in order to be able to calmly store these as memories and be able to report them as factually as possible.

Personally, he did not see it as a bad way of managing himself but people told him he had the tendency to snap at others and honestly, he very much felt more anger and“sass”sitting in his bones right after this day.

So, sitting down and writing down the events so he could feel into them and then bury it all forever.. that would be how he would deal with himself until emotions would finally start to make sense to him.

His fingers started writing already, starting with the previous night and the film marathon but his mind kept screaming at him.

He probably would be more comfortable with sex if he had a soulmate, he probably would feel more if he felt loved for a change. Logan would probably be more open to his own experience and pain if he knew someone to share it with, unconditionally.

Before he knew it, his precious notebook was stained in darkening drops of water. His face was cold and apathetic as always as the tears ran down his impartial face.

The tears kept falling and falling and his breathing was so calm and so scarily whole.

This was not normal. He was not normal.

He did not deserve a soulmate. He was probably rejected because he did not know how to handle humans, because he was awkward and sucked at social interaction.

His face trembled and wrinkles fell into his skin, pulling at his head and pushing a aching heat into him as exchange. The liquid was still floating like a silent stream of molten ice from the mountains. But by now, the sobs wretching his throat and ripping through his lungs seemed far more attention-demanding than his tears.

Those were independent. The tears knew what they were doing and they did not need Logan but these sobs, they were scary.

Logan curled up again and hugged his legs against his chest.

It hurt and he could not breathe but he wanted this he.. he.. he could not bear having his knees away from him because it was just too much. He could not handle any more distance, any more rejection and humiliation.

Today had been too much.

He felt shivers wreck through his body and his hold onto his knees became tighter, bruising, nearly.

Logan just wanted to feel.

He did not hear the careful knocks of Patton's caring hands before some called out for him.

''Logan, I am coming in now'', she called and Ada(m) was right on her heels to follow in. The two engulfed him with their fresh smells of a refreshing, cleansing shower.

The sex and body sweat was gone.

Patton was so nice...Patton was so considerate.

''Logiebear, my dear, what is wrong'', she asked and Ada(m) carefully patted his knee while Patton pulled his head gently into her lap and carefully brushed through his hair.

The touch felt so caring, it just made him cry harder. His hand curled around the soulmark on his arm and he opened his mouth just to sob out in frustration again.

''I lost him'', he breathed eventually. His chords pushed the words out of his body and he hastily took more erratic breaths to calm his trembling lungs.

''V-Vi-...Virgil'', he stuttered as explanation and Patton's worry-knitted wrinkles eased into the blank realisation.

Oh no.

More sobs could be heard but Logan was clearly unable to do any more talking than he had already forced himself into.

Adam (at least Patton had called it so in front of him) had spoken some ambiguous words of perspective-related wisdom and its girlfriend produced more little reassurances.

Logan had allowed himself to feel and he now he paid the price for having all these emotions welling up inside of him.

But deep inside, Logan knew that the moment he had tried to reach out for Virgil, he had not just destroyed his soulmark but also much more. And deeper inside, he knew that Virgil had stepped away from him after he had tried to deliver his order because soulmates or not..

Not every soulmate was a datemate.

Especially not if your name was Logan.

#secretsantasides #analogical #fanfic #soulmate au #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #sanders sides

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spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

Text

Love burns hotter than coffee

gift for @pessimisticvirtuoso a3o summary: angsty Soulmate AU with AnalogicalVirgil is a student working his butt off to finance himself and his girlfriend Logan through life. Life sends him Logan, the costumer -who does not believe in soulmates- to mess things up. Warning: this is ANGSTY as requested. There is some abandonment, internalised homophobia, self-hatred, manipulation (implied), emotional abuse (implied), financial struggle/poverty, panic, bad endings, injury/burning, intolerance, one-sided love, ambiguous soulmates, mentions of sex and nudity (nothing graphic), crying, ematophobia, insomnia, toxic relationships. Roommates.she/her and it/its pronouns are used for mentioned (side)characters. Everyone is either a cis male or an AMAB. Soulmate/coffee shop AU with Analogical

story under the cut

“That is 3.25, please”, the barista spoke as he rung the cash register and accepted the money that was pushed towards his hand. He took the bill and quickly grabbed the fitting change so the transaction would finally be over with.

Once he gave the money back, the coffee was already made by one of his co-workers and he received the cup. He handed it over to the costumer.

Polite words were exchanged and Virgil nodded with a service smile on his lips.

Empty, rosy, void of emotions.

He brushed his fingers through his purple hair and sighed. He turned away from the register and faced the inside of his work place.

The dim lighting was supposed to be inviting instead of sleep-inducing.

The sweet smell was supposed to sugar-coat the pressure of passing time and encourage customers to shove more empty calories down their throat.

Dark furniture and opaque, warm colours welcomed and embraced but Virgil just felt repelled. He didn’t deserve to be embraced—and he obviously wasn’t ready to be comforted or loved.

He prepared to rush out on a quick smoke break but at the ringing of a bell, he looked up from his shoes.

The door had opened.

The door swung shut, letting a weak blast of icy air that cut into the warm room.

It was so hot.

Virgil’s counter was too far back to let him smell the snow, the cold or the fresh oxygen but he could see some guests shiver for a moment, their noses powdered with the sweet frost of outside.

It might have been cold and it might have been cruel, but at least it wasn’t a trap for idiots.

He dragged himself back to the register, his heavy black and brown boots made his steps heavy, and he tried to hide his infinite disappointment with a forced smile.

A man with dark blonde and chaotic curls approached his sacred space.

Virgil has his lip ring pulled into his mouth where he could chew on it, and he to the inside of his lips until it was sucked in enough for his teeth to play with it.

He immediately let go, his teeth releasing the Titan and letting the opened ring snap back into place. Right now, talking had a priority over nervously biting his discomfort into unresponsive metal.

“Good day, Sir, may I take your order?” his usual greeting came out a little flat.

Virgil had bags under his eyes darker than the eyeliner he had used in an attempt to make his eyes pop and look a little less dead. After all, experience had shown that the tip jar usually ended up more filled whenever he had some makeup on.

It was a superficial, judgmental world.

The blond curly mess shoved his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. The black eyewear framed his tired, dark-yet-soulful steel eyes like portraits as he returned Virgil’s exhausted stare.

The pale skin under his ocean eyes was darkened, and his lips were a faint rose colour. Virgil spotted a few faint freckles, barely darker than the skin of the new costumer’s face.

Typical nerd.

The guest spoke up, his voice somewhat deep.

Something about it reminded him of a curious dog experiencing new territories and strange smells, tail between his legs and ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

Weird.

But who was he to judge? He had piercings in his face and wore makeup–despite being a guy. He was lucky he got a job in the first place and nobody called him a fag or tried to beat him up or deprive him of his salary.

He was lucky. He even had a scholarship.

Maybe he was weird.

Yes, he had to be the weird one and he still dared to be a prick and judge others despite being the one who should change to be less embarrassing.

“Good day. Double iced coffee. Dark, please.”

The order was quick and straightforward. It felt classic and oddly fitting despite out of place quirkiness of the person before him.

The tall man let his right curl around a big plastic cup and he shoveled crushed ice into the big container before he pushed it under the machine.

He punched in the order so the clueless technology would do its part of the work. Saved him the trouble of doing a more active job.

He really did not like to work.

The black balls of his piercings scraped the insides of his upper teeth as he released the jewellery.

His sun-kissed skin seemed even darker in the dim light of the cafe. He turned back to Logan and quickly dialed some buttons before the cash register ringed again.

“Three, on the point”, Virgil declared and the guest got out his purse to pay the right amount.

It took him only some moments to get out a ten and hand it over to the barista.

For a moment, Virgil actually looked over at the guest, really making eye contact for more than a fleeting second. Metal and mahagony met.

The world was standing still and the lights around them seemed just bright enough to illuminate one another completely. They were exposed with flaws and abilities, with pain and joy and resistance.

Hearts. Beating and growing together. Their minds seemed to intertwine in a soulful hug, invisible to the eye yet very much tangible for their hearts.

Time was not running anymore. The colours and sounds around them faded in favour of showing their own true colours and reveal every sound they could and would make.

Logan felt his answer get stuck in his throat and he instinctively put his wallet away.

He was ready to abscond.

Virgil Prafure.

But was this a coincidence? Was this really a connection and did he really feel the other’s feelings and could he hear his heart beating like he could feel his own organ burst in tired energy.

Was he just an exhausted fool who had been forced into a marathon of Disney films alike?

Stay tuned because Mister Science will find out.

“Keep the change”, he spoke quickly.

Virgil nodded, mind absent and gears turning.

Was it really just the eyeliner? It felt like more, there was more between them. There was more in him.

A common mistake.

He was lucky with her by his side, literally and figuratively.

Virgil could not afford fucking voices and magic. He needed to work and earn his rent and get his shit done and make his love happy because she really wanted something nice for Valentine’s Day and he was the luckiest loser to have her around still despite being in debt and missing his due dates on a daily.

He had taken extra shifts because his shitty job did not give any Christmas pay like other workers enjoyed. He was basically working full-time yet he was treated like an intern.

When he had cried about that, he had lost his food all at once without her helping out (which was a shame ,considering the party had been a rare occasion of him receiving some snacks).

“Thanks”.

Suddenly, Logan’s voice was hoarse as if he had been screaming for hours. Maybe he had and he just forgot. All kinds of things happened. He wouldn’t be surprised. There were so many thing he had never heard of, so many incredible possibilities he did not know about-

But honestly, right now he just did not know. Anything.

And it scared him.

The barista nodded again and turned his attention back to the coffee after his tip jar was filled up with an additional bit of money.

He swiftly finished the order, his shaking somewhat alternating between being its worst and also completely gone at the same time.

And then, everything seemed to happen at the same time.

His co-worker was back from his what? Piss break? He returned and made himself some hot tea and poured it into a cup while Virgil retrieved the iced coffee and got a straw and lid ready.

He put the things together and was done building the order. His hands shoved the business away from him and at the same moment, Logan extended his hands.

Now, what did the Braniac think and why was this important?

Well, whether soulmates existed or not was easily answered. He had seen his parents and his friends fall in love and bond for years and decades, side by side.

Sometimes, most times, though, they were each other’s love of their life.

Some more research he had done had revealed that there were no records of his soulmate online.

On another note, he had just expected that maybe, just maybe, his soulmate had changed names because of adoption. Or maybe it was a dead name, perhaps they needed to change it for their own security.

In the times of social media, everyone had a profile on one of these many platforms.

While Logan had the feeling settled in his guts that Virgil was the person his mark referred to, there was just one solid way to prove his thesis.

He needed to see his arm. Arms, actually. It would be the safest to check out both sides just to make sure he did not miss anything.

With this train of thought, Logan did not particularly reach out for the cold cup before him but he as much as rammed his hand into the plastic container.

Cold, brown bean juice spilled over his and the barista’s hands. Crushed ice pieces flew all over the counter and in an attempt at saving himself, Virgil reflexively moved backwards without letting his eyes move from the scene before him.

His back bumped into his co-workers, but it was not just about bumping into him and nearly falling to the floor.

No.

No, of course not because Virgil’s life was a fucking nightmare. Everything was against him and he felt just how much life was against his wretched ass when near-boiling coffee soaked into his long, black sleeves and the wet fabric immediately stuck to his skin.

“Fuck!!”, he yelled out in surprise.

His face distorted into a mask of anguish and disgust as his glance wandered over the steam that rose from his soaked shirt.

“Virgil, take it off!”, his colleague screeched and pulled him over to the sick. The tap was turned on and cool water started running over his covered arm.

The punk sighed in relief but he felt it was not over.

Tears were pricking at his eyes and he could feel his heart thumping so violently it felt like the muscle was trying to escape his rib cage for good.

It reminded him of his landlord after he failed to pay rent on time for a first. He had been banging against the door so much, he had feared for the wooden plank to finally give in, tired of protecting the cowardice of his actions. If the door has had any soul, it was beaten to death until now. Other than that, he was convinced that not even a soulless piece of dead tree would stand up for him. In that seemingly infinite moment, the door had saved his life. It was still his lifeline, the protective barrier between him and the rest of the world with its society of strict, judgmental eyes.

Virgil’s eyes were glossy from the tears he held back. All his impulse control had left was the hope of relief from the hot burning pain. The cool water soaking into his shirt made his pain somewhat more bearable but at this point, it all felt dull and the pain was seated deeper than just on his arm. It was deeply buried within him. It seemed as if it wrapped around his bones. Maybe it was just an invisible idea of pain that tripped into the space of his arm.

Was it even his arm anymore?

He did not know, he did not know anything.

Huh, even his mental images of his mind seemed gruesome.

“Fuck”, he cursed again, his lips unstoppable.

Alarms were started like fires in his neurological connections. It felt as if even his brain was on actual fire.

“Fuck”, he choked again. It was the most expressive his mind could be when voicing his well-being. Not that there was too much well-being to really talk about. Actually, there was very much none of it. “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Why.”

His voice was a silent hiss competing the continuous sound of numbing water running down his arm.

He heard someone tell him to take off his clothing, and orders and such were shot around the room like loose bullets during an inexperienced heist that got out of control way too fast.

His mind was reeling.

Slowly, the panic of pain dissolved only to merge into a new hysteria.

His breathing felt so flat and so… so empty.. No air was really arriving, not any efficient one anyway. It was thin and used and did not give him enough respiration.

Nice.

This was just short of another tragedy to make this day an even better disaster, honestly.

Lucky enough for him, the gracious hero of all, the panicking man who had caused the whole scene, was by his side by now and cutting the sleeve open.

Maybe that part of his body would not get fucked up. It did not really hurt but maybe that was the adrenaline. Or the pure focus on his burned arm.

He did not know.

His mind was still too busy steaming to consider all of this shit.

Huh, steaming. Very funny.

The person next to him said something and carefully pulled the cut through sweat shirt sleeve away.

That was his only piece of clothing his manager had not shot down for this work place. He did not know whether he could afford another one and his paycheck was so far away.

“s-stop”, he breathed out and pulled his arm away.

How did he have the lung capacity to talk? He did not know but today was full of shitty miracles so maybe that was just adding up.

“I - I have work”.

The person was taken aback and suddenly his co-worker rushed back in. When did anyone leave?

“I called the manager! We will get someone to cover for you. The ambulance is on the way.”

The punk felt his breathing stop.

Stop. Pause. Put on break and twisted backwards.

Say what now?

The empty face of his co-worker shushed the guest away to no avail. Virgil felt himself being tugged over to the break room behind the doors that had this typical “employees only” sign. It was so cliche but it was also so necessary.

Stupid people, stupid rules.

But rules could be nice and protecting sometimes.

The punk kept blabbering about something to do with work.

He needed to go back.

Had he not heard the bell? Had he not seen a new costumer?

He had to make money, he had to get tips. He needed to get his order done. Oh, and he had crushed his co-workers coffee. He would hate him now. Virgil fucked up again.

He always did.

He had fucked up. Fucked up.

He had fucked up. He always fucked up, fucked up fucked up fuckedup.

“Breathe, Virgil”, a voice instructed him.

Who?

“I-I can’t. I have work, I have courses”, he whimpered in desperation.

His voice was so thin. So thin, like his wrists were thin.

If his voice had bones, they would be clearly visible whenever he used it. Audible? His mind did not make any sense anymore.

“I have a deadline”, he repeated, his mind blanking as the realisation hit him.

He was the real burden, not her being unemployed because of workplace discrimination.

Oh he fucked up. He fucked up.

His fault, his fault only. He always fucked up. He deserved to be left alone and abandoned. He deserved it. He had fucked up.

It was the same as before but in a more private setting, probably to have less pairs of eyes stare into the mess Virgil had caused.

It took him a while to acclimate and realize that the room looked much different than the location he had been in before.

Odd. So odd. He had not moved, he knew he had been moved but he did not feel as if he had changed anything at all. Not a location, not his body. Nothing, really.

“No”, he repeated and he squirmed further. The stranger trapped him between the sink and his own body.

In his mind, the only work he could hear was “work”. He had to get back to work and finish and then meet his professor and present his project because he was done. He was actually done enough to hand it in and get a decent grade without failing this course.

He had been ahead of his birth - the one and only time he had ever been early and even then he had crashed the expectations others had in him.

He had to.

There was no other way. If he did not get this done, he would not be able to graduate and get a decent job with good pay and a stable contract so he could provide for his family.

If he did not get this shit together, his only good relationship would break into pieces like the ice cubes that had been crushed for all these cool beverages he usually made from day to night.

“I need to work, get off”, he repeated again.

Up until now, his worries had been twirling him into a horrible dizziness and he surely did not felt anything but the irregular thumping of his heart.

It was probably knocking on heaven’s door. Begging for relief and such. But Virgil was too busy for that, he had no time for panic and his heart and whatever else bullshit.

“Virgil”, the person spoke and a sudden shudder overcame him.

It worked like magic because the words flew through his wind and seemed to sweep his hurricane of thought away with the simple blink of an eye or the draw of a breath.

It was simple. It was most natural.

And it was frankly the most confusing he had ever been in a sober state.

He looked up, eyes open as much as his mind was blank.

Now there he was.What had his favourite gotten him into?

He stared over at the extension of his torso.

It felt so strange to him, like a prosthesis clicked into his system but never having been a part of him before. It was not a replacement, it was just something so new that did not belong to him.

“I am okay”, he tried again.

The barista did not even hear how droopy and choked his voice seemed to the outer world. Then again, everything seemed foggy and generally unusual to him.

He did not really care, to be honest. He was just confused.

This voice.. this blue.. they were all he could see.

He did not perceive these things with his senses but with his soul.

“You are not, please stay where you are”, the guest instructed.

He barely saw the orbs move away and the owner of these soulful body mirrors seemed to move again. The silhouette was cut out from the rest of Virgil’s background. It felt like these funny camera modifications of blurring out all that was not in focus.

Huh-

Funny.

She was a beloved daughter but an only child, other than Virgil.

Despite their differences and how much she teased him about his bad habits like eating a whole plate or sleeping in when he could, the two loved each other and had been together for a while.

She was the light of his life. Whenever he saw her muddy brown eyes, he saw the sun-lit skin of trees and the calm life of slugs.

His thought continued flying in a tornado of nonsense.

Without her, he would have studied something funny like nothing at all or maybe had gotten into the cinema branch.

Who knew? He was a pretty salty bitch and loved giving harsh reviews with criticism he did not know how to fix but was quick to point out.

He had an eye for weakness, after all, he had been his worst nightmare of being a miserable weak spot all his life. At least this could have given him the opportunity to wake the best of his flaws.

But she knew better and honestly, being an artist made him happy too. It just also gave him a lot of anxiety and pressure.

Sometimes he wanted to drop out but what else was he supposed to do? He had gotten into a scholarship, yet again, with Logan’s help, because his little loganberry was always by his side.

Man, his thoughts were so weird. They seemed to just flow into him like the water flowing over his burned arms.

He could hear the ticking of a clock in the background. When he looked at the side, he could spot a timer running. The stranger’s phone, possibly.

“Cant..”, he whispered but the other did not seem to care and carefully pressed him back into his position.

“Virgil, please do me the favour. This whole endeavour is my fault in the first place. I want to make sure I can give you adequate care until the ambulance takes over”, he explained calmly.

His voice was so nice…

“Who.. wh-”, he mumbled softly and curled into himself but once more, his action was discarded as mere attempt when the guest softly tugged him into a more comfortable position, “what is even your name..?”

“Logan”, the other spoke and Virgil’s mind started twitching and churning in sickness.

That.. That couldn’t be.

I believe I’m your soulmate, Virgil. I do have your name on my arm “, Logan explained to him.

Virgil only dignified the action with another groan but there wasn’t any more he felt like saying. Not that he had chosen to make any sounds in the first place but sometimes things just happened.

His body has betrayed him already with all this weakness that made him unable to keep working even though he had to.

He needed to, indeed!

The nerd went on, his voice twitching and wiggling line the wagging tail of a puppy facing a treat.

"I felt it when - when our eyes met and the world. Virgil, the world seemed like it was standing still! Can you believe it?"

But she was always right because she knew better. She always knew when people were about to back-stab him or when they were lying and mean. She knew what he could and couldn’t afford and what the good investments in life were.

She was his fate and she would only ever hurt him in the short-term to protect him in the long run.

This. This was different and it was only about seeing whether he was really loyal to her but he was and he would do his best to show it.

Logan, on the other hand…well, he seemed to feel strongly about this, like Virgil. But his feelings turned into a more romanticised version of events.

"And and”, he continued and smiled, his lips twitching upwards, “I have never believed in soulmates. Not really, not for me. Virgil, I thought my mark had been a mistake and that this was just some weird magical superstition but I felt it. I felt us! I could feel you as if you have always been a part of me!"

But his fate said that it was all wrong. His fate said he had one of these people as soulmate. The string connected to his would seemed to ask for both or nine of them.

Why was there no last name to this mark? Why did he have an ambiguous mark like that?

Whatever.

He was sick and the voice making him dizzy and pushing the truth into him only made him want to puke and cry.

Virgil didn’t deserve it.

"You’re not."

He wasn’t gay.

He wouldn’t date this guy. He knew that this was bullshit and some sort of crazy thing. Fate was fucking with him. His hallucinations were fucking with him but it certainly wasn’t his soul being attached to a guy like that.

” I’m dating someone. I’ve got Logan. We’re together, we’re dating - we.. We", he started but his voice rushed further and further. Virgil nearly forgot about oxygen when his pace picked up even more.

“You and I aren’t soulmates. This is bullshit."

He moved his arm away, out of reach from Logan’s careful touches. The curious fingertips were abandoned and he curled his arm around himself as if in a half hug.

The punk was protecting his gut or maybe he just tried to absorb the pain of his arm into his body if he just pressed the limb enough into him.

His burns missed the cooling sensation of the water and he commented on his pain with a vague hiss. Virgil willingly retreated his arms to let the water immerse his injuries once more.

Better.

The corner of his lips moved to one side, letting his jewellery shift along. His bottom lip popped out a bit as if to pout but all he could muster up were scornful, bitter words.

"I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You must be confused or whatever. I don’t really care. You fucking ruined my mark, the mark of me and my girlfriend’s love and you think I’m gonna laugh and suck it up and jump into your fucking arms or what?

You think life is like that? It’s bullshit. This is all fucked up, cracked up, dirty shit and I’ve got no idea what the fucking shit you ran into but I’m not your soulmate, I never will be and you have to leave right now, you-you life destroyer. ”

The student nodded.

His head said acceptance but his face looked like he had lost the battle of battles, the one that should have decided the war.

And now he was standing there, having lost his youth and life and all his vitality for the sake of a fight he had ended before it had started.

He was disarmed and caught, but then spit out again because he wasn’t even good enough to be kept as a trophy or to make an example out of his humiliation of believing in hope and soulmarks.

Magic had failed him. He.. He shouldn’t have.

The unfamiliar warmth, that had crept into him when Virgil’s and his eyes had met, faded from his heart and disappeared into thin air like the faint smell of pleasant vanilla.

Light, easy. Great yet so easily under-appreciated or dismissed.

And he had lost it.

“And for your information, I’ll probably fail my deadline with that fucking ambulance you called up. Great job. If you’re so desperate for love, you better try out some fucking online dating. I’m not your guy"

Logan nodded. Again. It was all he could do. After all he had done, after all he had caused it was almost a good joke to see that he was so powerless right now.

He started walking away until he heard another groan.

His heart was aching and life seemed to lose colours before him.

Hope was stinging in his eyes and laughing at his face with mean hands that teared at his skin, his heart.

"If my arms wasn’t fucking burned because of you, I’d fucking give you a nice mark of mine”, Virgil hissed to himself and sat up.

As Logan excused himself from the room. Phone in hand, timer ticking as twenty minutes of cooling time had run out, the ambulance rushed in.

At least some people could be of constructive use by now.

***

It had taken hours and Virgil was back at home, at last. Hospital bill and a doctor’s slip in his hands, he knew he had to try and at least message his professor again and tell him about his accident.

Maybe that could be enough for making this clear and getting his art back into the play so he could ace this depressing course.

It was pressure to no end and he didn’t know whether he enjoyed the dulling pain of rushing and brushing and colouring again and again and more and like this and that. This was mass-produced art at most but it wasn’t his heart-felt pain of life, it wasn’t the joy of his giggling heart or the hope in his curious mind.

The project was another painting, another photograph. It said “replicate this” and “interpret that” or “to be inspired by”.

Bullshit too. But he did what he had to do do.

Maybe it was fine.

He quickly unlocked the door.

Or tried to, at least. The door wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even closed. The old plank was just there, vaguely resting against the door frame and leaving enough space for his right hand to slip in and pry the door away from its little slumber curled up against its frame.

His home was dark.

No Logan, no nothing. Not even lights.

Weird, usually she would be at home and do her nails or talk to a friend. It sounded cliché but she was busy so she did many things as once.

Well, maybe she was late. He was late too. She had been taking extra shifts and worked after hours and such because the company had made a lot of pressure.

He really should make her some food so she could relax when going home.

However, he was sure he had paid this. Or Logan did. But he had been there and they had paid December and November together.

Virgil’s arm was still hurting and his heart was stinging like something was ripped out of him but he really wanted to make her happy.

She deserved that.

There was plenty anyway.

The familiar ‘click’ sound echoed through the emptiness of his blank mind as the switch was flipped yet the darkness remained. The absence of light imposed itself onto his vision and it merely took a few more moments to get his phone out and turn on the torch so he could see something.

But he was sure they had paid it. He had been so sure of it.

His.. that was stupid, he was not heartbroken. He was not affected by some silly stranger showing up and getting their soulmarks mixed up.

He knew it. He felt it. It was a truth he believed in.

Whatever.

Virgil quickly dropped his bag on the kitchen table and rushed to get some candles.

Just in case this winter would have to be spent without heating as well, these candles would sort of work like a little campfire or a fireplace. … rather a fireplace. They lived in a rental flat anyway and the fire alarm would instantly go off when there was an actual fire in their room.

Actually, this was kind of romantic. Maybe Logan would like that. After all, she kept saying that together, they made the best out of the worst and it somehow worked out every time.

He loved it.

His mouth twitched into a little smile and the light ultimately reached up to his face. His mind curled up to rest in the warmth and soothingly calm light of the candles surrounding him.

Virgil tended to the stove.

Huh, that seemed to work. Well, it was a gas-driven apparatus anyway.

He quickly got a pot and some food ready.

What could he cook, what should he make… They did not have so much food. Well, dang. He needed to go get some food tomorrow morning before class. He could just get up at five and it would be fine. Logan needed to rest after a hard day at work, especially if she has had to work into late at night like right now.

It did not have any frost bites so it was fine. Only the best for his dear sweetcheeks.

As he chopped up the food, he felt his mind wander. Maybe creep and slither was the more appropriate term at the moment but that felt of little significance at the moment.

Did he not pay rent for the two and Logan handled the bills?

Sure, they both had their names on it but her bank account was connected to do the payments so he would not have to worry about that.

In his confusion he had dearly forgotten about all this. How could he had forgotten that he did not pay the utility bills?

…Logan usually paid on time. What had happened? Was she okay? Maybe someone had hacked her account and emptied out her money and now they were both in debt and had trouble handling the big apartment together.

Oh fuck, what if-

No. No.

Nobody deserved to be snapped at. He had even snapped at the guy Logan and while he had been a fucking dick, he had not deserved to be snapped at.

Virgil… He had just been so angry at people invalidating his relationship and feelings all the time and he was so so done over this prejudice of dating a markless.

Countless people had markless people as soulmates! The marks were often just delayed or worked with one-side only, as well!

He felt the darkness creep into his heart again.

None of this.

None.

He felt his throat feel like someone started choking him and he took a deep yet shallow breath.

His hand quickly got to the phone and he typed a little message to his dear.

This message could not be delivered.

Huh?

Curious. Why would that happen?

He carefully arranged the soup basis and made sure to set the stove to as low as he could possibly get so nothing would burn or overcook.

The punk picked up his phone again - his little torch - and went to get his things he had abandoned on the kitchen table.

Maybe he should call her?

Well, first things first were mailing his doctor so he quickly unpacked his slip and send it to his professor with a quickly apology and explanation.

The usual.

But there was nothing still and that was more than confusing to him.

He bit the insides of his mouth, his teeth trapping the flesh between them before he bit threw and swallowed the tiny bits of rosy meat he cursed his own.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, something was wrong. It was wrongwrongwrong!!

His restless fingers pushed the phone around in his grip and pushed against the touchscreen, his empty taps selecting Logan’s contact again and again but the screen did not accept his attempts. A part of him felt calmed down by the barrier between him and her but he loved her and he was worried and he wanted to know whether she was okay or whether something had happened to her.

Eventually, it worked and he carefully withdrew his hand to his head and trapped the device with the cracked screen between his fingers and his ear.

The familiar sounds of ringing were missing out and instead, his natural funnels had to be pestered with the usual “The person you are trying to call is unavailable at this moment”.

His heart cracked and he could nearly hear the tears falling from is eyes and crashing down onto his heated cheeks.

Virgil lowered the phone and caught sight of a piece of paper his torch had shone onto.

There was a single note and the curved letters in big black ink of ballpoint pens just screamed Logan to him.

He picked it up, his hands still shaking as if he had spent an entire night outside with the temperatures in the negative.

Right now, his own shaking just made him sick or maybe it was the sight of letters that looked so wobbly and blurry through his thick,wet tears.

“Found my soulmate. Got my mark. It is not you. Do not contact me, loser.”

Well, there was also a closet.

He was safe because he was used to it.

And there was nobody to change a thing about it.

..It was not fair…

His phone popped with a notification and he saw another message having arrived.

No, even the last bit of hope was dying down on him.

“I am sorry but you missed the last extension of your deadline. You’ll have a failing grade for the semester with a missing project.”

He sobbed and his heart was but a mess of shatters around him. His fingers were too shaky and slippery with the tremors of his pain and the damp liquid of his tears.

He had to .. to move out… to.. to turn off the stove

“Why..”

He curled up under the safety of the table. It protected him. It was all he had right now.

His hands gripped the light material of his worn out, patched up jacket.

Why did fate mess with him so much?

He lost it all. Even his mind.

***

He heard Patton’s little protests, her voice soft and nearly comforting but they soon turned into loud, drawn out moans. Logan could see the two move together, naked skin of dark and light tones wrapping around one another and merging into one.

EW.

Ew. ew, ew ew ew ew ew.

Sometimes, he forgot how averse he was to all of this..this stuff.. His skin was crawling and shivers of disgust were running up and down his body.

He was not sure but Logan felt that the love-struck couple would take some more moments together to be extra affectionate in the commons.

No, no. He could not go back to think about all of this. It would just make him sick.

Ugh.

He felt his energy drain.

Everything was gross and he just wanted this to be over.

What exactly? He did not know.

Right now, the idea of taking a small break of life and feelings sounded like the most genius invention he had ever heard of.

And he kept track of the science magazine all the time!

The student decided to take control of what he could change. It would be, as always, rather literal so he made sure to undress his body completely and vest himself in more clean and silky clothing.

A shower would be due as soon as the room was cleared. He just hoped for Patton giving him a heads up about it because she was this kind of caring person.

It was a pure wonder she had not yet knocked at his door but he appreciated the time for him to arrive and adjust to.. this day.

His fingers started writing already, starting with the previous night and the film marathon but his mind kept screaming at him.

Before he knew it, his precious notebook was stained in darkening drops of water. His face was cold and apathetic as always as the tears ran down his impartial face.

The tears kept falling and falling and his breathing was so calm and so scarily whole.

This was not normal. He was not normal.

He did not deserve a soulmate. He was probably rejected because he did not know how to handle humans, because he was awkward and sucked at social interaction.

Those were independent. The tears knew what they were doing and they did not need Logan but these sobs, they were scary.

Logan curled up again and hugged his legs against his chest.

Today had been too much.

He felt shivers wreck through his body and his hold onto his knees became tighter, bruising, nearly.

Logan just wanted to feel.

He did not hear the careful knocks of Patton’s caring hands before some called out for him.

“Logan, I am coming in now”, she called and Ada(m) was right on her heels to follow in. The two engulfed him with their fresh smells of a refreshing, cleansing shower.

The sex and body sweat was gone.

Patton was so nice…Patton was so considerate.

“Logiebear, my dear, what is wrong”, she asked and Ada(m) carefully patted his knee while Patton pulled his head gently into her lap and carefully brushed through his hair.

The touch felt so caring, it just made him cry harder. His hand curled around the soulmark on his arm and he opened his mouth just to sob out in frustration again.

“I lost him”, he breathed eventually. His chords pushed the words out of his body and he hastily took more erratic breaths to calm his trembling lungs.

“V-Vi-…Virgil”, he stuttered as explanation and Patton’s worry-knitted wrinkles eased into the blank realisation.

Oh no.

More sobs could be heard but Logan was clearly unable to do any more talking than he had already forced himself into.

Adam (at least Patton had called it so in front of him) had spoken some ambiguous words of perspective-related wisdom and its girlfriend produced more little reassurances.

Logan had allowed himself to feel and he now he paid the price for having all these emotions welling up inside of him.

Not every soulmate was a datemate.

Especially not if your name was Logan.

16 notes · View notes

imacrowcawcaw · 5 years ago

Text

@oblvions @shes-outta-sight @lazingonsunday @karrotkate @satans-helper thank you all for the tags 💗💕

A buttload of info about me:

Last thing I read: "Lovers" by @satans-helper 😍😍😍

Favorite Book: The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle

Favorite Movie: Beetlegeuse

Dream Date: Imagine this: a nice, plush couch, covered in down pillows and fluffy blankets. There is a fire in the brick fireplace, the wood smoke combines with the scent of Nag Champa incense and the homemade treats that cover the low table next to the couch. There are brownies, bread rolls, cheeses, bowls of fruit, dipping sauces, cakes, sandwiches - a whole feast of my favorite foods. My partner and I would cuddle up on that couch, listening to my favorite symphonies on the record player in the corner and talking for hours. This isn't really a first date thing, more like an established relationshil date, but god I'd love to just spend an afternoon surrounded with my favorite things and my favorite person.

Do I have a crush?: Not really. There are people I find very very attractive (a friend, Sam Kiszka, Duff Mckagan in his 20s, Lucy Lui) but nobody that I'm actually romantically and sexually into.

Hobbies: Swimming, observing nature, browsing Pinterest, daydreaming, writing, reading, making art, singing, listening to music, love to cook

My favorite time of day: late afternoon, right before the sun sets. I'm usually free to do what I like, the temperature starts to drop, I can watch the sun... it's nice

If I could choose what I looked like, anything, what would it be?: I want tattoos, and more piercings, I'd love to change my hair color again - it's been natural for awhile but I think I want either burgundy or bright blue. WINGS! I kind of want giant, strong fairy wings, and maybe glowing eyes, a forked tongue, and tattoos that move and change (kinda like Maui lol)

Am I romantic?: Yeah, I'd say I am. I love to treat people, friends and significant others, but I'd be especially affectionate and romantic for a partner. I'm constantly buying gifts and things that remind me of them, cooking for them, planning dates and buying tickets for things I know they like, quietly taking care of stuff I know they need to do, cuddling, complimenting... I love to shower my partner in affection 24/7

My favorite kind of weather: Late Autumn, generally. About 55ºF, cloudy but not raining, windy

What do I like to talk about?: Lol I talk a whole lot and I've probably talked about everything at some point. One of my close friends and I particularly love to debate religion, mythology, magic, history, and the intersections of those. We also regularly plan heists and crimes lmao

My turn-ons: Long eyelashes, pouty lips, dirty hands (motor oil, paint, flour, etc), sarcasm, seeing someone get excited about something, compassion, casual physical affection

My turn-offs: Nastiness without a reason, knees (I just think knees look weird idk), Trump supporters, 100% pessimism (I understand being depressed or doubtful or being generally a pessimist, but if you adamantly refuse to see anything in a good light and try to ruin it for others f u c k y o u)

If I got a tattoo, what would it be and where?: ohhh I want tattoos so bad but I'm saving up and I'm not certain about some yet.... but I know that I'm getting a tree of life matching with my mom, I want mushrooms, pine trees, lavender, wildflowers (all for personal reasons). I'd also like to make maybe a charm bracelet of sorts with little charms for my favorite bands, books, movies, and other peices of media. I know that interests change and I might not like something in 30 years, but I see my life in periods of interests and I want to catalogue the things that shaped me

My pets: I have 3 cats - Pumpkin Pie, Lady, and Sweetheart

My dream job: I just want to live a free life doing what I want. I want to grow my own food for the most part, and raise animals, and paint, and write, and play music, and go on random adventures, go antiquing, decorate my home from my travels, learn without expectations - I don't want to exchange a fulfilling life for financial security from some mundane modern job.

My dream place to live: Secluded, in the forests of Oregon (or maybe Pennsylvania idk) on the bottom third of a mountain, on my own little farm

My dream vacation: I just wanna go explore historical landmarks and buildings

My dream house: A beautiful historical house -- like an 1870s American farmhouse, or a craftsman cottage, or a Victorian painted Lady, or maybe a New York brownstone -- filled with antiques and records and books and artifacts that I've collected. I LOVE antiques so much, everything would be of fine craftsmanship, it would be lavish and inviting and packed with interesting items at every turn (I want my house to be a curios shop lol) I also want a big ass kitchen and nice woodwork, I literally get horny over original built ins

My piercings: Sadly, I only have my standard ear piercings right now, but I think I'll get more soon. A nose ring, eye brow bar (yes I know that's so 2000s but I like them), probably 4 more on each ear, navel, nipples

If I had kids, what would I name them?: I love older, interesting names, so - Euphemia, Hartford, Monroe, Malory, Louise (me lol), August, Fredrick

My worst traits: I'm incredibly stubborn; I love talking to people but I'm awkward; lazy and don't care; I'm a bit of a collector/hoarder; I bottle up any anger or sadness I feel so I don't inconvenience others

My best traits: I love to give and help; I try to make people comfortable around me/in my home; I have excellent taste; I appreciate quality, culture, and creativity; I have many interesting interests that I'm eager to share and learn more about; I'm very creative

My worst fear: a painful death - I'm not afraid of dying, even though I'd rather not, I just don't want it to hurt

What do I want to eat right now?: Well, considering that I just ate my first bit of solid food in 3 days and immediately had to run to the bathroom... nothing

My favorite vacation memory: *blushes* my first kiss AND nearly my first time (we went like halfway): making out with this dude, son of my mom's friend, at my family cabin

My favorite city: I really don't know. Timber, OR, let's say

My favorite social media platform: Tumblr or Pinterest (does that count?)

My favorite article of clothing: My leather motorcycle jacket. I can't actually ride a motorcycle (trying to remedy that because *sexy*) but I got it a few years ago and it makes me feel so fucking badass. It's heavy, about 15 pounds of good quality leather, has lots of secret pockets in the lining and some cool looking zippers and studs, but nothing crazy. It's hella warm and comfy, I wear it everyday it's cold enough to

Do I play any sports?: pfft no. I like to swim, and I'm interested in baseball and tennis, but I suck at them and also I just don't like team sports

My favorite meal: What I order when I go to Buffalo Bills - a pesto/feta/mozzarella/Italian sausage/basil/tomato/garlic pizza, with homemade potato chips and chunky blue cheese dressing for dipping. If I had room, I'd finish with Marionberry cheesecake pie from Sherri's (but I am incredibly sick and have no faith in getting better enough so I feel like I'll never be able to eat like this again)

What am I excited for?: The winter holidays! I'm atheist, so Christmas is all about the personal stuff and non religious family traditions for me. I love the decorations, the music, seeing my family, baking, giving and receiving presents, it's all just so fun

What am I not excited for?: Cleaning my room, it really really needs it though. Also just continuing to live like this. I'm not suicidal, I'm just in a lot of pain constantly and I don't know what to do

When was the last time I cried?: an hour or so ago, I'm in loads of pain right now

What is something I hate about the world?: There's too much to choose from

What is something I love about the world?: children and nature

My favorite scents: vanilla, lavender, pine, Nag Champa incense, BBQ meat, pizza with basil, rosemary, my Dad's cologne

Cats or dogs?: kitties 💗

What kind of sleeper am I?: A weird one lol. I can't lay on my stomach for more than 15 minutes without it making me incredibly nauseous for the rest of the day, but it's also my favorite way to sleep cause its comfy somehow... I can't lay on my back without a pillow either, 30 seconds in and the nerves pinch so bad I'm screaming. I snore, and I sleep deep, but it takes a long time to fall asleep and usually only beeping or banging noises wake me up??? Like I said, I sleep weird

How long would I survive in a zombie apocalypse?: I really don't know. I have some skills and the drive to learn to fight, but I am currently, as I'm sure y'all can tell, very sick and I don't think I'd be able to live with so much movement and so little medicine

Am I trusting?: Generally, I probably trust too much but I'm not gonna stop

What fictional characters do I identify with?: there are many I like but none I identify with

My most common labels: Mom friend, butch, that weird fat chick (doesn't bother me tho), the well behaved daughter, old soul

My life's anthem: I really am not sure if this is a good anthem song but I love it so so much... Take Me In Your Arms (Rock Me A Little While) by Kim Weston - you see where I get my love of long titles lol

Problems I'm dealing with: my health and whatever painful sickness is wrecking me, figuring out what to do with my life, saving money, getting my anxiety under control, getting the house to actually heat up because I'm cold as fuck

How can someone win me over?: let me express my interests and feelings, show kindness, be funny

What is something people don't know about me?: Idk

Not tagging anyone, this took over an hour

#personal #about me #tag game

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urbancreative · 2 months ago

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flickr

This unisex gift set has been mindfully curated for self care for some one living a low waste and conscious lifestyle.This gift set includes the following curated productsLavender and Basil Comfort Pillow / Eye Pillow – Use as an eye pillow or as a hot or cold compress to relieve aches and painsNatural Scented Wax Tablet – Use this natural scented wax tablet to freshen and fragrance your wardrobe or closet/ small spacesFoot Soak Salts – Sooth and relax tired feet and gently exfoliate dead skin.Organic Cotton Handkerchief – Avoid use of single use tissues with this reusable organic cotton handkerchief dyed with natural plant based dyes.

#Wellness Gift Set #Basil Comfort Pillow #Foot Soak Salts #Scented Wax Tablet #Organic Cotton Handkerchief

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clownsgobeepbeep · 5 years ago

Note

14.)Brushing Hair Out of Face

Something from a certain timeline uwu

Tonight was one of the nights where the bed was rather full.

Most nights had been this way lately, sometimes containing less bodies, sometimes containing all.

On this particular night, it wasn’t just the bed that was full, but the whole room.

Axolotls slumbered on the ground that directly surrounded the bed, only two of them actually sleeping on the bed. Besides them were three others on the bed, if you were to exclude the unborn.

Right in the center was the woman of the group, sleeping on her right side as she peacefully slept, especially with such protection surrounding her.

At her right side was a man, her husband who snuggled up closely while holding one of her hands. On her left side was another, her husband who-

Wait.

The first man wrinkled his nose once he realized that there was something missing. Most night he would have felt another arm, this one being draped over the large belly that currently faced his direction. He soon realized that this was not because of a change in sleeping position, but it was instead because of the lack of a body.

“Schrader?”

He blinked into the darkness, soon grabbing his glasses before slipping them on to see that the other man was nowhere to be found.

So, the man removed himself from the bed while being careful to awaken his wife nor the axolotls , especially not step on any of them.

Once he had walked through the obstacle course of axolotls, he made his way out of the bedroom which made the mother axolotl lift her head up in alert. However, she realized it was merely him, so she crawled over to cuddle beside her little girl who remained undisturbed.

The man continued on his way, his eyes squinting when they were hit with a light coming from the opposite end of the hallway where he finally came across a figure that was hunched over the dinner table, his hands covering his features.

“Schrader?”he called out while blinking his eyes to adjust them to the light, finally looking clearly at the other man who uncovered his face to reveal his usual exhausted eyes.

“Atlas.” he replied with a single blink. “Why are you awake?”

“I was about to ask you that.”

Atlas now joined Schrader, taking a seat beside him before the two shared a moment of silence. Soon enough, Schrader broke it with a deep sigh.

“Can’t sleep?”

Schrader nodded at Atlas’ question, then feeling as he patted his back in comfort, the corners of Schrader’s lips slightly turning up.

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah.” Schrader gave another nod, then pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think back on all those...things I went through.”

“You mean…?”

“The water.”

“Right...I remember.” Atlas gave a single nod, then pushing his chair out before walking around the dinner table as Schrader watched him.

“Going back?”

“Nah.” Atlas shook his head as he instead went into the kitchen, talking loud enough for Schrader to hear him but low enough as to not wake the others. “Want anything to drink?”

“At this hour?” Schrader rubbed his eyes, knowing that Atlas gave a small shrug.

“How about a midnight snack?”

“What is there?”

“How’s a…” Atlas soon popped out of the kitchen with some supplies. “...grilled cheese sound?”

“Perfect.” Schrader muttered out before Atlas disappeared again, but he reappeared after a while with a plate of sandwiches. “Thanks.”

“I saw the basil spaghetti and considered it.” Atlas joked.

“Pretty sure Ula would kill us if she found her spaghetti missing,” Schrader gave a quiet chuckle as he took a sandwich. “Again.”

“It wasn’t my fault, okay?” Atlas smiled as he also took a sandwich. “I was in a hurry and thought it was the french onion pasta.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Schrader took a bite of his sandwich, his smile faltering away once he gulped down the piece he chewed. His brief moment of calm had gone away, stress and anxiety returning once again.

“You alright man?” Atlas set down his snack, receiving a shrug from Schrader. “Do you...wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just...I haven’t been this nervous about water lately. And then, this whole being a father thing...” Schrader also set down his sandwich. “After what happened, I thought I was doing better. Sure the fear was still there but...they’ll never get out of my head. Everything they ever said to me.”

“With people like Sonny and Walter, you have nothing to worry about.” Atlas reassured him. “They taught you well.”

“Maybe...this is why those nightmares have been coming back.” Schrader breathed out. “I tell you, I thought I got rid of the phobia, or close to getting rid of it...but…”

“You know,” Atlas attempted to comfort Schrader, placing his hand on his shoulder to give him a comforting squeeze. “It’s a little ironic, your fear and all. But I mean, it makes you brave.”

“How so?”

“Well, you dated Ula and married her, knowing that her parents and siblings are big into the sea and all. And we literally live in a lighthouse. Surrounded by water.” Atlas shrugged.

“Even if I didn’t want to live here, I couldn’t say no. Her mother literally bought it as a wedding gift for us.”

“True.” Atlas agreed under his breath, then shaking his head before turning back to Schrader. “Are you going to work tomorrow?”

“Probably not.” Schrader slightly shook his head. “Not only do I need to stay with Ula more, but these nightmares have been keeping me up these past few nights.”

“Well, how about we...go to the beach tomorrow?” Atlas suggested, having Schrader turn to him with a squint of his eyes. “Ula and I could...try to help.”

“Nah,” Schrader groaned. “You guys have better things to focus on. I should deal with this-”

“Alone?” Atlas interrupted. “Reminder that you married a D’Vitt. Alone does not exist in their vocabulary.”

“Right.”

“Besides,” Atlas attempted to give another comforting smile, lightly punching Schrader on the shoulder. “Us three are a team. Gotta be there for each other.”

Schrader looked over at Atlas, his lips finally turning into a much more visible smile as he gave a nod.

“You guys made grilled cheese and didn’t invite me?”

The pair turned around to see their wife standing at the entrance of the hallway, Mana and Kala standing beside her with tired eyes each.

“Why are you guys even awake at this hour?”

“Guy talk.” Schrader chuckled. “You should be asleep Mrs. D’Vitt.”

“I can’t sleep without my two pillows.” Ula approached the pair before reaching up to brush Atlas’ hair out of his face.

“We’ll be there in a bit.” Atlas leaned down to kiss her cheek. Just let us finish the sandwiches.”

“Mm, okay.” Ula then repeated the action to Schrader, planting a kiss on his cheek which made him smile warmly. “You better bring me a sandwich when you come back though. And don’t eat my spaghetti.”

“Okay.” Atlas chuckled to himself, watching as Ula walked away with the axolotls accompanying her.

He turned back to Schrader again, the two smiling at each other.

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crapyouknowme · 6 years ago

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Noir

Drabble: srodulv is now following you. Or the story where Lucas realizes whose IG page he had just come across.

Notes: I mean, come on! Lucas posts on IG stories like he doesn’t know what it means to be away from neither his phone nor the app, so of course we needed this scene.

Lucas stares at the screen, eyes dully focused on nothing in particular. In one scene, a thin paper is strung on the wall, his curiosity piquing as he notices the casting of an easel, far-off in the distance, not whatsoever relevant to what was being shown.

It’s a re-run episode of the Bureau and from what he remembers, this was the scene where Malotru, the dude with the penchant for watching paint dry, somewhat trying, failing miserably, to convince his lieutenant on a co-op he wants to join in on.

It’s just a set-piece yet it does nothing but unnerve him. Because somehow, despite the canvas being shoved behind a dresser, he’s able to take notice of it, as if the white was not a splotch but consumed the entirety of the screen.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long because his phone buzzes, which happens to be plugged into the charger that is plugged into an outlet, which is on the opposite side of where he has found himself tucked under. Lucas kicks his feet in an attempt to extend one of his leg to thumb the corner of his cell.

He knows it’s counterproductive because there was no way in hell he could even get the sole of his foot to kick it towards him, rather far, way farther away.

When it ends up dropping onto the floor, a resounding thump drowning the not-so-silent room, he pushes off of the sofa and goes to retrieve it.

Lucas’ bends stealthily, only to tilt his head. Mika grits bitterly under his breath as he appears from the bathroom, makes his way past Lucas before halting.

“Lucas, tell me. Do I look like what Vincent Cassel would if he was thirty-two years younger and drank less?”

He fists his phone into his palm, blinks as he processes what exactly he was being asked and more particularly on what to expect from how he answered.

“Not in this lifetime.” He settles for, as he pulls the blanket over his head in an attempt to avoid whatever point Mika thinks he was going to make.

It’s a little after ten. The couch has become a tenth less uncomfortable since the last time he had inhabited it. He’s had a sandwich, wheat bread, ham and butter-the only three things needed to make anything delicious, really.

He’s pried the window open, let’s the cool, heavy air settle, the kind that holds the promise of a rainstorm.

Lucas manages to avoid Mika’s thigh shoving unwittingly into his hip, scooches back hastily as Mika presses, instead, up against his shoulder, tugging his cover down. “Lucas, this is a case of mistaken identity.”

“M-what?” He flips through the channels, pressing on the button until there’s not an inkling of white to be seen. He’s gone through at least twenty before he switches the T.V off, in vain.

Lucas has a feeling, though, that white would be a color he’d grow to dislike.

Just because.

“Maybe he just has the dexterity of a toad.”

From what he’s gathered, there’s a guy. A guy who DMs Mika after following him on snapchat, asks him whether he looks like someone, behaves surprised when told no and does just enough to have Mika going on a spirited tirade on the merits of making social media accounts private.

Mika gets to his feet, a wayward look appearing on his face. He jabs a pointed finger at Lucas, mutters with indignation: “Do you plan on having the borough to the hamlet following you on Instagram?”

Lucas chortles at what’s being insinuated.

“What’s wrong with that?” He’s aware of the fact that some-how he’s accumulated a significant audience in the past couple of months, but what can he say. It’s endearing. They’re following him for a reason, a reason unbeknownst to him, but present nevertheless. “It’s the eyes.” He jokes, because Mika’s irked and pupils are supposedly Mika’s characteristic trait. He knows he’s pressing a nerve when he’s met with a glare.

Lucas raises his hands over his chest, apologetic. “I’m kidding.” He grins, kicking his feet on top of the table.

Mika resumes to snapping bitterly under his breath, brisk as he makes his way back to his room. A room, with four walls, and a door. A door that could be closed and opened whenever he wants it to be.

He misses having a room. He misses having the choice to sprawl his clothes on the floor, kicking his shoes into a corner and fixating on books that seem haphazard but, in his mind, they were placed in schematic.

Lucas rubs at his temple as he slips his hand back under the duvet. He curls inward. There’s warmth that emanates from his fetal position. It’s comforting and reminiscent of a bed he’s no longer sleeping on.

He lowers his gaze when a green bar appears on his screen.

Arthur: I think if we’re getting free food, I’m in.

Lucas swipes his thumb. He opens their group chat, reads with promptness, to get a gist of the messages he’s somehow missed and have accumulated to the point that there’s a plan in unison for them all to meet at the foyer, tomorrow, and work on that fucking mural.

Lucas: Yeah, no.

Basille: Daphne’s going to really have a good impression of me. Okay, fresco, 8 hands, an hour, free lunch.

Yann: What part of I’m paying for my own meal did you interpret as free-of-charge?

Basille: Yeah, complimentary food. Can’t get any better.

Arthur: I have no ideas. So, I wanted to make that clear. None, whatsoever.

Basille: I’ll be on her good side, right? Every time she looks at that wall, she’ll know that I had a part in it.

Basille: Luc, we’ll be walking together from 4th anyway so it’s okay. I’ll carry you there. You won’t have to use much of your stamina.

Lucas is aware of what they are doing. He’s thankful that there were them, who are trying to soften the blow of a moment that has him feeling wretched, shameful, angry—all at once. He appreciates their endeavors, albeit ridiculous, more than anyone.

A bar appears from the top of the screen, interrupting his thoughts.

srodulv is now following you.

It’s instinct, or an inherent roundabout way of Lucas, having been somewhat preoccupied, in extant, by the conversation he just had with Mika, to click on the notification. He’s re-routed to the app, an unfamiliar profile pops up.

He doesn’t scroll much, doesn’t have to, because he finds himself, breath abated, fingers halting, frozen in their spot, vision bleary—staring at a familiar sketchpad, at the caricature he’s seen a countless number of times, notices the date—it’s stamped 26.02.19.

Shit.

Lucas takes a deep, shaky breath. He lowers his gaze, curls his toes into the carpet, wants—no, needs to feel the ground because it ceases to exist as his head starts to spin. Lucas grits down on his jaw as he forces himself to be levelheaded.

He’s deliberate, conscious, alert and painstakingly awake, as he goes from one picture, to the next, to the next. There’s a glimpse of the racoon’s ears behind a brick wall. There’s Mike Walters and a scene from My Own Private Idaho. There are pelts of fucking raindrops, right after. There’s an idyllic excerpt from a book.

All of it seems too intentional, distinct, clear-cut.

Lucas stomachs his way through an obfuscated racoon, a video of that face of his, a clandestine painting (mostly rattled by how permeated the canvas was by something so noir), a wonky sketch of a keyboard—he doesn’t have to look at the date to know when it’s posted. It sears into his mind, that all of this, every. Single. Fucking. Post. Is. too. Deliberate. To. Be. a Goddamn. Coincidence.

It’s when he notices the cat. The cat and the racoon, affectionate, huddled, together—does he glance at the time-stamp: 03.01.19.

Weeks, it’s weeks before they’ve met.

He knows what he’s insinuating, what he’s convincing himself of.

Blithely, Lucas exits out. He grips at his phone, a little too tightly, the flesh of his palm becoming a ghostly white. He lets out a harsh, rugged, rough exhale, blinking in despondence to clear his mind of that fuckingcat.

He knows who that cat is. He also knows that it’s way before—

Lucas clamps down on his jaw, biting his tongue until a cascade of blood pools out from his gum.

What the actual fuck is this.

Lucas can’t help the way he goes tense. It’s not that he’s envious or angry or anything like that. He doesn’t, precisely, feel shitty. He just...

Okay, no, he feels kind of shitty. And weird. The whole situation is both shitty and weird, and Lucas doesn’t know how to make himself feel better about any of it. He hasn’t seen Eliott since that morning, although he’s mostly grateful for that, because it’s a glimpse. It’s all he needs, even though it’s all he’s getting.

But this-

This is all too telling without disclosing jack shit.

Lucas huffs, fingers arranged in a cursory manner over his screen as he types out: Drag me out of class. I’ll be a willing participant. He shoves the phone under the sofa, slams his face into the pillow as he nestles his neck in a position that isn’t too awkward.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he decides on taking a nap. Sleep, he had foregone. But a nap, yeah that would help him become somewhat sane. Maybe even eliminate the moping, the fairly unreasonable amount of moping, he’s been displaying.

He jabs his forehead into the padding of the cushion, whispering to himself the lyrics to smells like teen spirit—over and over again—With the lights out, it’s less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us—just to erase the clout of susceptibility, the wistful hope rising from the solitude corners of his psyche—I feel stupid and contagious.Because there was no way in hell he was going to be stirred by this. Here we are now, entertain us. Screw, cats. Screw, Racoons. I’m worse at what I do best, and for this gift I feel blessed. Fuck that fresco. Fuck that white easel. Go to hell, Vincent Cassel.

#skam france #ELU fic #elu #lucas lallemant #elliott demaury #lucas x eliott #Lucas' POV #drabble #added scene fic #Mika #season 3 skam fr #angst #one-shot #Drabble fic #mid-canon

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theblovel · 5 years ago

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The Blovel Season 4: Episode 8

Following a night of passion and sensual sensations and understanding that turned into an aura of affectionate lovemaking beyond what they could have imagined Buxton woke before Charlie. He eased his way out of their bed slipping his arm cleanly from under Charlie’s pillow being careful not to move her head nor make too large of a movement to disturb her. Buxton took pride in making Love to his Queen well enough for her to pass out afterwards. He subscribed to an old source of wisdom that Richard Pryor once spoke in one of his many stand-ups that suggested, “If your woman doesn’t go to sleep after fucking, you got some more fucking to do.” Aside from the expletives, Buxton was a pleaser and wanted nothing more than for his Queen to be left breathless and full with nothing left undone. As he crept out of the bed he pulled on some sweatpants and a hoodie and walked downstairs to prepare breakfast; he thoroughly enjoyed cooking for Charlie.

Buxton’s favorite thing to make for Charlie after a night of Lovemaking is the same thing she enjoyed to break her fast following Lovemaking as well: a spinach and basil egg white omelette with feta cheese, fresh blueberries and strawberries and cup of coffee. Buxton prepares breakfast with acute precision. He’s careful with how he cracks the eggs and removes the yolks and never uses wilted spinach or basil. He uses a specific Hawaiian Black Lava salt as well as a particularly expensive white pepper to season his omelette. The attention to detail when flipping, as not to let any of the filling from the omelette fall out on to the hot pan along with the specificity of the ingredients, makes Buxton’s omelettes to die for!

Upon finishing cooking breakfast Buxton located the bed trays in the pantry and pulled out one for the spread he’s presenting to Charlie. He places the omelette in the center plate and carefully surrounded the omelette with the fresh blueberries and slices of strawberries. The aroma from the feta and basil was incredible! The Brazilian coffee he brewed is one of Charlie’s favorites. Buxton was proud of what he made for his Queen and anxious to present her with the spread.

He walks carefully up the stairs from the kitchen to the bedroom so as to not make a sound before he reaches his Love. Upon reaching the door, with careful attention to detail to avoid spilling the cup of coffee, Buxton backs in the bedroom and turns to see his Queen still sleeping deeply. He creeps over to her side of the bed and placesthe tray table gently on the floor by the bed. He draws the curtains back to illuminate the dark room. He sits next to Charlie and places his right arm over her and looks lovingly at his beautiful Lover. He leans in to kiss her softly on her lips. As Buxton pulls away Charlie opens her eyes then quickly closes them; the rays from the sun are strong and just too bright to withstand. She spoke softly, “What smells good? Did you make breakfast or order in?” Buxton responded, “I made you breakfast baby; your favorite. Would you like to eat while it’s hot?” Buxton reaches for the tray he set on the floor and places it over Charlie’s waist. Charlie inhales the aroma from the omelette and smiles a smile of satisfaction. She picks up her knife and fork and began to indulge in the brilliance prepared by her lover.

Upon finishing her breakfast, Charlie reminded Buxton about their plans this evening. She said to Buxton, “Babe! Remember that tonight we have this gala to go to. It’s black tie. Did you get your tuxedo cleaned?” Buxton responded, “I remember baby. Yes I did get my tux cleaned. I’m supposed to pick it up by 2:00 today. Do you know what you’re wearing?” Charlie responded with her desired looks she was contemplating. Buxton added one additional piece of clothing for Charlie to consider. He handed her a small box that was gift wrapped. She asked, “What’s this?” To which Buxton answered, “Something to keep the night interesting.” Charlie opened the box and was a little confused. She questioned the contents of the box with a disturbed look on her face, “What are these babe?” Buxton said with a smile on his face, “These are Bluetooth enabled panties. They connect to an app on my phone. Once connected, I can control the vibrator that is sewn in to the panties and decrease or increase the vibration’s speed and strength from my phone. So throughout the night, if the moment strikes, I can play with my pussy from across the room whenever I want. Are you down?” Charlie was intrigued by the idea of Buxton being able to stimulate her sexually without touching her and without even being close to her. She smiled at the thought and said, “Absolutely!”

Buxton left shortly after to go retrieve his tuxedo from the cleaners. Charlie contemplated the risk of having an uncontrollable orgasm in the middle of the gala and embarrassing herself in the process. She thought about how foolish and crass she would seem to everyone that would observe her cumming uncomfortably. She thought for a moment and decided that it didn’t matter what anyone thought. She wanted to have fun with her Lover and allow him the opportunity to be turned on by turning her on. She thought then about whether or not her sensitivity should be decreased by masturbating before going to the gala. She was home alone and the thought of Buxton making her cum from across the room was a turn on. Her vagina started to moisten and her nipples grew stiff from arousal. She laid down on their bed on her back. She pulled her long t-shirt up to expose her perfect body to the cool air in their bedroom. She opened her legs and squeezed her left nipple with her left hand. She let her right hand fall between her legs and softly rubbed her clitoris thinking about Buxton being on top of her and pushing into her giving her all of the dick she loved so much. She could feel her wetness leak from her wet vagina making a wet spot on their bed. She rubbed feverishly thinking about Buxton on top of her and Lovingly making her feel his stiff erection over and over again. She squeezed her nipple harder and rubbed her clitoris faster. Charlie came hard letting out screams of satisfaction and squirting leaving the comforter soaking wet. She laid in slumber for a few moments gasping and looking for the energy to clean the mess she made in their bed. She laid there thinking that her vagina could go on for the rest of the evening free from sensitivity, or could she?

#the blovel #theblovel #thebloggednovel #the blogged novel #fiction #short fiction #shortseries #short story series #short story #jteheren #weeklyseries

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yolandajulius · 6 years ago

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Common Magic

A one shot because of course this drabble decided it needed to be a oneshot.

Because people plant cute ideas for ships in my mind and Yolie’s parent figures are all terrible role models. Safe for consumption if you can handle it.

A stronger man would have moved o.

That was what crossed Noudenet's mind almost daily; the feeling he should have simply kept walking to his destination, the fact he could and shoulf have easily ignored the young outsider whom came to Ishgard with a scant handful of other nonbelievers by will of House Fortemps. But he didn't and the conjurer couldn't help his irritation with himself. The woman was a Garlan, and thus she didn't even have the most basic of the Fury's blessings -- the gift of magic. But, he supposed, from listening, she had other qualities, he supposed, and for those he was able to make peace with the twinge of guilt at letting himself grow close.

She was an outsider, a non-believer, but she wasn't judging him when he lingered, speaking of the Fury's will. She listened, quietly taking it in, asking questions. Some were like those of children, others, far more challenging but no less respectful, harboring the ring of curiousity of one whom genuinely cared about what they believed. She always heard him out in silence, simply working on her cookery as she did, and she was never one to seem unreadable. On a level, she seemed to even enjoy it.

Prtjspd hr'f mskr s brlirbrt og hrt yrt, nuy thrn voild he trouble her with thje sin of how close they were? Noner whm believed would dare treat a member of the Heavens' Ward so casually. They were on a pedestal, a platyform that left a sense of disconnect between them, and the people, at times. It was certainly unlikely they'd continue their quiet moments, Noudenet buried deep in his resrearch, seated on a floor with pillows while she laid her head on his legs to rest, safe and secure in the trust he would let no ill come to pass. That...

Noudenet supposed he would miss tyhat trust, innocent as it was. She might treat him like others did, not as the companion she came to share her cooking projects with, the man she'd learned to trust with her joys and woes. They'd lose that connection, he feared -- a connection he greatly vbalued. He'd miss her smile, her lack of fear in telling him her feelings about events, the honesty with which they spoke. She was genuine, polite, considerate, careful, and kind. It wasn't the kind born of generations of grooming and stilted church lessons of modesty and compassion -- she had learned it in the wilds and that was a rare gift. Still, a styronger man would have passed her originaly.

Noudenet approached the space Yolanda preferred to practice -- she didn't mind being watched, so long as nobody minded testing what she made, and that was how they'd met. Halone be good, but the man never refused a good fruit tart, or rolanberry jam-filled anything, to even begin. and this Garlean woman was a culinarian of some skill. To thinmk she was self-educated to cook and bake blew him away. She ravenously tried new recipes and shared the results for weal or for woe -- nothing was wasted, but Noudenet found it rather comforting to be able to wait patiently for her sweets.

Noudenet's reverie was fiercely interrupted by the warm scent of a cookfire, filling his nostrils with the scent of fresh meats, spices and herbs telling him she'd gotten hold of some dhamel chuck that was being seared and roasted on the flames, and he drew to the crowd lazily, taking in the scent of basil and rhyme, sage and a faint aromatic of cinnamon and clove, the woman carefully bastingthe cut of meat with a butter sauce to glaze it, and Noudenet wondered what she might be making. The delicate aromatics were accented, on closer inspection, with what he suspected -- cinnamon and clove with a smattering of rich dark maple sugar to compliment the herbs; the butter sauce was warmly golden, bits of minched garlic and onion in it, and the slowly forming crust spoke of salt and groundf black pepper, but Noudenet diudn't move much closer at first, watching silently. Yolanda nodded to him silently, a small smile forming before she hummed, removing some popotoes to slip deep in the embers -- so, it was mostly a roast she was trying to make taste right. For now, at least -- and Noudenet drew himself to a position of espectful curiousity to watch. Slow roasts could take time, but she'd clearly been set up most of the day, meaning his timing for her to begin practicing sweets was perfect.

It was dascinating to see how one cooked without magic. Unable to properly manipulate crystals of water or fire, and yet capable of taking naturally occuring -- or crystal-originating water and flame to create the same thing was almost mesmerising. She moved expertly, yet still clearly learning, removing the roast dhamel from the flame to slice on a clean, wide stone slab silently,allowing the meat rest before beginning to wash a mixing bowl with a pail of water, clearly one of many. Noudenet watched silently as she worked to create a simple flatbread, pouring the batter on a second stone she placed on the fire, waiting for it to heat through, batter on top and all with a gaze of wonder. Nothing would be prepared together, and that was normal. Those whom knew the woman's cooking space and came often didn't expect a meal, they enjoyed a curiosity, and she seemed aware,slicing the roast in silence before sharing the cuts with those gathered, and Noudenet scowled to himself -- she'd taken to using her aged lance to cook again, and while she was not a Dragoon he could almost feel the one or two present wince, but there wasn't much to do for it. She didn't own a proper spit. Noudenet accepted a heel carefully, wondering if it might be as sweet and savory as it smelled, and contemplated silently, sllowing himself to pick the flavors apart. It wasn't the finest combination, but it was perhaps the sweetness, too strong for the liking of the conjurer when iyt came to his meat. Still, it was far from blande, and he was no culinarian. He watched as he ate small bites of the food in silence still. The flatbread was off the stone, sliced to share with those gathered as she poured the rest of the batter out, before beginning to clean out her bowl before removing a second. He hoped it meant she made sweets soion, and she didn't disappoint him when she pulled some rolanberries and walnuts from her sack, the conjurer lighting up atthe sight as she hummed, beginning to prepare a simple butter and sugary syrup to add things to as she cleaned the berries and nuts. Noudenet looked somewhat hopeful as she worked to start heating the berries, allowing them to simmer but not burn, turning to remove the potatoes and passing them to some Brume lowborn whom often came to watch as she worked on slicing and sharing flatbread. This he passed, even as he finished the meat -- his eyes locked on the slowly cooking fruit, walnuts awaiting adding to the candying process, and he was not disappointyed as she soon added them and stirred the mixture. She then began to work on a dough -- filo, if he recalled correctly, which meant laminating butter in and -- oh. A touch of pink came to his ears as he finally cast the woman a questioning look, earning a coy smile in response tht answered his unspoken question before he hummed.

"Yiu forgot the creamed cheese." He said firmly. Yolanda made a noise of surprise before iut sank in, and she frowned, considering her options as she paused,a voice huffing.

"Typical, the unbelievers are so useless." Someone muttered. "Especially Garleans -- who can expect some barbaric race to know anything? The Fury doesn't even gift them magic -- worthless, really."

The commentary was low, the sort common in a gossiping group and a few murmured assessment -- new facs mostly seeking to see what drew a crowd, and Noudenet watched silently at the brief, but telling movements the woman made. A twitch, a slight wince and a cringe, before he reached impulsively and ran his fingers throughher hair to cup her cheek.

"I can fetch some. It's an honest mistake." He spoke, voice soothing before the Ward Knight moved off, eyes judghing those murmuring with scathing disapproval. Were they thaumaturges or conjurers themselves? Their garb spoke not, instead mostly of lowborn or lower nobles, those more inclined to shun an outsider, but magicians? Hardly. His errand was executed swiftly -- taking to the crozier to collect the needed materiels before he returned. They were gossiping, of course.

"Do youthink she even knows how to make things right?" someone muttered. Another scoffed.

"I heard in Garlemald they barely eat anything. Coerthans have better fare."

"That blandpile? Makes you wonder what she thinks she's doing."

Noudenet scowled sharply once more, gaze disapproving as he took in every face present, reading them before drawing close to the woman he cared for, pressing the supplies into her lap gently.

"Here you are, these will suffice." Noudenet soothed, but his gaze never fully left the newcomers, appraising them thuroughly. Not a magician among them, he concluded, and Noudenet sniffed his disdain, rising towards them, but not moving from his position close to the woman.

"T'would seem she has a far better grasp of the Fury's teachings than a lot of ill-bred, ill-mannered children whom have naught better to do with themselves than judge a woman attempting to find the true path to the Fury's Halls." Noudenet scolded sharply, letting his judgement sink into their terrified expressions. He never once tried to force Yolanda's hand, but a little creative phrasing? There was no sin in that, and he greeted her startled expression with a calm, reassuring gaze, nodding politely.

":Do not let the words of ill mannered smallfolk trouble you, Miss Julius." Noudenet soothed. He dared not pull her to him to shield -- he didn't dare risk a threat to her safety with the harridans present. "You cook well enough and everyone makes mistakes learning a new recipe besides. None will judge whom seeks to remain on the path to the Fury's halls and those whom might may yet earn Her disapproval."

The message was rather clear. Although wrapped in reminders of the scripture that guided Ishgard, by the Fury's disapproval, he meant his, and by his, he meant judgement, the ill spoken moving away nervously before scrabbling for their homes. Noudenet knelt, and watched her work, pulling a card with her intended pastry recipe from her belongings to verify how to use the creamed cheese before making an awkward, sheepish noise before working it into the warm compote and nuts, watching the woman waiut for her dough to proof if slowly, before smiling faintly as she began to turn dough into a fruit and nut jam-like filled pasty, watching her gently seal each parcel and brush egg on it to let it turn golden, before placing the treats on the styone and covering them to create her oven. It was imperfect but it was something, and she mostly cleaned as they waited, quiet for once as she worked before looking away when her hands fell idle. Noudenet knew this look all too well and he never liked it -- she was troubled by what had been said, both what he heard and likely missed, the conjurer staying byher in silence with others about. She didn't meet his gaze, didn't look at anyone -- her mind was deep in thought, and Noudenet finally allowed himself to worrry. When she was like this he wanted to hold her to him and heal the pain she didn't show on the flesh, but the soul, and his fingers ran throughhis hair these times as he would murmur reassuring proverbs in her ear. They were quiet moments when he wasn'ta Knight of the Heavens' Ward but a man who simply wished to offer some modicum of succor to the worn soul of the person he cared for. And right now he was in public, unable to act beyond silentlystanding close, allowing her to feel him standing by her side watching. It wasn't enough for him, though, and it dogged him.

Finally, however, the thrice-damned lid was off and the pastries moved to cool from baking, which meant soon he could do something about it, and not a moment too soon. The quiet was making him uncomfortable and the conjurer felt himself shift to fidget as he often spotted Grinnaux, Paulecraine, or, even though it was rare, an act Charibert even indulged in, the conjurer allowing frustration to wash over him like a blizzard. He appreciated the care she exercised in baking and cooking, but the woman was being damnably slow right now, and he wished she moved a little more swiftly -- he had little patience for the melancholy she'd allowed to wash over her, and was quite eager to spirit her away from things to do something about it, and as a hrealer, it frankly bothered him to be idle while someone was in clear and apparent pain. Yolanda finally deigned her attempt at filled croissants completed when she began to pass them to those whom remained -- faces Noudenet recognized. They knew where the real rewards of her cookery lie, and they didn't seem to judge. Instead he waited, letting them take the free pastries with gratitude, perhaps more than normal considering the tonguelashing he left the less kind, but still gratitude before she offered him the last, the conjurer taking it gently as she began to clean, putting the fire out after allowing it to consume what it could of fond on her pans, and the conjurer allowed himself to indulge in the creamy and sweet flavor of the pastry, eyes closing. Fury take him, but the woman knew her fruits and flavors with sweets and were he still living as his father's house he'd have seized on the woman for his wife long ago. It was sweet, selicately sweetened with just a smallamount of maple sugar and honey, but tart and hardy, and the earthy walnuts broughtthe flavors together ina warm embrace to his palate, the Ward Knight closing his eyes and losing himself in the treat several silent moments, sighing softly in contentment as he ate. The woman simply... There were no words for how Noudenet felt about her baking -- but if this was an apprentice to that Miqo'te, then the miqo'te was a phenominal chef and teacher. Well, he'd seek him out if Charibert sought some gingertsnaps or something. Noudenet was wrtapped around the woman's pinky, and for several moments he could forget thata Garlean could never perform great feats of magic -- no skill in the arts of thaumatyurgy, conjury, or anything properly magic but cooking? She was magic there in another way, a way that afforded her a skill for delicious fgood even if the materiuals for cooking were often poor for her location or the textures imperfect. She was magic in the art of cooking, and when he opened his eyes from savoring the pasyry, they were alone, Yolanda watching in some concern.

"Did I ruin it?" She asked finally. Noudenet swallowed, and placed his fingertips along her jawline, eyes boring into hers fondly.

"No, not at all, my violet. I simply wished to savor the pastry. It was quite exquisite, and you'd have it perfect in a proper kitchen." Noudenet's fingers trailed along her chin and jaw softly, the Garlean turning pink and looking away.

"I can do better. The fruit overcooked, the roast was oversweetened, and I'm all but sure that fglatbread was underseasoned." She huffed. "I'm not getting this right at all. Maybe they're right."

There it was. Noudenet's fingers moved of their own accord, brushing hair from her face before taking her chin in his fingers, giving her a quiet, hard look.

"They were judgemental fools whospoke out of turn of things they know nothing of. You really mustn't give weight to their words, my violet. They're merely insects seeking to takeof you, and give nothing. A fire crystal is naught but a crystalfrom which fire is produced,awater crystal naught but acrystal from which weater is produced. You create both of that which the Fury provides all of us."

Yolanda was thoughtful, allowing herself to trn his words over in her mind, and he offered her his arm politely, the Garlean accepting it before he drew her close to walk with her, letting the quiet help his words sink in before she spoke.

"Temperature affects food." She finally admitted. "And the conditions they cook in. Crystals can help change that." Yolanda looked down hesitantly, frowning. "I can't use them to control heat or moisture as well. Wild fire is hotter than aetheric, right?"

"Not so, my violet." Noudenet felt a faint surge of excitement wash over him -- a chance to tell her of the way of magic, even if she could not use it herself, was still something he could share. He led her for the Vault, keeping her close to him to ensure none questioned as he guided her for his cell, almost giddy at the opportunity. When he entered, the Garlean was quietly focusd on the floor, seeming to studythe mortar binding ancient stones as he led her to sit upon his bed. Noudenet diud not sit. The conjurer closed his door before witthdrawing a handful of crystals, turning to her gently as he cradled them with quiet pride, feeling their aether dance in his fingertips like lightening or flames, the potential raising his excitement as he handed them to her.

"You know what these are meant to do, yes? Each represents another element. Earth, water, ice, flame, wind, lightening. That's what each produces when asked of it by those capable." He did not forget her inability to use them, and she looked away, down to the aetherically charged crystals as if begging them for some miracle that they might spontaniously react to her will, and Noudenet placed his hands around her own, calling the elements wiuthin to respond to him, startling her as he continued.

"They each offer us a means to access their gifts. You call them through other ways. Perhaps, not aetherically or magically but it is no less a call. You take flint to metal for fire, yes?" Noudenet focused on the fire crystal, the others growing inert again as the flame crystal heated rapidly, Yolie fasping and dropping it with a yelp, and the flame burgheoning withered again as Noudenet kept his grasp, wuilling water forth from the water crystal to soothe her burns a moment. He was quick to coax her to drop the lightening crystal lest it react as her hands filled with clear water before he ceased his summons of it, his larger hands remaining around her own smaller gently, supporting her hasnds so she could see. Feel.

"And the water is similar. There is no difference from them and your methods. The flames still burnt, the water still soothed, and is fine for a drink or wash or cooking. There is absolutely nothing wrong wuith your methods."

"But I can't use magic. That makes others look at me as poorly."

There was quiet, Noudenet reading her face quietly before he collected the crystals, placing them back in his supplies before moving back, allowing her to drinkthe water he called in her hands before pulling her into him, allowing her head to rest on his breast silently as his fingers worked her hair free of her normal ponytail to begin running through her hair softly, sighing. There was the root of her distress, something even the archbishop himself could not cure. A Garleancould not do a spell; they had no aethericv ability and never would. They lacked even children born with the Echo, and while at one time Noudenet had himself considered it a pitiable trait, he had come to resent how it affected Yolanda, the woman leaning into him as she sighed. She was clearly about to disparage herself and Noudenet shiftled his fingers tocup hert chin, pulling her to look at him softly, his other arm coiling around and reaching to take her hands to offer the gentle touch of healing magic to her burns, the counjurer, perhaps, also trying to shield her from the cruel fact of her birth.

"No, you do not work magiuc of the aether as many races do." Noudenet said, but conviction laced his voice. "But you do magic. Garleans do not use what we do but we need teachers to learn magitek. To create fire of a stone and a bit of metal. Magic makes matters too easy. You work with only what the gods give us and not with crystals. You are of a people whom learned to take little and make much more. Yours isn't aetheric or magic as it is defined but magic nonetheless in it's own right, which is a skill tyhat can be taught." Noudenetpressed a kiss to the top of her head before she glanced up quietly, the conjurer keepingher embraced, held to him closely.

"Yours are skills of merit. You must not lose sight of the skills you've fought to learn my violet, or you'll lose what you've gained. Please, my violet, do not give those curs that. They're below you." He sighed, letting that seep into her mind and bones, holdingthe woman close to him as she nestled in, thoughtfiullyparsing what he told her. The conjurer was content though; enjoying the company of her presence and the warmth of another person. Were he asked, he would say she was a pupil, of a kind, seeking to understand Eorzeran custom, or the Word of the Fury, and naught else. He would see to it them she was safely home, but for now he took in the knowledge her breath slowed from a slight panic, to the peaceful calm she enjoyed -- a sign his intent took seed. The elezen nuzzled at her ear softly, eyes closing some as he steeped himself inbthe scent of wood smoke and cooked food, metaland leather, and of another being, allowing himself to get lost in a daydream where he might whisk her away from House Fortemps and perhaps away from Ishgard, someplace they might be together with eyes unclouded by religious opinion or racist judgement. Maybe someplace like Gridania; she had mentioned camping in the Shroud often, and the conjurer's guild was there; or perhaps in Cylbrand, or...Anywhere they might enjoy the chance to be with one another freely, without judgement or fear, and the Ward Knight sighed softly, earning a shift of movement from his companion.

"Are you alright?" She asked him softly. Noudenet hummed.

"Day dreaming." He responded softly.

"What about?"

"...Rolanberrypie." He bluffed, and she laughed, relaxing him some to know she'd cheered enough, and he didn't resist returning the smile she facored him with.

"One-track mind." She teased softly, and he pulled her knuckles to him, pressing his lips to them lightly with a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, perhaps if I were a stronger man I could resist your culinary experiments, but I am as I am, and you know it." He teased softly, and she smiled, giggling again.

For now, all was right in Noudenet's world, and nothing seemed to be changing that for some time.

#Brain Vomit #Fluff #Noudenet was actually super fun to write and not at all in my usual wheelwell will write him aghain perhaps #I blame Heromod entirely #damnit Hero you did this #BUT THE FLUFF OH MY GOD RTHE FLUFF

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