#I also have a weird stance on Potatoes simply because SOMETIMES I like the way they taste and sometimes the taste overwhelms me blandly

[apothesized-moth]

Egg: Only if Paired with something else (Fried rice YUM...) or if Cooked on Both sides.

Steak: I don't know anything about it, I just want the outside to be like maybe a bit crisp in some spots and for it to be soft inside.

Milk: Sure, but oftentimes not, I go BUCK WILD for Oat Milk tho.

Alcohol: Anything Sweet where you can't really taste it (Dangerous)

Warm Drink: Tea (Specifically Apple Cinnamon tea or a good Indian Chai, both with Absurd amounts of sugar.)

Potatoes: Baked Potatoes FTW (Also Sweet potatoes, specifically sweet potato Fries.)

Spice Tolerance: 6/10 (But I do crave the Spice, so I guess it's been building up?)

(I don't really have any friends to tag but if ur my friend and u see this feel free to do it yourself xoxo I love learning small things about my Friends.)

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Heatstroke

Mikasa Ackerman asks Jean about his reasons to offer himself as the one to inherit Eren's titan in her stead.

AO3

Jean dragged his feet towards the showers at the far end of their camp, yawning every couple of minutes. His muscles were stiff, and there was a bit of a pounding in his head that was thanks to the hours and hours of working under the sun.

There were hints of red in the sky still, even after the sun had fallen behind the horizon, bloody stains that vaticinated what was to come in Marley. But Jean didn’t want to think the worst. Not now, when things had not been decided yet. The future wasn’t written in stone, and he didn’t want to think their best efforts could amount to nothing to change the war to come.

Enough people had died. Enough things had been lost. Enough things and people would be lost in the future, even in the cheeriest of situations. Eren and Armin were part of that group who would inevitably succumb to the titan curse, and then Historia’s offspring would be condemned to keep reproducing just to keep that line of defense alive.

Not thinking on the worst would be for the best, at least for now.

“Hey, Jean,” Sasha called, running up to him. She jumped and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, almost making him lose his balance. “What are you doing, walking in that direction? The hizurans brought their fancy waggon meat.”

“It’s wagyu,” Jean corrected.

“That,” Sasha agreed with a snort. “Come on. It’s going to run out if you stop by a shower first.”

“I’m not going to go like this, Sasha. We smell,” Jean replied. Despite the breeze from the train ride, Jean could still feel the sweat lingering on his skin. “Besides, there are a bunch of diplomats in there, and military officials. You should think about showering.”

Sasha gave herself a sniff. “You’re just trying to be fancy like those folk. But you’re not, Jean, you’re as much of a peasant as I am. The only two royals here are Historia and Mikasa, now, I guess, if you count the whole Hizuru thing,” she laughed, pulling his arm towards the dining hall. “Come on. You’ll sit with Connie and me, it’s not like you’re gonna sit with the hot hizuran ladies.”

“It’s not like I want to!” Jean exclaimed. The hizuran ladies Kiyomi had brought on this visit were rather lovely, with their long dark hair and fancy way of speaking. But Jean wasn’t interested in them, at least not in the way some of the other members of the military were. He enjoyed seeing them perform their music instruments, and hear them talk about art and paintings, but that was about it.

“Oh, I forgot,” Sasha teased, stepping closer to him to whisper complicity, winking as she did so. “It’s just one hizuran lady that you want, isn’t it?”

Jean stepped back, heat rushing to his cheeks. “What the hell are you saying, potato girl?” He snapped, looking behind his shoulder, hoping nobody else had overheard Sasha. “I-I can smell you from here!”

Sasha smiled, unbothered by his taunt, and folded her arms over his chest. “I can see through your mask, Kirstein,” she said, proudly. “You’re just blushing because you’re in love with—”

“You know, he’s right,” Mikasa said, walking up to the two from their dormitories, a bucket and towel in hand. Jean and Sasha turned to look at her, suddenly silent: Sasha because she knew she’d almost slipped a detail a little too loud, a little too near Mikasa, a detail a little too intimate for Jean’s liking.

Jean, on the other hand, simply fell silent because she looked beautiful in the fading sunlight. “Sasha, you need to shower before we go to the dining hall,” she said to their friend.

“Mikasa, the food…you saw what the hizurans make with fish. It’s so fantastic and delicious,” Sasha said, like a child pleading to their mother for a couple more hours to play outside. “And the meat they bring? Everyone loved it. It’s so fancy. It’s too fancy, and we only get a few portions each. If we don’t hurry—”

“I asked Niccolo to save you some,” Mikasa said, giving Sasha a pointed look. She outstretched her hand to her, offering Sasha her towel and the bucket with the soap and shampoo. “But you need to wash first.”

Sasha gave her an awkward smile as she took the towel and the bucket. “B-but these are your washing things—”

“I have a spare,” Mikasa replied.

“But, this is your favorite soap,” Sasha replied, rummaging the contents of the bucket. “Y-you know, the ones Jean’s mom sent us all last month? The one that smells like honey?”

Mikasa exchanged a quick look with Jean. “Jean’s mom can send us more. Right, Jean?”

“Right.” Jean stammered in agreement. His mother had kept sending little presents for him and his friends for a few months now. Snacks, soothing lotions for the muscles, towels, soap, handknitted socks…it was stupid, but he guessed a little pride came with the fact that his mom had made her favorite.

“Besides, I got a hold of the one Eren got,” Mikasa added, arching an eyebrow. “So, I’ve got a spare soap, too.”

“No surprise that bastard doesn’t like soap,” Jean muttered under his breath.

Sasha slouched her shoulders and gave her an awkward, defeated smile. “Do you promise he’ll save us some? Did you make it swear?” Sasha asked. “If you make it swear on his honor as a marleyan, he does anything you ask him to.”

Mikasa gave Sasha a tiny little smile. “He’ll do it. I told him it was for you.” She said, narrowing her eyes slightly immediately afterwards. “You still need to hurry, though. He can only do so much.”

Sasha’s smile wavered a bit. “Can’t I—”

“Shower, Sasha,” Mikasa said with that motherly tone of voice she so often used to boss everyone in their squad around. “I won’t let you stink up our room.”

It seemed like Sasha would’ve protested further, but it only took for Mikasa to raise her eyebrows and look in the direction of the showers for Sasha to drop her stance, groan, and begin her march away from the dining hall. Jean watched her walk, feeling a little pity in his chest; she really did love that wagyu steak from Hizuru, and if it ran out…

Mikasa took a couple of steps to stand next to him. His heart began to beat faster at that, but that rational side of his mind told Jean was also sure she was just doing it to get a better view and make sure Sasha entered the showers. He gave her a quick sideways glance; there were hairs clinging to her forehead due to the sweat, but there was something about the way she carried herself despite the tiredness that didn’t make her seem disheveled. It was fantastic, the way she moved through life with such quiet elegance.

Or maybe he was just head over heels for her.

No, that couldn’t be it. He could see her flaws alright; most annoyed him, yes, and he could see them clear as day…and said flaws took nothing away from the quiet, strong beauty that was her.

“I already saved her some meat,” Mikasa said casually, her voice low and tired.

“You saved steak for her?” Jean asked, surprised.

Mikasa made an affirmative noise. “I snuck some out while no one was noticing,” she said, pausing for a second before looking at him. “Don’t tell her, please.”

Jean felt the corners of his mouth going upwards in a complicit smile. “You want it to be a surprise?”

“Yes, I think so,” Mikasa said, looking away from him.

A silence followed her words, but it wasn’t an awkward one. Silences were common with Mikasa Ackerman, they were to be expected. And while he’d overheard some saying she could be boring to be around, Jean enjoyed her silences. Too many people were too loud lately, including himself at times. With her, the world seemed to slow down a little bit. Her presence was soothing like that.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Earlier today…” she lowered her face, almost as if she were looking to hide it inside her scarf as she so often did. But she’d taken off the scarf in the morning, like each time they were sent to work on the railroads. When she didn’t find the familiar fabric around her neck, her eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell open, as if she’d just recalled her scarf wasn’t there.

Despite her serious face, the gesture was utterly adorable.

“Why are you smiling?” Mikasa asked suddenly. Not angry, but curious.

“Nothing,” Jean said, looking away from her. He cleared his throat; he didn’t like staring at her, or doing anything that would make her remotely uncomfortable. Most of his glances were stolen glances. But sometimes, she looked too pretty to not be admired, and those times he did look intently, he hated himself a little bit.

She doesn’t like you at all, you dumbass, he told himself¸ don’t make her feel weird.

“What was it that you were saying?” Jean asked.

“What were the reasons?”

“Huh?”

“You said I can’t take Eren’s titan,” Mikasa began, taking a breath before continuing. Jean turned to look at her again, but Mikasa had her eyes firmly set on the ground. “You said there were a ton of reasons why it couldn’t be me, apart from me being an Ackerman and half hizuran.”

Jean smiled, scratching the back of his head. “I guess I did say that, didn’t I?”

He’d spoken in sudden panic, panic he’d carefully masked as indifferent, logical thinking. In truth, the idea of Mikasa shortening her lifespan filled him with dread. The idea of her closing her eyes, disappearing from this world…it frightened him. And he didn’t know why.

No. He did know why. He just would never say it out loud.

“I’m asking you now,” Mikasa said, pulling him out of his reverie. “What are those reasons?”

The world became very quiet in his ears. The distant chatter from the dining room, the violins playing to welcome the hizurans, even the birds in the sky became muted. How was he supposed to tell her that the very idea of her dying broke his heart? How was he supposed to say that all those other reasons were stupid and selfish and all based on the fact that he loved her too much to allow her to sacrifice her life for a stupid war.

“Why are you asking?” Jean was able to say, despite the sudden dryness in his throat.

Mikasa gave him a quick sideways glance. Thankfully, the sun had hidden behind the horizon, and the lights outside were barely being turned on. Maybe this way she wouldn’t see his cheeks.

“I thought, they must be important,” Mikasa began, speaking slowly, as if choosing her words with care. “These reasons you didn’t say out loud. They are important, aren’t they? If they’re important, I want to know them.”

Jean wiped the sweat off his brow. She was a person of few words, but the little words she used had become more and more poignant as the years went by.

“Why do you think they are?” Jean asked with a chuckle, trying to hide how nervous he felt (and perhaps failing miserably).

“Because you offered to take the titan in my stead and shorten your lifetime first, before anyone,” Mikasa replied quickly, turning to look at him just as he turned to look at her. “I want to know what those reasons were.”

They were facing each other now, Jean realized. Since killing all the titans and opening the island to the world, it had been a while since the last time he’d had a proper conversation with her, without Eren, Armin, Sasha, Connie or Levi hovering around. In fact, if he thought about it, it was the first time in several months that he’d been alone with her and without the threat of imminent death hovering above them.

“Jean?” She asked, her voice inviting in his ears. She probably had no idea that, had she asked him to bring down the moon or a star down to her, he would’ve found a way to do it gladly. “Are you going to tell me?”

How could he tell her he loved her, though? He knew where her heart lied, Jean already knew who Mikasa loved. And it was not him. And now that Eren’s lifespan was quickly reaching its end, Jean knew it would only seem like he was taking an advantage of the situation, he would be nothing but a bird of prey in her eyes.

He’d seen her after they’d broken the news to them about Armin and Eren’s shortened lifespan; he knew how much that certainty of a young death for her dearest friends (and the one boy she loved) had damaged her.

“Jean, tell me,” she repeated, almost in a whisper now.

He couldn’t tell her about his feelings. He could never, ever do that. And that was okay. He’d come to terms with it. But how could he deny her the truth when she asked so sweetly? How could he deny her when she looked so lovely?

“Jean?” Mikasa asked, her hand hovering over his arm, her voice growing concerned with each word she pronounced. “Jean, are you okay?”

No, he was not at all okay. His brain felt like it was boiling, and the sole presence of her had caused his breathing to become shallow. She had no idea what she’d done to him with her question, how all the bottled up feelings had come rushing into his brain all at once: the fear of losing her, the grief of never telling her how he felt, the love he’d never get to share with her, the hurt for her losing the two most important people for her. It was all there.

Mikasa put both hands on his arm, keeping him from falling. “Jean, I’m sorry, are you—”

“Oi!” Eren’s voice called from afar. “What are you two doing there, Mikasa?! The food is gonna run out if you don’t hurry!”

Jean held a hand to the neck of his shirt and unbuttoned it, his breathing quick and shallow, as if he’d just swam for a great deal of time. “Do you need to sit?” Mikasa asked him, moving to stand before. “Do you need water?”

“Didn’t you guys hear me?” Eren shouted again, this time sounding irritated. “What is horse face doing that’s so interesting?”

“I need water,” Jean told her, fixating his eyes on her. “Heatstroke.”

“Oi!” Eren shouted, jogging to stand next to the two. “Aren’t you guys even listening?”

“I’ll get you water,” Mikasa said, helping him sit on the ground, then turned to speak to Eren, who was most likely heading their way. “Jean has a heatstroke. We need to give him water. Call Levi and Armin so they can take him to the showers.”

“I thought horses could go on for a while without water,” Eren said, giving Jean a little smirk that inevitably brought a smile to his face.

“And I thought idiots could take orders from better soldiers,” he snapped back, not looking at him. If he looked at him right in the face, he would just feel his chest twisting further in pain. Jean cursed himself; he was such a baby.

“Stop,” Mikasa commanded. “You two, stop fighting just now. Jean, stay quiet. Eren, get me Armin and Levi.”

“Can’t you and I take him to the showers?” Eren asked.

“If we take him into the showers…” Mikasa stopped a moment. Jean looked up for a moment and even in the dark, Jean could see the blush in her cheeks. “I’d have to see him naked. I won’t make him uncomfortable.”

Ah, that idea did nothing to calm his panic attack. In fact, it made Jean even breathe quicker. Jean buried his head between his arms, the panic attack washing over him in full force. “Eren, we need to hurry,”

___________________________________________

Mikasa watched Jean nibble on a piece of meat while sitting next to the window; his hair was wet after the shower, and his arms were a bit bruised from Levi and Eren helping him reach the showers. He’d been rather quiet after they’d calmed him down, and Mikasa didn’t dare to speak much and make him strain himself.

Levi had told them to watch over him while he went to get a physician for Jean, but Eren was outside, talking to Armin about the things the hizurans had brought over in this visit to the island. He’d left her alone again, but that didn’t matter, because the constant chatter from outside between him and Armin reassured her he was still there, he was still alive.

She was sorry about Jean, though. It had been a while since the last time she’d spent time alone with Jean, a long while. She couldn’t have been good company. Not to him; she saw how he was with Sasha and Connie. Those three, much like Armin and Eren, were a constant stream of conversation, stream of conversation usually lead by Jean himself. Mikasa was too shy, too quiet to keep him comfortable while keeping him company.

“Thank you,” Jean said, sliding the plate over to her. “Sasha will be angry I ate her stuff.”

“I saved plenty for her.” Mikasa replied, taking the plate in her hands.

Jean arched an eyebrow. “Thief.”

Mikasa lowered her head, realizing he’d almost elicited a chuckle out of her. “I’m—”

“I was just playing,” Jean replied, smiling slightly despite her awkward reaction to his joke.

“I’m sorry,”

“For what?”

“I’m too quiet.” Mikasa said, looking outside the window to avoid his gaze.

“I like quiet. Quiet is good nowadays,” Jean replied. From the corner of her eye, she noticed he’d shrugged. It was weird, how his words sounded so sincere. She could tell people got bored with her presence quickly; even Eren, she’d seen his urge to find Armin whenever they found themselves alone. But Jean didn’t look bored. He wasn’t like Sasha, who spoke constantly and nonstop and helped fill the gaps in their conversations caused by herself. He looked…strangely at peace, almost at home in her silence.

Which only urged her to want to fill that strange gap with words.

“I-I kept asking you while you were having that heatstroke,” Mikasa continued. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Those reasons—”

“Rest,” Mikasa said, interrupting him. For some reason, all her curiosity had disappeared the moment she’d seen him on the verge of passing out back there. “I’m the strongest of all. I’m more useful without a titan, and I know it would be troublesome to lose your best soldier after only thirteen years.”

“No,” Jean said firmly, his voice so firm, so adult sounding that Mikasa had to turn to look at him. “Those reasons…you’re not a soldier. And those reasons go beyond just keeping you alive for fighting.”

“What?”

“Maybe I just want to see you live a long life too and that’s that,” Jean replied, looking away from her, staring at the window. “As for the rest of it, maybe I don’t want to tell you just yet.”

Mikasa looked at him for a long while, trying to figure out what he’d meant. Of course, they all wanted to see each other live long lives. But, much like his comfort in her silence, his words felt different. If she’d heard them from Sasha, or Connie or even Armin, they would’ve sounded much different, for some reason she didn’t understand.

She frowned, not quite comprehending the situation, not quite comprehending why he didn’t want to look at her. She wasn’t good at things related to social interactions, and this situation wasn’t the exception. What was he trying to tell her? Why did she want to figure it out so intently?

“Or maybe it was just the heatstroke speaking,” Jean added, with a shrug.

Mikasa looked back at him. He hadn’t meant that last part, and she knew that by just looking at him. But it seemed like a good little excuse to diffuse the sudden tension between them. “Maybe it was.”

Jean offered her a smile she returned in what she felt was a stiff gesture. “I’m too awkward.”

“No, you’re not,” Jean replied, snorting. “You’re great as you are.”

Mikasa turned to look at him again, but Jean was no longer looking at him. Thosewords he had meant. And she found herself smiling a little more naturally this time. “Thank you, Jean.”

[exhaustedfander]

First Comes Love: Chapter 12

Oh boy, we’re getting into the final stretch of this story! Only one more chapter after this! I’d love to hear what you think.

a03 link

1  / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / ?

Word Count: 2,496

“What if he doesn’t show up?”

“Remus, you and I both know that’s preposterous. You two proposed to each other on the same day, for crying out loud! He’s crazy about him and you’re crazy about him. Or maybe just crazy, in general, I can never tell.” 

Remus delivered a well-deserved shove, earning an overdramatic gasp.

“Okay, but what if – what if he’s woken up and decided he doesn’t want to go through with it? What if clarity struck him that he doesn’t want this? Jesus, Roman, what if he stands me up at the alter?!”

“Easy, there, brother dear. You’re sounding a lot like Panic! At the Everywhere,” he said, placing a hand on the small of his brother’s back. Remus stared at his reflection in the mirror, cringing at the unsteadiness of his stance.

“I can’t tell if comparing me to your boyfriend is an insult or a compliment.”

“I’m saying, there’s nothing to be worried about,” Roman said as soothingly as he could manage. “You and Logan are simply meant to be,” – he sang that bit, eliciting a groan -, “To so much as think that our resident nerd would stand you up at the alter is prosperous and you know it.”

“But what if –.”

“No more ‘what ifs’, thank you very much,” Roman interrupted, “Remus, Logan is deeply, and madly in love with you. You could walk out there wearing nothing but a filthy potato sack and he’d still think you were the most beautiful thing to walk the Earth. Luckily, for a trash man, you clean up pretty nice.”

Remus stared intently at his reflection. The suit he wore was a dark forest green, the shirt beneath an only slightly more unsettling lime, the black and green tie (good lord, it was a lot of green, not that Roman was surprised) a nice striped pattern. Remus’s usually unruly hair was neatly combed, and he looked quite a bit more presentable than usual.

“You think so?” Roman couldn’t help but be stricken with a pang of surprise. Normally, Remus didn’t give two shits what anyone, save for Logan, thought about him, or his appearance for that matter. But now, in a moment of unjustified, but understandable, panic, he was genuinely asking.

“Of course I do,” Roman said, taking his hand off of his twin’s back, “You look wonderful, Remus. And – we’re twins, so I’d be a little concerned if you looked that much worse than me.”

“Everyone knows I’m the better looking one,” Remus said, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. Roman barked out a laugh.

“We’re identical!”

“And yet my point still stands.” Roman huffed out a breath.

“I’m supposed to be the cocky one, I’m supposed to be the romantic one, stop stealing my bits!”

“And yet you’re still not engaged. Before we know it, your dear emo nightmare will have been swept up by another, far better man.” The smile that stretched across Roman’s face is sure to spell trouble. “Okay, why are you looking at me like that? Did you guys get engaged and not tell me? Because if so, fuck you.” Roman stuck a hand in his pocket, fishing out a ring box.

“Is that so?” Roman asked, popping the box open and showing his brother the amethyst ring inside.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve finally decided to stop being such a little pussy, huh?” This time Remus was the one who received the shove.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll propose to him in the middle of your wedding.” Remus narrowed his eyes.

“I would kill you where you stood.”

“You’re all talk, brother dear.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, uncapping the green nail polish he’d applied to his finger and waving the brush near Roman. “Keep talking like that and the suit gets it!” Roman pressed a hand to his chest, glaring at his twin.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Remus glared right back.

“Try me, bitch.” Roman scoffed, holding his hands in the air, backing away from Remus who was still dangerously wielding the polish.

“Okay, okay, I surrender!” Roman said, hands guarding the front of his ruby red suit, “I’m not actually going to propose to Virgil at your wedding, for God’s sake.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“You wound me!” Roman squawked before he caught sight of the look in his twin’s eyes. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. This is one of the best days of your life! You get to promise your undying love for one of my best friends, which can admittedly still be kind of weird to think about, but it’s great! You guys are great. A power-couple, as far as I’m concerned.” Remus’s lips curled into a faint grin.

“Yeah… we are pretty great, huh? I didn’t… I never thought I was the kind of person to get married. I was sure it was the bachelor’s life for me, y’ know? I figured I was always gonna end up alone.” Roman placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, compassion glimmering in his eyes.

“But you haven’t,” Roman reminded, “You aren’t alone anymore, Remus. You have Logan, and me, and our friends. You’ll never have to be alone again. You –,” Roman paused his speech, seeing tears beginning to haze Remus’s vision, “Oh no you don’t! I just did your makeup, and I refuse to have it ruined before the ceremony has started. Don’t you dare get all soft on me.” Remus sniffed.

“I – I can’t help it. Before, I was all angsty thinking I was some kind of fucking lone-wolf or something, and then I met Logan. And – and you were back in my life, and I had friends, and – everything’s so different, Ro. It’s a g-good different, but still… still weird, sometimes.”

“And you can cry about it later!” Roman insisted, earning a watery chuckle from Remus. “Stop it or you’ll get me starting too, and you’ll be late for your own damn wedding.”

Remus and Logan had only been engaged for five months, yet the wait had been grueling. Honestly, when they woke up the morning after their engagement, there was a moment where they, briefly, considered a Courthouse Wedding.

“We could be married tomorrow,” Remus had said, “Wouldn’t that be fucking awesome?”

“It would be nice to call you my husband as soon as possible,” Logan had said, despising the fact that he was actually considering it.

“Oooh! We could get married in Vegas! Drive down, get hitched, and get rich!” Logan had rolled his eyes, though the gesture was full of nothing but fondness.

“That’s a terrible idea and you know it. Also, you're a terrible gambler."

“C’mon, Dragonfly, live a little!”

“We’re not getting married in Los Vegas.”

“Ugh, fiiiiine. But you’re no fun!” Logan had chuckled at that, pressing a kiss to Remus’s lips.

“So I’ve been told.”

In the end, the couple decided that a proper wedding was what they wanted, even if it meant they’d have to wait a little bit longer to officially call themselves husbands. They wanted their friends to be a part of the celebration, and while they were by no means looking for opulence, a fairly nice venue was on their wish-list.

The one they’d found was outdoor, near a gorgeous lake with sprawling greenery and they couldn’t be happier with it. In all honesty, Remus would be content with marrying Logan in a rat-infested dumpster so long as he promised to be his, but that wouldn’t exactly be ideal.

But now, here he was, about to tie the knot in a beautiful location, about to promise forever to the love of his life. Remus figured he was allowed to freak out, at least a little bit.

“It’s just about time to go,” Roman said after Remus had a few more minutes to collect himself, “Are you ready?” Remus took a steadying breath, giving his reflection a final once-over before nodding, his head bouncing up and down a touch too erratically.

“Yeah… yeah, okay, I’m ready.”

If someone had told Remus a few years ago that his brother would walk him down this aisle at his wedding, he would’ve called them crazy. But now, stepping out into the picturesque spring day, his arm looped with Roman’s, he couldn’t be any more grateful.

The music swelled as the twins walked down the aisle. Remus’s eyes grazed over the guests, his wonderful friends looking back at him with so much love. And then, his eyes met Logan’s, and his heart stopped.

Logan wore a Navy-blue suite, his tie a pink and aqua floral pattern. Logan was often so insistent on the fact that his wardrobe, especially as a teacher, was to make him look as professional as possible (aside from the Unicorn onesie, but that was rarely spoken about), so he usually forwent wearing fun patterns. Seeing him now, though, Remus would have to make a point to mention how amazing he looked in it. How amazing he looked in general.

“Hey,” Remus said quietly, once the chatter of the guests had died down and the minister began speaking. Logan gave him a look that absolutely melted his heart into a gooey, sticky mess (Remus wondered what it would look like if a human heart really did melt. It would be fantastically gorey!) and muttered his own greeting. It took absolutely every ounce of Remus’s self-control not to grab Logan by the lapels and kiss him with every intense, sappy emotion that roared inside of him.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union of Remus Knightly and Logan Sanders,” the minister announced, but immediately, Remus felt like his ears were plugged up with cotton. All he could focus on was Logan, stunning, incredibly, way too hot for his own good, Logan. The sun shone down on them, bathing his fiancé in a light he dared to call heavenly as if all that touched Logan was divine. Remus certainly thought so. So much as looking at him was prompting tears, but it seemed Logan wasn’t in much better shape, his eyes becoming misty behind his glasses.

Remus was only able to snap out of once Logan began to deliver his vows, desperately wanting once again to kiss him breathless.

“Remus, I’ve told you innumerable times how much I struggle to comprehend my emotions,” Logan began, his voice already beginning to waver, “for so long, I considered feelings the bane of my existence. It didn’t make any sense to me, and it all felt so complicated and strange. Today, not much of that has changed. I still struggle greatly with comprehending my emotions. But that doesn’t distract from the fact that I am madly, frantically in love with you.

“Before you, I never imagined what it would be like to wake up beside someone and feel… such unabashed joy. You make me laugh, utilizing a sense of humor I never thought I would indulge in. You make me feel so good about myself, just by being yourself,” Logan said, tears beginning to slip down his cheeks, though Remus wasn’t too far behind him, “You’ve taught me so much, my love, and you’ll never know the extent of how much you mean to me.

“I cannot imagine anything better than calling you, my husband. Domesticity is not something I considered for myself but now – now I crave it. I want to wake up beside you every day of my life. I want to watch documentaries together and cuddle on the couch, I want you to read me your books in every voilent detail, I want to kiss you for as long as I’m able. I love you, Remus Demetri Nightly, with every bit of my being, and to be yours is something I know is one of the best things to happen to me.”

“F-fuck, Dragonfly, how the hell am I gonna get through this after that?” Remus asked through a watery laugh. Thirty minutes ago, Remus was terrified of the eyes that would be on him, and the prospect of Logan deciding he didn’t want this after all but standing before him, such fears dissipated.

“You’re perfect,” Remus said, taking one of Logan’s hands in his own, “You’re absolutely perfect, and I’m never going to stop saying it. You’re the smartest, most beautiful, incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and sometimes, I still can’t believe you fell for me. I hadn’t been happy for so long before I knew that, and y-you brought me so much joy, the moment you were in my life.

You’ve brought me love, a feeling I d-didn’t know I was capable of truly feeling. You brought my brother back to me,” Roman was sobbing somewhere in the crowd, his fingers laced tightly with Virgil’s, “You’ve brought light into my life. I didn’t know if I’d ever be hopeful again b-but I am! I’m hopeful for the life we’ll lead, f-for the things we’ll do. I’m hopeful for anything, as long as I’m with you. I love you Logan Sanders, and I’ll tell you every chance I get for as long as I can. I’ll do everything I can to give you the world, because you deserve it, e-every bit of it.”

Tears rolled down both of their faces, their smiles unbreakable. There was an exchange of rings, slipped onto their fingers, and glimmering in the sunlight.

“Do you, Logan Sanders, take Remus Sanders to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” Logan nodded; his teary eyes trained on Remus.

“I do.”

“Do you, Remus Knightly, take –.”

“Yes, of course, I fucking do!” Remus interrupted, earning a laugh from several of the guests. The officiant sighed, rolling with it.

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you Husband and Husband. You may kiss the groom.”

Remus surged forward, his hands gripping Logan’s tie and pulling him into a deep kiss, the cheering of the guests ringing in their ears.

Later, there would be tearful speeches and endless hugs. Roman would give a sappily embarrassing best man's speech (And not propose to his boyfriend at Remus’s wedding, thank god. He’d wait another day to do that) that made Remus’s fondness and annoyance of his brother swell in tandem. Later, Remus would shove cake with green and blue icing in Logan’s face, only to earn the same fate. Later, they’d share their first dance under the moonlight, hoping for a lifetime of shotty footwork and stifled laughter. Impressively, Remus only stepped on Logan’s feet twice. Later, they’d do so much more, accomplish all that they wanted.

Now, though, they embraced, holding each other as though they’d disappear the moment they let go.

“I love you, Logan Knightly-Sanders,” Remus whispered in his ear, kissing him ardently.

“And I love you, Remus Knightly-Sanders,” Logan responded, intent on never stopping kissing if he could help it.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar 

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

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Please, let me know if you’d like to added to my general taglist! I’d be happy to add folks! 

[faintblueivy]

Is she beautiful? A Borusara story

Chapter - 1

I finally had time to post the text version of this story here, on Tumblr. Previously, I had posted links of ffnet and ao3 of the first two chapters of this story so might have already read it.

***

Chapter - 1

Admirers of Uchiha Sarada

Boruto groaned in annoyance, forcing Mitsuki to steal a sideways glance at him.

It was supposed to be an ordinary get together of their entire class. Even now when their academy days were over, they still arranged such events every now and then to stay in touch with everyone. But the girls of their class were not here yet so they were allowed to talk about the boy stuff. They were supposed to talk about the upcoming Chunin exams, and also about the previous one which ended in a catastrophic way. They were supposed to talk about their opponents and their jutsus. They were supposed to talk about new video games and movies.

But they were currently talking about the one thing that they were not supposed to talk, or more likely, the one topic that made him extremely uncomfortable. And this is not the first time they were talking of this!

The topic of the current heated discussion among them was-

Girls.

Or more specifically, Uchiha Sarada.

It had all started with an innocent praise from Denki.

“Oh! Did you guys see it? When Sarada-san defeated her opponent with a single punch?”

“Yeah. I’m have to agree that she’s quite amazing with her fists.” Surprisingly, Iwabee was the first person to agree with him.

Boruto smirked. The girl was a lot better than only her fists and shurikens. They have no idea. But the smirk was wiped off his face when someone up from the crowd spoke up, Boruto noticed that it was Renga-kun, about her.

“She is good. But I wonder if I am the only one who thinks that she’s gotten much prettier than before? Like even the genins from other villages were talking about her and some boys were even checking her out.”

Boruto almost blanched. Hearing that boys were checking her out made him really want to punch something for some reason he was not able to figure out. An unexplainable anger fogged his senses and the weird sensation only increased when someone exclaimed from the group.

“No dude! You are not the only one who thinks so! She’s cute and is getting even more lovely by each passing day. I would really give anything to go on date with her.”

His fists clenched tightly on his sides.

Stupid brats! Don’t they understand that she does not have time for such silly stuff? She’s going to be the future Hokage for God’s sake. And Hokages don’t have enough time to go on stupid dates!

He stuffed his hands inside his pockets and looked to the other side in annoyance, trying his hardest to block out the conversation going on, when suddenly he was dragged into it.

"Hey! Hey! Boruto-kun! You have known Sarada-san for the longest time, right?”

"Yeah…so, what about it?”

"Do you think too that she has gotten even more beautiful than before?”

Suddenly all eyes were on him waiting for an answer as if they were expecting him to give permission to hold something that was only in his possession. Truthfully speaking, he found it weird and of course, the question was even weirder.

Is Sarada beautiful?

Nah! She’s just a peculiar girl who wears glasses and always finds something to pester me about! She is not beautiful.

He almost opened his mouth to answer the question but was startled when an image of a smiling Sarada flashed into his mind. His breath hitched. A genuinely smiling Sarada was like something akin to finding a diamond.

Rare but breathtaking.

Even he could not deny that her smile was…entrancing?

Because when she smiles, to look away from her becomes the hardest thing to do at that moment.

And which is why she, certainly, she cannot be called ugly too!

Boruto didn’t know how to answer their question. He was struck in a dilemma. But another thought occurred to him, halting him and his opinions regarding his childhood friend.

But did it matter? If she was beautiful or not? Because she was still the same Sarada he had known his entire life.

The one who scolded him for the tiniest thing but also the one to patch him up if he ever got hurt. The one who had full faith in him and his abilities but never hesitates to rush to his aid if ever needed. The one who could say harsh words to him in the face but also the one who could read him like an open book and make him feel better with a few words.

And of course, one of the only who didn’t ever see him just as a Hokage’s son but as Uzumaki Boruto.

Overwhelmed by the thoughts and emotions in his head, Boruto decides to take a neutral route.

She is neither beautiful nor ugly. She is still the same. Will always be.

“Sarada? I don’t know guys? She looks the same to me…Hm…the only difference is that she has just gotten taller, I suppose?”

“Are you serious? You need glasses, man!”

Boruto narrowed his eyes. “I do not!”

“Hey guys. If Boruto-kun doesn’t like Sarada-chan then that means that she is available! I mean we can ask her for dates!”

Wait…what is that supposed to mean?

Excited whispers increased, some louder than the others, every one discussing about how they’ll woo Sarada, the sound of which grated on Boruto’s nerves. His ire was rising with each passing second and when he couldn’t take it anymore, he finally raised his voice-

“Don’t bother yourself, guys. Sarada will not go out with you people at all.”

“Eh…why?” Several voices spoke in unison.

Boruto smirked. “You said it yourself. I know her. I’ve known her for almost our entire lives. I know her well enough to be almost sure that you people don’t stand a chance. And anyway, when she has something in her mind then it becomes almost impossible to make her loose her focus. That is why she is not interested, it simply would be a waste of your efforts and time.”

I can’t believe it. These idiots really think that buying her some flowers and chocolates will make her fall in love with them. As if. It might work on ordinary girls but she is nothing like one.

I mean which normal girl of their age would spend her entire free day cooped up in a library? Which normal girl of their age would spend hours talking about and practicing new Jutsus and read history books rather than going out on shopping?

She is weird. And has been for as long as he can remember. But he is sort of glad about that?

Suddenly, one among the group – Sarada’s greatest admirer – moved forward as if to confront Boruto.

"Hey! Who are you to decide if we don’t stand a chance for Sarada-chan or not?”

“Who am I? I’m her teammate, her childhood friend and her…”

Boruto found himself at a loss of words. Was being her team mate and friend qualified him enough to decide the boys she should go out with? But…he knows, he knows that she will hate to have these lovesick puppies follow her around. It will definitely make her uncomfortable and he didn’t want that to happen!

“You are her…?” the boy in front of him taunted, smirking superiorly.

Boruto almost punched him in the face but somehow managed to still his body with great effort. But then, he knew what he wanted to say.

“I am her protector!” He declared, his tone dripping with conviction. He was not backing down from this! She is his teammate and his friend and he will protect her, whether it be from a God, or a horde of smitten male colleagues .

All of the people present there looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. Even the big guy – his opponent – looked unsure. Mitsuki, Shikadai, Inojin, Denki and Iwabee looked at him in shock, some displaying the emotion more than the others. Boruto found his smirk getting wider. He was proud of himself to come up with such a tongue-tying answer.

You asked for it! Hehe!

But before the situation could escalate, Mitsuki, who was standing at the railing of the over bridge they currently occupied, said pointing to a group of girls approaching them.

“They’re here.”

And of course, there they were, the girls of their class, laughing and talking and being cheerful after a hard day of working for the repairs of the village, caused by the attack of Momoshiki and his follower.

As they reached them, both the groups mingled into one, the sounds of the exchanged greetings filling the air around them when someone spoke-

“Class rep! Where is Sarada-san?”

“E-eh? She is n-not here?” Sumire asked, her eyes wide and her stance making her worry visible over the absence of her friend. “Chocho-chan? Was n-not Sarada-chan with you a m-moment ago?”

The amber eyed girl stuffed her mouth with a handful of potato chips and replied-

“Yeah! She was beside me a moment ago! I don’t know where did she disappear to?”

Boruto frowned.

“Looks like your condition has worsened. You are not even aware of your friend’s presence anymore. I propose that we immediately take you to Sakura-san.” Mitsuki retaliated Chocho’s nonchalant reply with his own dry voice.

“Look! She’s there!” It was Iwabee who pointed out a figure down below the bridge. And certainly, he cannot miss Sarada even in crowd filled street. Her back was towards them, her shirt proudly showing off the Uchiwa fan. The symbol she inherited from her father.

She was kneeling in front of a crying kid, trying her best to pacify him and then stood offering her hand to take, which the child did, although with an unsure look on his face.

Boruto deduced that the kid must have been separated from his parents. It was not a rare occurrence. Sometimes, even he had to help such children. Sarada turned her head here and there, her onyx eyes scanning crowd as if trying to pinpoint a person and soon enough, they found her eyes pinning on a frantic looking woman who was talking to a police officer with wild gestures. She immediately lifted the child up in her arms and pointed out the woman. It took a few seconds but the child squealed in delight and nodded his head.

As soon as she placed the kid down, he dragged her to the direction where he assumed his mother was. And Boruto found a soft warmth blossoming into his chest. Everyone says that he was good in making friends but he believes that Sarada is the one who’s best at solving people’s problems. He found that quality admirable.

There was teary reunion between the mother and child and he almost laughed at the discomfort Sarada showed when the woman wrapped her in her arms as a thankful gesture of gratitude for finding her son and bringing him back to her.

And in a few moments, a confused Sarada was left staring at the waving mother-son duo as they exited the scene with a large bag of candies in her hands.

Immediately, Mitsuki stretched out his arm long enough to reach Sarada and tapped her on the shoulder. She grinned and grabbed his offered hand as he easily pulled her on to the bridge, landing her straight in front of Boruto.

Nightly onyx orbs clashed against the sky blue ones.

Before Boruto could utter a single syllable, she averted her eyes and moved past him.

He felt a sharp sting of pain at her gesture but bit back his tongue.

What are you crying for? A mocking voice taunted him from somewhere in the back of his mind.

He turned his head to gaze at her, the pain increasing tenfold, thanks to that voice inside his head which simply reminded him of what he had done to receive this silent treatment from her.

You deserve this. You know that, don’t you? You deserve this for breaking her trust.

***

The links for ffnet and ao3 are here.

And my other stories can be found here.