#and i got through those years w/ the promise it would be temporary

[marmett]

32 hour workweeks and 3 day weekends would fix me.

[forever-rogue]

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[urimaginespimp]

Three Months Apart

Tommy x Reader

angst + maybe a happy ending?

--------

Today was the day you were going to ask him.

You’ve been with Thomas for over six years. The countless parties and weddings you’ve attended together become more and more intolerable. All because every time you went to them, the more you wanted to have your own.  

It didn’t help that your family was pressuring you to it, no matter how against they were of your relationship. Your father often told you, that If you were going to associate yourself with such a dangerous family, might as well make sure you’re officially entitled to their protection.

You gave him the signs, hell even Polly and John started dropping their own hints at him to help you after they figured out what you’ve been trying to do. But as much as Thomas was one of the most intelligent people you know, he seemed to be oblivious about it.

Pacing back and forth outside his office, you were close to backing out when the door opened, revealing Thomas.

“Is there a reason why you’ve been pacing back and forth out here for the last three minutes?” your boyfriend asks you with a smile.

“I uh… wanted to talk.” You answered quietly, walking inside.

Thomas was confused with the nervousness of you voice. Closing the door, he turned to see you already on the seat in front of his desk, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?” He asked you.

“A friend of mine from London is getting married next month.” You don’t know how, but that lie just rolled off your tongue.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to be nervous about asking me to be your date, right? We’ve gone through occasions like these about a hundred times.” He chuckled.

“Right. We’ve been through a lot of weddings.” You nodded, smiling. “But I never got the chance to ask you the very same thing I often ask my other unmarried friends.”

“Well shoot, darling.” He walked towards you and took the seat opposite yours.

“Do you think they’re making the right decision?" you finally asked him, feeling a rush out of your system. You didn’t even realize how tense this has been making you.

“Frankly, if it’s no benefit for a company, like let’s say an official alliance, then it’s a waste of time and money.” He answered nonchalant, taking a cigarette out of his pocket.

No matter how appalled you were at his response, you tried not to show it.

“Not even if they do love each other?” You felt your throat tighten up.

Thomas sighed. “If they really do love each other, they wouldn’t need to have such a unecessary event to shove it to other people’s face.”

“Good God, Thomas.” You whispered.

“Tom, it’s more than just telling the world how much you love each other. It’s also sealing devotion to each other. Giving them the gift of the right t-to let’s say, visit you in a hospital without having to wait for a real family member tell them that you are indeed the patient’s significant other. Or not having to deal with stupid people labeling you as their whore or temporary piece anymore.” You ranted to him, not being able to hold back in including your personal reasons.

“Is this what this is all about? You let those petty comments in your head even after years of being together?” He asked you, irritated. You stood up from your seat.

“I’m a woman, Thomas. And it’s quiet disappointing that at this time of age, being one still isn’t that significant. I quit my job for you. I left the comfort of my family’s home for you. Everyone I run into knows I’m with you. Now God forbid, but what would become of me if one of your dangerous antics would lead you to your demise? Who would hire a Shelby trash? And I might as well kill myself if I’d have to go back and hear my mother’s non-ending comments about me.”

“You know my family’s still going to take care of you.” He answered quietly, still wrapping his head around your sudden outburst.

“That’s not the point.” At this rate, you were gripping your dress to stop yourself from crying. Not until you ask him one more thing at least.

“Have you even thought about marrying me?” You blinked at him, hopefulness laced your voice.

But for the first time in the years you’ve been with him, Thomas Shelby was out for words in an argument. Your question left his mouth parted, trying to give you an answer.

Your stomach dropped. The defeated look on your face almost pushed him to give you the lie you wanted to hear, but he couldn’t do that to you.

“I understand." You said looking down at your dress and running your hands through it as if an effort to smooth it out, when you were only trying not to show the tears that have finally spilled.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself from the dreadful thing you were about to say next.

"I can’t do this anymore.” You barely said and willed your shaking self to walk out from him that day.

--------

That was three months ago.

You were in your father’s debt for helping you “disappear” off the radar for a little while. He sent you to live with a wealthy distant relative in the countryside, giving you time to pick yourself up and work on your personal happiness again.

It was safe to say that you were getting there, if it weren’t just for your own mind betraying you every once in a while, when you’d unexpectedly think or dream about him.

And of course, there were times where you almost regretted that day. You were already happy, right? But at the same time, it was better than spending more years before realizing he’d never marry you.

Thomas. You hadn’t heard directly from him ever since that day. Of course you gave a haste tearful goodbye to everybody, promising to write to them in the future. But it was a few letters from your sister that gave you a few updates.

She’d told you how he came to your family’s home a bunch of times on the first month, asking for your father’s favor to tell him where you were. On the second month he’d resort to calling every now and then, but on the third, there was nothing.

You guess he’d finally move on. And that was your cue to finally come home.

A few days back in your family’s home, one of your maids handed you an invitation to your name. It was dated a month back, but what caught your attention was that the seal was clearly already opened.

“It got delivered straight to the Shelbys first, miss.” She told you after seeing your confused expression.

Giving her a nod and a small smile, you opened it and saw that it was a formal invitation to a friend’s engagement party, set three nights from now.

“Should I send you sincerest regrets?” She asked you, and you stared back at her. “S-since you just got back from a trip.” She clarified awkwardly.

“No. Just go with me to find a dress tomorrow, please.”

--------

“I almost lost hope that you’d even come, Y/N” your friend hugged you as soon as she got you alone after introducing you to her betrothed.

“Don’t be daft. I’d never miss a chance to see my friends happy.” You smiled at her. “I never even knew you were dating someone.”

“Yeah, it’s for the family’s benefit. We like each other though, so it’s no problem.” She explained, chuckling. “So…” she continued. “Where have you been these past few months? I tried calling but all I got was that you’re out for a vacation.”

“I’m no longer with Thomas. Had to clear my head for a lil bit." You smiled awkwardly. Sooner or later you had to tell people anyway.

“Y/N I- I am so sorry for the invitation mishap. Had I known, I wouldn’t have sent it to his address or listed him as your plus one.” She squeezed your hand in remorse.

“It’s fine, really. You didn’t know.” You assured her.

She was smiling at you in gratitude, but something behind you caught her eye that made her gape in surprise. Curious, you turned your head and saw that it was no other than your ex-boyfriend heading your way.

“Do you want me to get someone to escort him out?” You friend asked in panic. Turning to face her, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“No, I’ll handle it. What I want you to do is enjoy your party, okay?” You smiled reassuringly. Giving your hand one last squeeze, she excused herself when Thomas was a few steps away.

Turning to face him, you were surprisingly feeling calmer than expected.

“Mr. Shelby.” You addressed him with a curt nod.

“Can I talk to you in private?” he cut to the chase. You bit your tongue back from making a remark about his lack of greeting, after seeing how his eyes were pleading despite his cold tone.

“Lead the way.” You found yourself saying.

On your way to wherever he was going, you caught your friend’s worried eye, and gave her a playful scolding look for not enjoying herself like you asked. Sure enough, he led you both in an unoccupied room that looked like someone’s study.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you were taken aback when he suddenly charged at you and engulfed you in his arms. Thankfully, you were quick enough to steady yourself so that you both wouldn’t fall.

“Please don’t ever call me that ever again.” He whispered in your ear, shakily.

“W-wha-“

“Mr. Shelby. Please don’t ever call me like I'm just some associate. I hate it.” He cut you off. Your eyes watered at the tone of his voice. It sounded like he was as miserable as you’ve been these past few months.

Unable to give him any response, he slowly finally let go of you from his embrace and faced you. Looking at him, he was in one of his expensive suits, but that could only take away a little of your attention from his real state.

He had never looked as tired as he does right now, he looked like he lost a few pounds, his skin was paler than usual. You resisted the urge to touch his face.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke up.

“I’m fine now, Thomas.” You answered, though the lone tear that rolled down your cheek said otherwise.

“I’m not.” He answered frankly. “These past three months have been hell, Y/N. I kept going to your father, begging him to tell me where you were, until Poll told me that the more I persisted, the longer I wouldn’t see you.” He wiped the tear on your cheek with his thumb.

“H-how did you know I’ll be here?” you whispered, still trying to find you voice.

“I opened the invitation. But I risked going here just without guarantee you'd come.” He explained to you.

“I was in a distant aunt’s home. I just had to get away.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you told him where you’ve been. “It had a big garden, and I was treated really well there. They gave me everything I requested, I got to ri-”

“Marry me.” He told you in the middle of your babbling, catching you off-guard once more. “It was selfish of me to merely think of marriage the way I did, without even thinking about how it would mean for you.”

Recovering from the shock, you shook your head at him.

“No.” You replied sternly.

“No?” the hurt in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t believe in Thomas. I left not because I didn’t love you anymore. I did it because we want different things, and we both deserve to be with someone who would have the same mindset as we do. Because yes, I would’ve just accepted your answer and be content with our relationship. But I knew that along the way I’d start to resent you. I never want that to happen.”

“But that’s the thing, Y/N.” He held both of your arms. “When you left, I thought about everything you said and asked. You asked if I ever thought about marrying you. No, I haven’t, but I always thought about spending my life with you, having kids, owning a home together, and all that hosting events bullshit.” He chuckled. “And I realized that I can have that. But I also want to make it official first.” He added softly.

At this point, you couldn’t answer him anymore as tears prickled your eyes. Then he got down on one knee before your standing figure.

“Now please, Y/N. Will you take me out of my own misery and give me your hand in marriage?” He was already crying too. Who knew that the excruciating past three months would lead you both to here.

But just when you were about to give him your answer, the door suddenly opened, revealing your friend who had worry written all over her face. But it quickly turned into a shocked one when she saw that what Thomas was doing.

“I thought you were in trouble since you were taking too long.” She smiled sheepishly at both of you.

You smiled back at her. Then turned your attention back to Thomas.

“I guess we should invite her first, then.”

[only-johnny-deppp]

“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...” 

 Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!

Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK. This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine. Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.

For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview:  Enjoy.

***

“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”

Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”

I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.

“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”

In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.

We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.

PS. For those who are not familiar with British words: * Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains. * London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.

Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.

“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”

Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.

This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.

In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?”  Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.

It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.

The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.

“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”

Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.

“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”

You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.

Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”

“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”

The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.

Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.

“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”

Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.

“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”

I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.

~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)

[srta-minutes]

Form ORC-75 (Romance, Office, Non-Spousal)

pairing: loki/mobius rating: pg13 words: 1441 (unbeta’d) summary: mobius formally acquires a boyfriend. ravonna, formally, is very tired.

An optimist and pragmatist. That, generally, was how Mobius self-reported on TVA employee evals. Most people did not actually want to unleash that much malice upon the universe, and those who did were usually too ill-equipped to do so. Looking on the bright side and then looking at the facts when the bright side suddenly evaporated: this was Mobius M. Mobius, top analyst at the Time Variance Authority, in a nutshell.

So while he knew that, yes, technically, he and Variant L1130 were manipulating the shit out of each other, he chose to look at the silver lining. So the flirting was inevitably for gain, sure. Loki was a black hole for all the praise and admiration that Mobius was willing to give, yes. But underneath all of that manipulation there was some semblance of real affection, wasn’t there? And at least no one was getting hurt, right?

Right.

“You’re becoming way too attached to that variant, Mobius.”

Mobius paused with the tumbler of extremely vintage bourbon midway to his mouth.

“Which variant?” Mobius asked innocently.

Ravonna’s stare was one of cosmic, timeless, omniscient exhaustion.

“Okay, okay,” said Mobius, taking a strengthening gulp of the bourbon and putting the drink down on the side table. (On the coaster.) “So we’re finally going to talk about it. I’m sure you’ve heard so much. The scuttlebutt around here is the stuff of legends.”

Ravonna sighed and reached for a stack of tan manila file folders on the coffee table and swept one open with her hand.  She was ready.

“Hunter L-12 filed a conduct complaint with regards  to ‘openly flirting’ in the mess.” She leafed to the next page. “Anderson in Dimensional Analytics filed a conduct complaint saying she was unable to use the West Dome elevator. I’ll not expound on why.” She shuffled through several more pages, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, and perhaps my favorite. Inappropriate use of standard-issue TVA batons. Filed by Hunter B-15.”

Mobius pinched the bridge of his extremely broken nose. “Come on, B-15. I thought we were buds.”

“Mobius!” said Ravonna, slapping the file shut. “What in time were you two using the batons for?”

“Listen, it was Loki’s idea—” Mobius shrugged, feeling himself reddening. He didn’t want to say that you can prolong a lot of wonderful sensations when you’re moving at 1/16th time. Ravonna didn’t need to know that. “And hey, just putting it out there? The West Dome elevator has been broken for time immemorial.”

"The only reason,” Ravonna said, closing the case file and ignoring him, “that we’re allowing that variant to walk around un-pruned is because he’s helping you with a case. And while nothing you’re doing is technically against the rules—”

“—Which I’ve read. You know I love rules—”

“—It seems like everything that you two do together has nothing to do with the case!” Ravonna leaned in. “ A case about a variant who is still killing our hunters. Every week we lose minutemen and every week I have to sign a mountain of paperwork for you with nothing to show for it. I need you to stop playing around.”

“You know, Ravonna,” said Mobius, also leaning forward, elbow on knees. “I feel like I don’t ask for much here. I don’t think I complain about much, do I? I always go by the book, I put in overtime, I don’t ask for more benefits. I haven’t cashed in on my vacation time in Lord knows how long. And not to brag, I’m one of your tap analysts, have been for years. Yes, we haven’t caught this particular variant but with this Loki—look at the results. My numbers are through the roof! We’re finding variants left and right; we’re stopping nexus events before they’re even happening. We are outperforming in every sector, ever since that Loki showed up. And if I’m being honest, he actually helps me think because he doesn’t think like the rest of us. We need more of that in the TVA.”

He thought he made some pretty good points. He reached for the bourbon on the table while Ravonna kept staring.

“Mobius, off the record,” she said slowly. “Have you ever been seduced before?”

Ravonna handed him a handkerchief to mop up the bourbon that had dribbled out during his spit-take. Mobius coughed.

“Has anyone in the Authority ever been seduced?” said Mobius, recovering. “Is anyone here even capable of that?”

“Variant L1130 manipulating you!” she shouted. “Making you feel good by getting in your pants, helping you slam dunk cases so we think he’s an asset, and then he’ll use whatever knowledge he’s been slowly acquiring to unleash hell on us and the entirety of time.”

“He won’t,” said Mobius, standing up. “I’ve given him plenty of chances. Variant  L1130—Loki—wants to catch this guy just as much as we do. And if I’m being real with you, Ravonna, I think he might actually like being at the TVA. Because he might actually like being around me. Since apparently, I’m the only person in the universe who doesn’t think he’s a lying scourge. He’s a beautiful singer, Ravonna, did you know that?”

Actually, Mobius did not stand up and he actually said none of that out loud. But he felt it in his mind very strongly. He might stupidly be falling in love with the god of mischief but he wasn’t stupid enough to yell at his boss. Also, no one else needed to know about Loki’s singing. That was a special thing for him.

“This one won’t run. I assure you.”

Ravonna stared back at him. Then she rolled her eyes and slapped a very thin folder onto her lap. It only had one sheet in it but she stared down at it like it was 300. It was a browning sheet of paper that looked as old as the TVA.

“I have to do so much paperwork for you. Paperwork to not prune this loki. Paperwork for you to go on your cute little apocalypse dates ("calling them dates is a little much—") And now. Paperwork to let you have a boyfriend.”

Mobius stared. “What?"

"I'm filling out a form so you and your Loki can make out and not be swarmed with conduct reports, Mobius." She was filling in lines on the document with a fury. "You're partners. I have about 20 hunters under similar dispensations. You should be under probation for being romantically engaged with anyone non-TVA. But since this Loki technically works for the TVA, this paperwork allows for a temporary partnership.”

He suddenly recognized the sheet from upside-down. He gawked. “Form ORB-75. Workplace Romance.”

“Form ORC-75,” Ravonna corrected. “Non-spousal. Though if you want to get hitched I can make it spousal. But the TVA only recognizes temporal marriages that have witness in three dimensions. I have no clue if Loki is on speaking terms with his family in any of them. Why am I even telling you any of this."

She slashed her signature into the form and handed it to Mobius. In faded twelve point courier new the paper read:

M. M. MOBIUS and VARIANT L1130 (LOKI). TEMPORARY PARTNERSHIP.

Well, gosh

, that was

sad

, he thought staring at the word temporary. He thought briefly of Loki during that avalanche on Ganymede in 3074. Loki had pulled him through the time portal just in time, and they landed on top of each other, panting, covered in snow and panting. 

“Spectacular,” said Loki, grinning. He pulled Mobius to his feet. “Outstanding. Mobius, I think, I could do this forever.”

Mobius brushed a dusting of snow off of Loki’s jacket. “You promise?”

Loki met his gaze and the grin simmered down to something less giddy. “Who would I be if I started throwing promises about?”

“It’s okay if you don’t mean it,” said Mobius. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

Loki smiled and let his fingers trail up Mobius’s chest to the knot of his tie. It didn’t need straightening but he fixed it anyway. “Then I promise you, Mobius M. Mobius. It’s you and me. Forever.”

Mobius stared down at the paper. He knew this setup couldn’t last for all eternity. Time must come for all things, he thought. He was a pragmatist, after all.

Nevertheless, he signed as an optimist. 

Ravonna got up and placed the form in the out-tray on her desk.  “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, Ravonna. Like, so much. This really means a lot.”

“Dismissed, Mobius,” she sighed, sitting down at her desk.

He picked up his stack of paperwork and walked to the exit, letting the silly grin creep on his face. Then he turned around at the door.

“So your options were pruning the Loki, taking me to HR, or me signing the Workplace papers?”

Ravonna put a pen down. “No HR, and of course I wasn’t going to prune that Loki. Mobius, your numbers have been through the roof.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Diplomatic Breakdown.”

Had a really hard time writing today, but I have gotten something out, so I hope you all enjoy :)

He felt the ship change course.

It seemed strange after five years to feel something moving beneath him. Most of the time you couldn’t tell as the ship was going steadily in one direction, but occasionally a course correction could be noticeable through the ship.

It was odd though, he thought they were heading back to the Bran home planet.

He had been laying in the temporary crew quarters for the mining party, playing with a shiny piece of metallic rock. He didn’t think most people had a favorite rock, but this one was his favorite.  It’s magnetic properties were enough to burn out small metallic circuitry if held up right against it. Nothing had been done to the rock to make it that way, it was just it’s natural way of being.

He found it fascinating.

However, that fascination was starting to wear off as he tried to determine where they could be going.

Curiosity got the better of him.

It wasn’t something he noticed immediately, as curiosity had been what had gotten him in trouble in the first place so many years ago. If he hadn’t gone hunting to see what that sound was maybe none of this would have happened. Ever since then he had done his best to squash any of his curious urges.

He thought they were gone now, though his silent trek through the ship was demonstrating that to be wrong.

He made his way past plenty of other aliens in the hallway. Humans, Drev, and even one of those Fuzzy little Celzex aliens, which he tried to keep a wide birth around. They were relatively dangerous creatures or so he was told, not particularly intimidating when close and personal, but with the most powerful weapons in the galaxy and an angry streak to mainin. 

The Drev were almost the opposite. They were scary in person, and could probably kill you as soon as look at you, but their personal space technology was barely capable of getting them to their home planet’s moon, and so they mostly borrowed from others.

The stairs up to the bridge were clear, and it gave him a good enough perspective, where he could sit in the door and watch as the Admiral gave orders.

This human had come a long way since being the one to scare ket into the deepest hole in the galaxy.

He was now Admiral of the entire galactic Armada, though Ket wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that particular decision.

Looking through the open door and onto the bridge he watched the Admiral lean forward in his seat.

Through another door, came the mining foreman, who stepped up beside the Admiral, “Sir, why are we changing courses. I thought we were heading back to-”

“The GA has called us in for some kind of emergency meeting. I promise from there we will be able to warp back to your home planet within the day.”

The foreman went silent.

One of the other officers walked up, “What is the GA calling in about?”

“I am not entirely ure, but they said it was urgent…. Sounds like something has gone wrong, but knowing the GA, it could be anything..” he waved the foreman away and continued talking to some of his other officers.

“Do you think it’s the kree again sir…. Or maybe….”

“I feel like they would have told us if it was something that urgent, but they didn’t talk specifics over the com so I am thinking something like the leviathan or Deus.”

The other officers shrugged, and they went silent

“Preparing for warp sequence.”

The announcement came over the comms ust as Ket began wrapping his tail around the nearest railing.

The wrap of his tail turned into the wrap of his entire body around the metal structure, and he curled tight as the warp countdown began.

He wouldn’t be able to make it to a seat in time, so this was going to have to do. He heard that warp on human ships was a nightmare, but as the countdown hit one he was surprised to find that it wasn’t too bad. They must have borrowed a warp dampener off of one of the other species.

It didn’t take more than twenty minutes until they were in position before the GA headquarters. On either side the two glowing warp gates pulsed as ships began to arrive. They were flashed in to one of the docking stations, and ket had to pull to the side as the Admiral and some of his others marched down the walkway and towards the docking bay.

He followed them at a distance, still to curious for his own good, feet padding across the open metal.

No one really noticed he was there, as they all seemed very intent on their current work, so he followed with near impunity, out the docking bay down the ramp and into the human controlled section of the station. The air was a bit to humid for Ket’s liking. Like the rundi, they didn’t react well to water, though the Bran weren’t SOO bad as to have to worry about it being in the air.

The Admiral and his men were waylaid at a checkpoint.

“Identification please.”

The Admiral frowneed, “This is new.”

“This is protocol now.

“I guess then, how would you like us to proceed?”

The man waved the group of humans off to the side and held up something in one hand, “Chip reader for implanted devices, the easiest way to identify someone based on the device serial number.”

Ket watched very carefully as the man held up the device to the admiral’s head.

There was a bright flash so he didn’t really see what happened, but the Admiral took a staggering step to the side, one hand on the side of his head. His men rushed forward to catch him, “Sir, sir are you ok?”

He wobbled a bit and shook his head, “yeah I…. fine.” He turned to glower at the other man, “That thing feels like being punched in the head.”

The man shrugged, “The price we pay for security, sir.” He motioned the man forward and then waved in the other humans who approached with some apprehension as the man used the device on them too.

It seemed very odd.

Ket would have thought they might just use the device’s inherent wireless barcode to scan, and he couldn’t think why it would cause something like that.

But he wasn’t a mechanic.

It seemed strange to him, as he stepped inside, that this protocol only seemed to apply to the humans. Everywhere else on the station he found no men with their strange devices. He wondered if that was because they were testing it on humans to make sure it worked. Something like that might kill another species depending on how fragile they were in comparison to humans.

In fact the entire things struck him as odd. \

Every conversation he overheard, and every group he passed seemed just as confused about what was going on as he was.

No one seemed to know what they were here for, which seemed rather odd to him.

Soon the entire group of them had been crammed into that center sphere of the station. Ket was surprised to find that no one stopped him as he tried to get in. Was it just him, or did security seem a little lax?

He didn’t know much about these things though.

Maybe they just didn’t see him as much of a treat.

Someone called the room to order and the chairwoman stood up, “Order!.”

The crowd fell silent.

She turned to look at the Drev, “You called this emergency meeting.”

There was a silence in the room for a moment as the Drev delegate turned to look in confusion, “I didn’t call anything.”

There was a murmuring around the room.

“What do you mean, I got your transmission no more than an hour ago.”

There was a grumbling from around the room.

“You called the meeting counselor.” The human’s voice was loud in the echoing space.

The chairwoman turned to look at the human who had his arms crossed over his chest, a peeved expression on his face.

“No. I made no call for an emergency council.”

The human shifted, his frown deepening.” Behind him the other human muttered, 

Ket crouched low behind one of the seats his rock still held tightly in hand.

Was it him or did the humans seem, off?

“Do you want to go ahead and explain to me why you called us in to waste our time.” The human’s voice was cutting and cold, and even ket, not having known the human for long thought it was a bit strange.

The chair woman looked a little taken aback, “Admiral-”

The human representative stood from their seat, “We knew your council was ineffective chairwoman, but now you don’t even know who called your own meeting.”

There was a mummer of surprise from around the room.

The human turned to look at them, “Now which one of you was it.”

The humans behind them seemed to be growing agitated, but not with the heightened level of anger shown by their counterparts, but they themselves seemed to be growing more and more restless.

Admiral Vir turned toward the counselor, his one eye narrowed,  “Do you ever know when to shut the hell up.”

“Excuse me.”

“I had this under control and now you have to pipe in when you aren't wanted.”

“You would disrespect me-”

“You're a politician, you deserve it.”

Behind them at least two of the humans were looking hungrily across the council chambers towards the iotins. Another pair of humans were looking hungrily at each other. The council chamber was frozen in shock. The humans were growing more agitated by the second. A fight broke out in the back row of the delegation, and one human went tumbling down the steps. The admiral and the representative had started a pushing match that soon devolved into a fistfight, which wouldn’t have lasted so long if the Admiral didn’t seem interested in, not only beating his opponent, but dominating him.”

He had him by the front of the shirt.

There was screaming in the council chamber now as the aliens kept up to flee.

Two humans vaulted the railing and raced towards the Iotins who screamed and ran.

Another human was stalking the Celzex delegation with great intent.

Unnoticed at the back of the room, that pair of humans that had been eying each other earlier now looked as if they were trying to eat each other’s faces.

Ket turned his eyes away as the room split into absolute chaos.

The Admiral had beaten the councelor bloody knuckle senseless and was now eyening the room, teeth barred. He was crouched down almost on all fours, but when he saw one of the other delegates from across the room, he vaulted the little walkway and began a chase.

The Drev delegates were the only one who had NOT run screaming.

One of them tackled the human chasing after an Iotin, but was having trouble pinning them down as the human snapped at them with their teeth and kicked violently this way and that.

The human was pressed hard into the ground as the Celzex delegation stood patiently waiting.

The human approached, and was immediately stopped with a current of force.

The human flailed, convulsed and then fell to the ground still.

Other humans were running INTO the room now, those that had been held back on the ship, and they raced forward confused, not sure who to help at first until one of them was tackled by a member of the delegation.

A human screamed as they were bitten by one of their counterparts.

The Drev named Sunny came charging into the room with a contingent of Drev From the Omen.

She caught the Admiral around the chest and sent them both spinning to the floor slamming him to the ground.

Ket thought he was going to try and fight her but instead his expression switched as he saw her, turning from livid…. To hungry…. Or something similar.

Sunny did her best to pin his hands.

Ket cowered under his seat confused and scared.

And then he remembered.

That strange human at the door. He tried to remember back to who the man had scanned and realized that all of the out of control humans…. Were the ones that man had scanned. He didn’t really know what that meant, and nervously clutched the rock to his chest.

Wait.

The rock.

Could it be?

Could it be that the man had done something to their implanted translation devices? And if so…. Would his magnet work through skin.

Off to his side two Drev were doing their best to hold down one of the marines who was sapping and flailing at them like some kind of beast.

The Drev pulled back a fist and slammed the human’s head painfully into the floor. It didn’t knock them out but they were momentarily dazed. 

In a moment of sheer panic Driven psychosis, for that’s what it must have been, ket ran across the floor towards the dazed human, and pressed the lucky rock against the human’s temple. The human went to move, struggled a little and then melted into a look of extreme confusion. They held a hand to their head, and curled up to moan piteously.

The Drev graved him by his shoulders, “What did you do!”

“Magnets… translation implants.” He squeaked out.

The Drev stood cupping his hands around his mouth and bellowed for the others, “Find something magnetic! It’s the translation implants.”

Below them, the once angry human looked up in confusion unable to understand them but no longer angry.

Across the room Sunny looked down at one of her arms where a small piece of her carapace had been replaced by a silver and gold bracer. She unhooked it from its magnetic stripping and pressed it to the side of the thrashing human’s head.

The man flailed for a moment, paused then grew confused.

He looked.

When he spoke, Ket could not longer understand him.

Sunny shook her head.

He said something in a guttural language and jumped to his feet. 

They were rallying now racing towards the affected humans, sometimes catching them just in time and pressing the magnets into the skull just behind the ear. Every reaction was the same, confusion followed by embarrassment or horror.

The entire episode hadn’t lasted more than five minutes, and by the time guards and emergency workers had arrived everyone was sitting around in various stages of shock and confusion. THe concealer had woken up and was holding a rag to his bloodied nose while the Admiral Sat next to him nursing his bruised knuckles. Neither of them could look at each other. In fact the entire delegation of humans was one big mess of confusion, embarrassment and concern.

A few of the other delegates demanded to leave and were let go, while a few others milled around in confusion.

Some of the delegates filtered back into the room, mostly the braver species.

The Iotins, Bran, Vrul, and gromm had up and left, leaving the Burg, Tesraki, Rundi, Drev and Celzex (and a few assorted others) as the only ones remaining.

The Tesraki delegate rose from their seat, “What was that!”

The human delegate wasn’t exactly in a palace to speak, so Amiral Vir stood. He opened his mouth to speak but that is when the Drev representative took to their feet.

“I believe someone is attempting to sabotage diplomacy in the GA.”

Admiral Vir leaned over to translate for the other humans, who could not understand Drev.

The GA chairwoman had something whispered to her, and switched her output speech to Drev for the convenience of the human.

“What do we know.”

“The implanted translation devices inside the human’s heads seem to have been tampered with upon entering the GA facility. We would need to examine one to find out what truly happened but we believe it-”

The Admiral stood cutting in, “I believe it has similar effects to a device I’ve run into in the past. I thought it was a one time issue, but it seems as if I Might just have been the test run. As I recall, the device stimulates the base center of the brainstem and heightens instinctive reactions, food, fighting and uh… other behaviors.”

“Then how did this happen?” Someone shouted

It was just then that two Tesraki security agents ran into the room, “We rewound the security footage.”

SOmeone walked up to the holoprojection and inserted something into one of the slots. The room watched silently as an unknown human pretended to ‘scan’ the incoming delegation.

“Do we know who that is?”

Someone did a quick facial recognition search.

“Nothing…. He’s not in the system.”

“Impossible, everyone who goes off planet has to has to be run through the software.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that there are no matches, we are not infallible.”

The room erupted into pockets of speech and argument.

Ket remained were he had hidden under the Admiral’s chair holding his lucky rock to his chest. The admiral wanted him to speak on what he saw but he had argued against giving the man permission to lead people in the right direction.

It seemed clear to him what was going on.

Someone was trying to ruin diplomacy for he humans.

And it looked like tonight might have been a partial success.

[cosmicbash]

#8 of angst sentence starters for emgk?

"Is that blood?" "....no?"

TRIGGER WARNING: REFERENCED SELF HARM

-----

"Stupid prick-" Colson muttering under his breath, rubbing his cold hands together and puffing warm air over them with his mouth while he settles into his admittedly warmer standing spot right in the main foyer of Marshall's mansion.

He feels stupid.

He shouldn't even be here, in the house, in the neighborhood, fuck in Detroit at all. Not when a few hours ago he had blown up Marshall's phone with a dozen dramatic texts. Curses and promises that he was really done this time. That he wasn't putting up with the bullshit, and the lieing, and the hiding any longer. Hell, he'd even texted the asshole a screenshot of a last minute ticket home he'd booked.

A flight that just took off about 30 minutes ago. Around when Marshall's last pleading text had come through and he had outright lied and claimed to be on it.

Obviously he wasn't. No, instead he'd spent the last 3 fucking hours huddled up in the bushes of his boyfriends house. Wrapping himself up in his expensive fuzzy jackets and keeping himself warm off the boiling rage inside his gut.

Inevitably it had run out though, and the bitter Detroit nights had won their war against him too.

In LA crashing outside for the night over a petty squabble was totally possible. Downright easy most times of the year. But here? Where his humid high temperature weather preferring body was constantly fighting off a chill even on the sunniest day? It was impossible.

A toxic part of Colson wanted to hurt himself, sure, a little bit of self harm always followed these kind of manic blow ups in the days before Marsh. But the part of him that hurts just from seeing Marshall hurt over his stupid choices keeps those thoughts at bay.

It's what got him finally giving in and slinking back to the front door. His boyfriends genuine trust to give him the security code the only thing saving him his last shreds of dignity while he padded back inside.

He's not going to go crawling up the stairs and back into Marshall's bed though. Not even if the waiting warm body and even warmer makeup kisses await.

No, Colson's still got a flicker of anger resting in his belly from earlier. At best he's going to go sleep in one of the guest rooms. Just, silently sneak himself in there and await for the morning to come and for the sounds of Marshall spotting his bag in the foyer and rushing through the halls to find him.

He wants the asshole to really get it through his head this time.

That they can't keep hiding this forever.

Colson doesn't even want to be fully out, that's not a necessity here. He just wants to be a "friend". Someone who can openly visit Detroit and boast about his boyfriends new music in interviews. Who can drive to Marshall's studio and enter through the front door instead of some shitty secret alley entrance.

Colson just wants the basics. He wants to at least be able to stand up and say his boyfriends fucking name without the media going nuts and speculations rising about their "beef".

Is that really too much to ask after almost 2 years of sneaking around?

A loud clatter and string of curses from the kitchen almost scares a scream out of Colson. He's standing a few stairs up from the landing, his careful quiet stride temporary abandoned in favor of freezing.

Marshall's awake.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Colson knows he wouldn't actually be able to sleep if Em had been the one to dump him and take off in the middle of the night. So why would he assume Marshall would be any different? If the dick truly loves him as much as Colson loves him back than sleep will be impossible.

It definitely throws a wrench in the blonde's original plan. Theres no way he's hiding out until morning now, not when Marshall's going to spot the bag the second he leaves the kitchen and drags himself back up to their room to mourn his absence.

He could snag his bag and try to sneak the rest of the way upstairs, but, then how will Marshall know he's here? Waking up early to surprise the dude doesn't sound very appealing either.

So Colson hesitates. He shuffles his weight from foot to foot, lip chewed between his teeth while he weighs his options.

Talking over it all tonight feels still too soon.

Another crash. This time one with very audible glass shattering and a defined scream of anguish following it.

Both of which are more than enough to make up Colson's mind for him. His feet moving and heart racing before he can even finish his small gasp of surprise.

He can't leave him. Not after hearing that wail. He's never heard Marshall get that loud, or sound that broken amidst all the anger. It wrenches his heart right in two. Half flying right to the kitchen while the one still inside him drags itself along. Clinging desperately onto the stretched muscle tissue and tendons still holding them "together".

He's expecting broken plates. A good old post breakup fine China inventory session to ease some of the pain. He's done those a few times himself. It's therapeutic.

And yes, he does find porcelain and ceramic, and fucking glass sprinkled across the tile floor and across a few countertops. But that's not the only thing he finds decorating the marble.

"Is....is that blood?"

Suddenly his voice feels small. His heart does too, like its shrunk down into a tight ball and dropped to the pit of his stomach.

His eyes are locked on bright crimson.

There's drops of it, and then a splatter, he doesn't want to call it a puddle. Because a puddle would be bad. Calling it a puddle would mean all those rapid worried thoughts banging at the door to his subconscious about Marshall purposefully hurting himself would need to be let in. A splatter can still be from an accident.

There's nothing but silence meeting him in the kitchen too. So quiet that Colson can hear the seconds literally tick by on the clock. Every one loud and defeaning in his ears until just when he's about to choke out a frantic call of his boyfriend name, Marshall responds.

"...no?" It's quiet, quieter than even his own shocked question had been, and redirects Colson's gaze a few feet further away. To where he can see bare feet peeking out from behind the island.

Colson wants to drop to the floor from relief alone. His hand already covering his fast beating heart and eyes closing to thank whatever fucking deity exists above that his stupid boyfriend had obviously just cut himself smashing a few plates. "Fuck Marshall. You scared the shit out of me-" already whatever anger he still had lingering in his system feels snuffed out. A hysterical half smile tugging at his mouth as he side steps the broken shards littering the kitchen linoleum. "I thought you-"

"W-wait! Don't come in-" Colson's feet almost stumble him right to the floor himself in his sudden stop. That earlier knot returning to his stomach with a vengeance over Marshall's sudden shift in volume and tone.

The rapper sounds terrified.

"I-I thought you- You said you were done? You, fuck Colson, you sent me the ticket, you- you left!" He's never hear Marshall this frazzled, unstable. His voice steadily climbing in volume until he lets out a shout that rings Colson's ears. "You're not supposed to be here right now!"

It's the second push Colson needs to get himself moving again though. His feet stumbling the rest of the way forward to finally round the countertop.

"Shit...Marsh..."

This time Colson does let his body drop when his legs feel like they're going to give out.

Imagining even for a second Marshall hurting himself had hurt, but seeing it? Seeing his actual physical boyfriend right in front of him clutching some stained rag over his wrist all red in the face, tear tracks drenching his cheeks, and knowing it's all because of him taking off like a child? Thats so far beyond hurting. It's off the charts.

"I'm sorry."

[goldenmazzello]

Never should have let you go.

Warning: Full of angst, swearing?, and more angst. 

Word count: 2.5k

As the door opened, the loudest of noises Joe could hear was silence. The sound of silence wasn't the lack of noise but the lack of your pressence. It was an unnerving silence, a constant companion of his thoughts. His thoughts were destroying him. He tried not to think but the silence was a killer.

His head was spinning on the memories the two of you had. The day you met, the day you kissed for the first time, the day you moved together and of course, the day you left. All the things he took for granted now became moments gone, forever wasted. He had to accept the damaged was done and it was obvious that you could never go back to the way it used to be. At least not now.

Even though that you were gone for weeks, coming home to an empty room was just as hard as the first day. The days feet like years now that he was alone. He felt that another day without you was like a blade cutting right through him. Joe hasn't been the same since you've been gone. Everytime he came back home from work he hoped everything was just a bad dream and that he would wake up and see your face again. He remembered those times in which you waited for him with his favorite supper. Or when you picked him up at the airport. Those little details meant the world to him. 

You were always there with a big bright smile, you were like a shining light that made him forget all of his problems. You were there to guide him on his darkest days. You were always there and he took it for granted. And now you were gone.

At night, after a long day at work, Joe lay in bed thinking about you and would burst into tears. The bed was made up on your side, as if you were about to enter the room.

The thing he missed the most was waking up next to you and looking into your eyes, those beautiful eyes he loved and he would give everything he had in the world to see them again. After all these wasted nights he couldn't pretend he was doing fine because that feeling was getting stronger everyday. He just couldn't take it anymore. He wondered if you thought about him when you couldn't fall asleep just like he did. You were always on his mind.

He has played your words back in his head a thousand times. I'm leaving. And there wasn't anything else that he could do. He felt helpless. He had to face the fact that he couldn't walk away from this, but it was hard when every little thing in the world reminded him of you.

Life was far different when you both decided it was time to live together. And things seemed to get better and better. You got a job promotion and as soon as he directed his first movie, Joe had an amazing opportinity that was life changing: another promising movie. But of course for every plus there is a minus, Joe was going to be away from you for a long time since he had to work in London. It was a challenge you had to face.

And that wasn't an easy time. You didn't tell him because you didn't want to worry him while he was working, but you couldn't stop crying. You would come back from work and cry because you missed him so much, but you knew it was going to happen, you knew it from the very beginning. And you were willing to tolerate it, he was the love of your life.

You tried to visit Joe once a month and he tried flying home during vacation. But in one of the most special days, Joe wasn't there. You spent your birthday alone and even though you told him it was okay, it really wasn't. You really wished he was there, but he was away. It was his job and you understood.

When Joe came back after being in London for six months, it felt like time didn't pass. He was back and all yours. You felt on cloud nine. After a few months, Bohemian Rhapsody was released and you were Joe's date for the premiere. And then, press tour began and everything started to feel like a mess. Joe had to fly around the world and wasn't going to spend much time at home.

Award season arrived and he had to fly from New York to Los Angeles, from Los Angeles to London and again, you were alone at home. You wished you could go with him but it was impossible, you weren't famous like him and after all, it was his job, again.

 And there wasn’t anything wrong about it, since day one you knew his life was like this and you accepted. The problem was that Joe was absolutely focused on his job and started to care less about you. The small notes with "I love you" or even his messages during breakfast or at night became scarce, almost non-existent. He didn't have time to FaceTime like he did before. He didn't even ask you to pick him up at the airport anymore. Everything was different now.

You could sense your relationship was falling apart but you didn’t want to give up on it. Just because you were in hot water it didn't necessarily mean you needed to throw in the towel, at least not now.

You decided to talk to Joe about this. This was making you feel totally miserable and you really wanted to fix it. After all, communication is the key in every relationship.

At first, he said he was sorry about it and he felt absolutely terrible for hurting you. He promised he was going to change and he said he was going to spend more time with you like before. You were in this together. And you felt relieved, as if you took a great weight off your shoulders. You really loved Joe and you would do everything in the world for him.

As weeks passed by, you felt you were trying to fix your relationship all by yourself. Lack of daily communication with him was something you were getting used to. Movie nights, dinner dates or even intimate moments were all distant memories. There were much less moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, hand holding, and walking arm-in-arm, they all had been replaced by distance. You thought it was maybe a temporary reaction to stress, but it's been going on for some time now. It was getting worse. Even the words "sweetheart,” “honey,” and “love" were gone. And your self-esteem was already affected. You felt heartbroken and hurt every day.

It was time.

It was time to leave.

You had an escape plan in your head for months. Your subconscious was sending you strong messages that it was time to get out. You tried not to think about it but every day you considered putting your plan into action. And the day finally came.

You got up in the morning and started packing your belongings. As you were taking your things out of your wardrobe, you felt a shiver down your spine. It felt odd, but you couldn't take it anymore. It was absolutely painful.

Three hours passed and Joe entered home. He let the door fall to with a thud that made you jump. You gulped and closed your eyes as you heard his steps were becoming closer. When Joe finally set foot in your shared room, his eyes were as big as plates. His face expression changed.

"W-What are you doing?" He was shoocked.

You grabbed your things quickly and got out of the room and he followed you. "I'm leaving, I can't put up with your fucking job anymore." You said as you tried to walk downstairs with your heavy suitcase. You had decided to leave since it was Joe's house and there was no way you would stay.

"Please, I'm begging you." Joe grabbed your hands while crying. Your words cut deeper than a knife.

"Joe, I'm being serious, don't make it even harder." You told him with a broken voice while trying to walk.

"You don't have to leave, th-th-this is your house too." He put himself in your way.

"This is your house, you paid for it with your work. Now please, move." You tried to move him but you couldn't since he was taller and bigger than you. "I'm gonna fall and get hurt, move!" At this point, you were already annoyed.

"No, I'm gonna protect you. You aren't gonna get hurt." He said while resting his hands on your waist.

You rolled your eyes. "Guess what? I'm already hurt and it's because of you! I tried to get things better but it seems you don't want to. I feel we've been living as roomates!" You left out a frustrated sigh. He moved his gaze to the floor.

"I promise I'll do my best this time. Let's go on a road trip." He suggested, trying to smile.

"There is not going to be any road trip or whatever. I'm leaving and there is nothing you can do about it. I feel like we're as close as strangers, you don't care about me anymore!" You screamed those words to Joe.

He didn't say anything but cried. He knew it was his fault. "Please, think about it. Don't take spur-of-the-moment decisions."

"It isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, I've been thinking about it for months."

You don't know why, but he finally moved and helped you with your suitcase. "Where are you going?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"It's none of your business." You looked for your coat, took out your keys and opened the door. "Here you have." You gave him the keys and got out of the house.

Joe couldn't stop the tears running down his face. "Sorry, sorry sorry sorry." He covered his eyes with his hands.

It's been a week that you were gone and Joe didn't know what to do. You blocked him from social media and he didn’t have a way of communicating with you. 

As he turned on his computer, he noticed you left your e-mail opened. He hesitated but then decided to open it.

You had an e-mail from an airline. Everything indicated you were in London now. "What is she doing in London?" He thought. "What about her job?"

As soon as he read that, he called Rami. He had moved to London with Lucy and maybe knew something about your whereabouts.

Rami told Joe that Lucy visited you in London but she wasn't going to give him your adress because she knew Rami would tell Joe about it. Joe promised not to visit you, he knew you didn't want to see him. After a few days of asking about you, Lucy finally spoke. You were living in an apartment -a flat, as British people call it-. Joe asked her how were you and Lucy said you were completely heartbroken.

"Can you please tell me her adress?" Joe asked her while they were on a FaceTime call. Lucy was drinking a tea and almost choke as she heard his words. 

"What?" Lucy asked confused. "Joe, she needs to be own her own, she needs time."

"I know, I'm not flying to London. I wanna send her a letter."

"A letter? Well, maybe I can write it and give it to her." She offered.

"Thank you but...it's private. I'd rather send it to her."

"Promise me you're not going to show up at her apartment or she'll never speak to me again and you'll never hear from her."

"I promise."

You were trying to get used to living in London. It wasn't like New York but you knew that eventually you were going to feel like you were home.

As you opened the door, there was a letter on the floor. You bend over and pick it up. Your heart stopped as you read Joseph Mazzello, New York, United States of America.

"How did he kno...Lucy!"

She must have told him, you were almost sure about it.

You sat on the couch and stared the letter for like 5 minutes, thinking if you should open it or not. You sighed and decided to open it and read it.

“Dear (Y/N)

First of all, don’t be mad at Lucy for giving me your adress, I promised her I won’t show up at your apartment. 

Since I don’t have any way of talking with you, I thought writing this letter was a good idea. If you are reading this, I wanna let you know that everything was my fault. I took everything for granted and I wish things would be different now. This time away from you felt like forever, I guess it’s the price I gotta pay for being such a stupid boyfriend. 

You have no idea how much I miss you. Every night I think and dream about you. I love you so much honey, I really do. I don’t know why I was so stupid and ruined everything, but I’m really sorry, I mean it. I wish that I could find a way to turn back time because my life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone. I can’t stop thinking about you and all the memories we have together. Getting through the night is the hardest thing to do, I miss feeling your body next to mine, I miss your touching and kissing, I miss everything about you. I try to get a grip but I just can’t put my life back into place, I feel so unprotected without you. I can’t stand the pain, I can’t make it go away. It hurts so much. I know I can’t erase the things that I’ve done, but from the buttom of my heart, I want you to give me a second chance. I know I’ve made more mistakes than I can even count and deep inside I know I don’t deserve another chance to make it work, but I’ll try my best, I’ll try for you. I promise this time I won’t make up excuses, I don’t wanna lose you. 

If you can give me half a chance I’ll show how much I can fix myself for you. One thing I know for sure, is that I never should have let you go.” 

MASTERLIST

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

77 Minutes | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1.7k

✦ summary — you’re not having a good day — Five isn’t either and things only seem to be getting worse.

✦ warnings — spoilers for season 2, some angst, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of death, language, a little bit of fluff.

════════════════════════

You were having a bad week, and that day only proved that it would get worse if you didn’t find a solution quickly.

Luther and Diego had been in the middle of threatening to kill a lady through the phone when you arrived, Elliot was dead, you didn’t know where Five was, and you were on a time limit to save the world.

There was also the fact that you hated your temporary job, but that was a petty complaint. People were the worst, honestly, you were still getting used to being around them after years only around Five.

Five sadly stared at Elliot, covering him with the sheet Luther had draped over him again.

“Are you okay?” he asked you, eyes analyzing your face and body in search for injuries.

“I wasn’t here when it happened,” you assured him, observing the curling and uncurling of his blood-stained fingers around the handle of the briefcase he was carrying.

Unfazed by the familiar sight before you, slightly bothered by the fact that taking blood off white clothes had never Five’s most developed skill, you rummaged through the belongings you had bought hours ago.

He stored the briefcase in a safe spot, immediately trying to shimmy his blazer off.

Walking into the bathroom as Diego and Luther questioned him, he gave you a thankful nod when the clean shirt caught his attention.

It wasn’t like you could blame them for being shocked by the sight of Five covered in blood, but you didn’t want to partake in the interrogatory. You knew better. They should have known better, too.

“Five,” Luther pressed, “what did you do?”

Five cursed, shaky hands worsening the red splotches on his shirt as he tried to take his vest off.

You gently removed his hands, helping him to slide the item off and dropping it to the side.

He grunted in acknowledgment, not in the mood to anger you by ignoring your actions. As attractive as he found your angry version, he was tired.

He made a motion with his finger for you to turn around. You did so, facing Diego and Luther as you heard him run more water.

The shuffling behind you helped you guess what he was doing. You rested your head on the doorway, watching Luther fumble with his luggage as he struggled to open it.

“You can face me again, sweetheart.”

The uncharacteristic soft tone caught you off guard. Five could get to be extremely sweet if he wanted, but there was something off this time. He was a private person, not the type of person to use pet names in front of his siblings.

“So I found a way home,” he announced, putting his tie back on.

“What?” Luther inquired, too surprised to be able to hide it. “How?”

“All the details are irrelevant, but... I made a deal to get back to our timeline.”

The shakiness in his voice got on your nerves. Five wasn’t one for getting antsy, much less when solving a problem. And what kind of deal was he talking about?

“What about doomsday?” Diego asked the important question.

“Won’t happen.”

“And the 2019 apocalypse?” Luther followed Diego’s example.

“Everything will be back to normal. All right?” Five glared at his brothers. “Now, no more questions.”

Feeling as though the latter statement was directed at yourself, you followed him and his brothers.

Five put the blazer back on, declaring, “We gotta go. We have to find the others, right?”

He gave clear instructions. Luther would get Allison, Diego would get Klaus, he would get Vanya, you would bury Elliott.

“Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in 77 minutes.”

You frowned. Time limits when it came to time travel had never been a good sign.

He handed you and his brothers synchronized watches. You reached for your gloves, putting them on before clasping the watch on top.

Diego was skeptical. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. You show up drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything’s gonna go back to normal if we go home now?”

“Elliot just got killed because of us,” Five sneered.

“What about dad? What about JFK?”

Here we go again...

“Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it.”

“I have to say goodbye to Lila.”

“Lila doesn’t give a shit about you, Diego! She never did.”

You winced. That had been harsh, even for being something coming from Five. You could tell Diego really cared, he was failing miserably to hide his hurt.

“Lila is one of them. She’s a member of the Commission.”

“Not possible.”

“She was just using you to get to me.” Condescendingly, Five added, “You’re the Oswald of this story, my friend. The goddamned patsy.”

Raising his voice, Diego said, “Just because you found someone who is insane enough to want to be with you, doesn’t mean that everyone wants you.” He turned to look at you briefly, “no offense, you’re lovely, but in—“

Five interrupted his brother, approaching him and hissing, “If you don’t do this, I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

You were truly worried now. That had been unprompted. Before you could say or ask anything, Five teleported. The whooshing sound made you cringe for the first time since you met him.

With a sigh, you kept yourself from entering in a self-absorptive moment. Everything would be okay in less than 70 minutes, there was no use in focusing on things that would only make you lose time.

Walking towards Elliot, you double-checked to make sure you had taken the car keys already.

Diego stopped you from carrying Elliot. “I’ll bury him after getting Klaus. He’s not far away from here.” You were about to deny him, but he pleaded in a low voice, “Please, (Name).”

Damn Diego and his puppy eyes. Nodding, you slid your hand into your pocket and withdrew the keys.

════════════════════════

Five paced. From left to right, from bottom to top. Luther shifted in his spot, checking his watch every few seconds.

Diego was nowhere to be seen, Vanya and Allison were late too. Five was shocked by the fact that a seemingly hangover Klaus had gotten there in time yet his more responsible siblings couldn’t be bothered.

The briefcase charged, Luther and you cursed sadly along with Five who threw the item off. As the briefcase disappeared, Five got angrier.

Sighing, he angrily lamented, “We were that close. That close!”

“Now what?”

“Now nothing, Luther. All right? Make your peace with God.”

“W—What?”

Luther’s confusion would’ve been endearing in any other circumstance, but you were sure Five was about to explode.

“What about Allison and Vanya?”

“Screw them both! They should have been here.”

“What about Diego?” Klaus chimed in.

“Screw Diego, all right? Screw everybody!” he yelled. “(Name) and I were better off on our own in the apocalypse.”

You looked down, avoiding Luther and Klaus. Five didn’t mean it, he would never mean something as brutal as that — not toward his siblings whom he had missed so deeply throughout those years.

Five tended to be hyperbolic, adrenaline got the best of him nine out of ten times. It had always worked in your favor until now. And even now, he must’ve been planning something else already.

“Five, come on!”

“You know what, Luther? It’s every sibling for himself now. How ‘bout that?”

Turning around, Five pulled the door open, slamming it shut after crossing the doorway.

Klaus whimpered, “Did Five just get meaner?”

“I’ll handle Five,” Luther assured. “You two go get the others.”

You shook your head. “It’s my fault that Diego isn’t here, I’ll talk to Five. You two follow the plan to get the others and I’ll see you here later.”

Walking up the stairs, you perked your ears to assess where Five could’ve been. He was being dramatic, and he wanted to be found, perhaps even followed — you knew because he would’ve teleported if that wasn’t the case.

Five was still pacing in the bedroom. He didn’t acknowledge you as you entered, too busy mumbling things to himself.

You weren’t interested in deciphering whatever he was saying under his breath, you wanted him to tell you what was really going on.

And he knew, after so many years together he had to know. Resting your back on the wooden door, you patiently waited for him to be done.

His pent-up frustrations had never bothered you. Perhaps because you had met him in a stressful situation, but mostly because you loved him.

“I’m going to do the unthinkable.”

“Of course you are.”

Five stared at you through his eyelashes. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Then what do we have time for, Five?”

“I don’t want to fight. Not right now.”

“You just want to break the most important rule of time travel,” you deadpanned, mocking him.

“I killed The Board for nothing, (Name)!”

“We can fix it!”

“You’re not surprised? I wasn’t supposed to kill anymore!” He kicked the bed, huffing out of his nostrils.

“Oh, come on,” you breathed out, getting rid of the uncomfortable watch and leaving it on the first surface you found. “We will always be assassins, Five. The difference now is that we’re doing it on our own terms.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed with his head between his trembling hands, he let out a sob.

God, what a fucking awful day. You pushed yourself off the door. Walking towards him, slowly in case he wanted to have space, you discarded your gloves.

Taking the spot on the bed beside him, you placed your hand on his back and rubbed it. When he didn’t make a move to push you away, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “It’s okay. I’m here with you.”

Shifting, he wrapped both arms around you as he buried his face in the joint of your shoulder and neck. His shaky frame under your embrace broke your heart.

“The Handler tricked me — there wasn’t supposed to be a time limit.”

If he wasn’t so distressed, you would’ve punched him for making a deal with The Handler from all people.

“Vanya tried to fight me earlier,” he sniffed, resting his cheek on your shoulder. “Then after promising she’d be here she couldn’t do a simple task.”

“Have you considered the possibility that something happened to her, Allison, and Diego?”

“Who knows,” he grunted. “We have other things to worry about now.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. Closing your eyes, you rested your head on top of his.

You just wanted a few minutes of silence in his embrace, holding him close like you used to after rough missions. And by the way his arms tightened around you, you asserted that he wanted the same.

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part II

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part I

Summary: A new meta is in town, and you are starting to want your secret relationship not to be not-so secret anymore. But Wells doesn't have the same idea

Warnings: Smut if you squint very hard.

***

You never really were one to wake up early in the morning. You hated it, actually. You never liked seeing the sun rising up, you hated the way it made you feel; that heart sinking and hopeful feeling. It reminded you of when your mother died. You stayed all night with your brother in the precinct, after a few hours of sleep, you woke up when the sun was rising, and you wished really hard to go home and see your parents again. But you never did. Your Mom died, your Dad went to prison for your Mom's murder, you never came home, and the Detective from the case adopted you. Barry told you back then that the sun was also a star, unfortunately, it wasn't the star for wishing.

You hated mornings, but of course, you have to pay bills and have to get a certain someone from your bed.

Your limbs ache, as you stretch your arms over your head. You went rounds last night, which shows how much you missed each other and how much of an animal you both were.

Still completely groggy, you moved under the sheets, propped your elbows, laying on your stomach to stare at him. You couldn't help but smile upon the sight of him.

Always so stern, well-composed, mysterious, guarded, seems like the kind of guy who's least likely to do something that will get him in huge trouble— except for the Particle Accelerator explosion, that was a huge mess— Now, he's in your apartment, sprawled out on your bed, specifically, naked under the sheets of 24-year old girl's bed. So relaxed and comfortable. The careful and stoic demeanor he radiated temporary vanished.

You ran your fingers through his brown, unruly locks. You remember how hard you gripped on them last night.

God, memories like this are what enters your mind when you talk to Barry and Joe; it makes you flustered and all scared to face them. Eventually it got easier to deal with, but the guilt doesn't fade, or it hasn't yet.

Despite Barry's admiration for the man, he would question it. You're his baby sister, and there are so many issues he could point out. But you know him, he'll get over it quickly.

Joe, on the other hand, the silent treatment is what he's going to put on. He's a tough man to break. Besides, he has yet to deal with Iris and Eddie dating.

You didn't want them to feel as though you betrayed them or left them out on a part of your life, because they're part of it. You really wanted to tell them.

You don't want to be all sappy, you want to take in this nice morning and this man in front of you. He usually wakes up before you. Perhaps you really worn him out last night.

You ran your dainty finger across his cheek, he stirred in his sleep, grumpily. You stifled a giggle. Even in his sleep, he's guarded.

"Good morning," you mumbled, leaning to kiss his pink thin lips.

That woke him up. Gradually gaining his consciousness, his lips moved against yours, passionate and sweet. He reeled you into him, his bare chest meets your naked ones. His hands roamed your body, up and down your sides. He then planted a hand on the small back softly, pressing you closer to him, while his other hand slowly moved dangerously low. He runs his hand on the skin of your thigh, up and down. At the same time, your hands gripped his biceps.

The kiss deepened, squeezed and nails dug on the skin of your thigh in the process. You tried to suppress a moan, but damn he was such a good kisser. You don't know how he managed to stay quiet during intimate times like this. The kiss was turning feverishly and intoxicating. You felt that warm feeling in your stomach, an ache between your legs, sending jolts of excitement through your veins.

Wells knew you better than yourself, and he knows how you get. So before things escalated further, it took him a decent amount of control to reluctantly pull away from your lips.

A beam already crossed his face, as he fluttering his eyes open, "A good morning, indeed,"

You gave him one more peck on the lips, before placing your head on his chest, and his arm around you. You snuggled further to his warm body. It's heavenly, because it's starting to get colder in Central City.

"Can't we just stay in bed today?" You looked up to him, pouting with puppy dog eyes. It has an effect on him, and you like to push your luck.

"We have to go to work. And Caitlin and Cisco will notice."

You sighed. "I know." Your fingers drew circles on his chest. "Don't you think it's time to tell them, Har? It's been 6 months."

"I just need things to wind down, then we'll tell them," he assured you, though it wasn't enough to convince you, because that was what he said the last time. You're young, not dumb.

"When will that be?" You tried not to sound as if you were forcing him, but sneaking around is becoming tiring.

Wells frowned, uncomfortable with the discussion. "I don't know. Let's not talk about this— come on, we need to get ready." He tried to sit up, but you pinned him down. Your legs over his and hugged him tightly.

"Y/N…" He warned. You didn't bugde, kept him pinned down on the bed.

"Let's just stay in for a little while. How about just one more round?" You suggested playfully, biting your lip.

He opened his mouth to object, but you didn't bother to let him start. You ghosted his neck, your lips trailing up, and planted a kiss behind his ear, his sweet spot. You sucked it to leave a mark. His chest heaved, licked his dry lips and hummed in satisfaction.

"Y/N, w-we need to go," he managed to stutter those words.

Ever so stubborn, you didn't listen. Instead, you hushed him, and started nibbling on his ear. You earned a growl from him.

"Just one. I promised," you whispered seductively.

Your fingertips brushed against the skin of his stomach, traveled lower and lower, down lower abdomen, painstakingly slow just to rile him up. His breathing was getting uneven. His face still maintained a leveled expression, but his blue eyes turned dark, boring into yours. You decided to go for it. You took his length, as he grunted. You slowly pumped the base, torturing him. He couldn't help but let out a guttural groan.

You don't wanna look back later today, and all you remember was you talking about going out in public again. So, make-up sex, even though you didn't really fight.

He gave in. One round turned into two, turned into three, until you both were very exhausted and fell asleep.

You didn't wake up until it was late. Harrison wasn't very pleased with this. You know he had every right to; this the third time he got late, because of you.

He scolded you for sidetracking him, hurrying out of your apartment, not before giving you peck on the lips.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You exhaled sharply, mentally cursing yourself for having no self control. You and Wells went at it like bunnies in heat.

You hissed, stepping outside. You were a little sensitive, so sore, limbs are like jello. Your legs wobbled as you walked in the hallway. You feel like each step you take, you're gonna collapse to the floor. It's gonna take you a few days to walk properly again. So much for being subtle and discreet. The team will definitely notice.

You entered the cortex. Caitlin and Cisco were present, of course. Cisco was chilling in his seat, feet up on the desk, while fiddling with a pen. As usual was babbling, about how excited he is to know what kind of meta you have to deal with today to Caitlin who was invested in whatever she was doing on the computer.

He paused, seeing you entered the room.

"I take that your date went well last night," he teased.

Caitlin spun her chair around to face you, cocked her head slightly and an intrigued look crossed her face.

You rolled your eyes. "I didn't have a date, Cisco," you insisted.

You know that, of course, they would wonder. Usually, you would come to the lab around Dr. Wells would arrive, just so you can sneak into his tight schedule.

"I just overslept," you lied, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Funny. Dr. Wells overslept, too," Caitlin commented with knitted eyebrows.

Your eyebrows lifted, surprised. Despite the fact that this happened before, it still surprises you how fast he can get here.

"He's here?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't he be?" Cisco scoffed jokingly.

Your face paled. Oh crap. You were not as good as him.

You opened your mouth, but luckily, Barry, Joe and Wells entered the cortex to save you. They got a case that needed some insights. Members of a crime family had been murdered. Poisoned by gas, specifically. And Joe thinks that it's a Meta.

Wells wheeled to the desk. "Fascinating. A meta-human that can manipulate poison gas," Wells commented.

"Is it just poisonous gas or he can control all aerated substances?" Cisco questioned, walking to the comms, and stood behind Dr. Wells.

Caitlin followed suit. "And how is he able to formulate the connection. Is it physiological or psychological?" She inquired, taking a seat on the chairs, immediately working on something on the computer.

"This individual can create a mental nexus using gaseous substances," Wells said.

"You mean connective gases on a molecular level?" You asked him, eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Yes,"

"That is ridiculously cool," Cisco stated.

"This is so exciting," you squealed, rocking your feet in excitement like a child at an amusement park.

Barry laughed at your reaction, Joe looked at you incredulously.

You changed your expression and mimicked a frown, "I mean, it's devastating. People died. Sad."

"They get really excited about this stuff," Barry said to Joe.

"The only thing I'm excited about is putting criminals behind bars, except Iron Heights isn't exactly equipped to handle meta-humans," Joe stated.

"I guess it's fortunate the ones you've encountered so far no longer with us,"

It really is.

"Well, unless we're planning on executing every super criminal we stop, you geniuses are going to have to come up with someplace else to hold them,"

Joe was right. The number of people affected by the Particle Accelerator was huge, it's hard to track them all down, and killing them all isn't exactly the best approach for this problem.

"A meta-human prison? Sweet," Cisco murmured.

"Until we figure a way to remove their powers,"

"There is one place here that might hold them," All of your heads turned to Cisco in curiosity.

"You can't be serious," Caitlin scoffed. "We haven't been down there since— it's cordoned off."

"Cisco's right," Wells agreed. "It could be modified to acts as a makeshift prison,"

Caitlin looked at them in disbelief. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused. You tried to read the room, though you didn't get what they were talking about that made Caitlin upset. She's always been uptight, sure, but this was different. As if she was hurt.

"What could?" Barry asked.

"The Particle Accelerator," he replied.

It all suddenly clicked. Caitlin's fiancé died because of the explosion. Cisco told you he died down there. The details were vague, the team wasn't very open to discuss whatever happened that night.

Silence hung around the cortex, as everyone shifted uncomfortably. It was a touchy subject. To you, to Barry, to Joe, especially to them; the ones who lose more than anyone in this room.

"Uhm, I guess we should go down," Cisco spoke.

You all agreed. Cisco scurried out of the room immediately. Wells was about to follow Cisco, but turned over his shoulder, asking Caitlin if she wants to come with you.

Caitlin didn't budge. She stared blankly at the distance, lost in her own world. The doctor called out to her again, only to be ignored.

"Caitlin," he called her. Caitlin whipped her head around, raising an eyebrow in question. "Did you hear me? Are you going down the accelerator with us?"

Barry cleared his throat. "Actually Dr. Wells used Caitlin's help identifying the poison gas." He turned to Caitlin. "If that's okay with you."

Caitlin smiled at your brother. "Let's go."

Taking a step forward, your body reminded you how sore you were. You limped as you tried to exit the cortex. You weren't exactly subtle. The team noticed you struggling with... walking.

"You okay, Y/N?" Joe was obviously concerned. "You're walking a little funny,"

Your eyes flickered to your boyfriend's blue ones. He was watching you carefully, just to see how you are going to dodge this. You wonder are you going to, as well.

If you had a dollar for every single person who corners you, you'll have— well, two dollars.

"Yeah," you chuckled nervously. "Just a little sore. Took some workout classes last night, and the trainer was very hard and intense on me." He coughed at your choices of words, blush creeping up on his cheek.

Your lips curved slightly, only for it to fade when Joe pointed at your neck. "Your trainer gave you some hickeys as well?" He questioned.

Your eyes went wide, cheeks turning

into a dark shade of red, hands quickly flew your neck to cover whichever part of your neck he left a mark on. He's not a damn good detective if it weren't for his observation skills.

"I think I heard Cisco calling us. Gotta go! Bye!" You sprinted-staggered out of the cortex.

Joe looked at Caitlin for answers. Caitlin shrugged and answered, "She had a date,"

You all approached the entrance of the accelerator. You've never been here before, it's not like you have any reason to down here, but the thought of wandering the what's underneath the floor you work for that blew a hole in the city did enter your mind countless of times. You didn't want to ask, though. It was a sensitive subject.

It's huge space, hollow, dim, despite the number of lights it has, and there's a lot of pipes. There's not much to say, really.

"The copper in the tube is arranged to form cavities," Wells pointed out, wheeling inside. "And we can use those cavities as containment, which we have to design to counteract meta-humans abilities, but..." He paused, processing a thought.

"This is perfect," Cisco said with a heave of chest. He seemed reluctant, but it was the best option you got.

All of you take a look around, check for somethings that could be faulty or ruptured by the explosion, so you could fix it, before building the makeshift prison. Cisco took the other side, and you followed Wells.

You pulled your cardigan across your chest, and crossed your arms. It felt strange and bone-chilling, almost. Lurking around the place that someone died in. Ronnie, Caitlin's fiancé could have been anywhere in here, before he died. It must be so hard for Caitlin. It must have hurt so bad. She had to go to work everyday to the place where the love of her life was killed. You always wondered what he was like, prior to the whole mess 10 months ago. No one talked about him, and asking seems to be so insensitive for people you just had met. But it's been months, and you're all way past being just colleagues. You're dating your boss.

"You never talked about him," you began.

His eyes wandered around, too busy inspecting to turn to you. "About who?"

You wondered if he was truly oblivious or he just wants to confirm if you were asking about him.

"Ronnie," You saw the way his posture stiffened when you mentioned his name, but he didn't stop or paused.

You felt bad for asking. He never really says anything. You know he feels bad, but he was never vulnerable with it. 6 months of dating, he just never talked about his pain, and during the times he was actually in the state of it, you weren't in his life.

"He was a structural engineer for the project; he was a good man, a smart man," he said.

"And he died down here?" You inquired.

He nodded. "Yes,"

"How?" He slowed down, before eventually stopping.

You were met with silence. You instantly felt bad. You knew that you crossed a line and let your curiosity get the best of you. The details may be too much for him to explain.

You shook your head in regret. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive," you apologized.

"No, it's fine." He waved his fingers dismissively. "He contained the blast; adjusted it to make sure that it would go upward, not outward. He wasn't able to go out, since a lockdown was initiated. He saved so many lives that night, including mine."

You know he felt bad. For Barry, for Ronnie, for everyone. You took a step forward to him, and hugged his shoulders from behind tightly. You gave him a peck on the cheeks, then rested your chin on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you lost him," you murmured to his ear.

He sighed, relaxing in your arms, as he put a hand on your arm and rubbed his thumb against the fabric of your cardigan, soothingly.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"How about dinner again tonight? Just to cheer you up," you suggested.

"I thought we're gonna take a break from your cooking,"

You rolled your eyes, but you were the one who suggested it. You need practice, not spontaneous dinner with lack of experiences with cooking meals.

"I know—"

He straightened. "But…?" He already knew that there is an underlying agenda.

You were hesitant to even say it now, but it doesn't hurt to try. Again.

"There's this amazing restaurant that opened last month. They're not that pricey, but they serve a pretty decent steak. So I was wondering if he could go there too, you know, go on an actual date," you whispered the last part with a wince on your face.

You dreaded his reaction, because deep inside, you know what he's going to say. But you kept your hopes up that he might change his mind on the whole thing.

"Y/N…" He exhaled. "You already know what that means. "We talked about this, right? I don't think it's the best time for us to go public with our relationship."

You sighed, exasperated. You unwrap your arms around him. You heard those excuses enough today. "I know, babe. But why do these people matter? We don't need the public's seal of approval for being in a relationship." You argued.

He turned around to face you. You watched him, as he took your hands and kissed your knuckles sweetly. "We don't," he told you sincerely.

"Then why?"

"It's not the best time. Your brother just woke up and he has a new power to deal with. As long everything worked out, we'll talk about it, okay?" His eyes searching into yours for yes, so you look down at your feet.

You knew, of course. He told you that earlier, still you pushed. You always attempt to do this, using every reason and excuse, but it always leads to you being disappointed. You wonder why it still feels the same despite getting this reaction so many times.

This anger bubbled in your chest. "Yeah, I know. It's what you always say," you murmured through your gritted teeth, sarcasm dripping off of it.

He opened his mouth to reply, but you didn't give him a chance to do so, you walked ahead, past him. Wells, who was very aware of your frustration, followed you. He decided not to react or add fuel to fire. It was not the time nor the place.

While inspecting, walking quickly, so you stay a couple of meters ahead of him, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You fished it out. A notification popped out of the screen. It was a text from Iris.

"Hey. Are you busy tonight?”

***

Yikes. What do you think will happen?

Anyway, I'd really appreciate if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part III

[moon-yeongjun]

Rabbit Asks Eeyore for Help || Moon Donkey

Summary: Jun plans for a trip away, and goes to Gregory for help. Featuring Eomma, who I love. 

Follows:  Dalmajung Cat Got Your Tongue? 

@notmuchofatail 

JUN: Jun was a cat.

Unfortunately, this fact had not changed despite Jun’s most fervent hopes that Ting-Ting’s, er, diagnosis of sorts was false. He had stubbornly clung to denial as long as he could that this horrible curse could only be lifted by the Royal Sorceress of the Nihon Court (a real thing...in a real place…). Maybe it was temporary, he reasoned! Maybe if he closed his eyes and wished very hard! When that didn’t work, he had bargained with every mysterious force in the universe to give him his human body back in exchange for a lifetime of good behavior. He’d never drink again! He’d go to church TWICE a week. Hell, he’d get married to a very nice Korean woman before the year was up! When that didn’t work, anger quickly dissolved into grief, and while he caterwauled for about an hour, at the end of it he only felt exhaustion, and a sense of dimming acceptance.

He had to go to Nihon.

Through the portal in the dumpster behind the Moon Market, where Haru had popped out over a year ago.

And he had to convince a sorceress (who was a CAT!) to have pity on him.

Dammit all to hell.

Now, Jun had never done this sort of thing before (traveling to other dimensions, dealing with sorcerers etc etc), so he really didn’t know how long it was going to take him. Which meant, before he left, he needed to sort out a plan.

Jun finally...revealed himself to Eomma first. It had been as terrible as one would expect. What mother wanted to hear their first-born son had been cursed into the form of a cat? The whole “Yes, I’ve been lying to you about Haru’s true origins all along!” and “Yes, she was actually a cat princess I’ve accidentally promised myself to!”  went over just as well. But after convincing Eomma not to kill Haru, she of course agreed to run over the market in his stead, because what else were they going to do?

The answer was: Gregory Eeyore.

Jun had thought long and hard about it. Moons didn’t like to ask for help. Questions and rumours would spring up if they turned to Eomma’s church friends, and Vixey was just getting her own business off the ground! So, Greg. Of course, Greg. Eomma called him up and asked Greg to come to the farm for a little meeting.  

Now here Greg was, sitting on the couch. Eomma put down a cup of tea for him before she sat down. “Now er...don’t be alarmed,” she said, as good-naturedly and calmly as she could. “You might find all of this a shock, but trust me, Junnie has it all under control. Erm, Jun-ah?”

Jun sighed and then hopped onto the coffee table. “Yes, hullo, it’s me, yes, really, yes, I am a victim of a curse! Just another day in Swynlake, isn’t it, eh!” he tried for humour, to bark out a laugh, but it came out a bit shrieky. Jun winced.  “Oh, that was embarrassing.”

GREG:

It wasn’t too bizarre that Gregory had been contacted to come to the Moon Farm. He’d been coming three or four times a week ever since Mr. Moon had decided he was going to work there for his mental health or whatever, at least. Sometimes he stayed for breakfast - usually when Eomma insisted, and rarely he swung by outside of those times to drop things off for them from his own mother.

So Gregory hadn’t really batted an eye at the woman’s phone call, agreeing to swing by after he’d closed up Ruff to Fluff for the evening. The only difference was, of course, the lack of Jun.

At least in the moment. However, he figured perhaps he had to stay late at the Market or..was on a date or doing something important. Jun always appeared to have very little free time to sit around and do nothing, after all. He was a very busy man - and...Gregory was sure with all his issues (re: mental breakdowns, possibly curses, etc) that he didn’t help with that. He wasn’t going to question it though, even if he was curious on what Eomma could possibly need from him that didn’t involve the eldest son too - instead just agreeing to tea and thanking Eomma quietly when she placed it in front of him.

His brows furrowed almost immediately however upon her comment - knowing that despite the words themselves, they only ever elicited a concerned response from him. Now don’t panic, but… - don’t be alarmed! I’m sure it’s nothing but-

Words like that were never actually followed by good things, were they? Head tilted slightly as she continued, his lips parting slightly as if he was going to question her almost immediately when he found himself caught off guard again. Jun-ah? Wait...what?

Try as he might to avoid it - Gregory could have sworn his jaw hit the floor when the delicate little paws of a cat hopped up onto the coffee table. Greg’s gaze swept over it almost immediately, always having been drawn to animals of course - and for a moment - he might’ve thought it was a joke. That the… shock that his mother was referring to was the fact that Mr. Moon had adopted a cat! That alone would have been quite a shock to him too. Enough of a shock for him to handle, really…. But then the cat spoke.

The cat spoke and the cat sounded just like Jun. Acted just like Jun. Was Jun. “...Oh my god.” Came the words before he could stop them, his hand covering his open mouth as concern knit his brows deeply across his features. Mr. Moon…. Mr. Moon was a cat. A cat. What the f— “...What… what happened?” He finally questioned, gaze slipping between the (admittedly very cute and adorable!!) Cat-Jun and Eomma.

JUN: Jun grimaced. Well, he supposed not really, because cats did not have the same facial muscles as humans. So his lip curled a little and his eyes narrowed and he looked off a bit to the side, squirming in his own fur. Aish, he knew this was going to be embarrassing, but he was never ready for just how embarrassing! Every single time he had to reveal himself to someone (ahem, so far-- Tae, Ting-Ting, and Eomma) he was sent further down a hole of humiliation he never wanted to crawl out of.

With Greg, that hole was especially deep.

He was supposed to be Mr. Moon after all! Not many people called Jun that-- not many people respected him the same way Greg did. Now, Jun didn’t quite understand why and he definitely didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t mean Jun wanted to lose Greg’s respect either. Over the last few months, his quiet and steady presence had grown into the grooves of this place, as if he were one of Jun’s most beloved fruits. And my, wasn’t that an apt metaphor? When Greg had arrived on the farm, he was wilted; now, he had bloomed!

At least, he wasn’t threatening to disappear into the country sides of France or what-have-you. A marked improvement.

Would that all be lost now? Would Greg find the Moon Farm unsafe? Would he be horrified to learn of how Jun had lied? His ears flicked back and forward. He didn’t want to tell him any of it.

But Jun had to. If he didn’t, Eomma would.

“It’s-- it’s a bit of a story,” Jun chewed out after a prolonged beat of squirmy silence. His tail lashed again. “Agh, and it’s going to sound ridiculous, trust me, I know! I thought it was ridiculous the whole time--”

“진짜 !” exclaimed Eomma, followed by some more annoyed Korean that only Jun (thankfully) could understand. It translated roughly to: So you say, and yet you brought that beast straight into our home, let me feed her at our table--

“Eomma, I know!” Jun mewled in distress.

Eomma just sucked her teeth and picked up her cup of tea. “Go on then, tell him about the 걸레같은 년.”

Jun winced. Not going to translate that.

Whiskers twitching, he glanced toward Greg with a pathetic expression, struggling for another few seconds for the words and then finally bursting out--

 “Yah, fine! Haru is a CAT! She was a cat all along, from a distant cat kingdom and I didn’t know, I tried to take care of her, eh, I thought-- oh, she was a stray! And then POOF! One day she was a woman! She didn’t know what to do, so yes, I helped her again, I signed her up for a cellphone and gave her a job, and then I thought, hey, what a good idea, I’ll pretend to date Haru so my eomoeni gets off my back! I didn’t know it would end like this!”

“You made a deal with a cat demon!” Eomma shot back at him.

“She’s not a demon, Eomma! She’s a normal cat! It’s a spell, it’s-- a weird marriage spell!”

“You really didn’t like Kim Do-yeon that much? Why, because I like her?”

“Eommaaaaaa, this isn’t about Kim Do-yeon!”

“My son made a deal with a cat demon and now look at him!” Eomma repeated to Greg this time, flourishing a hand. “Gregory, this is why you should always listen to your parents. I bet Gregory would go on dates with nice girls that his mother likes.”

“I AM A CAT, CAN WE PLEASE NOT TALK ABOUT MY LOVE LIFE!” Jun mewled, his fur puffing up.

Eomma raised her hands again, then sipped her tea.

Jun turned back to Greg, flattening his ears and crouching down. “...Does that answer your question?”

GREG: Okay.

...okay. That was… that was a lot of information that Gregory tried to follow in a very short amount of time. His head whipped back and forth easily between Jun and Eomma, like he was invested in a terribly long volley of a tennis match. Back and forth - the quick and sharp words between mother and son as Gregory felt himself tug his lip ring between his teeth, gnawing on the metal like the discomfort gnawed in his gut.

He tried to focus on the big picture. To...process it in his mind in a more simple and compact way. In his head, the story went something like this: Eomma wanted Jun to talk to a ‘nice girl’ that she liked by the name of Kim Do-yeon, and evidently Jun did not wish to do so. He hadn’t a clue where on the timeline that fell, but not important. Then Jun found a stray cat that he helped take care of (which was good!! Very cute that grumpy Mr. Moon would take in a stray!!) Not so cute was the fact the stray turned into a full grown woman. One that… as of five minutes ago Gregory had thought to just be the man’s girlfriend.

Oh - and said cat-woman (normal cat?? So… cursed...to be a woman??) was from a distant… cat kingdom.

...what?

Belatedly - Gregory realized quite a bit of time had passed since Jun last spoke. He’d simply been staring in his direction with that same blank look on his expression as he struggled to take that information in and form… any cohesive thought about it. Straightening up mechanically, Greg cleared his throat, hand moving to rub at his temple as his tongue wrapped around words a few times before he could only shake his head.

“...uhm---... n-.. No.” He admitted. If anything, it just opened up so many more questions for him to ask. There were a lot too!! However they were… likely not as important at the moment (even if Greg was… incredibly curious about a cat kingdom). Priorities though. Jun was a cute cat right in front of him. That was kind of a problem. “..I-... I still don’t uhm…. I don’t...see how that involves...you becoming a...cat. I--.. Did… did she turn you into a cat??” Is that why his mother kept calling her a cat demon? “...Or-- I-... I’m sorry I just..” This is a lot he almost said. However...if it was a lot for him he couldn’t imagine how Jun felt. Or..well, actually he could. At least an idea, given he thought he’d been cursed just recently too.

“I...I mean are you … okay?” Stupid question, perhaps.

JUN: “Am I okay?” Jun responded incredulously. And he stood up on all four paws again, fur puffing up. “Do I LOOK like I’m okay to you?! I could be stuck like this forever!”

Hopefully not. He was getting ahead of himself.

Luckily, Eomma chimed in. “Aish, hush,” Eomma said to him, swiping a hand through the air. “That’s no way to talk to a friend. Just answer his questions.”

Jun growled low in his throat. He didn’t want to.

The fact of the matter is that he had purposefully avoided the how. Part of Jun still did not understand himself. This was what Eomma kept forgetting in her quest to make Jun the bad guy here-- this was all news to him too! When Haru first appeared, she’d not explained the details of the spell that sent her to Swynlake. She hadn’t mentioned a mysterious cat sorcerer named Purrseph, who obviously had her own motives.

Maybe Jun should have inquired more deeply into these things. But he wasn’t a sorcerer, or a fairy, or a...a...animal shapeshifter! He was a gardener. A grocer. A mundus. 

Just…Jun.

So to him, Haru’s story was something out of a faery tale. He wished it could stay that way. Why he of all people-- a gardener, a grocer, just Jun-- had been thrust into the narrative made no sense. Look at him! Did he look particularly heroic? He was no knight in shining armor. And definitely not a prince.

Aiya, at least the black fur hid the fact he was definitely blushing. His blood felt like it was on fire!

“Haru...did not mean to. She-- agh.” He grumbled again and swiped an annoyed paw over his whiskers like he was batting away an annoying fly. “I suppose I should have mentioned Haru is not just a cat, she’s...a Cat Princess.”

“HAH,” Eomma barked.

“And she...had to wed a Cat Prince in a different kingdom to unite the lands or… stop a war or something.”

“HAH,” another laugh from Eomma.

“But she didn’t want to--”

“Children are all the same,” sighed Eomma.

“So she asked a cat sorcerer--yes, very funny, Eomma, I know! Erm, anyway. She asked a cat sorcerer for help. According to her, the cat sorcerer cast a spell that would lead her to her own happiness. That’s how she ended up in Swynlake. And apparently, the theory is that once Haru and I … we… uh... ”

Eomma tsked under her breath.

“It isn’t like that!” Jun shot quickly toward Eomma. “We shared a moment of true happiness together! It was just-- a cup of coffee after Chuseok! We fell asleep watching a drama! It was nothing inappropriate or, or grand, or anything! But I woke up and poof, I’m a cat, and I’m supposed to go back to Nihon and marry her, I guess!”

“Over my dead body,” said Eomma.

“Obviously. I just need to get the spell lifted, that’s all. And then everything will go back to the way it was and we can all collectively agree to never mention this again!”

GREG: Gregory shrank back a bit almost immediately at the older man (cat’s) response. Half of it was because that tone that Jun used so easily made him uncomfortable in any situation - but the other half stemmed simply from the fact he….appeared as an angry cat. And while Greg had gone through a lot of things in his life, he’d always been incredibly good with animals. Never had one turn on him in anger in any walk of life. Even the scared dogs at the shop would never turn on him in anger. So it was… weird to see a cat angry. Weird to feel like he might reach out and try to bite or scratch him (and truly he didn’t know if he would).

Either way, the urge to reach out and comfort him like he would a normal cat was immediately ignored. He was not going to have the very first time in his life that he was attacked by an animal be from Jun.

So instead Gregory just leaned back slightly, putting a bit more distance between the pair of them as he listened with a deep frown to the hesitant explanation of.. What exactly had happened to cause this. An explanation, of course, that had him adding new little tidbits to that already too wild story in his mind. Cat Princess. Got it. Right… why not at this rate.

Though Gregory had half a mind to hush Eomma the same way she had Jun for him - though he didn’t dare. He didn’t find the humor in this at all. Even if he could tell it was… bitter humor, Gregory still didn’t feel any inclinations of a smile. Of a laugh or even the slightest shift of humor in his expression. If anything he felt his frown tug down even deeper as he rubbed his hand over his mouth in deep rooted concern.

His expression did shift slightly at Eomma’s tsk, his gaze lifting immediately to Jun’s own with raised brows - and he was just about to interrupt and tell him whatever detail he was about to share was… not important. Gregory didn’t need to know whatever Haru and him had done together to… seal whatever curse this was!!! Jun was quick to interject though, filling that gap quickly and Gregory cleared his throat lightly in relief.

So - ...alright,..Eomma →  Jun+Kim Do-yeon=Happy Eomma, unhappy Jun. Caring Jun adopts stray cat. Cute. Stray Cat (Princess Cat) → full grown woman. Not cute. Fake couple. Not cute. In place of a true love’s kiss - a… true moment of happiness or something. (Cute) Poof, Jun is a cat and needs to marry the Princess Cat in the Cat Kingdom. (Not cute!). Again - as noted when Jun was originally helping him with his ‘maybe curse’, this wasn’t Gregory’s first rodeo. His boyfriend and him broke up to leave the country to find a way to break his curse and he hadn’t returned. Hadn’t...spoken to him.. Seen him. It’d been...well over a year. Honestly it was terrifying to never know what became of him. To think that.. Something like this could happen to Jun and that he’d just up and disappear forever too!

Blowing a deep sigh through his lips, Gregory leaned forward again as he swept both of his hands over his face - massaging his temples roughly. It was...a lot. A very large amount of things to process and Gregory didn’t know if he was mad at Haru for letting this all happen or for Eomma for blaming Jun so much for something that was clearly out of his control. Being angry wasn’t going to help though - and clearly he was called here for a reason..

“....———okay…. So… What can I do? How--.. How can I help?” A hopefully… less stupid question.

JUN: Finally! The reason they were all here.

If only Jun could have started here, but Greg had deserved the explanation, especially because the truth of the matter was-- Jun had no idea how long he was going to be gone. He hoped he could get everything sorted in a matter of days. Get in, find Purrseph, claw her until she listened, lift the spell, and poof! He’d wake up in his bed with thumbs and everything! Whatever happened to Haru, he didn’t know-- it was one of the thoughts he was pushing away. It wasn’t his business. Despite whatever friendship they’d been building… and maybe something more, or at least, he’d had that brief, ill-advised thought last night which was clearly part of the reason he was LIKE this-- it was probably over. Good riddance, and all that. He-- he didn’t care.

But he would need her up until the point he was human again. And he needed Gregory too.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Er, see-- Ting-Ting told me the only way to lift this sort of spell is to go to the sorcerer who cast it. Very annoying. I’ve got to head off to Nihon later today with Haru, and I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be gone. Probably not very. Haru assures me she knows exactly where that cat sorceress is hiding. So, well, they don’t have boats and cars and things there-- it’s all wild terrain, you know, um, think Lord of the Rings, I guess-- so it might just be a bit of a trek… maybe a-- a week, tops.”

Eomma sighed. She had no comment for all this-- he knew it worried her. It worried Jun too, but he was trying to pretend like it didn’t.

“So I er, just need a bit of help with the store. Eomma will do most of the work, but...but well, if you could help her out. Mostly during the weekdays, er, opening it up--she needs to get my sisters to school, you know. It won’t be that hard, I can walk you through everything, and I created a whole manual of instructions after my um, my abeoji died, just in case, so-- it should all be sorted.” He licked his muzzle, eyes darting down and then up. “I know it’s quite the favour to ask. You...you have your store too.”

GREG:

I’ve got to head off to Nihon. I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be gone. Maybe a week, tops.

Gregory felt himself stiffen at that - straightening up a tad as that discomfort clenched again in his gut. Jun was leaving. Jun was leaving Swynlake to find a way to lift his curse. He still remembered that night his ex-boyfriend last flew into his window. The way he stood in his room and tried to explain that he was leaving - that he didn’t know for how long, but he needed to break his curse. That he was closer to doing it than he’d ever been before and that this would be it. The final steps. That he’d come back when it was over… I’m not really sure how long it’ll take.

What if Mr. Moon never came back either? What if he left to lift his curse and Gregory found himself alone again? He’d lost his boyfriend. His best friend left for University and never said goodbye. Hadn’t contacted him since graduation. He couldn’t lose Mr. Moon too - but he also couldn’t ask him to stay. It wasn’t fair - and it wasn’t… realistic. The man was a cat and… obviously had a very good idea of how to solve it.

But the thought still terrified him. He didn’t want him to go.

“I--.. It’s fine.” He said perhaps too quickly, offering a slight dismissive wave of his hand. “I-... Ian can..basically run my shop without me.” Any of his employees probably could. They were all incredibly trustworthy and he’d trained them to. They’d all learned quickly - but Ian covered a lot of the important business work aspects. Knew how to operate the books, to close up or open, how to handle appointments and customers and inventory. That was why Ian would always be the one to get the keys when the time came.

So Gregory wasn’t worried about that.

“It’s not..it’s not a problem. I uhm… I mean I can..I can just come here and help on the farm a little earlier - and then go back and open for her like you would. And uhm… - Go to class or my shop or Board stuff during the day and check in again near closing. It’s.. - it’s more than doable.”

JUN: People often thought that Jun was not a very emotional person, or that he wasn’t very empathetic.

This was a mistake.

Now, he wasn’t as empathetic as he could be, and yes, he did make decisions based on logic and facts. But Jun knew when people were upset. Maybe it was all the training in hospitals. Maybe it was growing up with three sisters, being raised by Haleomoni and Eomma before his abeoji was ever in the picture. Whatever it was, he’d become especially attuned to Gregory’s stormy emotional states-- and he saw the boy stiffen, and knew that this was not good news.

But Eomma had cried too. This annoyed, sarcastic version of herself was a shield she was putting up for Greg, so she wouldn’t cry again. But she had asked him-- how long will you be gone? How can I live without you, my Yeong-junnie?

Jun frowned a bit, squirming again as Greg looked away from him and, naturally, agreed, like the very good boy he was. How readily and easily he agreed too. It tugged Jun’s heart. It made him feel worse.

He was bringing so much worry to all the people he loved, when it was supposed to be his job to carry it.

And so that was why Jun hopped from the table onto the couch, where he situated himself next to Gregory. He put a paw on the boy’s leg. “That would be wonderful, Gregory. Really, from the bottom of my heart… thank you,” he said. “And… and look, it really is not as scary as it sounds. Haru tells me there aren’t even any predators where she’s from! They’re the, er, top of the food pyramid so to speak! So I’ll be back before you know it! I promise. Who else can keep this town in check, eh?”

GREG: The sudden blur in front of him startled him, a hand raising slightly away from his side as Jun hopped across the gap and settled beside him - a fuzzy little black paw resting against his thigh. Much like the gentle hand that would rest across his knee or shoulder in an attempt to comfort him - Gregory knew that even if it didn’t physically carry the same weight, it carried the same implication. Despite the fact Jun was the one in this situation this time around, he was still doing his best to comfort him. To make sure Greg was okay.

His fingers curled gently into a fist, if only to resist the urge to reach out and scratch the small kitty behind his ears - to pull him against his chest and hold him close like he might’ve Calliope or Faith at the shop. Maybe then he could stop Jun from going. Keep him safe and find a way to get him out of his curse without him having to leave.

Lips parted to say something - but the words caught a bit in his throat. Forcing him to swallow that small lump as his gaze shifted briefly to Eomma before it landed back on Jun’s own again.

Despite his furry appearance, his eyes were so incredibly telling. Still the same dark eyes. The same bright, expressive eyes that often told him more than Mr. Moon ever would himself. The conversations the other man could hold just in his looks - from the gentle assurance, to stern reprimands. Even now - he could tell Jun’s words were genuine. Even if he knew there was… uncertainty there. But...he couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be uncertain about going to a cat kingdom to demand your physical form back - but… the promise was genuine.

A week tops.

“...Of..of course. It’s..no big deal. It’s like--...the least I can do after all.” He was still...forever in debt to the other man, after all. Whether Jun wanted to acknowledge that or not. Clearing his throat a second time before offering a quick smile, Greg shifted again slightly. “That’s uhm...that’s good though. I uhm… - I’m sure it’ll be fine. ...knowing you - it’ll just take a look and you’ll be back to..to normal and on your way home.”

JUN: Yes, Jun was trying to comfort Greg, but he needed to hear it himself. The more he repeated it out loud, the easier it became to believe the strange story of it all-- that he would go, do his silly little hero’s journey, and come back in the end. That was how it always went, after all! At least, in every book and tv show and movie he had ever seen. The hero always came home.

Some hero you’ll be, he thought sardonically to himself. But if Greg believed in him…

Jun glanced back at Eomma, who gazed on worriedly. He cleared his throat. “Well-- er now that that’s settled-- I can go over a few specifics with you. Eomma, you don’t have to stay.”

Eomma nodded. “Thank you Gregory. This is very kind of you.” She got up and then reached over to squeeze one of Gregory’s hands gently, a small, tight smile on her lips. “You are a good boy. Jun-ah, tell me before he goes, eh, I want to send him home with more leftovers!”

Eomma went back out to her pottery studio, leaving Jun to talk to Gregory about the second part of his favour-- the most important part, really.

“I just wanted to say-- if you could look after her too,” he said much more quietly. His ears flicked backwards, as the shame bubbled up from the pit in his stomach. This was his job. It was one thing to let the store down, all those customers, and another to leave his eomoni all alone. She was a capable woman, of course, but-- only a year had passed since Abeoji died. He could sense her dread, her fear, almost like it was a smell caught in his ridiculous cat nostrils. And it was all his fault.

When Jun came home, it was where he was supposed to stay, so he could care for her, and his sisters, and Tae-yah. What if he didn’t come back?

No! Of course he’d come back. It was not an option. And until then…

“She might come across as very casual about this whole thing, but I know it scares her. Please, try to keep her spirits up. An-anything you can do.” A note of pleading sharpened Jun’s words. “If you need any help at all, also, please don’t hesitate to lean on Yeong-tae as well. Remind him that he is the eldest son while I am gone. He has to take that seriously-- but not too seriously, he should--focus on his studies too, of course, that’s first--”

The more Jun spoke, the more panicked he started to feel. Best to just stop, and so he did, abruptly.

GREG: Somehow Gregory managed a smile for Eomma as she got up and squeezed his hand - his head nodding gently. “...s’no problem.” He dismissed easily one last time, letting that smile stay on his lips just until the woman stepped from the room, where it then quickly faded back into the same frown that was often etched onto his features. The very one that still carried the worry he held for the older man.

A worry that only seemed to grow tenfold when Jun spoke up again, Gregory’s gaze immediately falling back down to that black cat beside him. He looked so… small. Scared. The ears pressed back against his head, the uncertain movements of his tail. See, Greg had always been good at reading body language, it was one of his skills of knowing when people wanted nothing to do with him, but even better than reading human body language? Was Greg’s ability to read animal’s body language. A skill that became especially important with his job at the shop.

So...he could see the discomfort in Jun’s figure. The… anxiety that seemed to spike through his small frame, only confirmed by the way his words grew seemingly faster before they abruptly came to a halt in all.

Mr. Moon’s request was a valid one, of course. One that Gregory would agree to quicker than he’d agreed to watch the store. It was...a no question situation - but the hint of desperation in which Jun requested it made him nervous too, and in the end - his own empathy overruled his logic.

So his fingers uncurled from his palm as they gently reached out to wrap around the back of Cat-Jun’s neck - thumb softly petting behind his ears as he nodded in easy agreement. “...Mr. Moon.. You don’t have to worry about that.” He spoke quietly, letting his hand rest upon his neck before it moved down slightly to gently scratch against his shoulders and the stiff tension he might’ve held there. “...course I’ll watch out for her. ..Keep an eye on her, Tae and your sisters while you’re gone… - but..” He trailed off slightly, his brows furrowing again as he swallowed another slightly larger lump in his throat.

“...You--.. It’ll just be a week. You’re coming back.” He finished - firmly, even. It wasn’t a question. Mr. Moon would come back (and as a human, no less) in just a week tops. “You promised…” He reminded, a little softer before his fingers stilled in the other’s soft fur. “...You promised. N’I promise I’ll look after them.”

JUN: Yes, he promised.

And oh, it was humiliating, everything about this was humiliating, but Jun closed his eyes at Gregory’s touch and let himself relax, if only for a moment. He hated this body-- it wasn’t his-- but with his eyes closed, he could at least forget that. With his eyes closed, he did not have to be a cat. He did not even have to be Mr. Moon, not anymore. Though he didn’t know what that made him-- if he were not Mr. Moon, the eldest son of the Moon family, what was he?

But Jun did not have to answer that question, at least not in those few seconds where he was not Mr. Moon at all, because only Mr. Moon would have the answer, eh? Instead, Jun got to have a few seconds just to himself. He got to have a comforting hand, and let himself listen to a friend’s kind words.

When he heard a rumbling, like a gentle murmur of rain, he didn’t realize it was him, purring, until he opened his eyes again.

And then the purring abruptly stopped.

And Mr. Moon was Mr. Moon again. Mr. Moon did not purr. Mr. Moon did not need comfort. He had quite a lot of work ahead of him actually. Normally, that work was familiar and routine: get up, do farm chores, open the store, run the store, run the errands, close the store, wake up, do farm chores…

But really, what was so different about this if he thought about it as one long errand, eh? It was bound to frustrate him, as most of his errands did!

Yes, one long errand, and dealing with people-- er… cats he did not want to deal with, and plenty of red tape, but then: home.

Jun cleared his throat. “Er-- yes-- of course. Exactly. One week, and then I’ll be back,” he said confidently, like he’d never doubted at all. “...Thank you again, Gregory. It’s… very…” Jun cleared his throat, feeling the heat under his fur. “I’m glad I can depend on you.”

GREG: He wouldn’t mention it.

Not if he wanted to live, of course - but Gregory was always going to remember the way the cat in front of him seemed to relax. The way his eyes closed and that soft rumble of purring filled the empty space between them. Perhaps if it had gone on any longer, he might’ve even seen the jet-black paws curl against his leg and knead the material of his jeans gently. But it didn’t - quick as it started, the purring came to a halt as Mr. Moon opened his eyes again and Gregory quickly took that as his cue to let his hand slip off the other man’s figure and instead rest on his own thigh.

Greg wouldn’t dare be weird about it. It was a cat - but it was still Mr. Moon. Still his elder. Still a respected businessman - and still in a situation that Gregory could only begin to understand. So he wouldn’t mention this, likely ever in his life. He’d consider that another addition to the endless debt he owed to Jun. Keeping this secret safe with him for as long as he lived, even if the man hadn’t yet asked that of him.

“...please don’t mention it.” The younger man said instead with another dismissive shrug. “It-... it’s never even a question.” And while Gregory didn’t know if Jun could depend on him, ...well at the very least he could try for him.

No matter what he asked, he’d try for him. Which was perhaps why he was even still here in the first place. Mr. Moon had basically asked him to try. So he was. So he too would try with this - make sure he did his very best to keep an eye out on Mr. Moon’s family and his store. To help his mother open, close or anything else she needed in between. Hell - Gregory would have gone to a Cat Kingdom to fight for him too if Jun asked.

“...maybe uhm…” He cleared his throat then, knowing better than to let them get stuck in an awkward gratitude cycle. “...Maybe we should actually go over a few things, yeah? I wasn’t cool enough t’get the summer job at the Market like everyone else so.. We gotta touch the basics.” He teased with a small smile.

Anything to lighten the mood.

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,983

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: implied anxiety attack, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: <none>

...

The four boys were in Roman's room; Virgil sprawled across the bed lazily, Patton and Logan observing Roman's pet turtle, and Roman taking out the Cress plants and setting them on the window sill by his desk.

"soooooooo adorable!!" Patton yelped. he was naturally very enthusiastic, but seemed to be putting a little extra umph into it now.

Logan smiled over at him. "Quite. This is a Trachemys Scripta Elegans, also known as the red-eared pond slider. These are among the most common species of pet turtles. Although, despite their prevalence, they are indeed 'adorable.'" Upon finishing his analysis, Logan looked back to Patton, who had been watching intently as Logan explained. Patton felt a light blush rise to his cheeks, looking away from Logan.

"H-how do you know so much about turtles?" Patton said quietly.

"Well, when I was young, I really wanted a pet turtle. My mother, well, she supported it, but my dad... well, they came to a compromise, that if I did my research and took care of it on my own, that I could have a pet turtle."

"...And? Did you end up getting one?" Patton asked, his face showing plainly how emotionally invested in this story he'd become.

"Yes. His name was Star, I had him for a total of two years and three months." Logan said shortly.

"Why only two years? What happened?" Patton said. "I thought turtles lived for a long time?"

"They do, but Star was already 46. I got him from a rescue center; he had been left in an aquarium on the side of the road. I knew before committing to keeping him that he wouldn't last too much longer." Logan reminisced, but only for a moment. "Anyway, that was years ago." He said shortly, turning away from Patton.

Just at that moment, Roman turned around and cleared his throat. "If I could have everyone's undivided attention," he side-eyed Virgil aggressively, who just smirked and seemed to relax more into Roman's bed. "ugh, typical. will you please come and join the conversation, Hot Topic?" he pressed.

"Aww, you think I'm hot." Virgil teased back as he sat up. Roman's eyes went wide, his cheeks darkening. But before Virgil could notice, Patton diverted the conversation.

"What's the plan, Roman? Logan?" Patton looked between the two of them, and they looked at each other. They both went to speak at the same time, interrupting each other. While Roman chuckled at the situation, Logan took the opportunity to speak first.

"Well, I assume that you don't have any fertilizer Roman, so we'll-"

"Actually, I had my dad pick some up on his way home from work! He bought two very different brands- one mainstream and one... liberal. I'll go grab those, and some plant pots." Roman interjected, and then pranced off out of his room to collect said items, leaving the three others alone in the room.

Immediately, Virgil got up from the bed, and bent down to check under the bed, rummaging around.

"What are you doing, Virgil?" Logan asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose again.

"Yeah, isn't that including on Roman's privacy?" Patton said, sounding a bit concerned.

"I believe the word you mean to use is 'intruding,' Patton, and the correct wording would be 'intruding upon,'" Logan corrected.

"Oh, sorry, 'intruding upon.' Thanks, Lo!" Patton said, smiling brightly. Logan felt his cheeks heat up, and smiled softly back to him.

"Well, if you must know," Virgil grunted, getting up from his crouching position on the floor and moving to examine Roman's bedside table, "I'm looking for his stash."

Logan and Patton shared a confused look. "what do you mean 'his stash?'" Patton asked, somehow looking more confused.

Virgil was now making his way into Roman's closet. "Whatever that means for Roman, I guess. the stuff he hides from his parents. Drugs, porn, you know. something juicy." Virgil clarified. Patton winced at the p word.

"Virgil! Not only is that - intruding upon - his privacy, but that's downright disrespectful! you stop that right now!" As Patton finished speaking, Virgil emerged from the closet empty handed.

"Well, either way, I just checked all the classic spots. nothing to write home about. Guess I'll have to up my searching game for next week." He teased Patton, who whimpered. Virgil plopped back onto the bed, and Logan was about to ask why Virgil would need to write a letter to his parents when he'd be returning home far before a letter would arrive. But, his opening mouth was cut off, as Roman returned with two small flat pots, both already consisting of two different looking types of fertilizer.

"It's amazing, the differences between these," Roman said, presenting the pots to his teammates. Patton leaned in, and Roman made a good point. One pot had grayer dirt, and much fewer flecks of minerals and nutrients, and the other looked rich with life - Patton half expected a worm to emerge from it.

Logan walked over to the sill where Roman had put the plants, setting them down on the empty section of the desk. Roman brought over the pots, and Logan pulled the Garden Cress plants out of their temporary plastic pots, placing them gently in their respective pots. While he did this, Roman stepped behind him and put his arms around Logan's waist, and growled lightly into his ear. Virgil scowled in their general direction, and Patton's face fell.

Through his blush, Logan cleared his throat. "Roman, that is inappropriate behavior, and frankly I'm not comfortable with it. Our relationship is currently strictly professional." His voice was a little unsteady and cracked once, but he kept himself composed for the most part.

Roman considered continuing to tease him, but decided to take a nobler, grander route. "Fine," He began, releasing Logan from their intimate embrace, "I'll leave you be today, but on one condition. Logan Montgomery, will you go on a date with me?"

Everyone in the room was shocked into silence, even Roman. He was surprised at his own confidence, but he just rolled with it, as he usually did. Virgil's scowl just worsened, and he quietly said he had to use the restroom, leaving with hardly a sound. Patton just looked horrified, all the color having drained from his face. But no one was looking at him.

Logan turned around slowly, looking Roman in the eyes, half expecting him to have some silly grin on his face and say "haha, just kidding! Man, I really had you there!" or something of the like. But Roman just returned his gaze confidently, a small smile tracing his face.

"...You're serious?" Logan said after a long moment. Patton was praying that he wasn't.

"deadly," Said Roman, his smile widening slightly.

Logan thought for a long moment. "...w-well, I'm not sure that's appropriate, consid-"

"Come on, just one date. That's all." Roman pleaded.

"And what of your reputation? Won't people be jealous? What if someone does someth-"

"I promise, I'll keep my... fans... from messing with you, if that's your biggest worry. Please, please please?" Roman pressed.

"...A-and I'm not sure my parents would approve. They've never allowed me to be involved with anyone romantically before, so-"

"I'm sure they'll be more understanding this time around! Or, better yet, just don't tell them!" Roman countered. He had a glint of determination in his eyes, and Logan knew he wasn't going to back down. He spent a long moment trying to think of some conflicting factor, but he couldn't come up with a thing. He also considered simply telling him he wasn't interested, but that would be a lie. Despite his better nature, Roman did capture his attention.

And so, with a somewhat defeated tone, Logan sighed and pushed his glasses up again. "Fine. One date. But that is all. I wouldn't plan on-" Logan tried to be stern, but Roman was pumping his fists in the air excitedly.

"yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!!!! Woohoo!!!!!!! Be prepared for the most romantic and fantastical evening of your life, my Iron Giant Nerd!! How's Thursday sound?"

"That is... adequate," Logan responded, not knowing what else to say.

"Excellent! Just give me one moment." Roman pulled out his phone, and from what Logan could see, he was looking something up. "...Okay! Perfect. I'll pick you up at from your house at, say, 7?"

"okay. I'll text you the address beforehand." Logan said shortly. He then set the pots on the windowsill, assuring that they were receiving equal amounts of light. "Alright, I'm going to go wash my hands in the kitchen and get some water for our specimens. Roman, the kitchen is the first left down the hall, correct?" Roman nodded, and Logan left swiftly. Roman just punched the air a few more times, and then fell back on his bed with a plop.

Patton was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the ring on his right middle finger. Don't let it show.

He turned to address Roman, a smile gracing his face that few people would know was forced. "Congratulations on your first date, Roman! You guys make an adorable couple. I wish you a successful relationship!" He said.

Roman sat up and eyed him. "Really? I mean, from the way you and Logan were talking, I would've guessed you have a crush on-"

"Nope!" Patton said shortly, smiling more intensely. "I like Logan a lot as a friend, but I'm so glad he has you now! Well, hopefully. We'll see after your first date! What do you think, will he want to go on another one?" Patton waggled his eyebrows.

Roman delved back into his self-centered world once again, considering Patton's query. "Well, I certainly hope so. I'm quite... attracted to Logan, so hopefully we connect on an emotional and mental level as well. If I play my cards right, I think he'll fall for me." Roman idly speculated, smiling at Patton.

"I'm sure! I mean, you are such a charmer, from what I've seen. I-I mean no disrespect! I don't mean like that. I mean you have an inmate skill for attracting people! I think you have a shot." As Patton finished, Logan returned with clean hands and a spray bottle, walking over to the plants in the sill.

"Once again Patton, the word you mean to use is 'innate.' Don't worry, you'll get there." Logan assured, spritzing each plant exactly five times. "Roman, since you'll be the primary parent of these plants, i beg you, please don't falter in consistently watering them. five spritzes each, every day, preferably when you get home from school. If you don't have confidence in your commitment to this, as I don't, I suggest setting a reminder on your phone." Logan turned to Roman, watching expectantly for him to pull out his phone.

"Oh calm down, calculator watch. I have complete 'confidence in my commitment,' thank you very much," Roman said, earning a grimace from Logan, who then turned away and pulled out his own phone. Once Logan's attention was diverted, Roman did in fact pull out his phone and set a reminder for watering the cress.

Just as he was slipping his phone back into his pocket, Roman felt it buzz. "There's my address. Now, I'm going to call my parental units. I must be getting home, as I have work to do. For now, none of you should worry about the report itself, I'll be writing up a draft tonight and sharing it with each of you. Excuse me." And with that, Logan left the room once again to call his father, leaving Roman and Patton in silence.

Suddenly, Roman thought of something. "Hey, where's Virgil? Count Woe-laf may not be the best company, but it seems he's been absent for an excessive amount of time."

Patton didn't say anything as he listened to Roman, his thoughts quickly beginning to race. He's right. When did Virgil leave? Oh, when Roman first asked Logan. Oh, no... he wouldn't have been gone this long, unless-

Patton stood abruptly. "Wait here. I'll be right back." He said quickly, rushing out the door, leaving Roman to speculate.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNINGS: FREEZERBURN: alcohol, skinny dipping, outdoor sex.

So there's been a lot going on with me. Not all of it good, not all of it bad; I won't bog you down with all the details. But I am glad to be getting back to work here! More fanfics coming soon, I promise!

=Chapter 35

The first thing Blake did the next morning was draw a bath and follow through on her promise. Weiss jokingly offered to “help” and received a glare of blistering death for her trouble.

Delicious smells lured her downstairs while waiting for the bathroom to free up. Kali made an incredible breakfast for the four of them, and her mother looked delighted with the spread - and she had a suspicion they had been working on it together for at least an hour. It was sweet and domestic… even if strange that two women were so domestic together.

Not that they were together together. Just cohabitating.

That sounded even worse in her head.

“Morning, sweetie,” Willow greeted her with a little wave, sipping her coffee. “How did you sleep?”

“Not… as well as I hoped,” she admitted truthfully as she dropped into her chair. “New room and everything. But that will probably get better soon.”

Kali arrived to set down a platter of bacon - a full platter of it, overflowing and sizzling. “Blake didn’t keep you up too late, did she?” The eye that Willow couldn’t see winked at her playfully, and Weiss was glad she hadn’t started eating yet or she might have choked.

“No,” she told her stubbornly.

“Good. I noticed when I looked in on you that the two of you were snug as bugs in a rug.”

While Weiss was busy trying not to blush - and ignoring the smirk that lingered on the other woman’s face - her mother was cooing, “Aww, that’s just the most precious thing! I felt so sad when you agreed one of you would sleep downstairs… that’s no way for two young girls to get along.”

“Mmm,” Weiss hedged as she tried her own coffee. Not that she made a habit of drinking it.

“Well, they were all wrapped up in each other when I saw them,” Kali commented casually as she finally sat, the breakfast spread complete. “Makes a mother proud.”

“A mother like you, yes.”

Her eyes danced as she raised her own cup to her lips. “I don’t follow.”

“Suuuuure you don’t.” Then she turned to smile at her mother. “How did you sleep? Does Mrs. Belladonna hog the covers?”

“No, not at all,” she reported pleasantly. “She was… this was the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in years that wasn’t because I was too drunk to wake up. Sleeping beside Jacques made that impossible; sorry, Weiss.”

“Don’t apologise to me! I know how awful he’s been, and… and I’m glad we’re away.” She didn’t sound completely convincing. What she really wanted was for her father to be a good person, to treat his family with respect and affection instead of trying to rule them with an iron fist. But that wasn’t in the cards.

“I’m glad you are, too,” Kali put in, abandoning her teasing to reach over and pat Willow’s arm. “This might be temporary, but I would be alright with hosting you indefinitely. Anything to protect you from that.”

It wasn’t clear if “that” was Jacques or from the situation. Either one worked. Weiss decided to let them have their moment of comfort and camaraderie, and focused on tucking into her breakfast.

Nearly an hour passed before Blake joined them, and she was freshly-scrubbed and in a pleasant mood. Weiss caught her eye and smiled, and she rolled her eyes, trying to avoid confronting what they both knew had taken place in that tub.

“Sorry for taking so long,” she sighed. “We’re probably gonna be late for school.”

“Probably. But I think it’s alright after yesterday.” As Blake nodded sleepily, picking at the cold breakfast, Weiss added in a casual tone, “So apparently, you were snuggling me again this morning. You’re a clingy sleeper, I guess.”

Blake paused with the rasher of bacon halfway to her lips, eyes wide.

“It was like a Rockwell painting,” Kali teased with a smirk playing around her lips. That only made Blake’s cheeks flush even brighter. “I wish I had a photograph of you two, all cozy like that.”

“Mom…”

“Aww, me too,” Willow added, and Weiss giggled. They were all going a bit overboard teasing Blake, but it was fair play after Blake had been so heated about their parents spending “too much” time together. And besides, this teasing was all in good fun; everyone knew she was dating Yang and unavailable.

“Do you want me to have breakfast here or not?”

“Alright, alright,” Kali chuckled. “Sit down and eat before I have to tan your hide like I used to.”

“OKAY, MOM! ENOUGH!”

----------------------

Eventually, they made their way to school. It felt a little odd to be riding on Blake’s bike instead of Yang’s - especially after how close they got during the dead of night. Someday, she would have to get her own bike… but that day was going to be in the far future at the rate they were going.

Her family was penniless. Jacques Schnee no longer counted as her family as far as she was concerned; Whitley was debatable. But she and her mother were destitute, forced to depend on the kindness of a family friend to keep from winding up in the gutter. It was a bleak future. Still, at least they were alive and healthy, and had a network of strong women around them. Might as well keep her eyes on the horizon and try to make the best of a bad situation.

“Hey, uh… watch where those hands are going, Schnee.”

“They’re not going anywhere weird!” she protested, redoubling her grip around Blake’s stomach. “I have to hold on, don’t I?”

She sighed impatiently as they came to a stop at an intersection. “Yes, but you keep moving them around! And you almost grabbed my boob a couple of blocks back!”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating.”

“I am not!”

Things continued in that way all the way to the school - good-natured bickering over where the boundaries of propriety lay when they were both forced to be so close to each other. They dismounted and greeted the other Dragons with waves and smiles. Emerald was there, even though Cinder wasn’t quite recovered enough to be discharged - mostly according to Cinder, of course.

But Yang seemed to have something up her sleeve. A paper bag was clutched in one hand that was a lot larger than one for lunch, and must have been quite unwieldy to carry all the way there while driving a motorcycle.

“You bringing lunch for everybody?” Coco chuckled.

“Sit on it, Adel.” Her eyes swivelled to find Weiss, who took a step away from Blake on instinct. That was stupid; they hadn’t done anything wrong. Or at least, not while conscious.

“Hey,” Weiss said with a slight smile.

“Hiya. Wanna talk to you.”

Dread flared in the pit of her stomach. “Oh?” But when Yang opened the bag and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers, she felt the dread turn into butterflies. “Ohhhh… what’s this for?”

“For you. I, um, I wanted to ask… if you maybe… wanna go with me to the homecoming dance?”

The other Dragons sent up a chorus of wolf-whistles and cheers, punctuated with laughter, and Yang grimaced as if fighting down a blush. Weiss did feel a little embarrassed, as well, but mostly she was beyond pleased that she had been asked at all. Though one or two boys had asked before she went to the hospital, they were turned down flat - she didn’t want to lead them on, especially if they had zero chance of progressing past a polite dance.

Speaking of people with no chance…

“I’m happy for you two,” Blake said with a fairly convincing smile, clapping for them along with the rest. Weiss knew she wasn’t happy, but that she was at the same time; she would have to give her an extra hug later. “And for the extra steamy time you two are going to have in the locker room that night.”

“What?” Weiss asked in some surprise. “Steamy time? Why would we go to the locker room?!”

It was Coco who answered, smile casual and bemused. “Well, the gym is where the dance happens. And the locker room is right off the gym… and nobody will be thinking about two girls necking in there when they’re so busy watching for boy-girl couples. So…”

Weiss and Yang exchanged a bashful glance. It was the surprised princess who said, “Oh.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Emerald snorted, elbowing Coco. It seemed that now the dust had all settled, and she realised how hard Weiss had been trying to help everyone instead of actively setting things on fire, she was back to regarding her as something resembling a friend. “You two could just have a good time sock-hopping and then neck afterward. Don’t let Adel talk you into anything.”

“I’m not!” Coco protested, hands on her hips. “Just want everybody to have the best time possible. And we could all have it in the locker room.”

Blake squinted at her. “Will you stop trying to get that to happen? Nobody’s buying what you’re selling.”

“What?” Weiss asked in some confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yang sighed in annoyance. But when Weiss still looked confused, she relented. “Oh, Coco wants to try a, uh… ‘petting party’ kind of thing. Been trying to talk us all into it ever since that night some of us tried Velvet on for size - which was a completely random situation! And we’re not all loose women like you are!”

Coco scowled. “Hey, I’m not ‘loose’; I am highly selective about who I pet and who gets to pet me. I just so happen to think all of you qualify, that’s all.”

The penny finally dropped, and Weiss held up a hand. “Wait, wait - are you talking about… about all of us having sex in the same room?!”

“I’m talking about all of us having sex with each other.” She glanced at Yang’s glower and rolled her eyes. “It was an idea, Xiao Long. Cool it. Pardon me for wanting to give my girl a big sendoff, okay?”

Velvet was already flushing scarlet. “Y-you do remember that I felt awful after the last time, don’t you? It w-wasn’t anyone’s fault, but…”

Her hands came to rest on Velvet’s shoulders, caressing up and down to soothe the timid little bunny. “Cinder’s fault, a little bit. But you’ve come a long way, baby. Like I said, I’m only interested if anyone else is; they aren’t, so I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks,” Yang sighed, reaching over to knock her shoulder gently. “Sorry, I’m just kinda… I dunno. Not really into that whole thing, and not into making Weiss try it on for size when she’s so green.”

Conflicting feelings rose up in Weiss at those words. She was very slightly irritated at Yang speaking on her behalf… but also found it satisfying. Yang was so protective, and always looking out for her interests. It was nice.

“Me, either,” Blake said, looking between Yang and Weiss. “Though it could be fun, it could also be really strange - and make all of us feel ooky afterward. Let’s just not and say we did.”

Then they heard the bell ring. “Back to the salt mines,” Coco sighed as they made their way toward the building. “Let’s go, spoilsports.”

But Weiss saw Blake looking morose as they moved off. She wanted to ask why, but decided it would keep until later.

----------------------

And later arrived.

“What do you mean by that?”

Shrugging in a would-be nonchalant way, Weiss leaned her elbows back against the china cabinet in the Belladonna dining room. “Nothing. I’m simply asking if it’s really alright if she-”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Blake shot at her tiredly. She looked as if she had just run a marathon, merely because of Weiss asking the question. “You two can’t walk on eggshells around me all the time. It’s better if I start getting used to you going around together. Like I have been trying to do. For weeks.”

“But we didn’t know you were swooning over Yang when we started! Now we do- or I mean, at least I do, and we don’t have to-”

“Hey, come on. Cut that out. I’m not a baby, I can handle myself.”

“I never said you were a baby!”

“No, but you implied that I-”

“Girls, girls,” Kali laughed as she edged through the kitchen door with a meatloaf sizzling in the pan, caught between her oven mitts. “What’s all this commotion?”

Sounding even more petulant than she looked, Blake turned away and muttered, “Nothing.”

“Sounds familiar,” Weiss muttered herself.

Blake’s mother rolled her eyes. “Well, it sure is a whole lot of noisy nothing. Come on, it’s time for dinner.”

So they ate. It was a nice meal, and both Blake and Weiss could let the matter drop for the time being, instead focusing on tales from school, and Kali’s work. Willow tried to participate as best she could, but her day had consisted of either sitting around or crying, so she mostly kept her silence while encouraging the others to go into detail about their stories.

“Your mom’s nice,” Blake admitted later when they were doing the dishes.

“What?” she gasped theatrically. “Can this be? Blake complimenting a Schnee?”

“A one-time event, you jerk. But… yeah, I’m…” Handing another dish over to be dried, she relented completely. “I’m even more sorry now about telling you to stop setting her up with my mom. Especially since…”

Weiss waited a few seconds before prompting her, “Since?”

“Since you might be right. They’re close, but I haven’t seen ‘sparks’. Just two good friends, and someone your mom needs to lean on. My mom needs more companionship her age, too.”

“To keep her from trying to get the baby Dragons into bed.”

“Yeah.” They both chuckled, and Blake smiled fondly at her. It was a real, honest-to-goodness fond smile, and it was directed at Weiss. She seemed to realise it a moment later because her eyes snapped down to the dishes and she scrubbed a little harder than was necessary. “You dodged a bullet there.”

“Oh? And how did I do that? You saying your mother isn’t good company?”

“No, I’m saying she’s too good company. And she doesn’t really do… monogamy. As in, ever since Dad died and Raven cut her out of her life…” Discomfort crept into her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this stuff about my mom. It’s probably not nice.”

“I won’t tell her, I promise.”

“Well, okay. It’s just that I’ve never seen her get serious about any woman. Raven, she might have, but we’ll never know now because of how everything hit the fan. Any other girl she’s played with has just been that: playing. Like a toy a little kid forgets about two days after it comes out of Santa’s stocking.”

Frowning down at the dish she was still drying long after it had been cleared of water, Weiss set it down. “That’s really… sad. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t kill my father or make Yang’s mom a bitch.”

“Blake!” she gasped, but Blake only let out a cruel little titter. “Good golly, you can’t call her that - she’s an adult, and she’s-”

“A bitch,” she repeated firmly. “If anyone deserves that word, it’s Raven Branwen. And you know I’m right.”

“Maybe. Still not very nice - especially when we both know she's been trying harder lately.”

Amber eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “You're such a goody two shoes. But… I guess that's not such a terrible thing.”

Weiss tried not to let her smile look too overly pleased as they went back to washing.

----------------------

The weekend finally arrived. Even though everything with her father still loomed over her head like a black cloud, establishing a routine at the Belladonna household definitely helped both Weiss and her mother regain some sense of normalcy. The single bathroom tended to be a bit more clogged with four women always vying for its attentions, and Kali had to adjust her recipes to be a bit larger, but they were all such relatively easy fixes and everyone seemed more than ready to try.

That said, she still felt a bit grateful when Yang showed up out of the blue on her motorcycle, commanding her to hop on. Waving to the two mothers, she slipped on her jacket and headed out the door.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Why so many surprises lately?!”

“That’s a surprise, too!” But the gales of laughter that floated out of the blonde afterward told her that she was just playing around. As usual.

Once they got out of the city, Weiss began to truly worry, but they didn’t go much further until they crested a hill and a beautiful meadow stretched out before them in the late morning sunlight. Yang quickly guided the cycle toward a little copse of trees along the side of a lake and around it, leaving them mostly shielded from the road. Only the lake lay out before them.

“Hey, what is this?” Weiss asked with a little smile as the driver took off her helmet. “Either we’re going fishing, or…?”

“Got the answer riiiight here.” Yang reached into the copse and pulled out… a picnic basket.

“Huh?!”

Still wearing that coy little smile of hers, she carried it a little ways from the trees and opened the top, pulling out a chequed blanket and spreading it over the ground. “Well, it feels like I don’t get to see you all that much lately. Lot of crazy stuff happening. Plus if we don’t do it now, it’ll be too cold to do stuff like this pretty soon. Wanted to have a picnic with you while we could.”

Heart melting, she quickly flitted over to Yang’s side and leaned up to peck her on the cheek. “Awwww!”

“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “Help me get everything set up. Grab a couple of rocks from the pond, willya?”

Weiss complied, and Yang used the rocks to anchor the corners of the blanket against any winds that might try to upset their little lunch. One at a time, she began to take out little Tupperware containers of various foods.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Just since last night,” she told her, popping one of the containers open. It was full of ambrosia - Jell-O mixed with marshmallows and nuts. She closed it again and reached for a different one. “I dunno, I really wanted to do something. You were pleased as punch about me taking you to homecoming, which is great, but… it kinda reminded me that everything’s been so wild around here lately. We need to fix that.”

“We definitely do.” She snuggled into Yang’s side as she retrieved chicken salad, a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese. Then the last item emerged and Weiss gasped, “Yang!”

“What?” she laughed, reaching back in for a corkscrew. “I mean, we won’t be driving again for a few hours. Besides… I really want this to be a real date.”

Smiling even as she rolled her eyes, Weiss helped hold the bottle steady while Yang opened it. “We don’t need wine for it to be a real date. But… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’m just not as much of a fan lately.”

“Yeah…” She shrugged as the cork popped out and she tossed it and the screw back into the basket. “I know, your mom and all. But we’re not her, and it’s not the wine’s fault. That was just… y’know. How she dealt with things. But I can pour it out if you-”

“No, no,” she cut Yang off quickly, kissing her cheek to reassure her. “I want to share this with you. All of it.”

So they set about making themselves little sandwiches, hacking the bread and cheese up with the knife she packed. Yang kicked off her boots, and Weiss followed suit by shedding her saddle shoes. They laughed and ate and talked, mostly about school and Dragons business. A little about their parents and Blake, but those subjects were a tad touchier so they didn’t dwell nearly so much.

By the time they were into the ambrosia, passing the spoon back and forth, they had reached the topic of Ruby and Qrow. Though Yang wasn’t thrilled with it, she was a little too inebriated from the wine to put up much of a fight.

“You’re totally right,” she admitted begrudgingly after swallowing. “I should maybe try not to be so… so mad, I guess. And I’m already trying with Ruby! Isn’t that enough?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. Just that you could try… getting along with Qrow, see if he’s open to starting over. He’s family, right?”

“My uncle. Doesn’t make him a good person. Enough,” she cut Weiss off before she could protest as she set the bowl down, hands on her hips as she stared out over the lake. “Promise I’ll try harder, okay? But I don’t wanna think about that right now. I want… to swim.”

Weiss was still blinking in surprise when she saw Yang tossing her jacket aside, then reaching for the waistline of her jeans. “Swim? But… neither of has bathing suits.”

“Sure don’t,” she told her, casting a wicked little grin over her shoulder as she pushed them down to her ankles, taking the socks with them. Her bare, firm ass was on display.

“YANG!”

“Come on, nobody’s around for miles. That house on the other side of the lake? It’s abandoned. Everybody moved into Vale, or down the road the other way.” Her hands unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way and dropped it to rest in a pile with the other clothing, leaving her wearing nothing but a bra and a foxlike expression. “Just us.”

Swallowing hard, she gazed up at the perfection that was Yang Xiao Long. That hourglass figure that was only strengthened by her formidable muscles, not diminished, and legs that seemed built both for kicking down doors and modelling pantyhose at the same time. “Wowee…” Then she pushed to her feet as well. “Want some help with that?”

“Yeah, I would.” Weiss made quick work of the clasp as Yang asked, “Does that mean you’re gonna join me?”

Heart leaping into her throat, she was quick to hiss, “What?! NO! Jeepers, I couldn’t- I mean, out here in the- I would be naked!”

“That’s the idea, Schnee,” she laughed as she turned, displaying everything God had given her to the nervous paper shaker. “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

“But…” Her cheeks were already flushed from the wine, and they only got worse. “W-well… did you even bring a towel?”

“Nah. We can dry in the sun; there ain’t a cloud in the sky.”

Chewing her lip, she looked around at the lakeshore again. She was right; the only house she could spot was very far away, and looked like it had half-crumbled. “Ohhh… I… alright, but…”

Yang stepped on the toes of Weiss’s socks, reaching up to hold her shoulders. “Go on.” She walked backward out of them, trying not to giggle at the slightly ticklish sensation of their toes fighting with each other. The minute she was barefoot, Yang reached down to the hem of her dress and whispered, “Are you ready? I’ll only do it if you say ‘yes’. Not gonna throw you in the water if you don’t want me to.”

“Fine, go on,” she sighed irritably, and Yang laughed as she helped her out of it. Hands roamed instead of assisting with her underwear, so she swatted Yang’s shoulder. “Cad.”

“Hey! I’m allowed to do a little heavy petting with my own girlfriend!”

“Is that in the rules somewhere?” They both chuckled a little as Yang finally did unclasp Weiss’s little bra. She always felt so self-conscious when their chests were on display to each other, since hers was so much smaller, but Yang didn’t seem to mind at all. “I can’t believe we’re skinny dipping, I feel so childish…”

“Really? Because you look like a real woman to me.”

Pleased more than she wanted to let on, Weiss pursed her lips to keep from grinning and finally stepped out of her panties. Yang had already seen her, after all - it just wasn’t in such a public setting. “Okay, there. Let’s get in the water so I don’t feel like such a… a degenerate!”

“Wow, touchy,” she chuckled as she stuffed the clothing into the basket. Then she turned and scooped Weiss up in one fluid motion.

“HEY!”

“Okay, so,” she began as she took long strides toward the water, “I may have told one teensy… little… FIB!”

Then she tossed Weiss into the water.

“AAAAH!” she cried out. “IT’S COLD!”

“Too bad, Schnee!” she cackled, beyond pleased with herself. Of course, it wasn’t particularly deep there, so it only took a few seconds of floundering and sputtering for her to get her feet under her and stand up, shivering and glaring daggers at where Yang was wading in, taking her sweet time.

“I’LL SHOW YOU!” she shouted - as she tugged her down into the water with her.

“No fair!” Yang shouted, though she was already laughing. Of course it wouldn’t work quite as well on her - she might have known.

The two paddled around for a few minutes, just laughing and splashing. Weiss had to admit she was having a lot of fun; both because of the whole trip, and because it was such a bold and obscene thing to do. Her mother would have kittens if she knew! Yang’s mother probably would even have something to say about it, about how foolish it was to let down their guard that way, even if she didn’t care about the nudity part. It was quite freeing, having nothing between her body and the water, even though it also felt unsettling having it ripple past certain sensitive areas.

“So,” Yang asked some time later - she couldn’t be sure how much. “Great idea, or greater idea?”

Shaking her head, she muttered, “So full of yourself” before pushing at Yang’s head. The blonde only laughed more. “But… okay, this is fun. Next time, I think I would prefer a bikini, even if you don’t think we needed one.”

“Awww, but I like knowing I get to do this whenever I want,” she purred, reaching out to poke Weiss’s nipple. She recoiled instantly, covering her chest. “Hah!”

“Don’t do that!” To retaliate, she did the same, and Yang also let out a little gasp before laughing. “See how it feels?!”

Biting her lip, she fluttered her eyelashes before whispering, “Feels pretty good. Do it again.”

“No.”

“Come on…” Unable to stay mad, a smile escaped Weiss’s guard as she poked a second time. “Oooh… you really have the Midas touch.”

Drifting a little closer, she began to caress over Yang’s ample bosom more earnestly, and saw the shift in the taller girl’s expression. The playfulness remained but muted, moved to behind a wall of pure lust. Her other hand grazed past the Dragons brand in the center of her chest on its way to the other breast, grazing over the erect nipple - as if they could be anything other than erect in such frigid waters. This felt like a terrible idea but she couldn’t help herself around Yang sometimes.

“O-okay,” Yang said with a shaky little laugh. “Maybe… we should take to this to the shore.”

“What’s the matter?” she teased, grinning at being the pursuer instead of the pursued for once. “Thought this was the whole idea.”

Shoving her hands off, Yang grinned wolfishly. “Giving me a run for my money, Schnee. Nah… I really did want to swim with you.”

That made her feel all warm inside, despite the chill on her skin. “And I’m having a great time.” She pulled her in for a deep kiss, hands ghosting up her back. It felt weird with their legs swirling around each other in the water, feeling wet skin slip and dimple under her fingertips, but it was oddly wonderful. New and beautiful and full of magic.

After another hour or so, they paddled back to the shore and stretched out on the blanket. The sun beat down on them from almost directly overhead, warming their bare skin. She glanced down along Yang’s body, at her sizable mounds and the flat plane of her stomach, the thatch of golden hair that disappeared between her legs. Every once in a while, one of them would twitch their foot over to poke the nearest one of the other person, just as a way to check they were still there.

“How long did you want to hang around here?” Weiss finally whispered, as if not wanting to break the comfortable silence that had grown between them. The sounds of the birds overhead and the gentle lapping of the lake water demanded their attention.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have you home in time for Perry Mason. Or whatever you watch in Casa Belladonna now.”

“I used to watch What’s My Line? with Father. But now… I don’t know, it won’t be the same anymore. Even if I did try it.”

Yang’s hand drifted over to pet up and down Weiss’s trim little abdomen. “Sorry. I know you didn’t want life to turn out… well, like this. And it’s kinda my fault.”

“No!” she cried, rolling to face her. “Come on. I may have lost my father, but… I got my mother back. I’ve missed her so much! And even if I never met you, I’m sure something else I did would have set him off, and… and I would have had no big, strong Dragon to help protect me. You or the others. So… I mean, yes, I’ve had a few pity parties about the whole thing, but for the most part? This is for the best. Really.”

The smile on Yang's face told the whole story. She already felt the same way, but couldn't help the lingering guilt from flaring up since she had started her down this path of deviance and iniquity. She pressed a gentle kiss to Weiss's lips, pulling back to gaze down into her eyes.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, reaching up to grasp her by the hair and yank her down for another kiss, and another.

It wasn't long before their nude bodies were entwined as their lips danced, enjoying the warmth and the familiarity. The warmth built until it blazed, thighs slipping between thighs and rubbing against where the heat seemed to be collecting. It always seemed like Yang's was much hotter than hers. The more their bodies shifted, the slicker the trails they left behind until it felt like they had never left the lake at all.

“Weiss…” Their lips only parted long enough for that one word to slip out, and yet it was enough to double the passion for the young Schnee, rolling to perch atop Yang's body as their hips began to slam harder and harder. That broke the kiss for good, as they were beginning to need more and more air to keep going. “Weiss!”

The few people who ever got to see the mighty Yang looking so open, so submissive and given over to her own pleasure, should count themselves lucky. Weiss certainly did.

Within a few more minutes, the two of them were completely spent and lying curled around each other, catching their breath. Nothing had changed while they let passion take over. Birds still chirped in the trees and circled overhead, and the water still moved, and the wind still stirred the blades of grass surrounding their little blanket-island.

“Okay, so…” Yang began petting up and down her stomach again. “This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I brought you up here.”

“Liar.”

“Really! I'd be lying if I said I wasn't secretly hoping for it, sure, but… I also just wanted to have a nice day with you after all the craziness.”

Chuckling lightly, Weiss leaned up to press her lips into Yang's cheek. “Mission accomplished. I've been having a great time. Whoopee or no whoopee.”

“Who still calls it ‘whoopee’?” she chortled, earning her a hearty pinch on her ribs. “OW! Hey, hey!”

----------------------

They took their sweet time in getting dressed and the picnic packed up. Partly because Yang kept trying to undress Weiss again, and she had to take time to swat her away - even though she spent the whole time grinning. It was exactly what the two of them needed after so much strife in their lives lately.

“Wish I didn’t have to call it a night already,” Yang said over the road noise as they got back into Vale proper. “But… I kinda promised myself I would.”

“Promised yourself?”

Yang looked a little awkward. Weiss loved seeing her that way; it made her feel less like the only fish out of water in their relationship. Seeing her girlfriend display some vulnerability reminded her that they were both human, both figuring things out as they went.

“Well… your mom has had a really rough time, y’know? I don’t want to keep you out until all hours and make her worry.”

“Oh…” Her lips turned up into a small, pleased smile. “Yang, I… I didn’t think you ever thought twice about my mom. Thank you. I mean, on her behalf. That’s really sweet of you.”

Looking somehow proud and embarrassed at the same time, she dipped her head slightly. “Awww, it’s nothing.”

“No, it isn’t.” She leaned forward and squeezed her girlfriend a little tighter. “You’re a real gem.”

However, when they turned the corner and saw someone waiting on the Belladonna lawn, their little bubble of happiness receded - not completely, but the confusion definitely intruded on their bliss.

“Ruby?” Yang asked the worried-looking girl when she arrived. “What are you doing here?”

Stepping forward, the diminutive little sister tried to speak, but it came out more like a squeak than a speak. “I’m s-s-sorry if this is a bad time… but… do you have a minute?”

[writerman]

Psst. Write a hanahaki disease fic for Barduil where Thranduil has it. You gotta write it.

Hey, anon, remember when you requested this probably like a year ago? Yeah, me either...

Anyway, here is what you asked for. I wrote over 7000+ words in a day to finish this asap.

My thanks to @morticia-butler​ for all the help looking up Hanahaki disease headcanons and an iconic line I simply had to include.

This is a long one so some of it will be under a readmore BUT you can also read all my other Barduil prompts via this fancy schmancy LINK

On to the story!

---------------------

8:30am. Thursday. September 17th. Just petals. 

The mirror reflected a pale and haunted image back at him while bright and vibrant yellow petals dusted the front of his pyjama t-shirt. 

Daffodils. 

His favourite. Thranduil, however, had come to detest the sight of them. The sunshine yellow flowers openly mocking him, their bobbing heads in the breeze seen as a gaggle of them laughing almost jovially at his situation. 

No point thinking on it in-depth, not when he could temporarily abate the problem. 

With such a thought in mind, Thranduil brushed the petals from his shirt into the sink and watched as they swirled in the water a moment before vanishing down the drain into the darkness. 

But there would be more. 

There was always more. 

A soft knock at the bathroom door stilled his hand as he reached for his toothbrush and he turned to see Tauriel watching him with concern. 

“I didn’t know you were visiting today, what are you doing here?” Thranduil’s voice was soft as he spoke, though, the lilting sound of surprise cracked his voice for a moment. “Had I known you planned to visit I’d have been ready by now. What are-” Thranduil watched as Tauriel leaned toward him, her hand brushed the fabric of his t-shirt as she plucked a petal still clinging to the fibres. 

“Dad, you said this had stopped!” The words rushed out and they were so loud as she held the petal up between them. While it hadn’t meant to come out so accusing, he could hear the dismay that coloured her words, it still felt harsh and Thranduil braced himself for a barrage of instructions to get himself to a doctor. 

“It was quelled for some time. The doctor gave me special inhalers that slow the spread but I’ve not had the time to contact the surgery for a refill.” He gestured to an empty inhaler laying innocently on its side by the sink. They had helped immeasurably and the majority of his family had believed the disease was done and gone. 

But Hanahaki was not that easy to be rid of, he knew and deep down his family knew that too. It was easier to think he had been cured than to do consider the alternative…

“I dropped by because I wanted to know if you felt like grabbing breakfast?” Tauriel turned from the bathroom door and wandered into her dad’s bedroom, his clothes were laid out already, she paced past the bed and back out into the hallway. “I’ll be downstairs, let’s go out still.” 

There was no time to respond and so Thranduil internally agreed to breakfast with his daughter. She and Legolas were the same in that they were strongwilled, always happy to make a decision and happy to make it for someone else too. 

They definitely had gotten that trait from him, even if he had mellowed somewhat with age. It was easy to recall his younger days with clarity, he walked tall never a curve to his back because he bowed to no one. 

He had been so headstrong and confident, even after his wife had died. People had come to him speaking softly with sincere condolences but Thranduil cast the sorrowful glances aside and carried on working. 

That felt like aeons ago now, Thranduil was more in touch with his emotional and mental health now, gave and took the time of others as freely as he should have when he was younger. Thranduil found value in the world where once he would have shunned it. 

Turning to look in the mirror, that pale and haunted face stared back but the eyes seemed less empty than they had earlier. Even with his disease there was still hope within him, it was choked and stuttering by the roots of the flowers in his chest and lungs but it was there. 

“I can’t give up, not yet.” He whispered to himself. 

They ended up heading to Tauriel’s favourite place for breakfast, it was a small family-run restaurant and the food was good. The cheery wait staff did not match the highly polished wood and marble of the place but it felt strangely homely all the same. 

It was while Thranduil perused the menu that Tauriel brought up the subject, or rather, the object of his disease to him. A public place so he would not make a scene, perhaps, or rather, she hadn’t thought of the setting and only wanted to relinquish her hold on the burning question she had within for months. 

“So, will you at least tell me who it is that did this to you?” Badly worded. No one had passed the disease onto him, that wasn’t how it worked and he knew Tauriel understood that. “Come on, dad. Do they know what they’ve done to you?” Of course, she was angry but why was she being angry with someone innocent in all of it? 

While the majority of the time Thranduil was able to ignore these unnecessary outbursts from his children, there were ofttimes when his frustration got the better of him and one of those times was now.

With hands loosely balled into fists resting on the tabletop, Thranduil pinned his daughter with an icy glare that quashed whatever words she had left inside to say on the matter.  

“I have told you time and time again, I will not tell you who it is. You know damned well that they are not to blame in this. You’ve seen the diagnosis, even though I’ve asked you to stay out of it, you’ve seen the words ‘ self-inflicted’ on the documents.” He voice was low but the chill in his words caused Tauriel to sit back in her seat and avert her gaze from his. 

“I’m sorry-” She stopped when the waitress came over and set down their coffee and a rack of toast. There was time enough between the waitress approaching and leaving for Tauriel to regain her composure. “I’ve read so much about this over the past few months, it might now be onesided that’s all.” She was right but the percentage was low.

Hanahaki disease was such an odd illness to contract, the phenomenon of flowers growing in a person’s chest and lungs due to unrequited or onesided love. The agitation of yearning and pining watered the blooms until the lungs were completely full and the chest cavity would split open with leaves and stems and petals spilling out and killing a person instantly if they hadn’t already died from suffocation. 

But that was only intense cases. There were ways to slow the spread and Thranduil was taking measures to ensure he could do such a thing. 

Regular therapy was one. His therapist was a wonderful woman who guided him through the process of coming to terms with his unrequited love. They spoke of how to be honest and open with the feelings he experienced and how to provide his own closure.

Though, they had many hurdles to jump. Thranduil didn’t believe in closure per se, to him revisiting something traumatic and uncomfortable merely reopened wounds. They’d spent many sessions focussing on the death of his wife and while it had helped immensely in allowing a belated grieving it ultimately had not helped with his predicament.

But he was not to call it a predicament his therapist had said. To remove the seriousness of the disease was to remove the value of his own life. There were many times she had asked him to look from the outside in and speak on the issues in his life as though they affected another person. It had helped and when things looked bleak or if Thranduil began to brush off the seriousness of his illness he would remind himself that he would not allow someone else to do that to themselves. 

The next most drastic step was surgery, but it was a temporary step and it slowed the spread of the disease. Researchers in the medical field studying Hanahaki always implied heavily that the physical manifestations of the disease were caused by the brain and thus Hanahaki was registered as a mental illness. 

It was why doctors pressed so hard for those that suffered to seek therapy. 

“I won’t be involving the person in this what so ever, Tauriel. Please, I ask again that you drop the subject.” How he had pleaded like this before and how it emotionally exhausted him to see the fear in her eyes every time she visited. 

It was all because he knew that one day she feared she’d find him lying dead, a bouquet of blood-stained flowers adorning his chest in a beautiful and grotesque display of the love that had plagued him. 

“I understand that you’re scared but I promise you I have no given up. I have an appointment with my therapist this afternoon and with my surgeon to discuss a date for surgery.” 

His words seemed enough to placate her for now and she instead busied herself with buttering some toast.

3:00pm Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

“We spoke about your wife again last week, I noted that you requested we move on from the subject. Why do you feel you need to leave that subject alone?” The room was shaded from the bright Autumn sunshine streaming in from the window. 

Thranduil could see the glowing gold around the edges of the blinds and forgot where he was for a moment as he watched it flicker with the shadow of trees swaying the breeze. He couldn’t remember why he’d suggested they move on but it seemed the right course of action to him. 

“I just feel we aren’t focussing on the real problem.” When he spoke he made a point to look at her. Maintaining eye contact seemed important at that moment, he didn’t want her to think he was ruled by indecision. “My wife has been dead for years and we have already confirmed that, as much as I miss her, I have come to terms with her death and grieved appropriately.” Too business-like. As soon as the words had come out of his mouth he knew. 

The therapist merely ‘hmm’d’ in response and wrote something down. There was the internal battle to struggle with now, to explain himself to her or let her assume something of him that he would, personally, deem incorrect. 

“What is it you would like to speak about instead?” 

That was the problem, he didn’t really know. The only thing he wanted to ask was ‘How did you get over someone and quickly?’ but there wasn’t really much of an answer she would be able to give.

Magazines for years had offered ‘helpful tips to get over that person that doesn’t like you back!’ and Thranduil had put no stock in their, so called, wisdom. Now they didn’t publish these things, now they would ask you to seek help if you experienced any symptoms they listed on the page. 

Distraction techniques had been offered by his family in droves at the beginning when his diagnosis had been revealed. Nothing had actually helped because his mind would often wander to the object of his affection when he was practising a new hobby. 

“I think my need to rush these sessions is just because I’m scared of losing myself completely and if I do that, well, you know what happens.” Thranduil gave a half-hearted shrug, he barely lifted his shoulders but it was a shrug all the same and his therapist acknowledged it as so with a nod. 

“Everyone is scared of dying, Thranduil. Perfectly healthy people, people who have terminal diseases. Do you want to talk about your fear of dying?” 

He didn’t. 

They, instead, spoke of newer experimental ideas that Thranduil might have been interested in trying. She wrote out the prescription for the refill on his inhaler and made another appointment for a week later. 

It wasn’t often that Thranduil left the sessions more tightly wound than he had been when going in but he at least knew that he’d need something to talk about next week or they’d get back on the subject of his wife and he honestly didn’t think that was helpful. 

His next appointment was at the doctor's office, they wanted to schedule surgery but they had needed proof he was visiting his therapist before they would agree. It was a messy and an unfair condition but at least at the doctor's office he could get them to fill the prescription so it wasn’t too much of a wasted trip if they refused his surgery. 

1:00pm Friday. September 18th Foliage. 

The office was quiet now. 

Everyone but Thranduil had packed up for the day and headed out to start their weekends. It was a perk Thranduil had implemented years ago and it had been appreciated, even if it had been created to benefit him more so than his employees at the time. 

Nothing was waiting for him at home and there was plenty of paperwork to do so he poured himself a glass of water, took his inhaler and got comfortable at his desk reading through a brief for a new promotion. 

So engrossed was he in his work that he failed to notice someone entering the office and only when a takeout coffee cup was set before him did he move his gaze from the files he had been reading to intently. 

Looking up Thranduil ceased his movement almost instantly at the sight of his best friend Bard. The afternoon sunshine illuminated his handsome face with a soft golden glow, his brown eyes looked golden as he smiled down at him. His cheery countenance was always welcome and so was his gift of coffee but Thranduil could tell his friend was there with an agenda of sorts. 

“Haven’t seen you lately, Thran. You’re not holding yourself up in this office every night until late again, are you?” The concern, it left a shaking and aching hole inside Thranduil and that hole soon became clogged with stems and leaves, give the disease an inch and, well, that old adage. 

“No, I just had something to do here but it can wait. Did you need something?” To try and remain relaxed and carefree around Bard was increasingly difficult, more so when he had endeavoured to hide his disease from him as much as he could. 

“Hm, well, I just had the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me for a while if I’m to be completely honest.” Straight to the point, no beating around the bush for Bard and he had every right to be concerned because he was correct.

Perhaps it was more obvious lately that he had been trying to avoid Bard for a few weeks. Avoidance was never going to be the answer but this man was why he had the disease, or rather, what exacerbated it. There would never be a time he would place sole or even partial blame on Bard for what he was going through. 

“I’m sorry, I suppose I have been caught up in work recently. I’m absolutely not overworking myself before you ask. However, I’ve neglected my best friend and I think I owe you a drink, at least.”

“At least,” Bard repeated in agreement and he grinned, they didn’t move to get up. 

Thranduil busied himself with taking a sip of his coffee, it was a blond roast from Michael’s he could tell without even looking at the logo on the side of the cup. All the while he inwardly cursed the tightness in his chest and new shoots began to sprout and buds began to burst into bloom. 

There was no chance he could even begin to hazard a cough. It’d look like a cat had swallowed a canary. Or a man that had swallowed his feelings. 

For a short while, they chatted idly about what they’d done recently. Bard talked of hating the empty nest syndrome he was suffering now that Tilda had moved out, leaving the family home nothing but a ‘mausoleum of family memories that were visited by a spectre that had helped create them’. It was a dramatic sentence and Thranduil laughed aloud before offering something vaguely sympathetic to soothe his friend.  

“Can’t you clock out already, you own the business let’s get out while it’s still bright,” Bard complained as he rose from his seat and wandered toward the large window Thranduil sat with his back to. “The sun is still warm and we could probably walk to the pub instead of taking the car.”

“Walking to the pub suggests that you don’t wish to have a few drinks but one too many.” As much as he hoped he sounded wise, Thranduil knew Bard would have clearly taken it as a challenge. So they were absolutely going to get drunk that night and Thranduil couldn’t have been more terrified of that prospect.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, you’re my best friend and even if we both regret how bad we feel in the morning, age that does that to you, I want to get drunk with you, Thran!” Ah, old age hadn’t fully caught up with Bard yet, he was vibrant and energetic and hot. Gods above was that man gorgeous. 

That was where it all began though, Bard had blazed into his life when they were in their early 30’s. Thranduil had just lost his wife and was trying to juggle a career and two grieving kids. 

Bard and his wife Anya had helped him. They took the kids to school and picked them up and fed them so Thranduil could… do what? He couldn’t even remember now- he hadn’t grieved that was for sure!

With a 10 year and an 8-year-old broken over the loss of their mother and having no support from their emotionally unavailable father, Tauriel and Legolas had grown up to be quite well adjusted. Though, some of that might have been the therapy they’d gotten as suggested by their school. 

It had happened only 2 years later, Bard lost Anya and he was thrown into a situation similar to Thranduil’s and the roles were reversed. Sigrid and Tauriel grew up like sisters and were still close because of how often they saw one another. They bonded strongly over what had happened to their mothers and became each other’s strength when they needed it.

The same happened with Bard and Thranduil, they became close friends. They took the children on holiday together, camping or water parks and spent their weekends finding activities for the kids that they too could take part in. 

For a while, it had been just friendship, but then as the children grew up and wanted to spend less time with dad and more time with friends they found company in each other more often than not. 

Then Tauriel and Legolas moved out for university, Sigrid and Bain left Bard for the same reason, Tilda was always adventuring with her friends and so when the empty house became too much they would go out. 

Dinner, drinks, a walk in the park, catch a movie or two. 

Innocent stuff, but Thranduil allowed himself to get comfortable and in letting his guard down he let feelings in that he had tried to avoid from the moment he met Bard. 

The problem was when Anya died Bard told Thranduil he couldn’t ever see himself falling in love with another person again. 

This was proven time and time again over the years, dates would happen once or not at all with people that could have been his perfect match, and eventually, Bard learned to ignore anyone that tried to flirt with him. A suggestive smile or even a compliment was brushed off as nothing more than friendly and the more unattainable he became the more Thranduil realised he was in love with him. 

A terrible turn of events to be sure, and now he suffered daily for it with petals littering his pillows and flowers choking out his lungs. 

“Are we going out then?” Bard’s voice cut through the memories Thranduil was replaying in his mind for the hundredth time and how thankful he was when he did. The blooming of the flowers in his chest increased with the thoughts of Bard. 

To say no to the request would put a strain on their friendship. Bard had already noticed that he was being avoided and it would do them no good for Thranduil to continue that. So, with a nod, he got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket. 

“It is a nice day, let’s walk to the pub then.” Intoxication was the last thing he needed but to keep up the charade that all was fine he’d need to at least try and play along. To play the role of a man in perfect health, body and mind, didn’t seem easy but he had to try. 

He would try because he loved him. 

10:45am Wednesday. September 30th. Bursting Blooms.

It was classed as routine surgery but Thranduil couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to slice someone open and remove flowers stamen to stem to root. Temporary as it was, he was thankful they had managed to organise it so quickly, his outing with Bard and the subsequent dinner the night after meant that his condition rapidly grew worse as time went by in the company of his best friend. 

He’d woken to more petals on his pillow than he had ever seen before and his breathing laboured. Even coughing to free up space didn’t work and instead, he was gifted with near whole flower heads landing in his hands.

The kids were horrified as they watched this because of course, it would have happened while they visited. Which led to him having to listen to endless ‘You should go to the hospital right now.’ in a chorus from them both until he showed them the inhalers. 

They sat either side of him in the waiting room now. 

Legolas bounced his leg continuously looking around the waiting room for something to distract him. He’d taken time away from University to be there to help with recovery. 

Tauriel chewed her nails and checked the time on her phone every couple of minutes as if time flowed differently in a hospital waiting room. 

There was no cause for his anxiety to manifest when he was sat between two that were already doing all the work for him. Sadly, he had no words to calm them of their fears because he was just as afraid. 

“Have people died from this surgery, dad?” Legolas piped up out of the blue, he sounded so young in that moment and Thranduil felt guilt course through his veins like ice for putting his children through something like this again. 

When he didn’t answer Tauriel did for him and she shook her head even though Legolas was focussing more on a poster across the room than on anything else. 

“No, because the surgery, while invasive to a degree, only removes some of the plants. They don’t fully remove everything because they simply can’t. Dad is going to be ok, more ok after this than he is now.” Her confidence only shaking by the tremor in her voice and Thranduil hoped Legolas couldn’t hear it. 

“Hmm, ok.” Pensive now Legolas falls silent but his leg continuous to bounce but not as animatedly as before. He was not calmed but something in her words convinced him that the surgery would be fine. 

Though, he didn’t understand why she would lie to him like that. His son was perfectly capable of looking up the survival rate on his phone, it was low just as low as the rate of people that were cured by expressing their feelings to their heart's desire. 

They were approached by a nurse in scrubs. 

“Mr Oropherion, if you would like to come this way.” 

1:56pm Wednesday. September 30th. Roots. 

Someone was gently squeezing his arm.

“Thranduil, you’ve just come out of surgery. Can you hear me?” The same nurse that took him in was now waking him. “We need you to respond to know you’re ok.” 

Nothing felt real yet he managed to croak out something akin to an ‘I’m fine’ but that was it. The need for sleep and an excruciating pain rushed over him and he groaned hands gripping the sheets as he waited for it to subside. 

“Out of 10, 10 being very painful and 1 being not painful at all how do you feel?” The nurse was holding a clipboard and a pen, they looked down at Thranduil with an expectant look and merely blinked blankly when Thranduil didn’t respond right away.

He needed more time than this to consider everything, on the one hand, he could breathe on the other the pain of being sliced open and stitched back together was awful. 

“Ah… 8 maybe?” His whole body shook as he came out of the anaesthetic and all he wanted was to leave his body while it was in this state and return when he was at home comfortable in his own bed with a cup of tea. 

His time in the recovery room was short and he was wheeled into a private room where he was greeted with the grim face of his best friend. Bard looked awful, pale and he seemed to have aged 10 years all with concern etched deep into his face. 

“You were having important surgery and just elected not to tell me?” It was quiet, so quiet that Thranduil almost didn’t hear him speak. It wasn’t until they were fully alone after someone had administered strong painkillers, that Thranduil finally acknowledged what Bard had said to him. 

“I didn’t need more people worrying about me than was necessary. I’m sorry, Bard. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to ask what the surgery was.” If he was honest, he still didn’t want Bard to know and if he asked him then and there he would outright refuse to tell him. 

Even if keeping such secrets ended their friendship it would be safer then, the heartbreak of losing him as a friend was all the cure he needed and it would continue to protect Bard from the truth. 

“If you had just told me that I could have been here for you from the beginning! Instead, I get a call from Tauriel asking me to come by and sit with Legs because she had to go grab something from home. I had no idea what she was talking about so you can probably expect a gushing apology from her later.” Bard dragged a hand through his dark hair, now laced with silver, as he started to pace. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Life wasn’t fair but this was kicking a man while he was down! 

“I’m sorry, Thran. I didn’t mean to come in and just… yell at you. How are you feeling, are you ok?” Bard moved towards the bed and poured a glass of water out and handed it to Thran who took the offering gratefully and slowly sipped the cold water in trembling hands. 

“Why can’t you tell me what the surgery was?” Bard pulled up the visitor chair so he was sad right by Thranduil’s bedside. For a moment he seemed indecisive in his actions until he, apparently, had a moment of clarity and took Thranduil’s hand in his. “Is it… cancer?” The words were uttered almost reverently as though he was afraid to speak the words any louder than a whisper. 

Could he lie and say yes? 

Oh, how disrespectful he would be to cancer survivors and those who had lost their battle. No, he could not lie and so he shook his head feeling more forlorn with each passing minute. The desperate need to wrench his hand from Bard’s was unbearable, the heat of the man’s hand seared into his skin and he couldn’t think straight wondering how it would be to hold his hand and know he loved him back. 

Something inside him grew and already a new bloom began to sprout. 

This was too dangerous. 

Gods, he was dying and yet he still thought he had a chance with this man sat at his bedside holding his hand whispering words to him like a prayer. 

Eventually, he knew he’d had to put an end to all of this. 

How he wasn’t sure. 

8:36pm Saturday. October 10th. Stems. 

The children had just left, left with promises to be there again in the morning but Thranduil waved them away and told them it was not necessary to coddle him in such a way. The look on their faces told him he really had no say in the matter what so ever. 

The surgery results were more temporary than he’d have liked, petals had started appearing again after a mere 10 days. With the inhalers they were few and far between but only 10 days of respite. His scars not yet healed from the procedure! 

All in all, it seemed to have been a waste of time but at least he was still able to breathe with relative ease, though emotionally it seemed he was breathless. Legolas and Tauriel barely gave him a second alone and were hawks when it came to spotting petals.

At first, they’d been nigh hysterical but Thranduil had calmed them down and explained that these things happened and that he was still able to breathe well enough so there was nothing to worry about. 

They hadn’t believed him. Not even for a second but they were distracted enough to come down from the height they’d been at in their worry. 

The doorbell rang not even 5 minutes after the children had left and Thranduil assumed one of them must have left something behind, so when he opened the door to find Bard on the doorstep he was surprised but ushered him all the same. 

“It’s late, what are you doing here?” Thranduil shivered and pulled the long misshapen and baldy knitted cardigan tightly around himself. It had been a gift from Tauriel, she had knitted it and then proceeded to never try knitting again yet Thranduil adored the huge thing that near drowned him. “Aren’t you coming inside?” 

He noticed after a moment that Bard lingered a little too long at the door and seemed frozen by indecision. It wasn’t like him to be unsure of something so Thranduil prodded again. 

“Are you coming in?” But Bard wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the cardigan and feeling self-conscious Thranduil wrapped his arms around it trying to cover the large holes, but Bard kept staring until Thranduil actually become protective of the garment and snapped at him. 

“What are you looking at?” Much like Tauriel had done before, Bard leaned forward and between his finger and thumb pulled a yellow petal away from Thranduil’s clothing, it seemed much brighter in the gloom of the autumn evening. 

It seemed enough for Bard to piece together the truth and he looked dismayed, his shoulders dropped and his head dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look up at his friend. 

“Is.. this why you had surgery?”

“Let’s not do this on the steps outside, come in and I promise I will answer all of your questions.” That seemed to put him in motion and with a short nod, Bard stepped into the warmth of the house and Thranduil shut the door. 

“How long have you had this?” 

Straight to the point, Thranduil had hoped he’d be given the chance to offer tea or something else before Bard started grilling him for answers. Honestly, though, he knew the question Bard wanted an answer to the most and Thranduil didn’t think he had it in him to tell him that, not yet at least. 

“Hmm, a year now, maybe?” It had been so long since he had been without the cursed disease and he hadn’t exactly been counting, seeing it was more a count down to his death if he truly tried to rack up the days. 

“Is there a cure, will you die from this?” The panic appeared from nowhere and Bard bit his lip as he tried to work out what he wanted to do next, he seemed to want to cross the room toward Thranduil and pace so to put a stop to either Thranduil made him sit down. 

“I will make tea and answer those questions when I come back.” One of them had to remain calm, while he would have loved to have thrown away his composure and screamed to the Heavens that life wasn’t fair he didn’t think it would help his situation in the slightest. 

When he returned with the tray Bard was stood again but this time by the fireplace looking at the family photos set out across the mantle. They were mostly of himself with the kids, one of is and Bard’s family all together on a camping trip and one of his wedding day. 

“Hanahaki, huh?” He must have googled it while Thranduil was in the kitchen, that was fine but he probably knew more than Thranduil would have liked now. “So the surgery you had was to remove some of the flowers… ah, I can’t pretend like I’m not going to ask. Who is it that did this to you, Thran, who is the one that can’t or won’t love you back?” The tone seemed one of incredulity, as though Bard couldn’t quite believe there was anyone in the world who couldn’t love Thranduil.

But there was. 

“Does it matter who and isn’t it better to see that I am trying to get better instead of giving up?” Deflect the question by asking a question, the only thing he could do as he poured tea and tried to stop his hands from trembling. “I am doing everything the doctors say I should.” 

“Which is?”

“Haven’t you just checked the internet for all of this?”

“Well, yeah, but I want to hear you say it, that’s all.” The conversation was going nowhere because Bard clearly couldn’t stand not knowing who this person was that had captured Thranduil’s heart and refused to return it. 

“I have therapy every week, I have inhalers to slow the spread of the blooms and recently I had surgery to remove the majority of the blockage but the roots are deep.” Such a drastic admission and so unfair to reveal his imminent death so casually. 

Taking a sip of tea, Thranduil watched Bard’s face cycle through several emotions before settling on… nothing. Instead of responding Bard merely added some sugar to his tea before lifting it to his lips to drink. 

“So, you were just planning on dying without telling me?” The words came out flat as though the conversation was casual yet boring. He had hurt his friend that much he was sure of but there wasn’t really much of anything he could say to soothe him now. Bard had been right, and what Thranduil had thought was caring and helpful turned out to be more selfish than anything else. 

“No, I would never do that to you, Bard. I don’t want to keep these things from you but please see this from my perspective. This isn’t something I want to scream from the rooftops- ‘LOOK AT ME EVERYONE I AM DYING BECAUSE THE PERSON I LOVE DOESN’T LOVE ME BACK AND I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY STABLE ENOUGH TO ACCEPT THAT!’ why would I want to reveal my weakness to someone? If Legolas and Tauriel hadn’t found out I would not have told them either!” He didn’t like being weak like this, not after a life of being seen as an unshakable strength a rock that you could rely on. Everything was beginning to crumble why would he want to bare his soul now? 

“Fine but don’t think I can just forgive you for hiding this from me. After everything we’ve been through together you just fail to tell me that, 1) you’re in love with someone, and 2) You’re dying because of it.” Bard set down his cup a little too hard and pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. “I… I have to go, Thran. I’m sorry.” 

He was on his feet in seconds following Bard to the door but the man was already in his car by the time he got out onto the steps to call him back. 

“You don’t understand…” Thranduil whispered as he tugged at the cardigan pulling it tight around him against the chill. “I didn’t tell you to save you from the guilt that I know you’d feel.” Of course, the words merely dissipated into the cold night air and the vapours trailing each word rose into the sky before vanishing completely. 

At least the universe heard his admission of the truth. 

4:00pm Friday, December 11th. Nothing but a memory. 

They had given him a clean bill of health. 

No roots, stems, stamens, petals, not even a leaf remained. The flowers had wilted and withered to nothing and Thranduil took an easy deep breath as he left the doctor’s office. It was a chilly December evening and he was adjusting his scarf when Legolas nearly bowled him over running into him his arms thrown around his neck in a tight embrace. 

“I heard the news! You’re better now for good?!” The excitement in his son’s voice brought genuine tears to Thranduil’s eyes and he buried his face in Legolas’ golden hair for a long month savouring the warmth his son gave. 

When they broke apart Tauriel was stood by her car, the engine still running. They must have just arrived as he was leaving. She gave him a cheery wave before climbing into the car to shut off the engine. 

Thranduil hadn’t confessed his feelings to Bard and Bard had not confessed his to him. Instead, he had worked hard to understand that sometimes your feelings just were not reciprocated and that was ok. 

Platonic love was just as good as romantic love, sadly, he hadn’t been able to speak to Bard since he’d walked out on him all those weeks ago. While he would always love Bard he understood that what he had done was hurtful and if he’d been given the chance he wished he could apologise. 

It had never been his intention to hurt his best friend but he had been so caught up in his own pain he had forgotten to consider those nearest and dearest to him. How had it been fair to hide such a horrible problem from those he held dear? 

“Have you heard from… him?” Tauriel knew everything now, she’d gotten it out of him not long ago, he was at his lowest and needed someone who might understand. It was not his proudest moment, leaning on his daughter emotionally for support, but she had been steadfast in her support of him that it seemed so easy to tell her everything. 

Thankfully, Tauriel didn’t hold the reaction Bard had against him. 

“I had been angry just like him too, remember?” 

Oh, she had, she had screamed murder in his home, right in the centre of the living room, when she had realised and didn’t speak to Thranduil for days. It was the longest she had ever gone without talking to him before, a whole 6 days until she came around and they talked about what it meant for the family. 

But now they were fine, life could resume. Thranduil could live with seeing them without the soft concerned glances Tauriel and Legolas would exchange when his chest grew tight and he wheezed as he tried to grasp a full breath. 

If only he could repair his relationship with Bard. There weren’t many he shared his life with and losing someone was extremely noticeable when that someone was fully apart of his daily life.

Even visiting his usual haunts proved useless. There didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere and Thranduil was much too much of a coward to walk right up to his door and demand to be let in. 

Yet, none of his calls were returned or his texts answered. When Tauriel asked Sigrid if her dad was ok she just shrugged and said he wasn’t doing anything unusual of late, but he had been grabbing a drink with workmates more often. 

That wasn’t a cause for concern as Bard had always been the friendly and sociable type. 

Whatever was going through his friend's mind he sincerely hoped he would take the time to consider contacting him so they could talk. There were only so many text messages he could send without looking incredibly desperate. 

5:30am Tuesday, December 24th. Easy breathing. 

A shrieking doorbell and the sound of continuous banging on the door jolted Thranduil awake and he swore loudly as he tumbled out of bed and shuffled wearily down the stairs. Whoever it was had better have a fantastic reason as to why they had to get him up at stupid o'clock in the morning!! 

When he pulled the door open to see a rather dishevelled Bard using the door frame to hold himself up the air in Thranduil’s lungs seemed to vanish. He stood motionless for a good 30 seconds before helping Bard inside. 

“You absolutely reek of alcohol. What are you doing here?” 

There was silence proceeding his question and, at first, Thranduil thought the man had fallen asleep on the sofa where he had collapsed but it appeared he was just thinking of the best response. 

“I had to see you.” Surprisingly he didn’t sound drunk and Thranduil considered that the cold must have sobered him up. For his own mental health, he decided against asking him what he meant about having to see him. 

“I don’t know about you but the larks aren’t even up yet and I am tired. Let me make some coffee for the both of us and we can see if I can’t get some sense out of you.” As he turned to move Bard’s hand shot out and his fingers curled around Thranduil’s wrist tugging him backwards with ease. 

“No, let me speak to you, hasn’t it been long enough already?” A sleep-deprived gravelled tone did not suit Bard and Thranduil could see dark circles around his eyes. Whatever had been on Bard’s mind of late must have had him up around the clock. 

“You were the one that decided you’d had enough of me, remember?” 

Those words caused the man before him to relinquish his grip on Thranduil’s wrist and he just gave a nod but when Thranduil didn’t move he took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“I’m sorry that I made it about me. There wasn’t even a second where I considered how scared you must have been to know that any day could have been your last.” 

“Yes, well, thankfully those days are behind me now.” 

Like a shock of electricity had gone through him Bard jumped to his feet looking this way and that before having the decency to look genuinely apologetic. 

“Did I interrupt your sleep with them?” In the light of the living room, Thranduil got a better look at him and something inside him clicked into place and he had to withhold a groan when he realised he had definitely, once again, fallen in love with his best friend. 

“There is no one, the person I was in love with, I’m not in love with them now. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact they did not care for me the way I wanted but I am better because I started to love me more.” Oh, what a liar he was. Yes, he did care for himself a lot more but he was falling right back into the rut he had been not 8 weeks ago. 

The second he started spitting petals he was going to wring Bard’s neck. There was no way he was going through all that again!

“There’s no one, ah, good. That means I have a sliver of a chance to ask you out on a date then.” 

No, no he wasn’t doing any of this without coffee. As much as he wanted to address every single word the man had just uttered he wasn’t doing this without caffeine and maybe some toast. 

Without a word he walked off into the kitchen and, like a lost puppy, Bard obediently trotted in behind him trying to get his attention. No, no, no, he was going to fill the machine with coffee beans and put bread in the toaster then he was going to get the toaster and throw it at Bard’s head! 

Whipping round to face him, Thranduil grabs a fistful of Bard’s shirt and pulls him close enough that they are nearly nose to nose. 

“You’re telling me that you have developed feelings for me in the past 3 months I have been in recovery?” 

Fear was the only emotion in Bard’s eyes and they were wide to the point the whites almost exceeded the iris. It would have been funny if Thranduil hadn’t wanted to throttle the man where he stood. 

“Well, I wanted to tell you I loved you as soon as you opened the door but you’re so scary when you’ve just woken up. You’re scary now, please don’t kill me. I love you!” 

That was it. 

“You LOVE me? Is that so Mr I Will Never Love Again? IS that so?!” There was a mixed bag of emotions stirring up inside him but mostly the murderous intent was winning out. Killing Bard wasn’t really on the cards but he wasn’t going to let the man get away with nearly killing him for over a year even if he had no idea it was his fault. 

“You are very, very, very lucky that I just so happen to love you, too.” The iron grip on Bard’s shirt relaxed and he tried his best to smooth the deep wrinkles but it was not to be. Regardless, he had Bard looking at him with a sappy grin plastered over his pale face like he’d been told he’d won the lottery and not the affections of a highly problematic male. 

“R-really?” 

“As much as it now pains me to say this, yes, I do love you so very much. So much so that my heart could burst if I tried to contain it any longer.” The thumping of his heart was so hard in his chest that he was sure Bard could have heard it if he’d tried. Somehow things were falling into place now with such little effort. 

There had been a chance Thranduil would have found himself bitter about the whole thing and shunned Bard’s advances. Revenge should have been high on his list with the grinning idiot before him but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than lean in and press a kiss to his Bard’s lips. 

“Really, really.” 

[jawabear]

Flowers (Javier Pena x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Here is some soft Javi for you. I was inspired by a question on a game show, it was “how many florists would say that a woman should buy her man flowers” or something along those lines, and I though it would be cute to write something like that for Javi. Do you think a woman can buy her man flowers? I would 100% buy flowers for my man if I had one. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe :)

Genre: Fluff, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, Soft!Javi, departure, sad!Javi, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning 

Summary: Javi opens up about his secret love of flowers

Part 2

Javi sat at his desk, a lit cigarette smoking between his lips. He hadn’t breathed in a puff of smoke for god knows how long. He had become distracted. He had never been one for art or drawing but for some reason, he found him self sketching numerous drawings of flowers onto a scrap piece of paper. It made him feel calm, almost making him feel forgetful of everything going on.

He was taken back home to Laredo. Sitting in his back garden, watching his mother tend to her numerous flower beds. He was always amazed by the vast array of colours she had grown, like a constant rainbow right outside his bedroom window. Sometimes he would sit with her, she would explain to him each type and what makes them special. Of course, liking flowers was not seen as the most masculine thing to do, but he didn’t really care at the time. 

“Here are the files you asked for” Javi jumped when a voice floated through his office. He quickly grabbed the paper and held it under his desk. He looked up as saw it was (Y/N). A good friend of his. But, even so, maybe she wasn’t just a friend. Maybe he did feel something more for her. Not that he would ever admit that to her. He hasn’t even admitted it to himself.

She placed down the small stack of files on his desk “th-“ he cleared his throat and nodded “thanks” he said.

“What were you doing?” She asked him tilting her head cutely to the side. She leaned over his desk slightly to try and catch a glimpse of what he had been so desperate to hide.

“O-Oh, nothing” he shook his head.

“It can’t be nothing if you were so quick to hide it” she giggled making his heart flutter.

“Honestly, it’s nothing” he dismissed her words with his hands and threw the paper into the top draw of his desk before standing. He stubbed out his cigarette “want to get a drink?” He asked her.

“Uh, Yeah” she nodded with a gentle smile “sure”

“Great” he pulled his jacket off his chair and slipped it over his shoulders.

-

After a short stop at the bar, Javi decided that it would be nicer to take her to an over look ridge. It was something he had found in his first year or so down in Colombia, he was just driving and came across it by chance, it had a clear voice of the entire city, and was perfect for watching the sunset.

The sat on the surprisingly flat ground in front of his car, drinks in hand. She had complimented his choice of scenery, saying it was beautiful and calm. Looking over the city from where they were, it was hard to believe there was a horrendous drug war going on.

The conversation was here and there, mainly they were enjoying the view and each other’s company. He would occasionally look over to her, just to see the golden light of the setting sun shine over her beautiful face. She was glowing. Like an angel. He was going to miss her. He was going miss seeing her face, seeing her smile, seeing her eyes, hearing her voice. He had made a mistake in not bringing her to this overlook before. This was the first and last time.

“So now that we are really alone, what were you doing earlier?” She asked him pulling him out of his trance. He took a sip of his beer and placed it beside him.

“I was uh...” he paused for a moment, looking over to her, she was staring right back at him with those beautiful eyes “drawing...” he muttered.

“Drawing?” She asked softly, a small smile forming on her lips “you like to draw?”

“Not...not particularly. It’s just something I’ve started to do...as a way of stress relief I guess”

“What do you like to draw?” She asked as she twisted her body to face him.

“F-Flowers..”

“Flowers?” She repeated

“I know...pretty uh...”

“Adorable” She finished for him “Why flowers?”

“It was uh...when I was little, my mum used to have flowers. We would often sit and talk about them. I kind of forgot about it for the longest time. I guess just all this shit happening, I just wanted a sort of comfort. The flowers are really the only thing I have left of her...”

“What was her favourite flower?”

“She never really had one. She loved all of them. Or at least, all the ones she knew of. There was one though that she wished she could see. The Miltoniopsis vexillaria orchid. She loved orchids, but that was one she didn’t have. I’m surprised I even remember the name” he chuckled softly as he stared to the floor “They grow a lot in Colombia. Maybe that’s why I was so desperate to come down here. So I could find it. But I’ve never found one, to be honest I haven’t ever looked. I promised her I would find one for her, take it back and show her, but I never got round to it”

“There’s still time Javi” she told him gently “don’t give up yet”

“This job doesn’t allow for flower picking (Y/N)” he chuckled taking another sip of his beer, a longer sip. “God, that got fucking depressing. I’m sorry”

“No, don’t be” she shook her head to him “it’s...nice. To talk about things like that. And it’s nice to see a softer side of you” she smiled.

He looked over to her again and his heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to kiss her so bad. He could’ve. He could’ve kiss her. They were close, so close and the moment was just right. No one was around, no one could stop him.

Except himself.

He cleared his throat and looked away from him. “What time do you leave tomorrow?” He asked her. He had to remind himself of the cruel reality that it would never work between them. She was only a temporary in Colombia. She was going back to the States, he would most likely never see her again. So why try and start a relationship? He could barely hold one when he was in the same place as someone, there was no way he would last in a long distance relationship.

Her smile fell when he asked that. She had almost forgotten about that. She was so wrapped up in being with him that she couldn’t think of anything else. Her heart shattered too. She got the impression that he didn’t want her around anymore. He was distancing himself from her, trying to get rid of her. “O-Oh, early” she said quietly “my flight is at 5am. They um...wanted me back early so I could restart as soon as possible over there”

“It’s going to be strange not having you around. It’s going to be a lot more boring without you”

“Tell me about it” she chuckled “It’s fun listening to you and Steve bicker all the time. Like an old married couple”

He managed a stiff laugh and shook his head finishing off the last little bit of his beer “it’s getting pretty late” he mumbled to her “you want me to drive you home?”

“In a second” she nodded turning to look over the city from where they were sat “I just want to...remember this” she sighed happily gesturing to the sunsetting over the city below them “it’s beautiful...” As the sun set, it filled the sky with the most beautiful shades of orange, red and pink, fading effortlessly into each other. It could’ve been a painting.

Javi’s eyes were on her as he nodded “Yeah...it is” he whispered.

The drive back to her apartment was peaceful. It was only a short drive, the final time he would ever make the journey. He did the gentlemanly thing and walked her too her door, partly because he wanted to draw out the time he spent with her, making it last for as long he could.

“Have a safe journey back, okay?” He said to her.

“Yeah” she nodded “I will. Thank you Javi. For everything. For just being there for me throughout my time here”

“Of course. Thank you for making my life a little more bearable” he laughed “I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too, Javi” she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. He slipped his arms around her waist holding her close to him. One of his hands snaked it’s way up her back to press lightly against the back of her head. Her nose was buried in his neck, breathing in his scent for the last time. A distinct smell of whiskey, cigarette smoke and something should could only described as him.

After a few more moments she pulled back and smiled up at him. He shifted his weight between his feet for a second before thinking “fuck it” and leaning down to press his lips against hers. It wasn’t like he was going to see her against anyway, so if it didn’t work he wouldn’t have to worry. But he knew he would.

But he didn’t have to. She lifted his hands to rest on his cheeks, he could feel her smiling against his lips which made his heart flutter. A fire erupted in his belly at how good it felt. He had never felt like that when he ever kissed someone. And sadly, it would be the first and last time he ever felt it.

She slowly pulled away from him and flicker her eyes up to his. Her teeth ran over her bottom lip to savour the taste of his lips, he did the same and pulled his arms away from her as her hands dropped from his cheeks.

It was a mistake. Maybe? She didn’t seem hurt by it, and she had smiled. That had to be a good sign. But she was leaving! How could he have been so stupid to kiss her right before she left knowing he could never do it again?

“Idiot” he thought to himself.

“If-If you’re ever back in the states or back at the DEA HQ, feel free to...to do that again” she said quietly as she fiddled with her fingers.

He nodded slowly, not really believing the series of events that had happened and were happening. “I-I will” he said “I um...I should probably go. Let you get some rest”

“Y-Yeah” she nodded “Yeah. Right. Um...w-well. Goodbye Javi”

“Bye (Y/N)” he pulled her into another hug. This one tighter and longer than the last. Now he really didn’t want her to leave.

“Take care of yourself” she whispered to him “you’re a good man Javier, even if you choose not to believe it”

He didn’t trust his words so just gave her a tight squeeze before pulling away. They exchange another soft smile before they inevitably parted ways, maybe forever.

Javi sat in his car, his forehead resting on the steering wheel as he drew in deep and shaky breaths trying to stop himself from crying. No, he wouldn’t cry. He was stronger than that. But he couldn’t deny the sadness that was swelling within him. That wonderful fire being diminished by it. It seemed the moment had too soon past. He wished he had dwelled on it longer.

He lifted his head and looked out his window, up to her apartment just in time to see she had switched the lights off. She was going to sleep. And he thought he should too. Maybe she would appear to him in his dreams. That’s what he would have to live with for now.

-

The next morning, Javier didn’t feel that much better. If anything, he felt worse. She was gone. Most likely back in the states by the time he decided to pull himself out of bed and drag himself into work. But he wouldn’t enjoy it anymore. Not that he ever did. Without her there, what was the point of even trying to pretend to enjoy it? Sure, he had Steve, but in all fairness he hated the job just as much as Javi. (Y/N) was the one who kept them sane, kept things going, kept everyone happy, especially Javi. And now he had lost her.

Javi sighed as he stepped into his office. Another day of hell officially started. But he seemed to freeze when his eyes fell on his desk. There stood a tall flower. It was white and a light shade of lilac. It stood there in a pretty white pot.

He took cautious steps towards it, looking for a label or some kind of note to say who it was from, although, he already had an idea. He saw the tag that went with the flower, he read over the name and his heart fluttered Miltoniopsis vexillaria orchid it read in think black letters. He let out a sharp breath.

Javi slipped into his chair, admiring the flower from the new angle. He flipped over the label and saw her handwriting “it’s never too late” it read.

A smile crept up to his lips. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t care if anyone came in and saw. He was fucking happy. Happier then he had been in a very very long time.

Who says you can’t buy a man flowers? 

Masterlist

18/06/20

[yolkyeomie]

Familiar Familiarity | Han Jisung

summary — familiars are a very important part of expanding your magic as a witch, and jisung has none.

word count — 2003 words

pairing — jisung x gender neutral!reader

genre — witch!jisung, magic au, slight fluff(?), platonic relationship w/ jisung and reader

disclaimer — honestly I have no clue what this is but it’s Halloween and I at least wanted to write SOMETHING that was witch related so that’s why this is so short 🙃

“Gosh… [y/n], I’m so sorry,” Jisung spluttered out, shoving every single object on his desk towards the back to give himself more room. Small little glasses bottles of odd concoctions clinked together as he roughly shoved them to the side, a few spilling whatever liquid that was inside or falling off the desk in an unorthodox manner.

The boy cursed to himself as he tried to catch the falling glasses and clean up the small mess he had created, unusually uncoordinated. “I didn’t know it was you so I went on defense immediately and—“

“You’re fine,” you tell him, jumping up into the clear part of the desk with unfamiliar feline ease. “I should know not to sneak up on you but what can we do?”

It was really your fault if you were going to be completely honest. You’ve known the boy for a while, it was a friendship you had been kindling for around five months or so. Sneaking up on a nearly defenseless witch in broad daylight wasn’t going to end well for either of the parties involved. Out of pure adrenaline and the need to survive he had shot a spell at you, a low-powered one for a witch of his caliber, but a spell nonetheless.

Upon impact your form began to shift wildly, your stomach churning with easiness and bile rising your throat at the unnatural changes that your body was enduring.

Once you fell to the ground after your body had completely changed shape, you nearly vomited any and everything you had eaten that morning. You would not recommend going through a transformation of any kind, no matter how good of a deal the witch seemed to give you. One hundred percent, do not recommend.

Luckily, your unplanned transformation had simply turned you into a cat, a small, green-eyed feline with silky black fur. You still retained the ability to speak, which was good enough for you, but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander… Imagine the amount of pain you’d be forced to endure if Jisung had turned you into anything smaller or even anything larger? It sent shivers down your spine just thinking about it.

“I don’t know if I have anything to turn you back,” the witch boy confessed, his eyes putting his urge to slam his head into the dark wood desk. “I’ve never dappled in transformation spells before now… it was something new I was working on while you were away to keep myself busy. I thought you were a witch hunter at first so I just tried whatever I knew at the time and—“

“Hey, don’t be so down on yourself,” you encourage him, stretching out your feline body across the desk. “At least you know the spell works! Or at least… you can do it even if a cat wasn’t what you were aiming for.”

“Something of the sort,” Jisung confirmed. “Anything small and unable to do significant harm. I blame Minho, he came back earlier with his familiars and all I could think about was cats for a few hours.”

“With his cats?” You stress, your whiskers twitching at the thought of Minho traveling around the countryside with his three familiars in tow. “That’s… strange. It’s not normal for him to take them anywhere knowing that if he gets killed by witch hunters his familiars will be felt all alone.”

“I needed his help,” the witch boy clarified, sitting up from the desk and scrambling over towards the cabinet of unfinished potion bottles. With a quick flick of his magic fingers, a seal placed upon the cabinet appeared to the naked eye. It glowed for a moment, shining with a bright purple hue before the cabinet made a clicking sound and unlocked itself. “There’s this potion I’ve been trying to make for a few months now but I had to postpone it because I didn’t have any familiars to strengthen my powers.”

You dropped off the desk with ease, having to stop yourself from becoming overwhelmed by how large everything was compared to you as you trotted over towards Jisung. “Strengthen you? But aren’t you already a powerful witch? I mean… you’re not known as one of the greatest witches of this era for nothing.”

“Well, yeah,” He shrugged, basking in your small compliment before he began digging around in the cabinet. “But there aren certain spells and potions I can’t even do on my own. A familiar boosts your power because of the magic bond you two agree to, they lend you their innate magical ability and you take care of them. It’s a win-win situation when you have a familiar.” Jisung grinned when once he got his hands on a bottle, covering the top where the cork should have been to make sure whatever brew was inside didn't spill.

The witch leaned down to your temporary height, holding out the small glass vial for you to see. The bottle held a hot and angry red liquid inside, bubbling and festering with a sizzling sound like there was a fire inside. “A potion of the soulless,” He told you as you reached out your cat paw to touch the bottle, hissing and scurrying backward on instinct when you felt the bottle begin to burn the pads under your paws. “It’s from the book that Changbin gave me maybe a year or ago, it said that it’s supposed to allow me to bring the undead to my aid or end the life of my undead enemies. Pretty cool, right?”

“What are you trying to do with an undead potion when you don’t even work with the undead?” You hiss at him, narrowing your eyes between the potion and the witch boy in front of you. He seemed to be completely unaware and unaffected by the sizzling and burning touch of the potion bottle, carrying it within his hands like it was ice cold water.

You didn’t like the idea of anyone who wasn’t practicing within the arts of the undead to be playing around in its potions and spells, even if Jisung was a talented witch himself. There was just a certain evil that it radiated for those who weren’t cautious of its consequences.

“Uh, because it sounds cool as hell?” Jisung responded, placing the vial back in its place in the cabinet. Once he closed its doors the magic seal he placed upon it shined again, locking the unfinished potions inside once again. “Imagine the type of defense I could have against witch hunters who would dare come and hunt me down then? I mean… just think about the cool infamous nicknames they’ll give me? Han Jisung, the Wicked Witch King of the Dead, doesn’t that sound cool?”

“I think you need to take this a little more seriously,” You urged him. It’s not that you like seeing his childlike fantasies when it came to the ups and downs of being a witch, but this just wasn’t the time.

“I am taking this seriously,” he tried to convince you, picking up your cat form with ease and lifting you into his arms. It took you a moment to get used to the lankiness of your body, involuntarily stretching out once he put his hands under your small cat shoulders.

You squirmed within his grasp, trying to jump back to the safety of the ground as quickly as you could but ultimately failing as Jisung began to speak again. “I’m just thinking about what the future may hold when I finish this potion. There are so many possibilities and scenarios in which I could use it I can’t help but fantasize about it.”

“But Jisung,” You tried the protest, your claws digging into the flesh of his arm as he leaned down at his desk that held his already finished potions. He wasn’t paying much attention to you now, his other hand hovering around each uniquely colored liquid and reading the label on it to make sure he was grabbing the right thing.

“Don’t worry about it, [y/n],” He told you, grabbing ahold of a potion bottle with a sparkling pink liquid inside of it. The boy’s eyes scanned the writing on the label as he spoke,” I promise I’ll be extra careful when using it, I’ll only use it when I’m in mortal danger if that makes you feel any better. Right now let’s focus on getting you out of this cat form sooner than later.”

He placed off the sparkling potion of the side of the desk before searching the rest of his stock, a frown on his face when he couldn’t find anything he needed. Amid his frustration you finally squirm out of his grasp, nearly falling to the ground had you not sunk your claws into the fabric of his shirt to keep yourself up. “I’m not really focused on that right now,” You tell him, finally getting his attention as you climb around his back and shoulders in an unruly manner. “That vital was glowing red and hot to the touch, I don’t think you should be playing with this sort of thing.”

“Red?” He questioned, dropping whatever potions he had in his hands on to the desk. Jisung took a hold of you again so he could look you in your slitted eyes, a genuine look of confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean red? [y/n], that potion is dark green and cold.”

“It’s bright red and hot like a fire,” you insist, gesturing your head towards the cabinet where he stored it. “I touched it and it nearly burned me, I think I would know if it was hot or cold.”

The boy stared at you in pure disbelief, unable to comprehend the words that were coming out of your mouth. He held you within his arms again when he picked up the sparkling bottle from earlier and held it up to your face. “What color is this to you then?”

“Pink.”

“It’s gold.” He corrected you, putting the potion bottle down. “The portion inside... is gold…”

“Aren’t cats colorblind?” You manage to ask after a moment of silence, trying to fill up the still air with your voices once more. “Maybe that’s why I thought the potion of the soulless was red and that that’s pink… but it doesn’t excuse the fact that when I touched that other potion it was hot.”

“Even if cats are colorblind, that spell I casted on you shouldn’t haven’t changed you that drastically,” Jisung argued. “The spell changed your physical appearance, nothing about your genetics was changed.”

“So then…” you trailed off, feeling your stomach begin to twist and churn once again. The spell he casted on you must have finally begun to wear off. “Why am I seeing different colors from you?”

“Only familiars can see the true colors of magic and potions so that they can warn witches of what magic will have a positive or negative effect on them,” Jisung told you, “It’s a part of their bond, a duty that familiars fulfill to protect their witches at any cost. The mere fact that what you’re seeing now is probably the true colors of these potions...”

“[y/n], there is a very high possibility that despite being human… you’re a familiar.” He explained to you, not even believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “It shouldn’t be possible because normal humans don’t have any sort of innate magic power but... you...”

“Oh,” you respond with a bewildered smile, your brain unable to process what the witch had told you. Cautiously Jisung put you down on the ground again, stepping back and away from you as you began to retain your original form once again.

A combination of the wrenched stomach pains from the spell wearing off and now new headaches you had gained from the information were sending your body in for one wild trip. This was certainty not the way you had planned to spend your day.

You glanced towards the sparkling bottle from earlier, hoping and praying to whatever god these witches followed that this was some sick joke being played on you. And yet despite your desperation the liquid inside of the portion bottle remained the same sparkling pink from when you were a cat. “Oh, how lovely. I’m a familiar.”

“This is bad,” Jisung stressed. “This is very, very bad.”