#i have very strong feelings ab this so instead of lashing out at people i will harness them into ranting online like the therapy-goer i am

[theatrenerd622]

Hallie Parker after meeting someone identical to her with the exact same birthday likes the same (weird) food combinations, is allergic to the same things and had the other half of her ripped picture of their parents: "We're like sisters"

[wri0thesley]

for the prompts, how ab 39 (yan prompt list) w Itto? <3

ooh this one is super interesting to me bc i don't see him really as a yan type . . . but . . . this is also a very good opportunity for kind of whiny pathetic yandere. which i love >:3

(cw: yandere content, light mention of blood, visionless reader)

“Tell me how much you love me.”

The worst part of all is thus; you don’t think that Itto even realises what he’s done to you. What corner you have been backed into by dint of him loving you - and how afraid he makes you to tell the truth. 

He’s so . . . friendly. Pulling you into bone-crushing hugs, showing you off to anyone who’ll put up with him for a few moments, waxing lyrical about what a perfect couple the two of you make; pushing you forward with a proud, wide smile on his face as he says something like; 

‘Ain’t we just the cutest couple you’ve ever seen? C’mon, you can look for a bit longer - hey, get out your Kamera if you want, you’re gonna want to remember this!’ 

You think it would be churlish if you were to argue with these people. Itto looks so happy; and though you don’t think he’d hurt you, it’s hard to forget the breadth and the height on him, the inhuman blood that runs through his veins, and all of the whispers and mutters and folklore that follow his species around. 

(Itto would hate you thinking of the folklore, you know. Whenever you hear the chant of fortune in and oni out, you let yourself smile secretive and small and hidden. It is your one indulgence.)

Shinobu looks at you with obvious approval; she thinks you are a calming influence on Itto. It’s her who shepherds the rest of the boys in the gang away; her who tells you that you can come to her if you ever really need help. 

But it sounds silly, said out loud. ‘I don’t think I ever agreed that Itto was my boyfriend’. You’re sure she would just laugh at you. 

So you are left alone with Itto, instead, in moments like this - Shinobu insisting on some errand or important task to do, as she leaves the two of you alone and Itto sends her a not-quite-hidden enough thumbs up.

Left with him sidling closer to you in his favourite secluded spot, as he sits beside you on some wooden bench - left with him as he pulls some cheesy romantic-comedy stretch-and-yawn move.

His arm around your shoulders is heavy. You can feel the cords of muscle even through your clothes; are reminded of just how much strength lays behind that affable, excited demeanour.

“You’re real quiet today, y’know that?” Itto says - and you look up at him from under your lashes, swallowing thickly. “Heh, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it seemed like you were scareda me!”

(You are scared of him. What would he do, if you told him the truth, and if you asked him to leave you alone?)

“. . . I’m not,” you say, but there’s been too long of a pause. Itto’s eyebrows knit.

“Babe?” Itto says. He catches your chin in his hand and forces you to look at him, tugging your face up towards him. “Y’know I’d do anything for you, right? Just say the word. Someone needs beatin’ up, someone needs to be taught a lesson, I’m your oni!”  His voice drops a semitone; something cold and cruel and dark lingering in the back of it. “I’ll break ‘em.”

“Y-you don’t need to do that,” you say, but Itto has found his ground. 

“You’re mine, yeah? We’re each others. We look out for each other! And I know you aren’t as strong as me, but that just means I’ve gotta make extra sure that nothing ever happens to you and we get to be together forever.”

Forever sounds like an awfully long time. 

If you were braver, you’d tell him the truth now - you’d stand up and walk away and never look back. But the Archons give visions to those who cherish ambitions; those who stand apart from the rest of the world. Itto falls into that number, and you do not - and, more inherent than being an oni and being the head of the gang and being so, so capable of overpowering you, is that knowledge that his determination almost certainly outstrips your own.

You’re too quiet. Itto shakes you gently, but his eyes are like swords. He whispers your name with such force it frightens you, and then, he takes a deep breath and wets his lips and says;

“Tell me how much you love me.”

His hands are fastened about your biceps; sharp black-painted talons digging into the soft skin there, hard enough to draw blood. His eyes - sharp gold and red - are trained on you beseechingly. 

It’s as if, if you tell him the truth, he will simply shrivel up and die and there will be nothing left of him. 

“Tell me,” he repeats, and his voice is sharper this time. There’s still a whine to it - but behind the whine is something steely and rock-solid that reminds you of the vision that hangs about his neck. He’s easy with the Arataki gang, yes - he’s a good leader, he cares about them--

But there is no denying that he is the leader, and others bow to his will. 

You are bleeding. Just a trickle of viscous dark red rolls down your elbow; but Itto does not so much as notice. 

If something did happen to you . . . There are people in Inazuma City who find him a nuisance, yes, but you don’t think anyone would expect out-and-out malice of him. If you displease him and bring out that fortress-strength that hides behind trading card games and beetle battles, would anybody truly believe he was capable of it? 

“Babe?” Itto says, shaking you just a touch - and you force a trembling smile to your lips. 

“I love you, Itto,” you tell him - and he smiles brightly at you, dazzling like the sun, and hugs you so tightly all the breath is squeezed out of you.

(His hands go for your ass; that, too, is squeezed with equal enthusiasm). 

If he makes you say it enough, you try and comfort yourself, perhaps you’ll even start to believe it. 

[thedarkeside]

Overprotective/toxic Bakugou Headcanons

Katsuki x Reader

Content Warnings: Toxic relationships/toxic behavior, social isolation, nongraphic smut.

I'm lowkey wondering if this would qualify as yandere? Maybe? I dunno.

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～

❥ I headcanon Katsuki being very traumatized after everything that went down with the LoV-- the popping out of nowhere and beating the shit out of everyone, the kidnapping, y'know. That stuff.

❥ Like, I think that he would lowkey expect villains to just pop up out of nowhere.

❥ And he wouldn't care much if it were just him, he knows that now he can handle himself.

❥ But now he has you.

❥ You, who is absolutely not suited to fight these strong ass villains.

❥ You, who has absolutely zero hero training.

❥ You, who doesn't even have a particularly impressive quirk.

❥ Yeah. That's what scares him.

❥ So if you're living together, he's going to be kind of overkill with the insistence to protect you.

❥ AKA he doesn't want you leaving the house without him.

❥ It was at first kind of cute. He would want to walk you to and from work, he would take you grocery shopping, he would even come along when you wanted to do some clothes shopping.

❥ The last one is typically pretty welcomed-- he's the son of two people in the fashion industry, and despite dressing like a little goblin half the time, he knows how to create a pretty decent fit.

❥ But then it gets a bit suffocating.

❥ "Why can't I come with you and your friends to dinner? You embarrassed of me, sweetheart?"

❥ "Oh, a doctors appointment? Why not just come with me to my agency today. We've got plenty of doctors on site that can take care of you just fine."

❥ "Why go out to the movie theater when we've got a whole screening room here?"

❥ You let it slide, of course. You know that as a prohero he's seen all type of bad shit, plus you're well aware of what happened during his UA days-- it was all over the news, of course you know about the horrors, even if Katsuki doesn't like talking about it.

❥ But your leniency to his (toxic) behavior, his insistence of following you everywhere, allows it all to evolve into him not wanting you to even leave the house at all.

❥ "We've got all you could possibly want here, sweetheart."

❥ "If you want to see those damn extras so badly, just invite them over-- just not that one, or those other two, they give me a bad feeling."

❥ Of course, "that one" and "those other two" make up more than half of your friend group.

❥ And even then, Katsuki has a tendency to hover.

❥ During one of your few moments alone with your friends, you talk about his behavior, and they pretty much clue you in on how unhealthy his behavior is.

❥ What they say about "Love blinds" is apparently pretty damn true.

❥ So you sit down with Katsuki for a little chat.

❥ "Kat, you can't just limit me on what I'm able to do. I'm a grown woman, I can take care of myself."

❥ He would of course respond with--

❥ "Sweetheart, I've seen a whole lot more of this world than you have. If you think you could possibly protect yourself from it without me, you're being stupid."

❥ That got you pretty pissed.

❥ After a bit of a tongue lashing from you, he promised to ease up on it.

❥ "Fine, if you want to go out, then you can, but only if you check in with me every now and then and stay out of the sketchy areas."

❥ That promise wasn't worth shit.

❥ You managed to go out maybe twice with your friends before he started acting up again.

❥ Just not in the same way.

❥ Instead of throwing a fit when you tried leaving, he would try to seduce you into going back to the bedroom.

❥ It worked.

❥ He would just start off with "C'mon babe, just a quicky, you'll still have plenty of time to get ready."

❥ What you expected to be maybe fifteen minutes turned into an hour, then two hours.

❥ You would wind up having nearly a dozen orgasms.

❥ "Sorry baby, I guess I got a little carried away. You're just so damn tempting"

❥ If you don't just straight up black out by the end, you would sure as hell be exhausted and not able to feel your legs.

❥ You barely had the energy to text your friends that you can't make it.

❥ And it would keep happening.

❥ And happening.

❥ And happening.

❥ Your friends end up getting pretty fed up with how much of a flake you've become.

❥ They decided to stop inviting you at all.

❥ And Katsuki couldn't be happier.

[somethinginthethunder]

last asker here (luisa x no family!reader), better worded: reader being jealous of luisa's relationship with her family

``when you don't have a good family``

notes: found family is literally one of my favorite tropes ty for the request, love <3 also i didn't know if you wanted me to keep the julieta/family dinner part so i omitted it if that's okay!

warnings: depictions of an unhealthy/verbally ab**ive family. nothing severe, but i'll still be putting a cut here just in case anything is possibly trigging + i'll try and remember to do this for any further writings like this. stay safe and remember what you're comfortable with!!

—

-if someone asked the average citizen what they thought of your family and you, they'd probably respond with something very mild

-maybe something like, "nice kid and parents. sometimes they're helpful neighbors, too."

-unfortunately for you, your parents were anything but nice

-from the moment you were born it seemed like they were just disgusted at the idea of you. when you looked into your memories there were no bed time stories, comforting hugs or words, a smile of affection and care, or even a simple 'i love you'.

-you had no idea what you did to deserve it, but that's how it was your entire life.

-this meant you grew up to be pretty detached from your family and people in general.

-well, that was until luisa walked into your life

-literally

-you were distracted while carrying a basket of laundry and luisa ran into you while trying to fix her hair before she went off to do work

-she apologized.

-a lot.

-and at first you were apprehensive at her kindness despite her strong build. of course you knew who she was, but that didn't mean you had any sort of connection or knowledge of her besides 'she's strong but not mean'.

-but eventually she found a way to wriggle herself into your heart and mind, becoming your girlfriend only months after meeting.

-before her you had believed you wouldn't be able to meet anyone who would want to be yours. and, honestly, it was mostly because that's what your parents had made you believe.

-but luisa was incredibly wonderful. she'd always want to be hugging you, kissing you, etc. at first she was nervous about giving you affection but once the two of you talked about it she was free to do all she wanted :)

-as for your parents, they eventually found out that you were dating the madrigal. they weren't mad that you were dating someone, in fact, they were almost impressed. almost.

-when they had heard you had a partner all they'd do is make fun of you constantly, reassuring you that it wouldn't last long at all.

-well jokes on them because you had already lasted several months.

-if that wasn't bad enough, you couldn't help but get jealous every time you went to luisa's house

-it wasn't that you were jealous of their powers or anything, no, it was their relationship.

-everyone was free to openly show how much they loved each other, whether it be pepa and felix being patient with one another or mirabel and antonio running around the house giggling because of a prank they pulled on antonio's older brother.

-you felt bad about feeling so jealous, becoming a little more quiet and withdrawn over time

-luisa would try and ask you what's wrong, but it was still something you were so unused to.

-so, instead of confessed what was going on, you just ignored it

-luisa would be insistent after a few days. at first she thought maybe you were just having a bit of a bad day, but when it kept going she decided it must be something bigger

-when she finally confronted you, you lashed out at her, finally snapping and yelling at her to leave you alone

-but when you saw the look on her face you knew that you shouldn't have done that

-if there was one person who didn't deserve that from you it was her.

-she'd try to leave you but you'd just grab her wrist and start to tear up.

-"i'm sorry. i'm sorry, please don't leave me."

-that got you two to the point where she'd be holding you as you'd cry and confess why you'd been acting so weird.

-when luisa heard about how your family was treating you she was ready to pummel them to the ground.

-"i can't believe they'd do that to you! i'll... i'll destroy them!"

-you shook your head and tried to wipe your tears. "it'll only stir up drama."

-but the tears wouldn't stop coming, so your wonderful girlfriend decided she could figure out what to do with them later. but for now, she had to focus on getting you even just a little bit happier.

-her angry face turned into a kinder smile.

-"fine," she'd concede. "i guess you'll just have to marry me and move in."

-the smile on her face would only grow when you burst out laughing, hitting your fist on her chest gently as you'd say, "you're such a dork!"

-little did you know, she actually did really want to marry you.

-but she knew that the both of you and your relationship were just a little too young.

-she knew that someday, though, she'd be able to take you away and finally give you what you deserve.

-even if she had to wait just a little bit longer.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

What is a Scapegoat? (toxic family roles)

...Because the last one was well-received so ¡let’s make a series & talk about every role! 🤷‍♂️

Why am I qualified to talk about this?: We researched the heck out of it because we became the scapegoat as soon as we stopped trying to please our family 24/7.

The basics: In toxic families, kids are forced to adhere to certain roles to keep the peace &/or keep themselves safe. Scapegoat is one role a kid may be forced into.

What is it?: In brief, a toxic family role. Kids (& sometimes adults) in toxic families are forced into roles by family members & may be punished for trying to leave their assigned role. You can have multiple roles depending on which family member assigned it (some examples — child is dad’s mascot but mom’s scapegoat; uncle is dad’s scapegoat but mom’s mascot; sibling is other sibling’s scapegoat but dad’s golden child). This is one role a member of a toxic family may end up in.

⚠️Warning (below the cut): mentions of ab*se, neglect, & trauma⚠️

Why would a kid end up in this role?:

The simple answer is that their family is toxic, abusive, &/or neglectful, & manipulative.

This is usually the person who spots cracks in the façade. This is the person who starts realizing their family is toxic & breaking out of their previous role (golden child, ghost/hungry child, mascot, etc.). Instead of actually fixing things, the family gaslights that this person is crazy, overreacting, their memories are wrong, & they’re ‘actually at fault’ for anything & everything that goes wrong. They get ‘thrown under the bus’ (/met) by their own family for just spotting toxic things & giving up on their previous role. They realize that they’ll never be “perfect” enough, quiet enough, strong enough.....enough for their family, and they give up. But this breaks the family system, so others will lash out.

~~~

On occasion, if no one broke the mold yet or the mold breaker has cut contact, this is simply whoever is the easiest target for blame, shame, gaslighting & abuse. That may mean a very young child, or a person who doesn’t go to every single family function, or the queer, disabled, &/or otherwise Other™ family member that stands out.

((This role may also be called the Troublemaker or Black Sheep.))

What does this role look like?:

- “lazy” / unproductive

- may be sleeping a lot

- likely has anxiety &/or depression

- actually talks about what’s going on to friends, teachers, or other people they think they can trust (those people might break their trust)

- loud, taking up a lot of space, attention seeking (all or part of the time)

- rolling eyes, arms crossed defensively, etc. around other people &/or around other family members

- lashing out at friends, family, etc.

- “acting out” at school, church, etc.

- fight or flight response more often than fawn or freeze

- self deprecating or jokes about their trauma &/or assumed lack of worth/value

- social isolation (being trapped in the house, or blamed for many bad things, or etc. so that no one would want to be around you)

- behind closed doors, the family may deny this person their needs &/or desires (as bad as denying food, & as small as denying a gift you asked for (but lashing out when you get it for yourself) - the point is ‘you’re not one of us so we don’t have to take care of you’)

- ‘¡I didn’t f*cking [whatever they’re being blamed for]!!” (either saying it, or thinking it, or it shows in body language / facial expressions)

- others blame this person for things beyond their control, &/or things that someone else did (‘someone moved the remote, it’s your fault now because I want someone to blame’)

- their supposed ‘crimes’ are likely exaggerated, dramatized, & unrealistic or even impossible

- eventually leaves the family system entirely (moves away, goes no contact, etc.)

~~~

What does this role feel like?:

- constant shame (I am bad/evil) & guilt (I did something bad)

- overwhelmed

- chronic fatigue (you’re always exhausted & sleepy no matter how much you rest)

- gets physically ill often (because trauma weakens the immune system, especially when you’re aware it’s trauma & not supposed to be normal / not supposed to happen)

- lashing out, then regretting it

- dissociation (reality isn’t real + I’m not real)

- desire to / dreaming of leaving the family behind

- guilt & shame that you want to leave the family

- anger. frustration. rage. (this kind of anger stems from pain & betrayal)

- emotional isolation (because the whole point of scapegoating someone is to cut them off from help & from other family members)

- failure. like you failed your family.

- “I don’t belong in my family” (because they’re constantly treating you like you don’t) &/or “I don’t belong in any family because I’d be [terrible/a burden/etc.]”

- negative voices in your head; self deprecating

- “infected” abandonment wound (as in, it’s amplified on a regular basis because of how you’re treated)

~~~

If you were also put in this role, you deserve better & I hurt with you. You can leave your family & cut contact, you can heal, & you’re allowed to (not that you need my permission, but I know it can be reassuring to hear/see someone say it anyway).

If your sibling is in this role, it’s not your fault (it’s your parents’/caretakers’/egg &/or sperm donor’s/donors’ fault). You may want to gently let them know you believe them & are there for them. Stand up for them if you’re feeling brave, &/or break out of the family system with them & stick by their side.

~Lucca (soother, protector) & Ace (protector)

[engie-ivy]

Another story for my candy heart fix from @goodboylupin and the Candy Hearts Challenge! Humour, lots of shameless flirting and a fed up Regulus.

Candy heart message: CRUSHIN'

Regulus has agreed to tutor a classmate in statistics, but quickly comes to regret his life choices when the only chance the guy seems interested in, is the chance of getting to snog Regulus’ older brother.

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Part one: Crushin'

Part two: Fallin'

What chance do I have? Part one: Crushin'

REGULUS BLACK: You can come over. My parents aren’t home.

REMUS LUPIN: ??

REGULUS BLACK: Oh my god. That sounded wrong.

REGULUS BLACK: I meant for the tutoring session.

REGULUS BLACK: I know my parents’ reputation. I thought you’d feel more comfortable coming here knowing they aren’t home.

REGULUS BLACK: I am NOT trying to hook up with you.

REMUS LUPIN: Oh thank god.

REMUS LUPIN: Not that you’re not an attractive guy.

REMUS LUPIN: I just don’t see you like that.

REMUS LUPIN: And I mean, you’re probably a bit young for me.

REGULUS BLACK: Lupin.

REGULUS BLACK: Please shut up.

Remus drops his phone on his bed with a shudder.

He’s not a bad student. He knows all about history and writes killer political essays. He’s just terrible with numbers, but he needs to pass his statistics course.

Regulus is a quiet guy, but he’s nice enough. Rumour has it that his parents are these excessively pushy and high-demanding lot, who bully their children to do nothing but study and threaten the school into letting them skip grades. Apparently, they want their eldest son to become the youngest doctor in town, and their youngest son the youngest lawyer, just so they can brag about their advanced children to their posh friends. They’re lucky both their sons are actually very intelligent. Regulus is in Remus’ class, despite being much younger, and they say his older brother, who should be somewhere around Remus’ age, is already in college.

In any case, Regulus won’t pass up the opportunity to earn some extra credit by tutoring Remus in statistics over the summer.

The house of the Black family is exactly like Remus would’ve pictured it. Very old-fashioned, with weird, old objects everywhere, but while some houses packed with old stuff seem warm and cosy, the Blacks’ house just seems cold and dark.

Remus is sitting at the kitchen table watching Regulus flip through textbooks, talking about how they’ll start with refreshing his knowledge on basic chance calculation before moving on to z-scores and significance tests.

Remus is already bored.

Suddenly, a tall, muscular, slightly sweaty guy barges into the kitchen. He’s wearing running shoes, shorts and a t-shirt that clings to his form and shows off his broad shoulders. As good as the shirt looks on him, Remus isn’t complaining when he takes it off, revealing his well-trained torso.

“Jesus, it’s warm outside,” the guy says, dropping the shirt on the floor while pulling the hair tie out of his hair and letting it fall in dark waves across his shoulders. He grabs a water bottle out of the fridge, and throws his head back to drink, spilling some water that drips down over his chest.

As Remus not very subtly ogles the guy, he wonders whether statistics was so boring that he zoned out and is now in some sort of hormonal teenage fantasy. Well, he hopes that if that were the case, he would’ve at least not fantasized Regulus sitting there, glaring from the guy, to Remus, and back to the guy.

“Sirius!” Regulus eventually snaps. “We have a guest.” He gestures at Remus.

The guy, Sirius, who must be the older brother, turns his head and only now spots Remus sitting there. He smiles sheepishly at him. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Remus says, and they just look and smile at each other for a while.

Then, Remus leans his head on his hands, giving the guy a sweet smile. “So, do you come here often?”

Sirius blinks at him. “Eh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I kind of live here.” He quickly recovers himself. “What about you? You’re a classmate of Reggie? You must be new. I don’t recall seeing you when I went to school there, and I definitely would’ve remembered a face like yours.”

Remus grins. “Yes, my parents moved around a lot, so I went to a lot of different schools.”

Sirius raises his water bottle. “Well, here’s to hoping you’ll stick around this time.” He takes a swig and then grins. “And hoping you’re so bad at... statistics, was it? That you’ll be coming around here more often.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Remus says, looking up at Sirius through his lashes. “I’m bad. I’m very, very bad.”

A slight flush appears in Sirius’ neck, but the grin stays in place. “Good. Then I guess I’ll be seeing you. I’ll try to keep my shirt on next time.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account!” Remus calls after Sirius as he leaves the kitchen.

As he stares through the window at other side of the house into the backyard, where Sirius has gone to stretch, Remus can feel Regulus’ eyes burning on him.

“What?”

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Regulus shakes his head. “What is it that people see in him?”

Remus points towards the backyard, where Sirius is just bending over to stretch the back of his legs. He doesn’t think he needs any more explanation.

Regulus groans.

The second tutoring session, Sirius walks into the kitchen in low-hanging sweatpants, clearly just out of the shower, with damp hair and a towel around his neck, again shirtless.

He smiles as he sees Remus. “How is it every time I see you I’m not wearing a shirt?”

“I guess I’m just lucky?” Remus suggests.

“I know chance calculation isn’t your strong suit,” Regulus says without looking up from his book. “But considering the fact that Sirius walks around shirtless ninety percent of the time, you don’t need much luck. In fact, it would’ve been more impressive if you saw Sirius with his shirt on.”

Remus lets his eyes wander over Sirius’ muscular chest and abs. “I highly doubt it.”

Regulus’ eyes snap up as Sirius sits down on the kitchen counter. “No. You. Out. Now.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “You’re kicking me out of my own kitchen in my own house? I’m not disturbing you.”

“Lupin has enough trouble learning anything as it is, without you sitting there making eyes at him, turning his brain to mush.”

Sirius glances at Remus, who just shrugs. Regulus isn’t wrong.

The third tutoring session is, to Remus’ disappointment, at his house. He’d wanted to protest, but Mr and Mrs Black are apparently back from their business trip, and shamelessly flirting with Regulus’ hot, older brother in front of their strict, high-society parents seemed a little awkward anyway.

When Remus opens the door, a disgruntled looking Regulus immediately pushes past him and strides into the house, leaving Remus looking at a brightly smiling Sirius.

“Hi! Regulus wanted to ride his bike here, but you know, it’s probably going to rain, so I thought it better to give him a ride in my car instead.”

Remus looks up at the clear blue sky with the sun shining brightly, not a cloud to be seen anywhere.

“I see,” Remus says. “And I suppose you have to give him a ride home as well?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“And it’ll be a lot of trouble if you have to drive all the way up and down again.”

“So much trouble indeed.”

“The best thing is probably for you to just stay here.”

“That sure seems like the best solution to me.”

For the fourth tutoring session, Remus has lost track of time sitting at the kitchen table at the Black family home, drinking tea and chatting with Sirius. Remus is telling him about all the different places he has lived, and Sirius is telling him what it’s like to be in college at his age.

REGULUS BLACK: What’s keeping you?

REMUS LUPIN: ?

REMUS LUPIN: I’ve been at your house for like more than an hour, waiting for you to come down from your room?

“You said you’d let me know when Lupin got here!” Regulus points a finger at Sirius.

Sirius blinks innocently at him. “It slipped my mind. I have such a bad memory.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “You know the Latin name for each part of the human body by heart!”

“Did you know Remus wants to study history?” Sirius says, not very subtly changing the subject. “Won’t he just make the cutest professor?”

“Not so much as you’ll make the hottest doctor!” Remus replies.

“Yes,” Regulus says, while placing his books on the table. “I’m sure the scientific community and the world of medicine will be greatly benefitted from your good looks.”

Remus sighs.

Sirius has just gone upstairs after Regulus threw a book at his head when he interrupted his explanation for the fifth time, distracting a very willingly-distracted Remus with cute dog videos.

Remus sighs again.

Undeterred, Regulus keeps on talking about some jar of marbles out of which Remus for some reason only wants to take the red ones.

Remus sighs again.

“Is there any chance you’re going to stop doing that if I keep ignoring you?”

Remus shakes his head, and Regulus drops his pen and looks up at him. “Okay, what is it?”

“I don’t think I want to snog your brother anymore,” Remus says.

He had expected Regulus to be relieved, but instead something fiercely protective flashes over his face. “I swear to god, Lupin, if you were just leading him on all this time...”

“What? No!” Remus quickly says. “I just mean that I don’t want to just snog your brother anymore. I think I actually like him! Like, like like him! I think I have a crush on your brother! You know, the massive, won’t-go-away-on-his-own kind.”

Regulus just stares at him.

“I mean, at first I just thought he was incredibly hot, funny and charming,” Remus continues. “But now I found out he’s also clever, sweet and caring!” Remus’ tone makes it sound like it’s the worst betrayal he’s ever experienced.

“And this is a problem how?” Regulus asks.

“He’s in college!” Remus exclaims. “He’s probably just looking for a fun summer flirt to pass his time before school starts again, and now he has ruined me for other men forever!”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lupin, I know you’re terrible at chance calculation, so I’m going to put this in words even you can understand. The chance of my brother being into you is one hundred percent.”

“Really?” Remus’ face brightens.

Now it’s Regulus’ turn to sigh. “I never thought I’d ever be saying this, but I’ve had enough. Lupin, will you please go upstairs and snog my brother?”

Remus knocks once and then steps into Sirius’ bedroom. He’s immediately backed up0 against the door by Sirius’ body pressing against him. Sirius’ arms wrap around his waist and Remus’ arms almost automatically wrap around his neck, so he’ll soon be able to finally run his fingers through that perfect hair.

Their faces are so close together Remus can feel Sirius’ breath as he speaks. “Took you long enough.”

Part two

[colossal-fallout]

First kiss 💋

With Reiner Braun

Notes: SFW. Smut of the smuttiest. More fluff than a prancing kitten. It switches between she/you/yn a lot I just edited it from a previous piece I'd made a little while ago and mobile Tumblr isn't the best for my fat thumbs.

As soon as my computer is fixed I'll tidy it up ✌️

It's year three of the cadets. Reiner finally has you all to himself as you browse the market stalls in the quaint town of the Trost District.

But a summer shower quickly dampens his already low spirits, knowing these feelings for you are strictly forbidden...

As the sky began to darken over Trost, Reiner glanced up at the gathering clouds and wondered if he should call it a day. He was reluctant to; it wasn’t very often he got to have you all to himself.

His golden eyes glanced at y/n as she pondered over the stall she was standing at – the vendor excited to show the wares. His eyes then fell to the pavement under his feet. She looked gorgeous as usual. Her white dress hugged her curves and it flowed right down to just above her ankles. He’d noticed the glances she gotten from men, of course he did. He also noticed the second looks he had gotten.

Eyes filled with envy.

Those men thought you were a couple and Reiner secretly loved it. What he wouldn’t give for that to be true.

“Reiner?” Your soft voice called out, snapping his attention.

“What do you think of these gloves for Mikasa? They’d definitely help with her training.”

Sweet y/n.

Whenever she had spare money, she would spend it on her friends. Mikasa had been getting blisters from her pairing blade hilts. They’d joked she takes out her frustration towards Eren’s behaviour out on her grip; pretending they were his neck.

“Uh, yeah. I think they’ll come in handy, sure.” He replied half dazed.

“Everything okay?” she asked as she handed the salesperson the cash. “You seem a bit out of it.”

He instantly pulled up his usual facade. “Me? I’m fine. Looks like it’s going to rain though. We should head back.”

“Okay.” She smiled slightly, taking the paper bag with the leather gloves inside. They began to walk down the street back towards the barracks.

He silently kicked himself.

He wanted to take each step as slowly as possible, trying to wring out as much alone time as he could.

When did it get so bad?

If she didn’t have her swarm of friends around her constantly, and Bertolt didn’t act as his shadow maybe he wouldn’t be so desperate to be alone with her in the first place.

Why did he even want that though?

He wasn’t dense. He knew he had a soft spot for her and despite his best friend’s warnings, he ignored his advice to stay away. It got worse and worse like an neglected cavity in a tooth. The longer he left it, the deeper she bore into him. He wondered if the pain of a toothache would be better than this constant yearning to be near her.

When did he become so pathetic? When did he become so... weak?

Reiner Braun was the strongest male in the 104th with the highest grades. Dedicated. Focused. Yet this H/C'd girl walking beside him with her sparkling e/c eyes could easily bring him to his knees.

He’d gone through the implications in his head over and over. His friends from back home wouldn’t approve. It’s not like they didn’t like y/n... In fact he was surprised how well she got along with them.

It was because they didn’t join cadets to fool around with beautiful women.

They were there to return home. Home... He wondered what his family would think of her. That was when he shook his head.

No.

There wasn’t any use in going down that trail.

“Oh no...” y/n winced as fat rain drops began to fall from the swollen clouds.

It was a summer day so they didn’t think to bring a jacket. In fact, none of their friends earlier had been wearing one.

Within seconds the heavy drops were crashing down all around them, people ran for cover and merchants began to hurriedly set up a canopy over their goods.

Reiner grabbed her wrist and began to run.

“Summer shower.” He explained. “It won’t last long, but it’ll be a soaker.” . Women around them let out a squeal as a loud rumble of thunder echoed out over the town. Puddles were already forming as Reiner hurriedly led her down the clearing street. As they ran, water splashed around their ankles from collecting on the road.

With his free hand, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“What are you doing?!” you called out over the loud crashing of water. “You’ll catch your death!” By the time she uttered the last word of her sentence he whipped around and lay his large shirt over her head before returning to pull her along.

“Dont want that pretty dress to be ruined, do we?” he joked, yet his face stayed serious. “Reiner...” you whispered in awe, inaudible due to the rain.

Not long after, you'd reached the stables where the transport horses were kept. It was deserted, being the cadets weekend off and were carting the soldiers to their home towns for the next couple of days.

Reiner pushed open the large wooden door of the hay storage barn, before ushering you inside.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed once they were tucked in away from the downpour.

Beads of rain rolled down his bare flesh, trailing down his pronounced pectorals and solid abs.

Reiner shrugged. “Didn’t want you getting cold and wet.”

Your eyes softened gorgeously as he turned to rub his hand over his hair, getting excess droplets off him.

His back muscles flexed with every small movement before he turned back around, Goosebumps raising on his skin and his nipples hardening from the chill.

The barn was filled with the relaxing sounds of the heavy pattering of rain on the wooden roof above their heads. This was the side of Reiner you'd been waiting to see.

You knew he had it in him, underneath the crude jokes and the flirting attempts. He was a gentleman through and through. He just liked to hide it for whatever reasons she didn’t know.

His shirt was warm and his scent rolled off it into her nose.

You hadn’t realised how much you actually enjoyed his smell until now. It sent waves of comfort over you, like the smell alone was his big strong arms wrapping around your body, ensuring your safety and comfort.

Yes.

You'd decided.

You had been pondering on your feelings towards your classmate for a little while now and wanted to be sure. The torment of professionalism as well as distractions from training had been hanging over your head.

But there was just something about him that you was pulled to.

He jumped a little when you placed your soft hand gently on his forearm. The skin across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes instantly heated up, turning a hue of pink.

You were so close to him and he got what he always yearns for – for your skin to be touching his.

The next thing he knew you were reaching up and planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

The breath caught in his throat and that pinkness burned more brightly. Every muscle in his body tensed and his eyes enlarged slightly. But what really sent his chest thudding was when you pulled the kiss away.

You kept your face close to his, now bearing the same pink hue. Your gorgeous eyes glistened, long lashes framing them beautifully. You smiled adorably, pulling at his shirt that was now draped across your shoulders.

“Thank you...”

Y/N spoke softly, her hair a little messed up from the shirt but it just made her look even more beautiful.

“For what...?” he replied in a haze.

“Being you...”

Those last words penetrated straight through his macho exterior and felt like they pierced into his heart, injecting some sort of warm fluid that quickly spread across his entire chest.

He didn’t even think.

It was like he went on auto pilot and his instincts just took over.

Placing the side of his index finger under her chin, he tilted her head up slightly and closed the gap between them, gently pressing his lips against hers.

His heart smashed against his solid barrel chest as she kissed him back, her lips softer than he had ever imagined them to be.

She ran her hands up his shoulders and hung them, opening her mouth a little wider as they kissed, giving him full permission to explore her mouth.

He did so without hesitation.

Sliding his tongue passed her sweet lips, he entwined it with hers.

It felt like fireworks and explosion were going off around him and he thought he could see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Having her kissing him and getting to be this close and intimate with her was the best feeling he’d ever had.

The adrenaline was richer and sweeter than any fight he’d been in or any training exercise.

It just felt perfect.

It began to get heated pretty quickly as their pace quickened slightly, deep exhales leaving his nose and his brow became furrowed and desperate.

She truly did make him feel weak.

He handled her gently. Although he knew she was strong, it she also felt delicate, like his big lumbering body could break her at any moment.

Her fingers ran through his hair and she pressed up against him, his arms wrapping around her in a sweet embrace.

Although he thought he was the luckiest man alive to be able to kiss her, his body quickly began needing more of her.

He battled with it, keeping it under control and letting her now take the lead of the kiss.

She gently pulled his pouty bottom lip with her teeth, making it that much harder for him to not throw her down and lift up her dress.

Instead, he settled for a please grunt, his brows creasing deeper as he became hungrier.

She slowly pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against hers, unable to hide the dumb grin that spread across his face as he caressed her hair with his right hand.

“What’s with that goofy grin?” she joked quietly; her sweet breath warm on his face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He replied, his grin stretching further.

Smiling, she lowered her head almost shyly at that titbit of information.

She then fixed her eyes on his. “Really?”

“Of course...” he looked genuinely surprised. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh stop.” She laughed.

He took her hand and placed it on his bare chest over his rapid heartbeat. His honey eyes not removing their gaze from hers. “I swear.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Well, you have awful taste.” Was what she settled for.

But having Reiner Braun, of whom didn’t really catch her eye at first, now she’d gotten to know him was extremely attractive; his chest bare and holding her close like this set a burning desire deep within her.

One that she would have to keep under control.

...For now.

She gently placed her hand on his jawline before replacing her mouth onto his.

He let out a small unintentional exhale from his nose, more than happy to slide his warm tongue back inside of her.

Her hands gently caressed his broad shoulders, her pace quickening and her teeth grazing his lip.

She didn’t want to let things get too heated too quickly, but battling her urges seemed like an uphill battle. He’d grown on her a hell of a lot over the last three years and having him hold her like this felt amazing.

As Reiner kissed her, he pushed away the little voice inside of his head that was telling him this was all a big mistake and he had just complicated things massively.

He didn’t care.

His feelings for her had always surpassed the doubts that swirled around in his mind. And now, knowing she had some reciprocating feelings it was incomprehensible that he would now turn his back on her.

He grazed his hand lightly up her arm as he slowly and almost gracefully devoured the inside of her mouth. Her skin was the softest thing he’d ever touched like some fine silk from a faraway land. He almost felt like he was ruining her just by having his unworthy hands upon her flesh.

She pulled away once again and he sealed their kiss with another gently peck.

“This is crazy...” she sighed taking a step back. “We’re training to be soldiers.”

“I know how you feel, believe me.” He muttered, a frown tugging at his mouth. “But I think life’s a little too short to be putting good things on the back burner.”

She pondered on that for a moment.

He began to feel desperate. Now that he had her affections within his grasp, he wasn’t about to let them slip through his fingers.

“I mean...” he took a step forward and held her hand into his large pair. “I know I joke around a lot but you...”

He paused for a moment, choosing his words.

“I didn’t kiss you with the intention of just having you then leaving. ...I want us to be together. Properly. Hell, if we weren’t in Cadets, I would be asking you to marry me right now.”

That blushing hue returned to his face as he shyly looked away, not used to spilling out his feelings like this.

But the humiliation and discomfort would be worth it if he managed to gain her as his own.

Again... When did I get so weak?

She did a better job than he at hiding the grin that was threatening to spread across her face.

Instead, her face matched his reddening tone.

“Are you saying... You love me, Reiner Braun?” she spoke softly.

He pushed away every instinct that told him to run and hide.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am.” He replied steadily.

Now it was her turn to ignore her instincts to run.

“R-Reiner. It’s not that I don’t care for you too, I do. But... Ah, it’s complicated.” She grimaced. “I don’t know when.. uh... I’ll be ready to...” her face was almost glowing at this point.

“Hey hey...” he soothed. “Its okay. I love you. I don’t care about waiting.” His face returned to the familiar serious soldier expression she was so used to seeing during training. “Even if you’d wanna wait until after marriage. I don’t mind.”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “Its not that. Maybe we can talk about it... Another time?”

It perplexed him but he didn’t mind. “Of course.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“So...?” He melted back into that cheeky smirk.

The classic Reiner grin. Mischievous and cunning.

“You wanna give this a shot?”

Y/N noticed the rain had slowed to a stop, the clouds had moved on and the sun was shining once again.

She’d known Reiner now for almost two years. Spent every single day pretty much in his presence. They’d worked together, laughed together and well... Now this.

She reminded herself how strong that urge was to kiss him only minutes ago. Why she initiated closeness in the first place. Her mind fluttered through the pages of her recent memories and how he had been making her feel these days and how her eyes have been lingering upon him a little longer than she’d like.

She let out a sigh before smirking back at him. “Sure. But don’t get comfortable now. Just because you have me doesn’t mean you can start slacking your charm.”

She playfully pushed his cheeks together with her index and thumb, resulting in a chuckle rumble from his broad chest.

“I swear it.” He grinned, kissing her.

“Come on. We’d better head back.” She smiled, handing him back his shirt.

[flipomatic]

Animosity

Summary: Princess Bubblegum didn’t handle the breakup well. Spoilers for Obsidian.

Author Note: This is part 2/2 with Spite, by Baxter54132. Make sure to read that one first, if you haven’t.

________________________________________________________

0 AB

As Princess Bubblegum fled the scene, the song echoed in her mind. The words ‘I’m so glad that I woke up’ rang over and over, bringing tears to her gum eyes. She didn’t look back until she had completely descended the mountain.

She only watched for a moment, watched as the glass people celebrated Marceline in the distance, before climbing in the candy van and driving away. She was sure Marceline could find her own way home. She didn’t know where Marceline would go, and she lied to herself that she didn’t care.

This brought a fresh wave of sadness, of tears. Tears that were only in the way of her seeing the ground ahead as she drove. Not that the first wave had faded, in fact it all compounded in what felt like an overwhelming tsunami.

Somehow though, through blurry eyes, Bubblegum was able to reach the Candy Kingdom. The citizens welcomed her back warmly, as they always did. She put on her usual smile, crooked from the strain, to greet them. It was her duty as their Princess.

Later that night though, once all of the activity had settled down, she couldn’t stop the cracks from showing.

It was a mistake to go into her lab.

This was where they’d been, just before they left for the Glass Kingdom. Bubblegum had been standing right behind the counter, jamming electrodes in a small fleshy mass. Marceline was floating by her side, practicing a song. They were there together.

They had kissed, perhaps for the last time, right in this spot. Right in this room.

There was no stopping her tears now, no duty she had to fulfill or path she had to see. There was only her broken relationship and the demolished pieces of her candy heart.

Bubblegum leaned against the counter, next to the mass of flesh that was still there. Tears dripped down her face and landed on the surface, the quiet plinking sound unnoticeable beneath her sobs. Her hands shaking, Bubblegum laid her arms on the counter and buried her face in them to muffle the sounds. She hoped nobody would walk by, that no one would hear this.

She still couldn’t believe that Marceline had just broken up with her, through a song of all things. Music had always brought them together, but not anymore. She had just been trying to help the glass people; how had things gone so wrong?

For a while, she just cried. Marceline had once told her that a good cry can be cathartic, but Bubblegum disagreed. Crying was messy and uncomposed. It was unproductive.

Bubblegum turned her head to look up from her arms. There were more things in this room that Marceline had touched, photos of them together that had been framed and hung. They were all together on one of the walls, all watching Bubblegum’s meltdown.

Well, there would be no more of that. She stood up straight and wiped her face. That didn’t remove the tear streaks, which embedded themselves in her cheeks due to her candy nature. Bubblegum grabbed a large cardboard box, one that she had received supplies in just a few days before, before everything fell apart.

The photographs were easy to remove from the wall. She dropped them in the box haphazardly, pushing them flat against the bottom. There was no point in removing the frames; she didn’t want them.

Then Bubblegum sealed the box shut, using some super strong glue she made in an experiment. This box wouldn’t be opening again.

She lifted the box and put it on top of a shelf, high up where it would be easy to ignore. She thought that would be fine, but when Bubblegum turned away from it she still felt uneasy. The photos were still there, Marceline was still there. Yes, she understood that was an irrational thought, but her feelings couldn’t be ignored.

It wasn’t good enough, so she took the box back down. There was only one place to get rid of it for good.

The castle was quiet at this hour and nobody would think twice about seeing the Princess carrying a box. She often brought things to and from the castle, there was nothing unusual about it.

Bubblegum told herself that as she worked her way outside, stopping at the gardening station to get a shovel. If she had the patience she would’ve created a potion to do the work for her, but a shovel was still better than using her bare hands.

She walked around the castle to the rear, where she’d built a garden. She used to spend evenings here with Marceline, just sitting among the flowers. This was the perfect place to store the photos.

Bubblegum chose a spot, looked around to make sure no one was nearby, and then dug the shovel into the dirt. The ground was soft here, so it was easy to make a small hole.

Within a few minutes, she had a hole that her box would fit nicely into. She carefully placed it inside, and then turned the dirt back over it.

“Goodbye, Marcy.” Bubblegum muttered when she put that last shovelful of earth onto it. She patted it down so it would be flat, and made a mental note to get some grass seed to put on this spot. Once the grass was regrown, it would be impossible to find the photos.

Marceline’s spirit wouldn’t be able to watch her without them.

Bubblegum quietly returned the shovel to the gardening station before going back inside the castle. She returned to her lab; she couldn’t leave it as messy as it was.

The table, where she had been crying, was now gross and sticky. Bubblegum cleaned it carefully, as it was her responsibility to do. She tidied her other supplies, putting away the materials from the trip.

Afterwards Bubblegum went to her room; she was in desperate need of some rest.

There was something she’d forgotten, something that sent her emotions spiraling out of control once again.

The t-shirt, the one Marceline gave to her, was sitting out on her bed. She had worn it as pajamas the night before, to feel closer to Marceline.

Now, the sight of it turned her stomach. It reminded her of the song Marceline had performed that day, and every other performance before that. Bubblegum loved that shirt, she loved Marceline, but seeing it stabbed deep.

She picked it up, then glanced at the window. She considered it for only a moment, how satisfying the trajectory of the object would be, before folding the shirt up instead. No, this wasn’t something to be disposed of. No matter how she felt right now, Bubblegum knew she would regret it.

She lifted one of the floorboards in her room, that had space beneath it. The shirt was placed within, and then sealed in the darkness.

Throughout the night, she could only hear echoes of the breakup song ringing in her ears.

For the next few years, anything that reminded Bubblegum of Marceline ended up beneath that floorboard. This was mostly her cd’s along with various red things. Keeping them out of sight helped her cope.

When Bubblegum spent long hours working, she didn’t have to think about things that hurt. Though, it was impossible to forget Marceline’s claim that she wasn’t fit to rule her kingdom. She would prove her wrong.

Bubblegum focused on ruling her kingdom with excellence, both because she wanted to and out of spite. She tried to improve the lives of the candy citizens, working with science to help them. She strengthened the borders of the kingdom, improved diplomatic relations, and worked tirelessly for her people. She would show Marceline just how wrong she was.

Though she would never admit it, Bubblegum spent some time trying to create a candy companion for herself. She had made all of the candy people after all; what was the issue with one more creation? She asked herself that question, but never publicly discussed the matter.

Her creation could play the guitar and sing beautiful melodies. It followed her around like a lost puppy, offering to help with her other experiments. It did exactly what she made it to do. Bubblegum felt ashamed at having created it, and without a word remolded its candy into an independent citizen.

Over time, her sadness simmered down. Only anger and bitterness remained.

______________________________________________________

105 AB

Bubblegum had been excited for the bonfire. She always enjoyed seeing the other princesses, as they were her closest friends.

Seeing Marceline there, hovering above the crowd, had been a surprise. After all these years, she had forgotten what it felt like for her heart to race. The feeling was quickly followed by queasy anger, along with curiosity as to why Marceline had come here. She pretended she hadn’t seen her and hoped Marceline would do the same.

Of course, Marceline didn’t. When Bubblegum asked the question on her mind, Marceline said she wanted to talk. A hundred years ago Bubblegum would’ve wanted to talk. Now though, now she certainly didn’t. She lashed out, pushed Marceline away and stormed off.

After the bonfire ended, Bubblegum wondered if she’d been too harsh. It had been a very long time after all, what if Marceline had important information regarding the kingdom? What if she had wanted to apologize? Either way Bubblegum tried to put it behind her; there were more important things to worry about. Besides, she didn’t care about Marceline.

That didn’t stop a response from coming.

A few days after the campfire, Peppermint Butler brought an envelope in that had been left in front of the castle. He told Bubblegum it was addressed to her.

The envelope was heavy; it seemed to contain more than just paper. It had one word written on it, the name “Bonnie” scrawled in familiar handwriting. This was Marceline’s handwriting. Bubblegum ran one finger over the familiar letters.

Bubblegum should’ve thrown it away; she knew that. But it was Marceline; she couldn’t resist.

She opened the envelope carefully, making sure not to rip it. There were two objects inside: a piece of paper and a cd.

Bubblegum started with the paper. It was a small note, just folded in half and placed inside.

It read, “I remixed this song just for you – Marceline.” Bubblegum read it over twice, taking in the familiar scrawl. If they had still been dating, these words would’ve filled her with warmth. Now though, they only carried annoyance and dread.

The cd was next. It was in a clear plastic case, with both the case and the cd unmarked. In order to listen to it, Bubblegum would need a cd player. She had one, though she hadn’t used it in a very long time. She thanked Peppermint Butler for bringing it to her, and then retreated to her room.

Under the floorboard, on top of a pile of cds, was where she found her cd player. Luckily it only needed a change of batteries to work, so Bubblegum was able to put the cd in and listen to whatever Marceline had put on it.

She regretted it almost immediately. A familiar set of lyrics played out of the device, a song that had haunted Bubblegum for the last hundred years.

“I’m so glad that I woke up. I don’t really care about your stupid Candy Kingdom.” The backtrack was different, and at a new tempo, but the lyrics were the same. Even one hundred years later they still cut deep. It had been a long time since Bubblegum had felt so small.

Bubblegum still listened to the whole song, just in case there was something else at the end. Unfortunately there was only static. A wave of fury swept over her; how dare Marceline send her this?

She ripped up the note after the track ended, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. It all felt fresh again, fresh anger with Marceline for breaking up with her.

Rage at how she was still rubbing it in.

Bubblegum stormed through her castle, barging into the banana guard’s headquarters. She still had the cd player in her hand.

“I’m issuing an arrest warrant.” She practically hissed, grinding one heel against the floor. “For Vampire Queen Marceline. If she sets foot inside the Candy Kingdom, she is to be arrested at once.”

“Yes Ma’am.” The lead banana guard replied.

With that done, Bubblegum went to her lab. She removed the cd from the player and lit a candle.

She wondered if cd’s dripped when melted. Now it was time to find out.

__________________________________________________________

150 AB

Marceline had been even more annoying since Bubblegum put out the warrant for her arrest. She seemed to take it as an invitation to visit the kingdom way more often, always causing trouble when she did.

She kept dumping dirt inside the castle and playing her bass loudly outside Bubblegum’s window at 3:00 am. Bubblegum wasn’t sure why she was doing this, probably just to be irritating. If that was her goal, Bubblegum was sad to admit it was working.

Bubblegum knew how to catch her though. All it took was a special net that was bat proof and thrown at just the right time. They locked her up in the jail, where she would serve her sentence. Bubblegum had gone to speak with her, despite her better judgement.

To say it went poorly would be an understatement. Bubblegum lied, an angry spiteful lie.

As Bubblegum watched Marceline fly away, she immediately regretted what she said. Yes, she was angry with Marceline, but it had been a hundred and fifty years now.

She shouldn’t lash out forever. She was supposed to be the mature one after all.

As the mature one, she needed to apologize. For the warrant, and for her words.

Of course, finding Marceline was easier said than done. Despite chasing her around the kingdom for the last fifty years, her guards had no idea where she lived.

Bubblegum knew where she used to live, but Marceline had always been a drifter. The odds that she still lived there were slim to none.

Still, Bubblegum needed to find her. She left Peppermint Butler in charge for a few days and set off to do just that.

She started with Marceline’s old home, a place that was full of memories. It was a small house located on a river, not too far from the Candy Kingdom. Bubblegum had spent more than a few nights there in the past. Happy memories that she had tried to forget.

Now, when she spotted the house in the distance, she could tell it had been abandoned. She peered in the windows just to make sure, and saw that all the furniture had been removed. No photos on the wall, no posters, nothing at all. Only a few spiders remained.

Bubblegum was disappointed, but undeterred. She would keep searching.

Her search would take longer than expected. It led her through multiple towns, asking if anyone had seen the vampire queen or someone who looked like her. Most hadn’t, until someone had. They sent her to a large tree that had been hollowed out. They spotted someone matching Marceline’s description flying in and out of the tree. Bubblegum thanked them profusely and went straight there.

Indeed, the building she found looked like a tree. It was a house carved into a tree, to be more precise. Bubblegum wondered how that had been done, if she could replicate it, but she didn’t have time to worry about it right now.

She hoped she was in the right place, but she wanted to make sure before she knocked. If it turned out this wasn’t where Marceline lived, that would be embarrassing. It Marceline actually was here, Bubblegum needed extra time to prepare. She still wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say. Facing the building she felt frozen, like no words would be good enough.

In the end, she climbed up the side of the tree. It was easy to climb, with plenty of places to grab onto. She stopped at one of the windows and looked inside.

The home seemed to be well decorated, with plenty of furniture. It looked like a comfy home. As expected, Marceline was inside. Something Bubblegum hadn’t expected to see, however, was the presence of another individual.

On the couch, intertwined together, was Marceline and a grey skinned man Bubblegum didn’t know. They were exchanging kisses, stopping occasionally to talk in hushed voices. They smiled at each other, foreheads pressed close together.

If Bubblegum’s heart had ever healed, this would’ve been a reprising blow. Luckily, or unluckily, it was still bleeding after all these years.

Here Marceline was, even after what Bubblegum said to her, perfectly happy in the arms of another.

She didn’t need Bubblegum, didn’t need her apology, didn’t need her to like her music.

Bubblegum slowly climbed down, fighting the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry over Marceline, not again.

She walked back to her kingdom, where Peppermint Butler was very happy to have her back. Bubblegum wasn’t happy to be back though.

That night, she opened the floorboard in her room. Bubblegum moved the cds aside to find the old rock t-shirt at the bottom.

She lifted it carefully, and then gave it a sniff.

Clearly, she wasn’t as ready to move on as she thought. She started using the shirt as pajamas once again, like she had so many years ago.

And for a while, that was all she saw of Marceline. Bubblegum didn’t search for her again, tried not to think of her or worry about her or wonder how her relationship was going.

For the next three hundred and fifty years Bubblegum focused on her Candy Kingdom, on her science, and later on the human named Finn.

When Finn showed up beneath her window, with Marceline in tow, she felt long forgotten annoyance. Long forgotten affection.

Suddenly, Marceline was back in her life.

[fangirlovestuff]

Holding Out For a Hero- Steve Rogers x Reader Pt.2

a/n- enjoy!<3 italics are for thoughts / dreams.

part 1

Two people decided they didn't really want to join, so you were left five newbies and five Avengers – Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bucky and Sam.

After a short way, you finally entered the tower. You barely registered how modern the interior design was, wanting to get a good look at everything that was going on inside the tower. They herded you all into the elevators, going straight to the roof.

On the roof, a jet waited for all of you. It was surprisingly comfortable and spacious, and you and Julia sat down next to each other. "The flight is about an hour. Feel free to rest, you'll probably need it." Tony said, taking his seat next to Natasha. Sam had to seat next to one of the men who came with us, but they seemed to get along fine.

You were pretty overwhelmed with the possibility that was dropped on you, so you told Julia and went to sleep.

You felt his warm lips on your neck, then your jaw, then kissing your mouth fervently. You eagerly returned his kiss, running your hands on his toned arms and abdomen. He pushed you into the bed, and you felt his body on top of yours. You hummed in pleasure as he continued his attack on your mouth, and you tangled your hands in his hair. He began trailing down your body, leaving open mouthed kisses on his way to where he knew you wanted him the most. "Steve," you moaned at the sensation of his beard between your thighs. You looked down at him and he grinned at you, kissing up your thigh, closer and closer until he was so near your folds you thrust your hips, and his mouth landed on your—

"Hey! You okay there girl?" you opened your eyes and saw Julia's face staring at you, concerned. You stretched your neck and moved in your seat. Your dream left you a little disoriented, and – shit – a lot wet. You came to your senses quickly. "Why did you wake me up?" you asked Julia upon seeing you were still mid-flight.

"You were fidgeting and breathing really heavily, I thought you were having a nightmare so I woke you up."

"I didn't say anything though, right?" you asked, concerned.

"No, nothing. Why? What was your nightmare about?"

"I don't really remember, that's why I asked. Anyway, you should probably get some sleep too. I'm gonna rest some more."

You put your earbuds in and put your playlist on shuffle. You closed your eyes, thanking every god possible you weren't a sleep-talker. You felt kind of bad about lying to Julia, but you just met her, and really, it was a white lie anyway. With a sigh you shifted and leaned back in your sit.

That's gonna be a problem.

Julia and Natasha already figured out your crush on Steve. You had to make sure he would never ever find out, because if he did you would probably be kicked off the team. despite still having no idea what exactly they expected you to do, working with the Avengers wasn't something you wanted to miss out on.

To Natasha and Julia you could belittle your feelings all you wanted, but you couldn't lie about this to yourself. Sure, you weren’t in love with him, but your crush was massive, as you were sure his—nope, not gonna do that. You giggled internally at your own bad joke. You had to admit – Steve Rogers was your dream man. Aside from being a super-hot super soldier, with great ass and abs for days, and a really sexy beard and his strong arms that that looked like they could manhandle you in the best way possible, and a– dammit. Why do I keep coming back to that? To get back on track, you were sure the super-soldier serum had its physical advantages. But over the years, the world, you included, got to know the man better, and honestly? He seemed amazing.

Steve Rogers will forever be known as the man who, in spite of being a super-enhanced soldier, solved almost all of his arguments in words. Even though he could definitely beat his opponent in a physical fight easily, he chose to put his intelligence and eloquence to the test, and verbally convinced them he was right. He was kind and considerate to every kid or adult that came up to him to express their gratefulness or appreciation to him, always making sure to tell them if they put their mind to it, they could do whatever they wanted. He was an inspiration to an entire generation of kids who were growing up with him as an example. Surprisingly, he learned to manage Twitter, and was constantly tweeting for Lgbtq+ rights, supporting the #BlackLivesMatter movement, or any other good cause he found. He raised money for charity and marched for women's rights. And in addition to all that, he was saving the world one catastrophe at a time.

So yeah, no one could really blame you for having a crush on Captain America. Hell, probably half the country did too.

The Avengers did a lot of press as well. Steve got asked tons of questions about Peggy, until one of these times he lost his patience and almost lashed out at the interviewer, who looked scared for her life.

"Listen here. Peggy is long gone from my life and you never knew her. I think the minimum level of respect you could give her is to not treat her as a love interest." His eyes blazing, he continued, "So if you have questions about Peggy as a person, go ask her family and leave me out of it." He stormed away from the interview.

Later that month an interview went out with the same interviewer.

"I wanna start by apologizing for the last time we met, you were just the hundredth person to ask me that question so I kinda lost it and I'm sorry." Steve apologized.

"No problem." She smiled at him. Sure, hot blonde interviewer. We all know he's hot when he's angry, you thought amusedly.

"It's just that, I really do miss her. She was a remarkable woman, and she achieved so much in her life when I wasn't around, so it bugs me to see her treated like my "love interest" in the media, and not acknowledging her accomplishments really sucks." Steve explained. "I will say though, ever since then no one asks me this kind of questions anymore." He chuckled, "So you did do me a great favor." He smiled at the interviewer.

They continued the interview, talking about Steve's new charity project "All in Challenge", about the Avengers and whatnot.

You shook out of your reverie. In the time you took to have this entire inner monologue, you noticed you were preparing for landing. You resolved to forget your crush on Steve. No matter how wonderful or single he was, you couldn't risk this opportunity. You had to keep it professional.

You landed quickly after that, getting off the plane and stretching your limbs. Tony signaled to come after him, so you followed. He led the way to the compound, where you entered and Wow it's so awesome in here! You couldn't wait to see everything, but before you could start asking questions Tony started talking.

"Hope you had an okay flight. Now you'll be led to your rooms. You can take a shower or something. There are some clothes already there for you. In exactly," Tony looked at his watch, "30 minutes someone will come pick you up and give you your missions, explain how is this gonna go and answer whatever questions you have as long as you don't annoy them too much. Dismissed."

Natasha approached Julia and you. "follow me, your rooms are pretty close to each other."

You took the elevator silently, without any floor cutting lasers this time.

She led you through multiple corridors and stopped in front of a door. "This one is Julia's." Julia went in after hurriedly exchanging your phone numbers.

You and Natasha walked another minute and then got to your room. "Here you go. This one is yours." She smiled at you. "Thanks." You smiled back and entered.

The room was fairly big, and the soft-looking queen size bed caught your eye immediately. It had a set of neatly folded clothes on it. You sighed, knowing you needed to shower and also wouldn't be able to sleep because you slept on the plane.

You got in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water on your skin. You really wanted to sing in the shower as you usually do, but you didn't know how soundproof the walls in here were. Well, gotta kick that habit, you thought.

You got out of the shower, drying off and putting on the clothes that were on the bed. They fit you quite well and were comfortable. You checked your phone- no new messages from Julia. Guess she's still in the shower.

There was a knock at the door. You opened it, expecting to see a serious S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Instead, you found yourself staring into Natasha's blue eyes. It was a very pleasant surprise.

"Come on. You're getting your mission from me."

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Moments in Time (Shinso Hitoshi x Reader fanfic) [Chapter 1]

Masterlist<3

It was lunch at school and you had your headphones on full volume, completely disregarding the rule againt 'all electronic devices' as well as every other human being in your presence.

'oh well, it's either this or being forced to listen to some no-name morons drone on about the colours of their shoes in the midst of the school halls... Boring.'

You couldn't help the irritation creeping its way from the corners of your mind and all the way down to your very fingertips, each one twitching and tensing in your reslessness.

Every fibre of your being screamed bitter outrage at the pompous brats in front of you for so much as existing. 'How the hell did they even manage to get accepted anyway?!'

Part of you felt like the biggest asshole for even getting angry in the first place 'Why am i so angry? What did they even do?' and you knew you had no reason to be overreacting like this - 'I shouldn't have even reacted at all..' - you really couldn't help it. You'd been in a bad mood since you woke.

A nagging feeling of despondency accompanied with the crippling need to lash out at the nearest thing that breathes clawed at the foundations of your mind. You really had been in a bad mood. So, like an asshole, you wanted to body-slam someone through a window along with your hormonal imbalance and 85% of your impulse control.

Remarkably, you managed to drag your feet past the brats and instead direct your attention to the dark skies out the window, now opening up to allow a heavy downpour of rain. Serenades on the roof of the building mixed with a heavy beating on the window to create a sort of melancholic atmosphere as the the pavements and buildings are made glossy, illuminated by street lamps above. 'It's too bad' you thought 'that noone loves this weather as much as i do'.

You made your way to the roof of the school, pondering over the fact that you had nade it into class 1-C. Despite your unusual quirk, you still managed to get accepted into UA High. Though, as difficult as the entrance exam may have seemed - 'and was' - anything is possible with an abundance of time. You had managed to slow down time and do half an hours worth of work in what was 30 seconds to anyone else.

Already you had been soaked to the bone, hair clinging to your face like that of a drowned rat. All it succeeded in doing was making you happier though, you really did love the feeling of the rain on your skin. That, paired with the beats of your the music playing in your ears took you to your own little world.

A/N: There are songs at the end of the chappie to sorta describe the vibe goin on so take a listen to those and you'll get a better feel of things...

Humming to the tune of your favourite song, you shifted towards a small corner behind the doorway, setting your sights on the large tear in the fence. Sitting down on the edge and getting lost in your thoughts was your absolute favourite pass-time. Ironic, really, considering part of your very identity was essentially stopping it.

Well, more like you would slow it down to to the point where you could be considered one of the fastest people alive. There were many scenarios in which your quirk was useless however, so you train until you drop in an effort to become strong without your quirk - which only aided you during the exam. Pulling people out the way of brutal attacks to cover for their excessive hubris and knocking down those ridiculous metal clowns tired you out, but got you a fairly high ranking in the end. Luckily for you, not the entire school board was conjured up of morons and someone was actually able to keep track of your progress.

Carefully creeping through the gap in the fencing, making sure not to slip and fall and just end your life, you gracefully planted your ass down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously a dangerous amount stories above ground. Taking in your surroundings and the sight of the rain so high up made you look down towards the bustling crowd of students below going about their own lives in the dark and be overcome with sonder. It would've been so easy to just give in to the call of the void - its breathy whisper tickling your ears, but sounding so distant at the same time.

'Oh, fuck off' you interrupted your own train of thought and berated yourself for thinking something so lame. 'If you really want someone to jump, do it yourself you lazy bastard'.

'And queue more internal struggling...' You always did wonder why you were such a gloomy person all the time. Was this really who you wanted to be in the future? 'I'm overthinking. I'm just an asshole with feelings'.

Your personal identity crisis was cut short when you noticed the rain ease up and the pleasant smell of petrichor fills your lungs.

'It must be last period by now... Whatever, i'll just bail' You thought. 'Its not like i can't afford it, anyway.'

Sitting like this and watching the world pass you by seemed much more favourable compared to sitting in that stuffy classroom. It just eased up your bad mood like nothing else could. And slowing down time to have this moment to yourself didn't appeal to you since you just wanted the day to be over already.

It's kind of sad that you live like this; waking up every morning just waiting for the day to end, but what else could you do? Your friends don't bother with you anymore and spending time with your family's just lame. It doesn't help that you harbour an intense hatred for your family - you love every family member individually but they can't get along with eachother, which is a constant stress. They all antagonise eachother and you're often forced to pick sides. That's a pretty shitty family, but hey, it's whatever.

Checking your phone for the time and being met with the large white numbers on your lock screen, you let slip a sigh. '14:50' it read. Another twenty minutes to go. Thoughts of wether you were going straight home or taking a detour through the park and chilling there for a while carried you to the end of the school day. Darkness plagued the skies and covered the world around you like a blanket.

'Perfect'

You couldn't help but love the dark, it left less room for people to judge you. Nobody could look at you funny if they couldn't see you. It made you feel lile there was nothing to worry about, like you didn't have to bother with anything at all - you could just relax.

As you stood, lifting your legs up and over the ledge back to the safety of flat ground, the time on your phone read "15:14". Now you could walk out amongst a crowd and not be spotted for bunking.

It's not like you aspired to be so slothful. It's just been kind of difficult finding motivation lately. So far, you've worked so hard to succeed out of spite for everyone who told you that "you're not good enough". 'Well look at me now, you bastards...'

~

When you finally made it to the park it was four in the afternoon and dark enough for all the street lamps to be lit. Strolling down the flooded, open pathway, you took out your phone and messaged your mother, telling her that you'd either be home late or be crashing at a friend's house. It was a friday after all.

Listening to music still as you walked, satiating your lisztomania, you looked up from the floor and startled at the person sitting in your designated - undesignated bench seat underneath the cover of a sakura tree, which was now dull and colourless with the lack of the sun's reflection. Stopping and removing your hands from the pockets of your oversized black jumper and pulling down the large hoodie from over your face, you turned down the volume on your headphones and popped one of the buds out of your ear.

By now you had caught the attention of the person - a boy - sitting on the bench. He raised his head from the screen of the phone in his hand, back straightening a little from its previously huched over position. He stared back at you with a look of enquiry etched onto his features. You took this time to fully take in his characteristics - his dark purple hair that flared out in large tufts, the way his facial expression barely changed from a look of boredom, the dark, almost permanent looking bags under his indigo eyes and lastly his attire - a uniform to match yours.

'Another UA student, huh?'

"Er.. Hi, sorry to intrude. It's just... I usually sit here after school. I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here is all. I - I'll go..." You let a nervous smile slip and went to turn around when you hear him address you. His voice, gravelly and husky, provided stark contrast against the psithurism and white noise of distant traffic.

"Wait. Y/N, isn't it? We're in the same class - 1C" he stated.

'Oops' you mused 'I wasn't paying enough attention to remember his name'. Bashful laughs pierced the silence as you wracked your brain for answers. Now you thought about it, he did seem very familiar.

"Erm" you try "Sh- er- shiro? Eh, Shu- shino...?"

'Jeez, I never was good with names.'

The boy lets out a short, closed-eye chuckle, shaking his head at your obviously failed attempts. He locks eyes with you again and smirks.

"You came close, but not quite. It's Shinso..."

[sexyshakespeare]

LIFEGUARD AU, CH 1: CAPTAINS ON DUTY

/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi, Kozume Kenma, Oikawa Tooru/ /Small mentions: Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutarou/ This was inspired by a really cute meme about the Haikyuu boys when someone is drowning- credit to op for making that! We absolutely loved it, and I had to start writing this AU cause- Kuroo, Daichi thirst strong  -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were both on duty today. He’d be thankful- having Sawamura on his team was definitely a load off his back.. but- “Oh fuck- another one- you want to get that or should I?”, Kuroo frowned as he saw them struggling to stay above the surface of water- right in the middle of the pool. He’d been watching them steadily swim to the middle.. and now they couldn’t swim anymore? It didn’t make any sense to him- but that was the nature of this job- absolutely no time to think. They had to rely on instinct and their rigorous training. And their good form of course. It was barely noon and they’d had twenty people almost drown- if Daichi or he weren’t in perfect shape, they’d have been too exhausted to move by now. “Man- I’ll take it..”, his voice sounded- tired. Kuroo smiled softly at him and patted his shoulder as he started to run with his board towards the pool- pool C this time. They were both on duty for two other pools- and it was a busy day. It really didn’t help that a lot of their friends had shown up today as well. It was a pool party of sorts- which Tetsurou and Daichi couldn’t join in on cause they were on duty. The rooster haired man sighed heavily and leaned against his chair, his eyes scanning the pools for anyone else who suddenly decided their legs had turned to lead at the deep end of the pool.. His eyes fell on a familiar, comfort inducing sight.. his pudding head. Kuroo smiled softly looking at him- he was sitting on one of the foldable chairs, squinting at his phone, his pretty hair falling over his face. He probably hated being here.. he knew he’d only come cause Kuroo was on duty. The man found himself smiling wider at the thought- he showed his support for him all the time, even if he didn’t quite have the words for it sometimes. Then Kenma looked up. What was he looking at.. well- it didn’t seem very interesting cause he saw the blond look back down into his phone and lean back into his chair. Kuroo looked a little to his left- his eyes bugging out when he saw him- WAS THAT OIKAWA?? HIS ARMS WERE FLAILING- DEAR fucking god- Where was Daichi?? Probably still at Pool C- he had to run. He barely had time to grab his floatation device before running towards the area. “TETSU CHAN!” “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING-“ “IM DROWNING OBVIOUSLY?” Kuroo squinted at him- he didn’t look like he was drowning.. he was tall enough to stand up at that depth. “JUST STAND UP-“ “I c AN T” He groaned a little and got into the pool- leaving the board outside. He swam towards the middle, putting his arms around him to pull him onto his own body- before tipping him very purposefully forward- it resulted in his legs definitely touching the ground- just his head above the water. Kuroo raised his brows at him. “Well- h a- I guess I forgot how?”, he said cheekily and winked at him. Why was he like this. “I ought to smack you-“ “Tetsu chan don’t be like that! I swear I just forgot..”, another grin from him- his hair sopping wet. He laughed at him a little and grabbed his chin- squeezing a little and splashing water on him. Oikawa joined in fast, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and laughing in his ear. He loved playing with him- but he seriously was at his job right now- Then Kuroo looked up then to see Kenma /glaring/. Oh wow.. “Kitty.. you okay?” No sound.. “He’s going to drown me for real..”, Tooru whispered in his ear before throwing a sheepish grin towards Kenma. Kuroo patted his chest a little and got out of the pool- his hair was wet too now, and had to be pushed out of the way. Oh- his shorts were wet as well- sticking to his thighs.. annoying. He picked up his floatation device and started walking back to his post- catching several eyes on him. M a n- did he feel awkward. Well- it was nice in a way, to get all that attention. He looked up a little and waved back to the group of girls waving at him- and of course he had to smile, it was only polite. The next thing he knew- Kenma was standing at the edge of the pool- tilting his head slightly as he looked down at the group of them.. a strange smile on his face- that wasn’t normal.. and that mad look in his eyes when he hacks the final level boss to pieces. “Kitty..?” “Hm?” “..you want a hug?” He nodded slightly and wordlessly put his arms around Kuroo- pushing his head into his bare chest, the drops of water not bothering him in the least. He still had that look in his eyes- and he was still looking at those poor girls.. who had definitely stopped giggling at the moment. Kenma’s smile grew impossibly wide- cutting through his face like a knife. He smiled a little and put his arms around him as well, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Kay- I gotta head back now.. you going to be fine?” The blond nodded slightly- though he was still very clearly giving them the stink eye. He had the strangest ways of showing affection.. and yet it made the man’s chest feel warm. Kuroo separated from him- at which point Kenma stood up on his toes to give him a little kiss. It was so obviously a display of /ownership/- he noticed, as he tilted his head in an uncharacteristically cocky way towards the group at the pool. Needless to say.. it got the lifeguard blushing a deep red. “Right- I’ll see you later.. eat something okay?”, he said quickly and walked away towards his station. Well, that was something.. Kuroo shook his head to get the feeling out of his head, as he came back to his post and saw Daichi there- p a n t i ng. “O II are you okay?? Drink this-“, he was immediately pushing the squeegee bottle with Gatorade in it towards the man. His eyes trailed down his wet body- his shorts outlining.. something. He blinked a little and looked away- eyes widening before he could stop himself. Daichi drank the Gatorade, chugging down quite a bit before leaning back against the table and groaning. “I had to fish out three people in under an hour- NOT including Hinata- and Bokuto-“ Kuroo laughed a little, wondering how those two had ended up in trouble already. “Dare I ask?” Daichi simply shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. “Hinata did a canon ball in the deepest part of Pool B- of course- and Bokuto just jumped right in to save his protégé-“ He frowned a little and huffed- looking adorable as he did. What a man.. Kuroo thought to himself- looking like an absolute hunk, and still managing to look cute. “Of course- I had to drag them both out as they flailed uncontrollably and gasped for air-“ Kuroo laughed heartily, throwing his head back. And that was when Daichi noticed his wet hair and body- his thighs looked painfully slick at the moment. He cleared his throat and looked away, smiling politely at the wooden post instead of looking the other man in the eye. “I had Oikawa pretend to drown just a while back so-“, he chuckled to himself, picking up a towel to wipe down his chest. “Don’t bother..”, Daichi suddenly found himself saying- his eyes fixed on the other’s glistening abs. “Huh?” “O h I mean- you’ll probably have to jump in after someone else in a few anyway-“ “AH right- but this chlorine can’t be good for my hair man..”, Kuroo said with a little pout and set to work drying his hair roughly- the bedhead returning to its previous glory. Sawamura sighed heavily and sat in his chair, shaking his head to himself. Just.. why /did/ they put them both on duty together- and on a Sunday? It seemed like the worst management decision anyone could take. Kuroo joined him, sitting down in his chair. His gold eyes sneaked a glance at his arms this time- tan and wet. He wasn’t complaining about it at all, clearly. “What-“ “You’re going to get sunburnt my man-“, he said with a confident smirk. Daichi hated that smirk. He hated it with a passion. Kuroo reached over to their desk, the sinews on his torso rippling slightly as he stretched. Daichi suddenly found himself frowning a t the man’s body- it had no right to be doing this. After some searching around in the drawer- the neko man returned with a tube of sunscreen, and passed it to Daichi. “Right- though I put some already-“ “Here let me- you seem exhausted-“, Kuroo frowned at him with concern. But his smirk just wouldn’t go away. Daichi didn’t trust that smirk. “My boyfriends will find you.. and hurt you- you know..” “O H my dear god- DAICHIII-“, he grinned at him, suddenly shaking with laughter. Kuroo loved doing this to him- it was definitely a pretend game he played- and it worked on Sawamura so well. “I just wanted to help a friend out! I don’t want you getting sunburnt..”, he smiled yet again- a little too wide. What was it about Daichi that made him want to be extra cheeky. The fact that he was such a serious man, maybe. It made him want to find the cracks- the very idea that he might one day fluster a man like this? Bliss. “Well then- make sure you cover every bit of you- I won’t look..”, Kuroo said yet again, with a grin. He was going to get kicked in the balls one of these days.. on one of these double shift days.. “You know- I’m glad you’re here-“, Daichi said suddenly- his smile polite and his eyes soft. T h a t took him by surprise. “AWW really! You like me that much?”, Kuroo put his hand over his heart as he blinked several times- batting his lashes.   “We need an idiot to handle all the idiots- I could never have gotten through the day without losing my mind..” “OIIII” It was Sawamura’s turn to laugh now, as he applied sunscreen on himself and watched the clock. “You want to grab lunch?” “Mhm- sounds good-“

[pllandcompany]

I Choose You

Summary: Hospital AU! A look into how Roman and Logan’s relationship developed.

Pairings: Pre-romantic into Romantic Logince, background QPP Moxiety

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, blood mention, violence/shooting mention, mention of drug use/addiction, anxiety, crying, a (and one almost) kiss

Tagged:  @shxtxpp @apologieslogan  @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable@flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein @insufferablegayastronaut

Notes: Guess who’s back at it again after months of writer’s block?? I’ve wanted to write this story for a while. It does reference a few other fics I’ve written in this AU so here, here, and here are the links for those stories if you want more context as the events of this story are not in order of how they happened based on the established timeline. Also, heads up that I’ve only linked the first part of Out Loud (last link) and Don’t You Remember (second link) but If you want full details (or if you just love my writing so much, insert eye roll here), go to my masterlist and read all of the parts. Still, it should be fairly clear even without reading the previous stories. Okay! Enough talking! Enjoy!

Why wasn’t he awake?

That deadly, nerve-wracking, gut-twisting question had been bouncing around Dr. Roman Courtland’s mind for five days now. The deadline of the withdrawal of care date loomed over his head like a terrorizing and expansive storm ready to break open at any moment. Fourteen days was just simply not enough time. Did the man have no hope?

Note to self: Remind Logan to change that stupidly short time period when he wakes up.

In all actuality, Logan being in a coma was not the expected outcome. It was a nearly perfect surgery. The bleeding was minimal and deftly controlled by his swift hand when it occurred. There was no sign of post-operative stroke or brain death. He should be awake. Yet there Logan lay as still and pale as driven snow, the steady beep of the machines being the only sign of life in the room. It shouldn’t be the case, but it was and Roman was damned determined to find out why. This wasn’t just any patient. No, this was a colleague and a gifted one at that; Logan was quite possibly the most brilliant cardio-thoracic surgeons this hospital had ever seen. Not only was this a professional point of pride, Logan was also the man who saved his brother’s life while simultaneously putting up with his relentless torment the entire time Remy was hospitalized. Roman knew he had been unfair to the surgeon, cruel even and he has certainly spent an exorbitant amount of energy trying to make up for that fact since, including personally taking on his case when Logan turned up with a brain tumor. Shortly before his diagnosis, the two finally found themselves on better terms and Roman was…looking forward to getting to know the doctor more, figure out what truly makes him tick. Now he was potentially the surgeon responsible for destroying that precious of a mind, for squandering the opportunity to…learn more about Logan? Roman refused to accept that reality. Logan Taylor was going to wake up if he had any say in it. He had to; Roman wasn’t ready to lose him-

“Roman? What are you still doing here?”

Patton. Damn it. “Looking over Logan’s post-op scans.” Roman felt the deep sigh more than he heard it.

“For the hundredth time, I bet. Roman, take a break, please. You have to step away at least for a moment. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Have I figured this out yet? Then the answer is no and I’m not leaving until that changes.” A small pang of guilt tightened Roman’s chest briefly. Yelling at Patton was like kicking a puppy, a completely undeserved action. As usual, Patton didn’t even seem fazed which only served to make the neurosurgeon feel worse. Instead, he simply sat across from the distraught doctor, empathy shining in his eyes.

“Roman, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Then what the hell else am I supposed to do?!” Roman flailed his arms in sheer frustration, the force of action flinging the scans everywhere. He roughly ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed deeply, trying to control himself while Patton quietly picked up the discarded films.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, Roman. I don’t know how to fix Logan. But I do know you’re not going to find the answer like this. Please take a break. Get some sleep. Come at this again in the morning.”

Roman buried his head into his hands. “What if something happens when I walk away? What if he gets worse and I’m not here to stop it? What if I can’t figure this out and I…and we lose him?” Patton gently took Roman’s hands out of his hair and smoothed the wavy locks down, a solemn yet knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we don’t get to know what’s going to happen sometimes. All we can do is our best. Which you can’t do if you’re exhausted. So, come with me. We’re going to have dinner and then you’re going to an on-call room to lie down. You don’t have to sleep. You can ramble all the medicine at me that you want, every detail. Maybe then we can come up with something together. How does that sound?” Roman nodded silently, allowing Patton to lead him out of his office.

An hour and a sandwich later, Roman was out like a light and Patton was quietly sneaking out of the on-call room.

Mission successful.

****

“Good morning, nerd!”

God, Roman was insufferable. Logan let out a soul-exiting sigh. “Dr. Courtland, must you insist on calling me that?”

“Oh, don’t get your briefs in a twist, Dr. Taylor; you know I tease only out of love.” Logan hoped the tenseness in his shoulders wasn’t noticeable.

There he was using that word around him again.

“You cannot possibly love me. We’ve only known each other a few months. Besides, I seem to recall you having a certain disdain for me when I first arrived here. It would be impossible for that to have resolved itself in totality so soon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman stop and turn back to him. Suddenly, Logan was grateful they were the only two in the lounge.

“Logan…you still think so ill of me?” The cardiologist barely held back the gasp that bubbled in his throat at the hurt look on the neurosurgeon’s face.

“No…not of you?”

“Then of yourself?” Roman sat next to Logan, setting his thigh ablaze when they brushed against each other. Logan hesitated for a moment as his mind struggled to find the best way to answer.

“That’s not it either. I simply meant that we are very different people with not much in common. I’m not certain as to how we will coalesce outside of being coworkers.” If we will.

“Well, that isn’t always a negative thing. I like that we’re different. Means there’s much we can learn from each other.”

“Of course. Our specialties differ greatly; there’s bound to be new information learned between us.” Roman chuckled warmly. 

“While I find your habit of taking things literally quite refreshing, in this case it led you astray. You’re so much more than the job, Lo. You are strong and wise, brilliant and beautifully complicated in ways I’d like to know more about. If you’d let me that is.” The neurosurgeon’s face held so much hope, it metaphorically made Logan’s heart just…stop. How ironic that he, the cardio-thoracic surgeon would be the one to need pulmonary resuscitation from just one look from the towheaded neurosurgeon. ​ It just wasn’t reasonable how one person could be so disarming, so confounding, so attractive…

Logan had to get out of there.

“Ah! Yes, well, then I concede to your point, Dr. Courtland. Fare-farewell.” The older doctor jumped up like a jack in the box and practically sprinted out of the room, the edge of his white coat narrowly missing Roman’s face. 

It didn’t bother him too much once he realized that Logan hadn’t said no.

****

“Okay, Logan. Let’s try this again. Pick up the pencil and write your name.” Logan stared at the yellow No. 2 as if it would jump up and slap him at any moment. “Can we go back to the ball?”

Roman almost chuckled. “You’ve already done that portion. Your grip strength is greatly improved. Now we need to build your prehensile strength back. Go ahead, pick up the pencil. Just try.”

After a few tense moments, Logan finally held the writing instrument. His heart pounded with anticipation as he gingerly placed the tip to the paper in front of him. He pressed down ever so slightly and began to write his name.

He didn’t make it through the ‘g’ before the force of his tremor snapped the graphite.

In a fit of pure rage, Logan swiftly grabbed the pencil in his left hand and threw it across the room. It sailed past Roman’s ear so close he felt the wind move his hair. Before he could react, Logan was standing and tossing his chair across the room. A loud clattering sound stunned Roman into stock still reticence, not daring to test the cardiologist in this state.

“Damn it! Damn it all to hell!”

“Logan, just try to stay calm- “

“No, you said this would work! Yet it’s been a month and I still can’t use my hand! An entire month and I still can’t operate because you make promises you can’t keep!” Silence. “I’m sorry. That was…an unbecoming display.” He moved to restore the room to its original order but Roman intercepted him. He placed two warm hands on Logan’s shoulders, drawing a gasp from the sudden contact.

“You don’t have to apologize, Logan. I understand. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long.”

Logan refused to make eye contact with Roman. “I still should not have behaved in that manner. Especially after everything you’ve done for me, I shouldn’t be lashing out at you, I am alive because of you, I should just be grateful for that- “

“Dr. Taylor, will you please look at me?” When Logan didn’t move, Roman took his hand under the surgeon’s chin and gently lifted his head. His heart nearly broke at the shattered look on Logan’s face. “See? I’m not mad. What you’re feeling is normal because what you’re going through is hard. It’s okay to get frustrated.” Roman pushed back a lock of the cardiologist’s dark hair and Logan’s eyes closed, leaning into the touch. His head dropped alarmingly close to Roman’s forehead and the neurosurgeon shifted to hold his face with both hands. Logan’s lips parted and his gaze suddenly changed to something…insistent, almost desperate. The question he was asking was obvious and oh, how Roman wanted to acquiesce. Maybe he could, maybe it would be okay…no, it wouldn’t be right; Logan was his very vulnerable patient right now and his coworker. Complicated wouldn’t even begin to describe the nature of their involvement. Roman took a step back and cleared his throat, turning to grab the chair and returned it to the table.

“Look, your hand works. You just have to remind your brilliant brain that it does. And it takes time to build new neural pathways so…try again. Write your name, as much as you can.” Logan swallowed tensely, seating himself once again in the chair. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer, willing the pressure in his chest to release. He looked when he felt velvet skin against the back of his hand: Roman was holding it. Smiling gently at the supportive touch, he picked up the second pencil Roman had conjured from his white coat.

This time, he made it through the ‘g.’

****

“Tell me a secret.”

“…what?”

“We’re getting to know each other. Setting aside our differences, becoming…friends. Friends tell each other things so…tell me a secret.”

“We are sitting on a bench on our lunch break in the middle of our workday. What about this setting makes you suddenly want to have an intimate conversation?”

“Deflecting…”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, fine!”

“…Paging Dr. Taylor? Are you actually going to say something?”

“I…I want children. Or at least a child. I want to be a father.”

“Well, that’s a mighty forward proposition.”

“Dr. Courtland…”

“Oh, hush now, you know I’m kidding! But why is that such a secret?”

“Because no one expects it of me. People see me as cold and emotionless; no one would think me fit to be a father, much less have a desire to raise children. I’m not like Patton; I don’t seem like ‘the type,’ if you will.”

“I don’t agree with that at all. I think you’d make an excellent father. You’re very practical and you’re extremely dedicated to your patients. There’s no way that wouldn’t translate over into being a parent.”

“Oh…well, uh, thank you. I, uh, believe it is your turn.”

“…I have a twin.”

“In addition to your four other brothers?”

“No, he’s one of the five of us. His name is…was Remus.”

“Was?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know if I should be saying is or was about him. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

“Roman…”

“He was a surgeon in the military. Reconstructive surgery was technically his specialty but over there he functioned mostly as a trauma surgeon. He loved it; he was never phased by gruesome injuries or the horrors of combat. He just did his job saving as many lives as he could so they could go on to keep ours back home safe. One day, their compound was raided and…he was never heard from again. A lot of soldiers died that day but…they never found his body.”

“Oh, Roman…you have my deepest condolences. The amount of grief you’ve had to endure…it’s quite unfair.”

“Don’t worry, Specs. I’m all right. I know it may sound…completely ridiculous but he could still be alive. It’s one of the few things I still hope for…that one day I’ll see my brother again.”

“I understand even more why you’re so protective of the brothers you have here now.”

“Congratulations, Doctor. You just figured out why we tell each other secrets.”

****

The first thing Roman felt when he woke up was pain. Pain in his chest, pain in his throat, God, it felt like he was choking on something-

“Roman? Roman, calm down, don’t fight the intubation, okay? We’ll get it out, just hold on.” That sounded like Virgil, why was Virgil taking him off a vent?

Oh. Right. He got shot.

He got shot and almost died.

He got shot and needed surgery. He had just had surgery to take a bullet out of his chest. Chest…cardiovascular…where was Logan?

Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to get much out at first, but he had to try. He took a breath that rattled in his throat and attempted to speak. “Lo…Lo-”

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk, Ro. I know who you want; I’ll go get him.” Virgil turned to leave, not even making it one step before he was stopped short by a vice-like grip on his wrist. He turned back to see Roman staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. Virgil nodded; the message clearly received.

“I know you’re grateful. I’m not hurt. I’m just…really glad to see you make it, man.” Virgil left before anyone could acknowledge the tears threatening to stain his face and Roman found that being alone was scarier than it should be. After all, he had no idea where the shooter was; Logan could have hidden him away to fix him, he could still be here somewhere, lurking, waiting to take another shot that would surely end his life this time-

“Roman? Calm down, your heart rate is way too high. Just breathe, you’re safe.” The neurosurgeon’s eyes met with two dark pools of worry and he locked onto them, Logan urging him to match his breathing. “That’s right; breathe with me. You’re safe. We’re safe right now.” Once Roman’s chest evened out, Logan reached over and grabbed a paper cup full of lukewarm water and handed it to the eager patient.

“Don’t drink too fast, Roman. Slow sips. There you go.” A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry it’s not cold, I couldn’t seem to locate any ice.”

“The…the shooter-”

“Dead.” Logan’s tone was abrupt and cold. “The shooter is dead; you don’t have to worry about him any longer.”

Roman nodded slowly to not aggravate his already sore body any further. “You saved me.”

Logan nodded absently, staring a hole into the linoleum floor. “I know.”

“Then you know…you know I cannot thank you enough- “

“How dare you?” Logan whispered softly.

“Wh- what?”

“How dare you! How dare you just…waltz into my life and torture me and make me hate you then apologize and befriend me and make me respect you?”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I’m sorry- “

“No! No, you do not get to apologize because…because you don’t even leave it there; I can’t just respect you, you then start to make me like you and want you around and want to be near you and then, oh God, you even go as far as to make me fall for you! And just when I figure that out, just when I’m finally able to admit the depth of my feelings for you to myself, just when I finally muster up the courage to even consider telling you about how I…feel, then you decide to go and almost die on me?! And on top of it, you make me be the one to have to save you! How DARE YOU?!”

The entire room stuttered to a halt, save for Logan’s ragged breathing. He was outright crying at this point and quite honestly, Roman wasn’t far behind him. “Logan…I’m so sorry- “

“Shut up! Just shut up! Please just…just tell me you want me too. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me that I don’t ever have to live without you because today I learned that losing you feels far too similarly to dying myself so if that is not the case…tell me now so I can figure out how to survive.” A long, tense, quiet moment passed before either of them spoke again.

“Logan,” Roman coughed abruptly, wincing as the motion sent shockwaves of pain through his ribs. He cleared his abused throat and tried again. “Logan, look at me.” The dark-haired surgeon looked up into the soulful eyes of the injured man laying in the hospital bed below him.

“Roman, please,” he pleaded, his voice impossibly soft.

“You can survive without me…but I promise you, as long as I am alive, you will not ever have to.” Logan’s head shot up and before he could control himself, he launched into the bed with Roman, just barely remembering to avoid his ribs and all the wires attached to him. He mumbled a hushed prayer of thank you, thank you, thank you as he curled himself into the space between Roman’s body and the railing of the bed. Roman took a moment to settle before he rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder, exhaustion beginning to blur out the edges of his vision. Logan kissed the crown of his head and wrapped his arms around his newfound love in the gentlest protective hold he could muster, allowing the neurosurgeon to succumb to sleep.

“Rest, Roman. I have you. You are safe. You’re safe with me.”

****

Dr. Picani was a typically patient man but this? This argument he was deeply tired of.

“What I fail to understand is how I continually prove myself to be trustworthy over and over again and you continually shut me out!”

“It is not about you, Roman.”

“Then what is it about? Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like this?”

“I’m telling you now!”

“Yeah, two weeks after the fact and I technically had to hear about it from Virgil!”

“Have you considered that. just maybe, I felt some shame? I had achieved six months of solid sobriety and I nearly threw all of that away in mere minutes!”

“You were obviously triggered by something.”

“I was weak! I failed to keep myself together yet again! And if it weren’t for Virgil dragging me to a meeting and convincing me to tell you, I’d probably still be failing.” Struggling doesn’t make you weak, Logan. The therapist scribbled the thought in his notebook, making a reminder to bring that point up later. He was about to interject when he realized that for the first time in a few minutes, there was silence. Dr. Picani’s head snapped up at the sudden quiet to see Roman’s eyes rapidly filling with tears. Well, this is unexpected.

“Roman? What’s wrong? Say what you’re thinking.”

“I…am I the trigger? Have I pushed you too far?” Good job, Roman, the therapist praised silently, way to take ownership!

Logan’s stomach churned guiltily at the tentative question. “No. You have gotten so much better about that. You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, it’s me, I am…broken.” Logan cursed himself internally for how his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but he had to keep going. “I want to be good enough for you, but I constantly fail you and I don’t want you to see it. But I fear that one day you will and the fact that I love you won’t be enough to make you stay.” And good job being honest about your fears, Logan. These two have come so far.

While Roman knew just how necessary it was for Logan to admit how he felt, God, how it broke Roman’s heart. He reached out slowly and touched Logan’s hand, chest tightening even more when he felt the muscles jump under his palm. He breathed a sigh of relief when the brunette managed to make eye contact with him, the shared gaze giving him the courage to continue.

“Logan, you’re forgetting one very important thing. I love you too. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you to be you. Yes, you are strong and brilliant, and I love when you are confident and at your best. But I don’t just love you then. I also love you when you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re less than perfect. Lord knows that I am all those things and you don’t shy away from any of that with me. We’re all a little bit broken but we need each other to keep ourselves together. So, yes, I want you to be strong and healthy but if you can’t be? If it gets hard for you to be that? I still want you.”

“All of me?” Logan whispered.

“The whole damn thing.” Roman paused suddenly, a moment of deliberation passing through his eyes. Logan watched as he seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. He felt the grip on his hand tighten into a gentle squeeze…and then gasped as he watched Roman slide off the couch they shared and drop to one knee.

“Oh my God,” Logan choked out. A loud clatter sounded in front of them as Emile dropped his notebook, both hands flying up to either side of his face,

“Oh my God!” Roman chuckled damply at the poorly contained squeal.

“Save it for the end, Picani.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket, relishing in the way Logan’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I’ve been carrying around this thing for weeks wondering when the right time to ask you was, but truth be told, I could have done it anytime. I didn’t have to wait for some perfect moment because every moment is perfect with you. An appropriate time period in our relationship didn’t need to pass because every minute that goes by is another minute that I am undoubtedly grateful to have spent with you. I didn’t need a counselor to tell me if I’m making the right decision. I just need to look at you and see that all my futures, all my forevers and tomorrows live in your eyes. You are the answer to every question I’ve ever had, even the ones I didn’t know I was asking. So today, I am not proposing marriage. I am affirming my sure commitment to you for the rest of my life. The ring is yours today, tomorrow, and for years to come. There’s no time limit, no expiration date. All you have to do is take it when you’re ready.”

Logan sat in stunned silence as his mind turned over every word of Roman’s confession. Slowly taking the sapphire studded ring from the now open box, he turned it over in his fingers and watched as the light danced with the gems, searching the depths of his heart for any hesitation. He handed the ring back to Roman and slowly turned his hand over, palm facing down.

“Put it on me. I’m ready.”

The squeal that Dr. Picani let out threatened to break glass.

****

“Patton, I must insist that you let go of me before you completely cut off my oxygen supply!"

Patton somehow managed to squeeze Logan even tighter for the briefest of seconds before releasing him.

“Sorry, Doc, I’m just so darned excited for you both! Virgil, isn’t it just amazing? They’re getting married!” Virgil chuckled at the giddy look on Patton’s face.

“I swear, you are a living heart eyes emoji. And yeah, it’s pretty damn cool considering you guys hated each other when you met.”

“My God, you would bring that up,” Roman rolled his eyes as Logan and Patton collectively groaned. Patton delivered a playful smack to Virgil’s arm.

“Virgil! Leave them alone, they’re in love now.” Virgil raised an eyebrow down at his partner’s glossy eyes, almost feverish with excitement and something close to…envy? He elected not to comment as turned to embrace the newly engaged pair one more time.

“Whatever, I know the truth. But seriously, congratulations. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run, I’m assisting on a general surgery case and I’ve gotta change out of chief attire. I’ll see you both later this week, celebratory sushi? Friday night?”

“You bet, Tickle-Me-Emo!” Virgil glared at the nickname as he disappeared into the bathroom of the attendings’ lounge. Patton went in for the hundredth hug and jumped as his pager suddenly went off.

“Uh oh, gotta run, looks like a crash C-section. Congrats to you both again! Bye!” he shouted boisterously as he ran down the hallway.

“I’m afraid I must depart as well, my love. It does not inspire respect in my residents if I’m late for rounds.” Roman beamed at the cardiac surgeon, seemingly unaware of anything he just said. “What?” Logan asked hotly.

“You called me your love. You claimed me.” Embarrassment curled up Logan’s neck as he shook his head fondly and leaned in to kiss his now fiancée.

“You are so endearingly sentimental. I will see you at home, my love.” He smirked as he walked out of the door at the way Roman’s knees seemed to buckle just the smallest amount. The neurosurgeon stood in the middle of the room chuckling to himself when he heard a low, smooth voice speak up behind him.

“You’re engaged?” Roman turned around, his face falling in sympathy at the person behind him.

“Oh, Declan…yes. Yes, I am.” The fellow surgeon turned his face to the side to hide his tears, displaying the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. Without warning, he was suddenly being embraced by Roman who seemed to be unable to stop his own tears as they soaked the corner of his scrubs.

“You know, if Remus were here and we weren’t already married by now, we could have planned a double wedding,” Declan murmured.

“He would have loved that. He loved you so much.” Declan pulled away, his glance suddenly dropping to the floor.

“I wish I could tell you what happened to him.” Roman placed a hand on the orthopedic surgeon’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t there. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.” Declan smiled weakly, nodding a silent goodbye before leaving the room. He paused at the doorway facing the empty hallway.

“Congratulations. Really, you deserve to be happy.” Roman let out a small sob as Declan left, swiftly brushing the tears away before heading to his own rounds.

Neither of them remembered that Virgil was in the bathroom, listening to their entire conversation…and absolutely seething with fury.

[radiojamming]

The Terror Meta - Tom Hartnell: Symbol of Death, Redemption, and Bravery

By now, I think it’s been established that The Terror’s writers went above and beyond when it came to making their characters. The question board picture has been circulated (including the question of when a character went from being in a high adventure story to horror), so it’s probably not a reach to say that every character had their place in the show carefully considered. And one of those characters is Tom Hartnell.

(Warning: Long post and spoiler heavy. Uh, people die. A lot.)

For the show’s time constraints, Tom’s backstory is mentioned in snippets, mostly in the first episode. David Young provides the majority of it:

“I don’t want you to do to me what you did to Tom Hartnell’s brother. [...] I want to go to my grave as I am. Don’t cut me open.”

Several times in the same episode, references are made to the men on Beechey Island, having been the first three casualties of the Expedition. Clearly, Tom’s brother was one of these three. 

I’ve posted this on my blog before, but the original pilot script also gave Tom an extra role and provided deeper backstory, such as this:

With Tom on the Erebus watching Billy Orren drown and attempting to go after him, a role that was eventually given to Collins. And again in a removed flashback to Beechey Island, which provides not only backstory, but further explanation to why Tom is the way that he is:

While this isn’t included in the show, the writers probably kept this scene in mind with his character. Yeah, Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. From the very beginning of the Expedition, he dealt with death in the most direct and horrifying way possible. In the sense of the writer’s question of when it went from high adventure to horror? It was probably this moment, before the show even begins.

From this point, Tom is transferred to Terror for reasons not explained, but now everyone knows what’s happened to him. Even people as far down the hierarchy rungs as David Young know, and it makes them uneasy. But here’s where it gets interesting.

At the moment David Young starts coughing, Tom Hartnell appears in nearly every single scene involving a person either dying or about to die. Case in point.

He’s sitting right behind Hickey and looks over his shoulder when David starts coughing. Shortly after, when David retches, he’s standing up and watching him.

(It should probably be noted that David dies of exactly the same disease that killed Tom’s brother. Wuh-oh.)

“Okay, DJ, but that’s just one time. He’s an AB, so of course he would be there!” you might say.

You’re right! But the next time he appears in Episode 2 (”Gore”), look who he’s standing next to.

Lieutenant Graham Gore, that’s who! (And Morfin by extension, but that’s for later. Same with Des Voeux.)

Aaaand who goes next?

(Really big UH-OH.)

And if you want to go by extension, he’s also present when Silna’s father is shot, and is the one assigned to collect Silna’s things that are in the Erebus sick bay with her father’s body in Ep. 3 (”The Ladder”). 

Where he looks, appropriately, uncomfortable. @theiceandbones​ absolutely brilliantly pointed out that yes, this is the Erebus sick bay where Tom walked in on his brother’s autopsy. It stands to mind that of course he’d be anxious. He knocks on the doorframe before he enters, walking in slowly and nervously. His body language here is interesting and hard to capture with just screenshots, but he keeps trying to look away from the body as much as possible, but is finding it very hard to look away. Even as he’s leaving the room, he looks again, while also bodily backing away from it. With his brother’s death in mind, he’s revisiting the place where it all happened, possibly for the first time since then. 

While I think his death symbolism starts with David Young, it really picks up between here and the next scene, where he speaks to Silna.

In the short time he speaks to her, a few things are established, both said and unsaid. Unlike some of the crew, Tom doesn’t appear to be uneasy about Silna, but instead is sympathetic. His job was probably just to get her things and deliver them, but he goes out of his way to help her and extends kindness in packing her food. He offers his condolences, and again, in something that is hard to catch in screenshots, he thinks about it for a moment, looking conflicted before offering them and giving her the nickname she’ll have for the rest of the series. 

It’s unsaid, but undoubtedly, he’s thinking of his own loss as well. 

We don’t see Tom for a little while until near the end of the episode when Sir John is taken into the firehole. And then, sure enough:

There he is. (For an AB, he’s sure showing up with officers quite a bit.)

Tom is in-frame for death after death after death. 

It gets subverted (like a lot of things) in Ep. 4 (”Punished, As a Boy”). Tom is not in frame during Private Heather’s attack, which may be owed to Heather not dying. Strong is taken off-screen, and Evans is only with Crozier when he’s killed. He reappears briefly and in-focus, sitting with Hickey and Peglar, when Tozer is talking about how baffled they all are that Heather hasn’t died.

He also doesn’t appear when the Strong-Evans mismatched corpse is found by Hickey, who proceeds to actually see the Tuunbaq for the first time. The next time he’s seen is at a very pivotal scene for not only him, but the entire plot. 

At this point, Hickey’s claimed responsibility for capturing Silna, and Tom stands up a few seconds after to also claim responsibility. This is where I think the tone of his subplot changes completely, all in the matter of one scene:

The interrogation.

Now the above shot is kind of amazing, and I’ve only noticed it recently, but knowing how much detail the show crew put into this, I feel like it’s relevant to point out a few things. First, this shot is framed with Hartnell in the center and Hickey and Manson off to the side, just after Hickey says that Tom saw the Tuunbaq first. There’s a brief shot of Hartnell sort of side-glaring at Hickey with his lip twitching before he steels himself, and then this composition. Little and Fitzjames are looking at Hickey, but Crozier’s looking at Tom, fully and completely. He knows something, and it feels relevant to note that Hickey is level with a chessboard, while Tom is level with the light.

I’ve posted about Tom’s face journey here before, and I’ll recycle a few shots for this, but the turning point comes just after Crozier outlines what Hickey’s being accosted and punished for. He names the punishment (the lashes), and Tom’s face says it all.

Fear. His eyes are watering. He has to take in a few breaths, but then Crozier asks what do they have to say and without even a full second of hesitation (I counted):

Tom says, “Yes, sir!” as clearly as possible. He accepts the punishment immediately. Crozier’s reaction:

He stares at Tom for a long moment, thoughtful, until Little draws his attention away. 

Now, what does this have to do with the theory of Tom being a symbol of death? Well, a lot. I’ll get to that.

First, during the lashing, you only hear Tom’s v/o telling Manson that the lashings will hurt, and that the pain is the point of why they’re lashed. He is deliberately kept out of sight and focus, because the punishment isn’t really for him in the audience’s eyes anymore. He was probably absolved the moment Crozier looked at him. The punishment is completely directed on Hickey after that. 

Ep. 5 (”First Shot a Winner, Lads”) is where the change in Hartnell really shows. The episode starts off with scenes of life now. Officers and men are taking measurements of temperature and gauging the speed of sound and light. Fitzjames is working on the charts (towards Back’s Fish River). Goodsir and Lady Silence are talking and translating, and the trinkets from the men are shown as they’ve interacted with her. The show physically leans away from death for a moment, which up until now has been bloody and gruesome. The first person who dies is Hornby, and all that happens to him?

He simply falls to the ground. No blood. No viscera. His heart’s just stopped. 

Of course, the next time Tom appears:

He’s handling Hornby’s body and taking it down to the dead room. 

This scene is very poignant because it shows how four different characters handle the idea of death and the afterlife, all in very short order. 

You have Magnus, scared of the hold because he’s certain he’s heard the voices of Strong and Evans. He’s afraid of the ghosts that he’s sure are there.

You have Irving, who is oddly indignant, technical when it comes to the dead with explaining that all that’s left of them are frozen remains and canvas shrouds, and furious at the idea of Manson believing in ghosts.

Hickey, who at first seems to be doing Manson a kindness, but probably just more eager to show Irving up. 

And then Tom, completely unafraid of handling a body, and offering to Manson that he can get the job done if Manson lowers Hornby down.

The next shot we see is another interesting one, with Hartnell leading the way to the dead room, Hickey bringing up the rear, and Manson, the lantern-bearer, several steps behind. (You could say a lot for crossing the River Styx energies here, ya.)

And then the dead room is shown at a Dutch angle or Dutch tilt, a technique used to establish uneasiness or tension.

Manson is watching the two of them work in the dead room, out of the light, in a shot that is off-kilter (yes, the ship is off-kilter as well, but up until this point, everyone has been shown standing upright) to suggest that something is going to go wrong. But then:

Tom steps out of the dead room first, in the lantern light, standing upright against the angle, diffusing the tension. There are no ghosts, no eerie disembodied voices. And just like that, with a quiet affirmation--

The scene ends, with nothing having gone wrong.

To follow up on this in the sense of Tom’s character, he’s gone from being nervous and touchy around the dead to being completely alright with their presence. 

Following this, there are more scenes of life against all odds. Tozer is cutting Heather’s nails and speaking to him as though he’s awake. Hodgson supervises another scientific experiment with the cannons. Goodsir and Lady Silence meet with Blanky and Crozier and speak, ending up with the fight that culminates between Fitzjames and Crozier. No one is killed. If anything, this is one the liveliest scenes thusfar.

The next time he appears?

Is when the Tuunbaq is on the ship and about to appear in full. Before, his appearance might have suggested that someone was about to die, but something kind of interesting happens.

The crew fire on the Tuunbaq after Blanky marks it with the lantern fire, and for one of the first times in the show, Tom actually appears happy. 

He’s excited! He’s standing with Little, Hodgson, and Tozer, and they’re all thrilled. Even more amazing?

Blanky does not die.

He’s injured. His injuries require a pretty gruesome amputation, but of all the episodes in the show, Ep. 5 ends with the lowest body count.

Now Ep. 6 (”A Mercy”) is kind of all over the place for Tom and everyone else. He appears first talking to Hickey about Armitage, who is now revealed to have been part of their plot to kidnap Lady Silence. Hickey asks why Tom didn’t turn Armitage in, even after being flogged. 

Hickey: You’d have been in your rights to.

Hartnell: I didn’t see the point in it.

Hickey: Even still? After getting flogged? That sort of thing can change your sense of what the point is.

Hartnell: It did. I’m grateful... is the point. 

Hickey: [pause] Reformed you, did it? 

Hartnell: I shouldn’t have listened to you. And I deserved to be flogged. 

Hickey: [silence]

Hartnell: Yeah, and by ordering it, the Captain, he’s given me a chance to clean my record and start anew. 

Hickey: Do you think Crozier sees it like that? A new Mr. Hartnell? 

Hartnell: I do, yeah. [smiles] And I intend to use that charter well. 

This is another turning point for both Hartnell and Hickey. Hickey is realizing that his list of allies is getting shorter (he starts by trying to drive a wedge between Tom and command, reminding him that he physically suffered because of them, and when he realizes that it isn’t going to work, he mocks him and leaves him) and now understands that Tom probably won’t work with him again. 

Tom shows that his loyalty is now completely with Crozier. I’d even say that he never followed Hickey’s ideals in the first place, even with the kidnapping (remember how he acted toward Lady Silence before, and how quick he was to be held responsible). This is him now completely, as the phrase goes, on the side of angels. It’s going to add a new tone to his next few interactions, and really drive home his place as a death symbol.

Ep. 6 is as bloody and horrific as Ep. 5 was not. Fitzjames holds his Carnivale, Jopson and Crozier attend, and it all goes wrong very, very fast. One thing that @theiceandbones​ and I noticed was that before it-shay hits the an-fay, Tom is seen once in costume.

And he’s dressed as what appears to be a lion - a very poignant symbol of bravery (and Britain, if you want to go that far). 

Of course, during the fire, Tom is there (as is everyone except Hickey who is outside of the tent), so I’d hesitate to call that a connection. His first mention after Carnivale is through Bridgens, who tells Crozier that Tom reported Dr. Peddie lost during the fire. 

Going into Episode 7 (”Horrible from Supper”), Tom is officially an outlier to the people who are going to become the Mutineers. He’s excluded from anything Hickey begins to plan and is completely on the captains’ side. Literally. His next shot shows him between Crozier and Jopson.

But more relevant is the next time he’s seen with Crozier and Blanky, making notes of the ice and the movement of the compass. Blanky remarks: 

Tom’s been completely redeemed in the eyes of Crozier, enough that he’s being asked to step outside the grunt work of hauling sledges, and his opinions and observations are trusted (”Very well. I’ll continue to rely on your eyes.”). The way he gives his observations also show an uptick in confidence and enthusiasm. He’s happy, and a far step away from his nervous, mournful attitude of earlier episodes.

Has he stepped out of the role of being a death symbol? Yes, and no.

Death has started to dog the crew of the Expedition again. Madness is seeping in with the lead. Hickey begins to weave the tapestry of his mutiny as the gruesome discovery of Fairholme’s party takes place (note that Tom isn’t present for this). Rescue seems impossible, and death is starting to become imminent.

Tom Hartnell’s role begins to change, and he goes from being present at the deaths to aiding in the recovery. Whereas death is everywhere, Tom is a symbol of something gentler (on a whole, this is talked about beautifully in this meta piece). 

It starts with Morfin.

Remember that Tom was in the shot with Gore, Morfin, and Des Voeux in Ep. 2, and he’s seen with Morfin again with Lady Silence’s father in the Erebus sick bay later. His role changes with Morfin in Ep. 7 (I’d even through in the symbolism of Morfin singing The Silver Swan if we really want to go wild with the death icons). Morfin is shot, put out of his misery effectively, and Tom does not appear until after he is killed. More importantly, he’s now interacting with the scene - helping, as it were.

He’s at the center of the shot with Goodsir - not Morfin, who is technically the subject. His hand is on Goodsir, and he silently says something to him before Goodsir stands. Unlike with the other deaths, Tom is no longer directing his attention on the bodies, but on the people who are dealing with them. 

Further on, he privately speaks with Crozier about Armitage’s involvement in Hickey’s earlier plot. Once more, he’s on Crozier’s side completely, which Crozier affirms for him, saying that he trusts him and does not want to put him in a position where he feels like he can’t speak. He says they’ll work together, and thanks Tom, earning a smile out of him.

D’awwww.

But back with his death symbolism, Tom is the first shown to be handling Morfin’s body, drawn into sharp focus against the corpse.

He’s responsible for the handling and burial, but rather than appearing nervous or upset about his job, he handles it as he did with Hornby’s body. It’s a job to do, and one that he doesn’t appear to mind doing anymore. He helps dig Morfin’s grave, juxtaposed with shots and conversation of Crozier talking about the lead in the cans that led to Morfin’s madness and death. 

The episode ends with Jopson’s promotion and the start of Hickey’s bloody mutiny, in a way signaling the beginning of the end.

Tom doesn’t appear for a portion of Ep. 8 (”Terror Camp Clear”), removed from Irving’s violent death where he probably would have been before, and instead placed in the silent, mournful atmosphere of the dead Netsilik group.

He’s also removed from the general chaos of the imaginary raid on Terror Camp, but appears in probably one of the most pivotal and brilliantly-arranged scenes that he gets in the entire show. 

The Tuunbaq attacks in full force, ripping the camp asunder, causing so much chaos that the mutineers manage to get away. Men are killed left and right, gruesomely torn apart. The fog makes it difficult to see what’s happening and where, and so only the sounds of roaring and screaming indicate what is happening around them.

And then there’s Tom.

He’s scared. Of course he is. He’s seen what the Tuunbaq can do, and he knows it’s coming. All he can do is tell the men with him to get down and out of sight, while he stands. 

Trembling, he raises his gun and waits for the inevitable. He was on deck with they shot the Tuunbaq with the cannon, and he knows that even then, it got away. He knows its size and what it’s capable of doing. His gun will do nothing to it, and he knows this. All he can do is buy the men time and take at least one shot. 

Tom Hartnell literally faces down death itself, and does not back away.

The camera pans in on him, drawing into focus how he steels himself, furrowing his brows, keeping his aim steady. If anything, this shot establishes his bravery in full detail. And then--

A rocket is launched at the Tuunbaq from behind -- completely parallel to Tom. In a similar focused shot is Fitzjames.

Complete with the same steely resolve and surety, establishing his own bravery. With him on one side and Tom on the other, the Tuunbaq is caught in a perfect intersection of selflessness and courage, even when no one’s around to witness it (”A man like me will do amazing things to be seen.”). 

Ep. 9 (”The C, The C, The Open C”) opens with Lady Franklin formally, but with Tom and Golding on the Arctic side, dealing with the dead in the day after the attack on Terror Camp. 

Once again, Tom is no longer present during the deaths, but is dealing with the aftermath. He offers to help Golding move the body. Golding wonders after the identity of the body, clearly shaken by what he’s seen. But Tom, turning his focus way from the corpse, puts his hand on Golding’s arm to comfort him, as he did with Goodsir.

“That won’t change what we do for him.”

It’s no longer a matter of the how’s and why’s, but rather how the men move on. Tom has come to represent something so much more in death than its execution. His own grief was mired in the memory of his brother and what was done to his body. Lashing out, curling into himself, allowing others to control his path, and then finding his own way to redemption, Tom has made the full walk of his own sorrow and gone through its stages, coming out on the other side with the sense of mind to help others cope with their losses.

Then, he’s standing before the row of the dead, hands respectfully folded in front of him. He’s in their presence again, but not in the violent hour of their death, but again, in the aftermath. 

Crozier’s speech is examined so, so gorgeously in this post, with the words “courage” and “the end” focused on Tom. @theiceandbones also pointed out (and subsequently broke my heart) that after Crozier mentions bringing home the names of the dead so that their loved once can find solace, Tom’s bottom lip is trembling. I fully believe in his character, Jack Colgrave Hirst chose to keep the real Thomas Hartnell’s life in mind, thinking that he was going to have to go back to their mother with news of his brother’s death. He embodies this concept so well in that moment. 

After Fitzjames’ death, Tom is seen again in that same role.

He’s at the center of the shot with Fitzjames’ body, sewing him into his shroud, surrounded and at the center of the focus of their party. He’s either volunteered or been chosen to the handle the body, which he does respectfully. As Shannon, my brilliant cohort noticed:

He’s working diligently and carefully. And again, it won’t change what he does for him. 

Tom also helps with Peglar, who he has been shown with multiple times since the very first episode, possibly suggesting that they’ve been friends all along.

He helps lift Peglar into Bridgens’ arms, clearly worrying for him. 

He’s not shown during Peglar’s death, but he helps handle him, allowing him to rest a little easier before he quietly passes on. Compared to what’s been happening in the mutineer camp, what Tom’s witnessing is a gentle passing of people.

It’s the last scene that stings the worst, as Crozier’s group is confronted by the mutineers, including Des Voeux, Hodgson, and Manson. 

Des Voeux’s gun misfires, hitting Tom square in the chest.

Tom’s own death is not through the Tuunbaq, or through any of Hickey’s machinations, or anything more than an accident. It’s quick, but painful. Crozier kneels beside him, stroking his hair, comforting him as Tom’s done for others before. The next few lines speak for themselves.

It’s the end of Tom’s redemption, a sign of his bravery, of his own recovery and progress. Crozier calls him son, affirming a bond between them. Tom is not dying alone. Instead, he has someone at his side who cares for him, just as Tom had been for his own brother only a few years before.

He holds on, struggling against the agony of his wound, until Crozier, eyes filling with tears, lets him go with one phrase -- one that includes something that hasn’t been mentioned since Ep. 1. 

John Hartnell hasn’t been mentioned since the first episode, and it’s been several years at that point since his death. But Crozier knows what Tom’s been through, and he’s certainly seen his displays of grief and development. If anything would cause Tom to let go, this would be it. With it, Tom goes quietly in only a few seconds. He goes without a sound, simply closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

Des Voeux, shaken, asks Crozier to stand up. With it, Crozier does Tom a final respect by asking Little to bury him, and to live. Tom’s body is kept out of sight completely, not seen again. 

After his death, the others go quickly. By the time of Ep. 10, it’s almost wholesale loss, between Goodsir’s heroic suicide, the Tuunbaq, and others just disappearing into the mists of the Arctic. But Tom’s character appears to have represented a balance, showing grief and loss, but also recovery and redemption. He appears with nearly every major death in the show, going from anxious and shaken to brave and kind, more eager to help those left in the wake of death, making him the perfect representation to the concepts of loss, grief, and recovery for The Terror.

[ikementally-deficient]

Head-Canon: Ikesen Warlords react to an MC who wants to worship them (sexually)

Requested by a lovely anon.

Rating: Habanero (see Masterlist for rating descriptions)

Oda Forces

Nobunaga firmly believes this is exactly his due as the amazing Devil King that he is. He tends to be a take charge, grab what he wants kind of guy, so he’s a little thrown by the idea of you doing all of the work. He comes around pretty quickly when he realises this means an endless stream of blowjobs and ego stroking though. Best body parts to worship: chest, cock.

Nobunaga grinned as Mai knelt on the dais before him and placed her hands on his knees. The grin widened when Mai leaned forward to nuzzle his chest and abdomen. 

“Nobunaga-sama,” she sighed against him, breasts heavy against his pelvis. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She ran one small hand down the collar of his red kimono underlayer, tracing the muscular outline of his chest. “The castle feels so empty when you’re gone.” Her pink tongue follows the line drawn by her hand, and Nobunaga let his arms fall loose by his sides. Mai slid the layers of kimono off one shoulder and pressed her face against him, her warm breath teasing his nipple. “I love your strength, Nobunaga-sama. Let me show you how much I dream about you when you’re not here.”

Hideyoshi is, at first, profoundly uncomfortable with this idea. His deep-seated belief that his self-worth depends on his utility to Nobunaga and others means that he usually does all the work in bed; he knows he’s attractive to women, but doesn’t really grok why they might climb into his bed aside from that fact. You’ll have an uphill battle convincing him that he’s worthy of worship. Best body parts to worship: neck and shoulders.

Hideyoshi sat stiffly on the tatami, his legs crossed and his mouth set. Mai settled herself in his lap and curled her hands around the nape of his neck, teasing his hairline with her fingertips. She pressed gentle kisses along his jaw. “Hideyoshi,” she whispered. “You take such good care of me. Please, let me take care of you for once.” Gently she nudged his arms until he cradled her close, while she murmured lovingly into his strong neck and broad shoulders of how she respected him for the burdens he carried.

Mitsunari is a blank slate, sexually speaking, which means he’s an easy sell. If you tell him this is how it works, then he’ll believe you, and make sure he’s vocal about his appreciation of your work. He has a tendency to view his body simply as a vehicle for getting his mind from place to place, so the idea that there’s a particular part of it drawing your attention is a little foreign to him. Best body parts to worship: face (brain) and hands.

“Princess, tell me what you want.” Mitsunari’s angelic face was an open book, radiating a sincere desire to learn what pleased her. Mai smiled and gently guided him down to the futon. 

“Just lay back, Mitsunari.” She caught his writing hand and brought it to her mouth, running her lips across his ink-stained fingertips. “I want to take my time and learn all the ways your clever hands can feel me.” Her teeth grazed the callused pads of his fingers as she straddled him, and he shivered.

Mitsuhide, like Nobunaga, loves the idea of being worshipped. Unlike Nobunaga, Mitsuhide requires more than ego-stroking. He knows he’s no paragon; the snake of Azuchi works in the shadows, and the only people who should be worshipping him are just as shady as he is. Mitsuhide doesn’t get really into the worship unless you debase yourself in the process. Best body parts to worship: Stomach, cock, hands. 

“Mitsuhide, please --!” Mai’s voice was muffled by the way her face pressed into his abs. “I want to suck you so badly. I want your cock --”

Mitsuhide smiled ferally and knotted his fingers in her braids. “Now, now, little mouse. You know the rules about begging.” 

He could see the edge of her answering grin as her tongue forged a wet path south to the base of his cock.

“Yes, Mitsuhide-sama. I know, I must always remember my manners and beg with my mouth full.” 

Masamune isn’t a worship kind of guy. Receiving praise is a passive act, and that’s just not his deal. He’s also self-aware enough to know that although he is pretty awesome, he’s got his fair share of flaws. But unlike Hideyoshi, he’s happy enough to go with the flow as long as you’re enjoying it, and as long as he gets the chance to return the favour later. Best body parts to worship: Mouth, strong thighs (man rides horses like a maniac, trust me, he’s not using the reins to steer).

Mai straddled his thigh, grinding down hard as he flexed under her. “Oh god, do you feel how wet you make me, Masamune?” She panted against his throat. “You’re so hard,” she slid closer to his hip, trapping his erection between them, “so strong, I can’t help myself.” She clung to his shoulders as she worked herself into a frenzy, teasing at his mouth with her hot breath. “All I could think about during that ride was riding you instead.”  

Masamune’s answering laugh was husky as he captured her lips in a warm kiss. “Well, I never thought my kitten might want me for my horsemanship instead of my swordsmanship, but why don’t you show me what you like.”

Ieyasu doesn’t like being vulnerable, and weirdly, listening to you love on all his best traits makes him feel very vulnerable. Unless the body part you plan to worship is his mouth, you’ll have a constant background stream of sarcastic comments about your good sense, sanity, and taste in men. You’ll have much better luck if you skip worshipping him, and invoke his possessive tendencies by talking about how you could never want anyone else instead. Best body parts to worship: Back and arms (heyyo, archery muscles).

Ieyasu stared blankly at Mai before blushing and looking away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. “There’s nothing special about my archery.” 

Mai smiled and circled around him, running her fingers around the collar of his kimono and dipping them inside. “But Ieyasu,” she tugged the collar down, exposing the nape of his neck, “I know how impressive these muscles are, even if you hide them under these layers.” She pressed her thumbs into the muscle between his shoulders. “I know that no one else can handle your bow.” She kissed the bumps of vertebrae at the back of his neck. “When you draw back the bowstring, I can imagine every shift of your back and arms and I can’t even imagine anyone else anymore.”

Uesugi-Takeda Forces

Kenshin.exe has crashed. Abort, retry, fail? Kenshin will murder every person in Japan, Asia, the world, and attempt to take on Nature herself for you, but he never expected you to praise him for it. In fact, he’s been kind of resigned to you and everyone else trying to get him to chill out. Worship of his body doesn’t push any buttons for him, but praising his strength, his prowess in battle, his ability to protect you and keep you safe, all of these will drive him into a passionate frenzy. Best body parts to worship: Hands and feet, calves.

"Mai, what are you doing?" Kenshin stared down at the woman kneeling at his feet, parti-colored eyes baffled.

She lifted her head and shuffled closer to him, leaning her forehead against his thigh. "I wanted to thank you for all you do to protect me, my love." Her hands were surprisingly strong as she clung to his calf. "I see how lightly you step across the field of battle." Her fingers dug into the muscle, finding the points of tension he barely noticed anymore. 

Kenshin gasped and sprawled back on the futon as the release of the knotted muscle threw him of-balance. "I would fight anyone to protect you," he replied in confusion, "but --"

"But you thought I didn't approve?" She smiled and cast an adoring glance up through her lashes. "How could I resist such strength and grace?"

Shingen, Lord of the Chippendales (the nickname is canon and you can’t take that away from me!) just straight up loves it when you worship him, but he will do everything in his power to turn this into a mutual admiration society. Pick a body part, any body part, and he’ll gladly show it off for your pleasure. He will keep trying to distract you with his own praise, unless you manage to short-circuit his brain first. Best body parts to worship: muscular forearms and strong calloused hands from woodworking (and swinging a six-foot broadsword, what the even hell is that).

Mai ran her nails lightly down Shingen’s forearm, admiring the goosebumps that rose in her wake. “I do love your arms,” she murmured. “They’re so . . . capable.”

Shingen flashed her the flirtatious smile that always sent heat curling through her core. “They are capable of many things, my goddess.” He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest. She grinned and pushed at his chest, leaning back enough to grab his other hand and flatten it against the skin revealed by the gap in her kimono collar. 

“It’s not just your arms, Lord Shingen. Your hands are so large and warm,” her heart beat faster under his palm, “that I melt every time you caress me.”

Sasuke is a modern feminist ally, so at first he’ll ask a lot of questions to ensure this is something you want, not something you think he wants. Once he’s satisfied that’s the case, he’ll happily follow your lead wherever you want to go. He’s also not beset by the concerns about masculinity or dominance that might affect the more traditional warlords, so you can take more charge than you might otherwise. Best body parts to worship: Chest, hands, extreme flexibility. 

Sasuke knelt quietly, eyes closed, patient. Mai circled around him, carefully inspecting each knot and twist in the silk rope binding his forearms together behind his waist. At last she was satisfied, and crouched behind him, ghosting her lips across his shoulderblade. 

“Sasuke,” she crooned. “Look at you. Look at how easily you twist like this.”

He arched his back, pressing against her breasts as she ran her hands down his biceps. “I get a lot of practice crawling through the ceilings.”

“I know you do. It’s genius, what you’ve engineered above the rafters.” Her hands skate over his shoulders, caressing his deltoids and pecs. “I’m amazed by everything you’ve accomplished here. Who would have thought there was so much practical skill hiding under that lab coat.”

Yukimura is confused, embarrassed, baffled, and not sure you aren’t making fun of him, in roughly that order. Best body parts to worship: Face, arms.

The hot blush on Yukimura’s cheeks belied the glare he shot at Mai. “You’re joking, right?” 

Mai giggled. “No, I’m not. I love seeing you blush like that.” She leaned close to brush kisses across his cheekbones. “It lets me know how much of an effect I’m having on you.” She looped her arms around his neck to pull him closer as he tried to hide his face. “You never can hide how much you want me, and I love it.”

Wildcards

Sadly, I just couldn’t come up with anything for these three. I feel like Kennyo goes through profoundly uncomfortable and straight into actively angry about being worshipped. I actually can’t wrap my head around him ever being okay with it, unless we get about ten thousand words of character development out of the way first.

Ranmaru and Motonari I just don’t know enough about. I feel like Ranmaru has hidden depths that would make the answer to this question less straightforward than it seems. Motonari is definitely arrogant enough to love it, but his fear of touch (which is straight up the only thing I know about him) would definitely be a complicating factor. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT. AU) pt.4

04: Fraternizing with the enemy

Summary: A blast from the past, body painting and a possible threat?

Warnings: swearing, implying smut, angst

Word count: 3000

Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

Special thanks to @godlydolans for being in the story as Yashi Singh

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1389 years ago

"It took us three fucking years to get her to this point! Don't mess up now!" Hermes whisper shouts, pushing Apollo.

Apollo shoots his brother a disapproving look, followed by a subtle sneer.

"And I actually...like this one." Hermes admits shyly, almost as if he's ashamed of himself too.

Apollo's eyes widen, nearly popping out in shock and disgust for his brother.

"You like...a...human?" Apollo gags, shaking his head vehemently. The very thought nauseated him. Humans were never anything more than flesh to Apollo, not even now.

"We're meant to use them as a means to an end, not actually develop feelings, brother!" Apollo speaks matter of factually, still in disbelief that they're even having this conversation and only minutes before admitting the truth to Yashi Singh, their current reason for squabble.

"She's not...insufferable like the others." Hermes defends, only getting a backhanded slap from his brother.

"If you focused more on the task at hand, maybe we wouldn't be spending our immortality chasing mortal women in vain!" Apollo adds, turning back to the door in an instant once he hears them open.

A woman of mere five feet and seven inches walks in, lips pursed and that tiny freckle on her cupid bow a little more visible with the action. Black braids fall about Yashi's face creating soft shadows under her cheekbones, but the rest of her hair flowed down her back like black ink of a tilted piece of parchment. Her eyes are black, not soulless nor lifeless. Instead they are like two pristine stones of onyx, that light up with a purple flare when touched by candle light.

She tilts her head, revealing one of her golden earrings with one of her braids joining flowing ink on her back.

"Why are you here?" Her sharp tone takes the brothers by surprise, finding it unusual for she was nothing if not a classy, gentle soul. Hermes deemed her to be a hopeless romantic, while Apollo always knew despite her gentleness that she's also very stubborn and short tempered. It's unusual due to her heritage, Athena being her root to Mount Olympus, but they didn't think much of it.

"We needed to talk to you about something very important." Hermes speaks first, not giving Apollo a chance. He is the one that cares for the potter's daughter after all. He admired her pottery skills and even more her beautiful sketches. Her artistry demanded his respect and attention.

"If it's about you being gods of Mount Olympus, spare me. I know of your lies now." She lifts her head high, accentuating her sharp nose with the move, not failing to see the brothers pale once she uncovers their schemes in a simple sentence.

Six words...they knew it was over in six words.

"How?" Apollo asks, noticing Hermes is rendered speechless.

"Athena told me. It was enough for me to see through your lies and I can't believe I let myself care for either of you." Yashi puffed, turning her head to the side trying to forget how they affected her from the start.

The pull was undeniable, so pure and so strong that it took the breath from her lungs. The very first time Hermes smiled at her, she nearly had an orgasm right then and there, let alone when she let him take her in every way possible. She would have taken him as a husband without a second thought, but his deceit had made her heart close for him and there was nothing but a mist of hate in her heart and mind for him now.

She'd forgive his lies had they not mortified her pride and claimed her honor.

"Athena?" Apollo frowns, his incredibly handsome features darkening once he realized that the gods themselves are working against him and his brother. He couldn't understand how or why, wondering why that happened.

"She came to me in a dream and told me all of your dirty little secrets. Now I must ask you to leave at once and never return or the next time I see you I won't be as merciful, nor will my fiance." She dropped the news of her engagement on the brothers, ordering them removed from not only her home but city as well, effectively taking their chance of going home and crushing it to dust.

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Present

"I have rules, so listen up." Y/N licks her lips, trying not to stare at the rock hard abs that basically invited everyone's attention. It's impossible not to stare when two guys with godly physique are half naked before you.

"No touching while I work. Keep the chatter to a minimum...and bend your knees." She adds the last bit with a blush when Grayson's smile grows wide and alluding.

"Bend my knees?" He chuckles at her, suggestively raising his eyebrows and Ethan flicks his shoulder for the flirtation.

"So you don't faint, frat boy." She rolls her eyes at him to cover up how fast her heart is galloping inside her chest.

"Sure. But I can't promise to be quiet." Grayson bites his lower lip before smirking, forming a small dimple Y/N never noticed before, mostly because she both avoided to stare at his face and his company. Her eyes are enthralled with him.

His eyes were like crisp toffee drizzled in melted chocolate and framed with darling lashes. A button nose and burrowed cheekbones, his appearance only to die for. She couldn't help but notice leathery, nearly black strands flopping over his face which to her distaste are veiling some of his enticing features. So perfect, yet so frustrating that she could bear no social contact with that sensuous man.

"Fine." She huffed, reaching out and pushing back the loose strands of his hair back in place. It was an instinct more than conscious action, one that took her by surprise just as much as Grayson.

She blinked fast, realizing what she did, quickly gathering necessary paint to start her work on Grayson so he could let her poor heart rest.

"You know, I never liked this rule about KDRs and Kappa's not interacting." Grayson begins, his eyes flickering from Ethan who laid back on her bed in his underwear and fidgeted with his phone and back to Y/N and her laser focused gaze that burned his thighs thus making his job of keeping his downstairs in check much harder.

"Why is the rule in place anyway?" She looks up briefly, biting down on her lower lip to continue her work. She choose a turquoise paint, a blend of baby blue and green - colors they both love. She remembered that about him.

If that's not fraternizing with the enemy, what is?

"You don't know?" Grayson smirks, averting his gaze to the ceiling for a moment before deciding to inform her thoroughly.

"When Kappa's and KDR were first formed, our leaders were actually in love and dating. However, when they broke up, Kappa's house burned down the same night and Kappa's always blamed our frat for it. Since they didn't have a house and they refused to move in with KDRs as rules demanded, the Kappa sorority was out of commission in Dartmouth for the next two years, but they didn't stand idly by until KDR went down with them. They planted evidence and got our leader and two more members expelled from school and ever since then, the rule remained. It's to remind us that love can turn to hate and partnership to vengeance." Grayson explains, taking note of her small pause when her hand covered the last of his legs and the tattoos he acquired over the centuries.

"Sounds like Romeo and Juliet had they lived and gotten a divorce." She mussed, but her mind was all over the place. She must write it down in the Kappa's book, the sisters should know their history.

"Something like that." Grayson confirms, wiggling his hips lightly which prompted Y/N to giggle.

"Settle down Shakira, I'm done in a few." And with a few giggles in between, she finished Grayson and beckoned Ethan to stand in, deciding to paint him white and black. He always exuded a black and white aura in her mind.

"Do you ever miss home?" Ethan asks, knowing she's a freshman and probably has parents back home who love her.

"I...don't. My father's never home and my mum passed away a few years back." She answers, swallowing tears when her mother crossed her mind. She misses the people, but not the big, empty house.

"Do you?" She inquires before either brother has a chance to offer their condolences or pitiful looks she's used to receiving, but hates nonetheless.

"I do." Grayson interjects, looking to his brother.

"I don't." Ethan shrugs, like none of it hurts him. But he didn't lie.

Hermes likes Earth. He likes indulging himself in all earthly pleasures, women in particular. He's also very bitter about the last couple of years he spent in his world when he worked for Hades, his uncle. Hermes was his successor in case something happened, which made him gleeful. But when Hades took his sister Persephone as his wife against her will and tricked her to stay in the underworld forever...that really made everything impossibly hard for Hermes. He tried to save his sister, he fought for her freedom for he loved her and wished her to have a choice in those she spends an eternity with.

But he failed and he never forgave himself for that.

The only reason why Hermes would be interested in going back is to kill his dear uncle Hades and claim his throne, but never because he misses home. As far as he's concerned Mount Olympus can burn and all the treacherous gods that abandoned him and his brother can burn with it.

But that's not the only reason why.

Hermes doesn't think any girl will take him over Apollo, the actual patron of love and beauty and art. It's a complex from the past where Apollo was worshiped for his good looks and Hermes was more of a worker bee than worshiped by anyone other than the working class and the gods who appreciated him for being a messenger...and well, the dead who needed to cross over into the underworld who found him to be comforting and kind, despite his job. He liked his job for it gave him a chance to travel not only in this world, but other dimensions, however, it does leave one scarred and confidence damaged. He knows his fate is to live and die on Earth and he's made his peace with that.

"Oh." Y/N's unsure what to say, noticing some tension rise in the room, not wanting to start anything between the brothers. She focused on the task at hand, working her hands and her magic on Ethan's tattoos in order to cover them up, finding them just as dark as him.

She always felt Ethan has sharper features than Grayson. His cheekbones are more defined and his eyes are a little more intense which is why he's more intimidating than Grayson, but his entire body gives off a darker vibe, something she can't quite put her finger on, but knows is there.

"I, uh. I should warn you Blair had a video of us singing One thing and she wanted to use it against you." Ethan's words freeze her, making her nails dig into his sides unintentionally.

"Had?" Y/N's eyes connect with his. Ethan's expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his lucid eyes betrayed the poet and the dreamer. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked the bit of pain her nails caused.

"I may have stolen her phone and set it to factory settings." He glances at the phone he was so taken with previously, bringing about the brightest smile on her face. It destroyed any ounce of worry that overtook her features previously, making him very satisfied with himself.

"If we weren't in a house full of people who'd burn us at the stake, I would hug your mischievous ass right now!" She whisper shouts, jumping on her tiptoes ever so slightly from happiness.

"Your smile is reward enough." Ethan smiles back, genuine and soft for her.

Grayson clears his throat, ending their moment and reminding Y/N to keep working before someone suspects something.

Once done, the boys were all asked to leave and a very annoyed, tomato red Blair congratulated the girls before leaving them alone to their own devices.

Y/N immediately returned to her room, jumping to her bed with a deep sigh. She felt her mind wander like crazy, bouncing between two brothers who both seem to be interested in her which made the matter at hands much worse.

Even the sheets smelled of them after they spent hours rolling on them and she still couldn't force herself to change them. Grayson felt like - spring. He smells clean, like laundry and flowers freshly picked from the garden. Ethan is more musky - like autumn. His smell reminds her of earth after rain, the leafs and a touch of very expensive cologne.

She heard a peck on her window, making her roll on her stomach and lift her head only to find Grayson on his window with a large white paper and black letters she couldn't read properly until she stood and approached the window.

CHECK YOUR PHONE

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion, turning to her bed to grab her phone only to find a message.

Grayson: Took the liberty of adding my number to your contacts. Hope you don't mind.

He actually types full sentences instead of using abbreviations? I knew I like him for a reason.

Y/N: As long as it remains between us, it's not a problem.

She knew it wasn't right, but how can something so wrong feel so good?

Grayson: Wanna tell me about the art in your room?

Y/N looked around, finding only three paintings and all three looked different. One was a simple red rose, the other a cliff and the third...the one she liked the most was of the ocean at breaking dawn.

She stood up, closing in on the painting, watching every detail for it reminded her of something...of someone. And that's when she sees it - initials...her mother's initials in the bottom right corner.

Putting a hand to the initials, she feels her bottom lip quiver and her eyes brim with tears. There are more ways to immortalize your stay in a Kappa's room and her mother chose art - what she did best, her greatest passion.

She plops on the bed, staring up at the painting.

Y/N: It's my mum's. The ocean one.

She sniffles, seeing dots appear on her screen that indicate he's typing his response.

Grayson: Your mum was a very talented artist. That belongs in a gallery.

Smiling softly at the screen, she glances over her shoulder at Grayson who still stood at his window and he didn't bother hiding it or playing games with her. He's not running from the interest he's shown her and it's refreshing.

Y/N: Thank you for talking to me about this...I might have never seen it on my own. I owe you.

Grayson: Nonsense. I'm just happy you have a piece of her with you. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.

With the last message, she smiled at him, getting his famous tiny wave in return.

She turned the lights off, falling asleep with ease for the first time in a long time. Little did she know she'd be haunted in her dreams now as well.

Standing in darkness, Y/N found herself weary, but not scared. Not really.

"You're finally here." She hears a gaunt voice, turning in circles to find the source but failing until a spark of dark purple appears at her side and a woman takes form.

She stood before her, as clear as anything she had ever seen before, behind her a dark ocean turning wavy and a moon brightly shining, which in turn illuminations her face into almost a ball of light. Her eyes are emerald green, eclipsed by her pupils, her skin as pale as the very moon above her head. Her curved, nearly black lips resembled a smile, the black of her hair cascading down her face which perfectly matches her lavish black dress.

"Who are you?" Y/N whispers in wonder, feeling an unexplained connection to the woman before her, one reminding her of a connection she felt toward the gorgeous twins.

"Your past." The woman reaches out, her icy cold fingertips touch Y/N's shoulder, the black nail polish standing out against her skin.

"Your present." She starts to circle Y/N, her touch bringing shivers to Y/N's body.

"Your future." She steps before her, grabbing both her shoulders almost violently before a sneer-like smile takes her face.

"I am you and you are me and together...we'll bring the world to its knees."

Y/N wakes up, sitting up instantly. Her body drenched in cold sweat, her clammy hands shaken and her body numb and tingling from the nightmare...it felt too real.

Looking to her window, she sees Grayson's asleep, barely covered with sheets and a lot of the paint still clinging to his body. It helps her mind unravel and shake the dream off.

She sits in her bay window, watching Grayson instead of the sky until she lulls herself to sleep.

      ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart  @heeydolan @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch   @fallinginlove-16  @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid  @dinnerwiththedolans  @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck  @godlydolans @flowery-dolan

[theepitomeofamess]

*yeets this at you from within the void*

Strictly for Convenience pt. 10 (aka the finale)

word count: 3276

Ao3 link

Previous parts:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

taglist:  @shattered-raine @insert-epic-blogger-name-here @ilylogan@reallyanextrovertipromise @ladynightmare12 @allsortsofgeekery@awkwardangie410 @th3okamid3mon@shattereddreamsamongotherthings @februaryfun @izlaria@keeshy-ekho @a-ghosts @virge-of-a-breakdown @doepuffsss@lyre-lyre-numb-desire @vexation-virgil @detective-lemon@nightwhisker17 @shadycomputerduck @randomfanderfriend@ab-artist @penguinkool @another-sandersidesblog@iamdefinitelynotanalien @spectralheartt @aroundofaceapplesauce@downrightdanny @rainfallen9 @theunoriginaldaisy @izzynuggets

y’all i honestly don’t know how to thank you for reading along and enjoying this, it means so much and I wish it wouldn’t end (i also wish that any of the endings i came up with would do you guys justice but that just wasn’t possible) so without further ado, enjoy the final chapter!

They spent that night together. They shared a bed, never left each other’s arms, did everything short of actual intercourse - Logan held that barrier firm, and though Patton couldn’t see why, he respected it. He was too happy to question Logan’s motives. He was too fully engulfed in blissful warmth, strong arms and lips that had worked themselves soft. Patton learned every hair on Logan’s head and Logan could name each and every one of Patton’s freckles. Patton fell asleep in Logan’s arms, Logan to the smell of Patton’s hair, and neither of them could think of anything they’d experienced - anything they’d ever heard of - that was more perfect.

And Patton, for the second morning in a row, woke up smiling until he realized that he was alone.

A letter sat on the pillow next to him in place of Logan, there sat a letter addressed to “My Beloved.”

Patton tore it open to read, but he couldn’t read it without his glasses. He shoved his glasses in front of his eyes, but it was too dark to make out the words. He stumbled over himself getting to the window, throwing open the curtain, and though it was too bright to be comfortable for his still sleeping eyes, he could finally read Logan’s neat script.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for last night, I was not in my right mind. I’m sorry that you were forced to spend this portion of your life with me, though I am sure you’ll forget it soon enough. I’m sorry for loving you and for making you think you love me in return. I’m sorry.

I made a promise, though, and I am keeping it. I promised that I would ensure that you are safe and happy and loved as you should be, and I am keeping that promise. I wish that I could keep that promise by staying with you, but there is no way that I could ever love you as you should be loved. It is killing me to leave you this morning, but I swore that I would keep this promise if it killed me, and so I am keeping it. I know that it may hurt at first - Heaven and Hell only know how much it hurts me to keep writing this - but you will get past it. I have left you in the safe arms of your family, and I know for a fact that you will be far happier with them and whoever you choose to replace me than you could have ever been with me. I hope that you will respect my decision, and that the only time we meet again will be to split the fortune that is owed you. By then, I will be a hollow shell of a man, and you will be glad that I left you to find your true love.

Yours entirely, yours eternally,

Logan Foster.

Patton didn’t know if he burst into tears because of anger or sadness or frustration or despair or something in the middle, but he was crying before he got halfway through the letter. By the time he was reading the name, he was on his knees, bawling. The letter was on the floor in front of him, he was crumpled in on himself, hugging himself close as he tried to keep himself together so he didn’t fall apart as he felt his insides shredding to pieces. His tears rained down onto the letter in front of him, staining it with sorrow.

He knew that it was Virgil who found him while he was still sobbing. He knew the gentle touch well, especially in combination with the sobs that made him feel like he was going to be sick.  Virgil was always the one that found him and held him when he had a breakdown. There wasn’t usually a big reason.

He heard the paper shift as Virgil picked it up to read it, sighing to himself before passing it off to Roman, who had just come in. Patton just barely heard Roman curse Logan as he bent further over himself, arms gripped around his midsection as he felt his chin against his knees, his forehead against the carpet. He heard Roman shut and lock the door, keeping everybody else out. He and Virgil were the only ones who knew both Logan and Patton well enough to figure something out, and they could go and find Dexter if they needed his help.

“I thought that everything was okay,” Virgil sighed, still gently holding Patton, hand drawing soothing circles on his back. When he’d seen the two of them going upstairs last night, holding hands and Patton unable to stop smiling, he’d thought that they’d finally worked things out. He thought that Patton was finally going to be truly happy.

Virgil liked Logan - he did - and he could hear in the letter that he thought he was doing the right thing. That didn’t stop him from swearing that if the moron didn’t make amends, then he would kill him the next time he saw him.

Patton wasn’t sure when his sobbing turned to shaken breaths, how long it took for the shaking to stop and for the lack of any feeling to take over. He had no idea what he was planning to do when he got up and got dressed. There was still something burning in the pit of his stomach, but it was quiet now. It wasn’t lashing out. I just needed to move, to go.

Patton didn’t quite remember Virgil and Roman asking where he was going when they heard him asking for a car to be brought around. He didn’t quite remember telling them that he was “going to find my moron” and that if he couldn’t be found he’d be back before midnight. Neither of them tried to stop him, instead offering to go with him for moral support. Patton denied with a slight smile. He couldn’t remember what exactly made him smile - maybe it was habit, maybe it was Virgil and Roman, two of the most important and loved people in his world, maybe it was something else. Either way, he smiled as he got into the car and rode away from his childhood home.

Roman stood outside, watching the drive for longer than he probably should have, thinking back to the last day he and Virgil stayed at Foster house, the night that Logan had pulled him aside.

“Listen,” he’d started, leaning forward toward Logan. “I like you. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I do. That being said, if you ever turn, if you ever do anything to hurt him-”

“You’ll kill me,” Logan smirked, obviously just tipsy enough on wine and whiskey to be open. “You and your husband and your brother and his husband. Yes, I’ve heard this speech before, and from a much more intimidating source. Don’t worry, I can’t exactly outrun you.” Roman winced as Logan pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal his prosthetic. “You have nothing to worry about, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever mean enough to him to hurt him. Not in any permanent way.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Roman tilted his head. “You seem to be growing on him.”

“It’s easier to act that way when he has people that he loves around, namely you and Virgil.” Logan took a deep breath, his gaze shifting slightly to stare at something behind Roman where nothing existed. “Your brother… is everything good about this world. Aphrodite couldn’t dream of being so beautiful, Apollo himself couldn’t begin to shine as brightly. I knew that the minute I saw him. I’ll never deserve him. I’ll keep him safe for as long as he needs, but only until he finds someone much closer to being worthy of him. Something as cold hearted as me…” Logan took another deep breath and another swig from his glass of whiskey. “You won’t have me in your hair for long. I promise.” Logan finished his glass and marched for the door to the others before Roman could get in another word.

It was that exchange that made Roman’s big brother instincts kick in and start worrying not only about his precious Patton, but Logan as well. Now, watching the road Logan had snuck down like a thief in the night, the road Patton was taking to track him down, Roman could only wish for them to work something out, for them to be happy.

~

It didn’t take long for Patton to reach Foster house. Nothing much had changed - everything was still in bloom, saturated with color and life as the sun shone bright in the clear sky. The only thing that seemed out of place was the taxi pulled up in front of the door. It didn’t stay, though. It started away as Patton approached, revealing an obviously frustrated Dexter standing on the other side of it.

“Finally. I knew you’d show up,” he called out as Patton got out of the car.

“How long have you been here? I thought you were-”

“I heard him leaving and knew that somebody had to keep him where he could be found. I was only a few minutes behind him.” Dexter led Patton inside to the library as he explained, the sound of someone talking to himself echoing into the hall.

“I dreamt last night our love return’d,” Logan muttered to himself as Dexter led Patton to the open door to the library. He was shelving books, reciting to himself absentmindedly. “And, sooth to say, that very dream/ was sweeter than its phantasy,/ Than if for other hearts I burn’d,/ For eyes that ne’er like thine could beam/ In Rapture’s wild reality.”

“I tried talking to him,” Dexter whispered to Patton, “but he doesn’t listen to me. Good luck.” Patton stepped forward into the library, Logan’s back still to him as he kept stacking, kept reciting from memory.

“Then tell me not, remind me not,/ Of hours which, though for ever gone,/ Can still a pleasing dream restore,/ Till Thou and I shall be forgot,/ And senseless, as the mouldering stone/ Which tells that we shall be no more.” Logan bent over his desk, fingernails finding their way to his lip as he looked over something.

“I think I remember that one,” Patton announced, stepping closer into the library. Logan nearly jumped out of his skin. “You read that to me once. You thought I was asleep.”

“I thought that you were going to do as I said,” Logan muttered, wiping the blood from his lip with a bandaged hand.

“When have I ever done that? Also, what did you do to your hand?”

“It’s no-”

“He punched the wall,” Dexter interrupted, leaning against the doorway.

“You punched a wall?”

“It’s the only way he’ll let himself have any sort of emotional release. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s broken-”

“Dexter,” Logan’s voice cracked, edging on a shout. “Do you mind?” Dexter shrugged, silently wishing Patton good luck one last time before closing the door behind him. “You should have stayed with your family.”

“Did you honestly think that after what we’ve been through, that after last night, I’d just let you go that easily?”

“You’re not bound to me,” Logan reminded him. “I made sure of that, that we weren’t ever properly together so you can leave without feeling obligated to stay.”

“I know that I’m not obligated, but I am going to stay because it’s what I want.”

“I thought that we both knew that this was strictly for convenience, that it wouldn’t-”

“What about this is convenient, Logan?” Patton’s voice was steadier than he’d imagined it would be. He thought that he would be screaming already. “What has happened that you imagine is convenient?”

“I was trying to make it convenient for you by giving you a safe place to stay that was acceptable to your parents until you found a person and place that you loved. I was trying to make everything convenient for you, not me.”

“And by trying to do that, you’ve only made things more complicated. You could have made everything easier for both of us if you would just accept that we love each other and make each other happy. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because I know that I don’t - I could never deserve you. You wouldn’t stay happy - I could never make you as happy as you can possibly be. I’ve seen you at your happiest, and I couldn’t-”

“You don’t know that! When do you think you’ve seen me at my happiest when you weren’t-”

“Two years ago, Christmas at Hemingway Manor.” Patton shut his mouth, taken aback by the answer. He hardly remembered that night. “We were only introduced, I doubted that you’d remember. In fact, I counted on it. I saw you, though. I fell for you that night. I saw you dance the night away, watched as you laughed and twirled and glowed brighter than all the thousands of candles that lit the place. I saw you and I loved you, and when I realized it was you that I was engaged to, I made a plan to ensure your happiness. I can’t make you happy like that - I never could - but I could make you comfortable until you found a way out. And I still stand by that plan. It’s hit some bumps in the road, but I still believe that someone else will be so much better for you. I never wanted to hurt you, but while I was trying to stay away you were...” Patton sighed as Logan pressed his palm to his forehead.

“Okay,” Patton thought out loud. Shouting wasn’t going to work with Logan - all it did was get him more worked up which led to more shutting down. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You and I will stay together, live together like none of this mess ever happened, like a normal married couple would, until our one year anniversary. That gives us, what, nine or ten months to live together? If by then one of us has fallen out of love with the other, then we’ll separate. If not, then we won’t, and you’ll have to accept that we’re happy. Deal?” Patton put out his hand for Logan to shake, smiling only enough for Logan to know that there were no hard feelings.

Logan couldn’t find it in him to say no. He went over Patton’s proposition again and again in his head, but he couldn’t find a way that it wouldn’t work out. He knew that Patton would come to his senses sooner or later, and sure, he would always feel guilty for taking up a year of his life when he could have been anywhere else, but if Patton was so determined to have his way…

“All right. Deal,” Logan conceded, taking Patton’s hand to shake. He only wondered for an instant why Patton’s grip was so strong until he was yanked forward, Patton’s lips pressing to his to seal the deal. Patton wasn’t a fan of the metallic taste of anxiety on his lip, but he was too glad to have him close to care. He would find a way to help him with that - he had time. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

~

Patton couldn’t stop smiling. The evening air of Spring was light in his lungs, warm on his skin. In the field in front of him, he could see all five of his brothers, his parents, a few of Logan’s friends standing in the field. Logan was standing in front of the same priest that had married them, his light grey suit and blue tie matching Patton’s perfectly. They stood just at the edge of the forest, and the bluebells were in full bloom.

Renewing their vows had been Logan’s idea. He’d brought it up the night of their anniversary when they got back from what was deemed Patton’s victory dinner. They were just at the front door when it started snowing and Patton stopped to watch. The suggestion had barely processed in Patton’s mind when he turned to see Logan down on one knee, enveloping Logan’s fingers in both of his hands.

“Will you allow me to be yours forever, for us this time?” He didn’t get a verbal answer like he’d been anticipating, instead immediately tackled into the snow by an ecstatic Patton, crying and kissing him and hugging him close. Flakes of snow crowned his curls and Logan swore for the hundredth time in his life that he had never seen anything so exquisite.

He swore the same thing for the two-hundredth time when he saw Patton settle beside him in front of the priest.

“Logan,” Patton smiled up at Logan, recalling the vows that he’d worked out days earlier, “you did everything that you could to get me to leave you. You challenged me, tested my resolve, and swore that it was all for my happiness. A year ago, I was at my happiest when you agreed to my deal. I grew happier every day after that, I got to see you every day, I got to make you happy, and I fell more and more in love with you. I am never going to leave you, I will never let you think that you’re not enough because it’s you that has made me the happiest man on the face of the earth, and I will spend every second of my life trying to make you feel something close to how you make me feel.” Logan reached out, taking Patton’s hand in his, cheeks dusted a glorious shade of red. He straightened his back when the priest told him it was his turn.

“I am not often wrong. Ask anyone who knows me, I don’t make mistakes and am usually right about things. I still think that I am right in that I will never deserve you. However, you have proven yourself right. Every day for the past year you’ve proven yourself right because every day I swore to myself that you would come to your senses and be gone by the next day. I still think that you should have, that I should have stayed away from you so you could find someone that deserves you. Nonetheless, allow me to admit for the first and hopefully last time: You’re right, I was wrong, and I acted like an idiot. And yes, you do have permission to hold that over my head for the rest of our lives now that we’re stuck together by choice.” Patton laughed, causing Logan to break into the widest grin Patton had ever seen on his face. “I love you, Patton Foster. I love you, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

“You may-” Patton already had his arms around Logan’s neck, their lips pressed together before the priest could finish the line. He felt lighter than air, Logan’s bear hug the only thing keeping him from floating away on cloud nine. The small audience cheered, Dexter and Remy both whistled, but Patton was already long gone. Pulling away only slightly, all that Patton saw was eyes glittering with endless galaxies and a smile that could cure any disease. All he heart was the tempo of Logan’s heart and the slight chuckle of disbelief that rose in his throat. Engulfed in the scent of ink and bluebells, Patton giggled as Logan hugged him closer, picking him up off the ground to twirl him around.

Nothing could be better.