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paradoxicalpatton · 4 years ago

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I’m Not In Love

Title: I’m Not in Love Summary: “He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in. He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love." The Captain and Pat's friendship is put on the line. Pairings: Patcap (The Captain/Pat) Content Warnings: Very mild period typical internalised homophobia Chapter: 2 Word Count: 1744 Read on: Archive of Our Own Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe we’ve just sat here for five hours and have done absolutely nothing.”

The setting sun cast a warm golden glow on the land as it began to slowly cross the horizon, the trees and bushes gently swaying to and fro, adding a soft, cool breeze to the scene. The lake had mirrored the sunset, the transition from sky to land now almost impossible to distinguish if it weren’t for small ripples from the wind delicately distorting the light over the water.

The once vivid greens and browns of the foliage among the ground and surrounding the lake had now been muted by the vibrant yellows and oranges that were now reflecting from the sun and onto the water, a deep rich blue quickly chasing away the final remnants of the day completely from the vast stretching sky above.

Pat and the Captain had been sitting by the lake since late that afternoon, having finally escaped from the chaos that is Button house. It was nice. Peaceful. For once they could relax without being interrupted by Julian with a story of some sex-capde he had been in followed by Fanny’s usual disgusted complaints, or by Thomas demanding that one of them tell Kitty to leave him alone while he comes up with the next great piece of literature.

Alison had come to realise just how much she depended on the two of them to keep the other ghosts in order, so she had organised an afternoon full of activities the ghosts would enjoy and participate in so Pat and the Captain could finally have some time to themselves.

Sitting underneath the large tree, Pat watched the grass move with the wind, longing to reach a hand out and run it across the ground so that he could feel it between his fingers. It made him think back to when he was alive. Carol had always complained about their front garden, how the weeds in the flower beds were overgrown and that the bushes were always untrimmed. He had always wanted to fix it for her, but he was usually preoccupied with his scout duties, and when he did find time to think about it he simply couldn’t come up with anything.

He owed it to his son Daley, however, when the young boy had asked him if they could plant flowers for his Mummy’s birthday, that way she didn’t have to throw them out after they died. So when Carol left to spend a week at her mothers before her birthday, Pat and Daley drove out to the garden store and bought everything they needed to fix it up for her.

Forget-me-nots, marigolds, daffodils, and pansies now filled the once weed-infested flower beds. The bushes had been trimmed, the trees cut, and the lawn mown. A small wooden bench had even been built and placed at the end of the garden. The smile on Daley’s face as him and his father admired their hard work from the bench was brighter than anything Pat had ever seen. They were so proud.

Pat wished he could smell the rich soil at this moment. Wished he could run his hands along the grass, listen to the sound of the fallen dead leaves crunch as he walked over them. He wished he could relive the feeling of pulling his son close to him in a tight hug after planting the final flower.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crickets waking up for the evening, as the last remaining rays of sunlight dropped below the horizon.

----------

Not wanting to return to Button house just yet, Pat directed his gaze at the man next to him. The Captain had been leant against the tree since they had got there that afternoon, the two occasionally making small talk before the Captain closed his eyes in an attempt to have the most peaceful nap of his entire existence. He’d woken not long ago, just in time to watch the sun fall and the moon rise.

For a moment after he’d woken up, the Captain had almost forgotten he was dead. At that moment, there was nothing but him, Pat, and the ground they were sat on. The tranquil smile that graced Pat’s face was more than enough to set the Captain’s heart racing. He tried to imagine what it would’ve been like, had the two of them been alive at the same time where loving the same gender was legal.

They’d move to the countryside, he decided. They’d have a large backyard with a vegetable garden by the white picket fence, maybe an apple tree, maybe even a chicken or two. The Captain had always found the thought of fresh eggs in the morning very appealing, as well as the structure provided from owning and caring for the animals.

He thinks about them owning a dog, a golden retriever to be exact. A girl, they’d call her Honey. The Captain would fight for a regular name such as Charlotte, but Pat would convince him that Honey is much more fitting. ‘It matches her fur!’ he’d say. The Captain would immediately give in.

He thinks about what it would feel like to be the object of Pat's affections. To be completely and utterly enamoured by someone so full of love.

It’s wrong, thinking about Pat that way. Imagining the two of them living in domestic bliss, running away and starting their lives all over again together. The Captain isn’t entirely sure why it’s wrong though. He was there for Sam and Claire’s wedding, he knows it’s not illegal to love the same gender anymore. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t fully accepted it himself.

He was so used to hiding away his feelings, burying them deep inside of him so that no one would ever see. So that no one would ever know he was defective. If he didn’t get close to anybody, he couldn’t betray them if they ever found out the truth.

Maybe he thought it was wrong because he truly believed that Pat would never love someone like him. He was cold, a stickler for rules and order. Not to mention that Pat was married while he was alive, to a woman no less. It was clear the scoutmaster was as straight as a pole.

It wouldn’t do any good getting his hopes up. Instead, the Captain would ignore the longing inside of him, he didn’t want to ruin what was quite possibly his only friendship in the entire house.

“Yes, well we have Alison to thank for that. Maybe we could convince her to turn this into a monthly thing. I could do with some time away from that lot every now and then.”

The Captain turned his attention toward Pat as he replied, hoping the younger ghost would be in favour of the idea. With a small nod of agreeance, Pat stood up and offered a hand to the Captain to avoid the struggle of getting up. The two of them slowly made their way back to Button house, the sounds of the other ghosts getting increasingly louder the closer they got. Hoping to stay undetected by the others, Pat and the Captain quietly snuck into the room where Alison and the other ghosts were playing some type of game.

They had almost gotten away with it without anyone noticing until Fanny got insulted at something Julian had said and jumped up to storm away. Seeing the Captain and Pat at the back of the room, she immediately took her complaint to them, the two male ghosts now preparing themselves to be thrown back into the chaos with everyone beginning to talk at once.

Alison made an attempt to calm the other ghosts down and distract them once more but was unsuccessful. It wasn’t until Pat raised his voice that everyone finally quietened down, pointing a finger at Robin asking him to start.

“Where you two go? We all play game, you not here.”

Before either of them had a chance to respond, Julian cut in with a thought that sent the ghosts into disarray once more.

“Probably off somewhere doing the old ‘horizontal tango’ if you ask me.”

“Now listen here, man! I won’t take any of this bum rap from someone of the likes of you. I would never do anything of the sort, and especially not with a brown-noser such as Patrick!”

The room stilled. The sudden silence wasn’t because of the Captain’s outburst, however, instead, the other ghosts looked past him at the short scout leader.

Without saying a word, Pat turned around and walked out, making his way to the dilapidated fountain outside the front door. He wasn’t really sure why what the Captain said had upset him. It hurt, to be completely honest.

Sitting by the edge of the fountain, Pat traced the overgrown vines with his eyes and ignored the presence slowly approaching him from behind.

“Patrick, I’m terribly sorry our friendship was misconstrued in such a way, I understand how embarrassing it was.”

“Embarrassed? You really think I’m upset because Julian’s comment embarrassed me?”

“Of course. Is… is that not the reason you’re upset?”

“No! Julian always says inappropriate things, it was what you said that hurt me.”

The Captain’s hands tightened around his swagger stick as Pat spoke, something in the younger man's tone made him want to embrace the scout leader.

“I don’t understand how, I was simply disproving Julian’s abhorrent comment.”

“That’s how! He said something about us together in passing and you acted like it was the worst possible thing in the world! Am I really that revolting Captain?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Patrick!”

“Seriously? Can’t you see that I’m angry at you? I’m upset! And you... you don’t even care!”

“How dare you, of course I care! But you’re acting like a child, it’s time to grow up-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Captain was shoved back, his feet tripping over one another causing him to fall to the ground. Looking up, Pat stood above him, the man’s face a mixture of regret and anger. The Captain watched as Pat turned around, his hands clenched by his sides.

“Cap, you’re a broken man, haunted by the choices you've made. I really thought we were becoming good friends. I’m sorry if I interpreted our relationship the wrong way.”

“Pat…”

“Don’t. Please, just don’t Cap. Sorry I pushed you.”

#bbc ghosts #six idiots #the captain #pat butcher #patcap #my fic #ghosts season 2 #ghosts bbc #ben willbond #jim howick

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bulletproofscales · 4 years ago

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the realest of selves

this is the namkook fic i told yall i was working on, the birthday friend already recived it so i thougth id post it! its not feederism and its very fluffy. hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723872/chapters/70426767

9/9 chapters 6.4 words

tags: established relationship, misunderstandings, fluff, happy ending

the one where jungkook falls in love again through namjoon’s poems, without knowing its him

Moma Muji.

That's the brand of the notebook Jungkook has in his hands… or, hand actually. It's rather small.

Must be passport sized.

He doesn’t own one of these.

He fumbles with it curiously. No, Jungkook doesn’t pick random objects he finds laying around; his mother raised him right.

But this wasn’t just any random object, this notebook had been left abandoned at Jungkook’s favorite desk in the college library. Specifically perfect because nobody used it: desk free of bumps from the scribbles or from people who wrote with too much force, minimal amount of gum stuck beneath it (He aspired for zero, but his dreams had been crushed pretty early on to his college life). The positioning was perfect too, far enough that the library’s wifi didn’t reach it, which was practically useless with the amount of work covered students plaguing the place constantly; but if he needed too, he could connect to the wifi from the classrooms nearby (And Jungkook went to the library at night time so… no classes happening at all)

It's the perfect desk and if something was left forgotten here, then it means it isn’t his anymore.

Which means he has the right to investigate.

The ragged, leather like texture feels expensive against his fingers. If he had to name the color, it would be a slightly darker version of a persian green; it's pretty. Jungkook can’t imagine someone using this for any academic purposes, given the size. He keeps playing around with it in his hands, hesitant.

It is one thing to pick up a stranger’s notebook on the desk, but to open it? It's a completely different violation of privacy. And he said it before: his mother raised him right.

Muji is an artsy brand right? These types of stationary notebooks probably have an information slot where he can find information; a name at least. Something to make hipsters who buy Muji, feel like their notebook is more special and personalized.

If he wants to find the owner he has to open it, doesn’t he?

No. Jungkook could simply deliver it to the librarian and let the owner look for it themselves.

Curiosity is killing him, though. To the point he was already opening the notebook even before he finished that thought. Eyes wide and fingers eager as he leans forward to find what he is looking for.

This notebook belongs to:

the Real Me

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This person is more hipster than Jungkook had even prepared himself to.

That tells him… absolutely nothing.

Hope you’re happy, Jungkook thinks to himself, directing it to the random hipster stranger.

As spiteful as he is of this infuriating halt that was brought to his detective adventure, he has to admit, the vulnerability of the stranger’s answer did absolutely nothing to calm his curiosity.

There's a few moments of quiet, just Jungkook and the first page staring at one another, as if daring him to look further, to sink deeper into the real authentic version of someone he has never even met.

I promise I won’t judge. He thinks apologetically as he flips the page.

In the blood you shed in the winter i was born red

Plum blossom in the snow:

Camellia,

Daffodil

Yeah, yeah, you can call me whatever you want

Listen up, winter you’ve bloomed me

Now I’m going to burn my branches blue

06/01/20

He gasps, as if Jeongguk had been holding his breath the entire time while reading it.

Moma Muji, passport size.

He looked it up when he got back to his dorm. It is in fact passport sized, the same exact measurements as a passport: 4.92 x 3.36 inches. How funny is that?

Jungkook had intended to continue reading in the library. But after...that, a feeling took over him that he was opening in a place far too public for the realest self of the (apparently) poet.

A poet…

There's a dreamy sigh that leaves his lips.

Anyways! The point is he took the notebook to his dorm and is now preparing himself to read more of it; from the safety of the locked door.

I’m real good, but a little uncomfortable

I’m still not sure if I’m a dog or a pig or what else

But then other people put a pearl necklace on me

So much blabbering

One says ‘run’ another says ‘stop’

This one says `look at the forest`

That one says ‘look at the wildflower’

My shadow, I wrote and called it ‘hesitation’

So they really are a poet.

In the back of Jungkook’s head he had expected for that first one to just be a silly quote this person added to the beginning of their notebook; maybe from a song from a band that they brag about listening to before it was popular.

But it's not…. this person is a poet…

This person is a romantic . The thought comes with a warmth that spreads across his cheeks.

It's obvious, these are romance poems. The first one, speaking about falling in love in the winter, about how delicate the poet’s significant other makes them feel; as delicate as these winter blooming flowers, comparing himself to a plant that burns under their love even during the winter. Love is getting them through the cold.

The second poem, however, is a lot less optimistic. Clearly the poet is battling their own feelings of inadequacy with the flattering words of their partner. They think of themself as a pig or a dog while they’re being treated with love. Different directions and orders are being directed to the poet are the contradicting opinions of themself: the ones they hear of their own and the ones from their partner.

So they’re probably in a relationship , he thinks with a little apprehension.

Not that it matters to Jungkook what this literal stranger is doing with their romantic life. He has to remind himself that, given that just the two poems had been able to give Jungkook a sensation of… odd familiarity; as if he knows this person already. It seemed as if with those poems he had gotten a glimpse of the poet’s two sides.

Obviously, the poems already showed two sides regarding the theme of love: safety and doubt. But aside from that, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way of expressing these sides: while the first poem was melodic and metaphorical, the second one held a language that sounded just a lot more accessible and down to earth.

This person must have thought about this relationship a lot.

It doesn’t matter, and it most certainly doesn’t affect him; so Jungkook shuts the notebook closed. He’ll just go about his day.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches.

Why does Jungkook remember the exact size?

Hell, why is he thinking about that notebook at all?!

Jungkook had rushed out, stumbling into his running shoes and beanie. Joonie had invited him to go out for a run even though they’re well into winter. And Jungkook… he is smitten enough to say yes.

But, nobody can blame him. He always has so much fun when he is with Namjoon… Or well, he tends to have fun, when his mind isn’t keeping him distracted with useless things!

Useless things like the way Namjoon’s route goes by a huge Camellia bush.

Yeah yeah call me whatever you want

Would Joon like it if he called him Camellia? Would his branches burn blue with love?

“Jungkook-ah, you’ll trip if you keep running that deep into your head, baby.” His endeared tone calls him out of the deep trance. His voice is a little breathless from running, he does so effortlessly while talking after years of taking this same route. The youngest has to shake his head a little bit, for a moment, Namjoon’s voice still sounded a little bit far away.

“You look like you saw a ghost, whats up?” For some reason, his boyfriend’s obliviousness only leads Jungkook to one conclusion: Namjoon hasn’t noticed the Camellia bush.

Of course he hasn’t, why would he?

Jungkook… Can’t ignore the sour disappointment in his tongue.

…

Odd.

They’ve stopped running now.

You still have to answer something, Jungkook.

“Oh.. I was just-..” He cuts himself off. Doing what? Judging Namjoon for not meeting the standards of a random poet?

“Those flowers are pretty.” Jungkook finds his voice a little softer, gesturing to the bush a little bit behind him; still at arms reach. He can’t help but sound shy, the answer he came with on the spot was… rather silly.

But, at least it was true , he thinks as his eyes linger over the gorgeous splashes of pink.

Namjoon’s expression is startled for a second, before melting into tooth rotting fondness. “You like Camellias?” Jungkook can feel the older’s eyes on him, tender and loving; before his hand is reaching tenderly for the bush.

He can’t lie, Jungkook is a little hypnotized by the way Namjoon’s knuckles look caressing the flower carefully. “So, do you?” The young hadn’t realized he had forgotten to breathe at the sight, Namjoon’s voice grounding him yet again from his wandering thoughts.

His nod comes hurriedly, thank god Namjoon is used to his spacing out; his chuckles help Jungkook’s shoulders sag down relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he had tensed them in the first place. “They only bloom in the winter… Feels special.” A shy smile grows on his face as he eyes up at Namjoon; he is already staring at the younger with a soft look.

“Who would have guessed you knew about flowers.” There's something gently amused about his tone, playful and flirty. It still makes Jungkook feel exposed.

He doesn’t know about flowers. He just looked up the flowers on his way from the library. But of course Namjoon would pick up on it, his boyfriend has been into botany since before they even started dating.

Meanwhile Jungkook… has no excuse. He tries to hide it in his face. “Only after spending so much time with you! ”He exclaims softly, nudging his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. Jungkook hadn’t realized they were so close, his hand goes to meet Namjoon’s where it's cradling the flower. “Do you have one of these?” His voice comes out quietly, too caught up admiring the sight of their big hands holding the almost hyperbolically delicate flower.

Do you imagine the poet cares for Camellias and Daffodils?

Namjoon chuckles softly, for some reason, it feels like he is reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “No, they’re a little too hard to maintain just for a pretty flower that comes once a year.”

Oh… He can’t help his disheartened reaction.

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” Jungkook’s eyes snap from where they were stranded on the flower, Namjoon’s hand isn’t there anymore; but he can distinctively feel a hand gingerly tucking a strand of hair into Jungkook’s beanie. Handling the younger in a similar fashion than he did the flower. “We can come take care of this one every once in a while; I’m sure I got some ericaceous fertilizer saved up.” His eyes meet Namjoon, smiling tenderly.

Jungkook can feel his chest tighten in affection. A grin spreads across his face. “This is just an excuse for you to take me in more runs with you, isn’t it?” He can barely hold his accusing laugh, launching forward to press his fists to Namjoon’s chest; it earns a roll of his eyes, but Jungkook can the tremble of a laugh under his hands.

“Can’t even start a nice project with your boyfriend anymore. Romance is so dead.” His attempts for sound annoyed are laughable. And the answer only makes it more obvious what Namjoon’s intentions truly were.

Romance can’t be dead, though. Not as long as that Moma Muji, passport sized, 4.92 x 3.36 inch notebook is sitting in his dorm.

He feels guilt as he side eyes the notebook laying on his bedside table. Especially with the feeling of Namjoon’s plush lips lingering on his cheek from when he just dropped Jungkook by his room.

Especially when that persian green cover is a mocking reminder of the Camellia bush they encountered; reminding Jungkook that the flower mentioned in the poem has no relation to Jungkook’s life outside from the confines of that green leather cover.

Reminding Jungkook of how… oddly disappointed he is by that fact.

He plops heavily on his bed, arm reaching for his bedside table. When he grips the notebook and opens it, he does it spitefully.

I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed it up

But I’m even thirstier than before

Is what I know really an ocean?

Or a blue dessert?

Maybe it's the soothing feeling of his stomach full from the food he had with Namjoon after his run.

Maybe it's the dark outside his window, allowing his thoughts to think of someone, somewhere, who can’t have enough of their lover.

He doesn’t know… But he manages to fall asleep.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover.

The guilt follows him like a shadow.

Damn, he is even thinking in poems now.

He can't help it! He can’t help the way that, despite Namjoon giving him everything, he still longs for a romance like the one in the poems. Everyday, Jungkook sinks a little deeper into the vulnerable self of the poet; his heart fluttering at their verses while simultaneously expecting Namjoon to keep up with him. Keep up with his sensitive tugging of his heartstring that his boyfriend doesn't seem to be syncing to.

In fact, Namjoon seems to be more weary of Jungkook’s attempts at romance. Acknowledging them for sure and just, he isn’t de--escalating his gestures… But… he seems weary of them.

We need the scenery of the night more than anyone

You are the only one, that comforts me more than anything

Thinking “don’t think” it's a thought on itself, you know?

With your falling eyes I look at the night sky again

We are each other's night view

We are each other's moon

The poet said, and Jungkook thought while standing on the balcony of Namjoon’s apartment. The both of them are way too under-dressed for the weather; clouds looking menacing above them; hunched over the railing shoulders pressed together.

It's calm, however, Jungkook feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. Too many words, too many emotions that he can feel bottling up in chest; threatening to spill in a way that he fears is quite too vulnerable to present to Namjoon.

“I really need moments like these.” It feels as if with the help of the poet,Jungkook was able to really grow more comfortable voicing out his thoughts like these. A fear he had to explain to Namjoon when they first started dating, nervously reassured him that he did want a relationship; despite his lack of enthusiasm.

He was so embarrassed back then… Still dealing with the aftermath of a self-homophobic past.

“What about them?” He can feel Namjoon side-eyeing him with a smile.

Of course he doesn’t get it.

That’s something else Jungkook has been losing his grip of: the snarky comments that come out of Namjoon's… inadequacy? He shouldn’t even be calling it that, not when Namjoon has given him everything. It's just, lately, the more Jungkook grows in his romantic acts and words, the more it seems Namjoon is just… playing dumb.

He isn’t picking up any of his signals.

It's getting frustrating.

It's like Namjoon is just backing down when things were starting to get serious for them.

And that fucking hurts.

“Nothing, forget it.” He mumbles eyes still strained on the city infront of them. “It's getting late anyways, I should probably head back.” He can’t hide the distance in his voice. They had agreed Jungkook was staying over, and it's obvious how that objection hangs off Namjoon's tongue as he stares a little widened. Jungkook answers before he can speak. “I have early class tomorrow, it's better if I go from my dorm.”

Somehow, the disappointment grows on his boyfriend’s face more at that. “Oh…” Jungkook fights the urge to kiss the pout off his pouting lips. “Yeah you’re right it would just be… inconvenient to stay here.”

When Jungkook leaves, he feels a heaviness in his chest. But he chooses to ignore it.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages.

24 of them, ruled, though only 16 are being used. Jungkook knows because he counted them, even if he hasn’t gotten to read everything he skimmed through the pages in a weak attempt to distract his mind. The unnecessary but easy counting of the pages, most of them double-sided in their use, except for the last one (They must have gotten tired of the ink bleeding through the pages, Jungkook asumes), helps keep his mind off last night.

Not that he has anything he needs distraction from. He is fine.

Him and Namjoon are fine .

No big fight occurred, no insensitive one sided fallout, no revolutionary discovery. But why does Jungkook feel so… off?

So neglected, so scammed, so robbed of a romance he could be having but doesn’t have. That Namjoon doesn’t let him have.

Jungkook always does this, he always feels so intensely, always too needy and too ready to fall in love. At a speed and intensity that doesn’t match others. He had revealed so much of himself to Namjoon, had been so open about his devotion, his complete and thorough adoration; and he convinced himself to believe Namjoon was okay with his arduous loving.

But if Jungkook took a second to think about it, he had been a fool to think that. Namjoon, his Namjoon is a philosopher by default, a thinker, he dissects, and recognizes, and categorizes, and doubts . Namjoon has so many doubts. About everything really, so perceptive of his surroundings he theorizes about things that aren't his business, except they are because Namjoon has an interest for every little thing in this world.

And it's as enamouring, as it is deadly.

Namjoon questions, questions himself, his intentions, his moral, his relationships, his worthiness .

It’s been four years.

But it's never too late for Namjoon to have second doubts. Even when Jungkook is sinked… so, so deep..

Maybe they aren’t meant to b-

Maybe Jungkook should read a poem.

Parting is to me, a tear that blooms unknowingly in my eyes

All the things we couldn’t say flow out

And lingering feelings crawl up my face

Parting is the reward that comes only at the end

Of my play of lies

It feels like hours as Jungkook stares at it, entranced. Only when he sees a teardrop make the ink bleed and smudge, is when he is snapped out of it.

He sets the notebook down in his night stand. Jungkook doesn’t feel like reading anymore of it, the knot on his chest only tightened by the unhelpful words of the poem.

He read enough .

Jungkook curls to his side dejected, as if offended at the poet and his own relationship problems.

Maybe romance is dead after all.

He feels his shoulders tremble in what's a sob shaking its way out of his lungs. Is he really going to give up Namjoon? Just for a romance that clearly isn’t as perfect as he thought it was?

He can’t.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used.

That's what he thinks when his hand reaches for the notebook almost in a hurry. Jungkook had run back from that dreadful early class, he was barely able to concentrate, a plan forming in his head just as he was about to go to sleep dejected and sad. It kept him all night from the nerves of it all. He has to make things right, and the lack of sleep didn’t stop his adrenaline as it made his mind wander even with the professor explaining in front of him.

The point is Jungkook has the notebook and is desperately running to Namjoon’s apartment.

Guess all those winter runs served some purpose at least.

Maybe he is being stupid for running in negative number weather in clothes that were apropriate for his ac-heated classroom. But fuck it.

Romance is alive, and Jungkook is the breathing, sprinting, embodiment of it.

When he reaches Namjoon’s apartment, his throat feels like it has shards of ice poking at it with every deep swallow of air, the skin across his cheeks and nose sporting a blush from the cold and knife-like wind across his face running here. His hair is a mess, there’s definitely sweat stains under his arms, and he most definitely looks insane.

He also kinda forgot to tell Namjoon he was coming over, he knows his boyfriend’s schedules and routines so he should be home right now. He always has friday morning’s off. So he doesn’t bother letting Namjoon know, rather fumbling with his shaky, numb fingers to reach for the spare key. The ends of his hands are also red from the cold, tingling and making his movements clumsy.

But he manages to put the key into the whole regardless. And feeling quite proud of himself and with adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he opens the door.

Namjoon is standing near the door, hunched over halfway through putting on his shoes, looking up surprised. It seems as if adrenaline was only willing to get him this far, as it leaves Jungkook’s body completely.

“Babe…” Namjoon’s voice is cutely stunned, with his eyes widened and plump lips adorably parted with a mouth that stays ajar. “What are you doing here?”

“Where were you going?” Jungkook asks instead of answering. His voice is embarrassingly small for someone who took a 35 minute run without an ounce of doubt. Maybe he's just out of breath.

Oh god, Namjoon was leaving, he has stuff to do Jungkook came at a bad time, he is probably over exaggerating and took all of this way out of proportion and Namjoon didn’t even think anything was wrong at all and he is just making a big scene for nothing being the big, needy baby that he is; bothering Namjoon with his useless emotions-

“Your dorm.” He replies so simply, like sinceirty costs him nothing when it's to Jungkook. “I asked first though.” And his tone isn't accusatory as it is teasing.

Namjoon doesn’t specify, but something inside him wants to believe the older was on his way to do the same as Jungkook.

“I...I wanted to tell you something?” He can’t help but sound doubtful. Even when he knows Namjoon is on his way to see him, even when his eyes are soft enough to melt the shard of ice growing on Jungkook's throat; he can’t seem to recognize if it's from the run or the anxiety. “It's kinda silly, though.” He can’t help but coax that out as well. from the outside one would consider Jungkook is belittling his feelings, yet belittling it makes it less of a big deal and maybe it can calm the speeding rate of his heartbeat.

“It must be important if you came right after class.” Namjoon says taking off the single shoe he had managed to put on and properly stand up straight eyeing Jungkook. “Did you run all the way from the bus station? Jungkook…” He scolds, taking Jungkook's frozen hands into his own bigger warmer ones and drags him in.

Jungkook for a moment has to hold back a snicker imagining Namjoon’s reaction if he knew how he actually got here. And he looks so cute with his small frown and determined expression already. He can feel his own heart sizing up as Namjoon drags him by the hands into the couch, hushing about Jungkook being too careless and too underdressed as he drapes a heavy blanket over his shoulders.

He feels cared for, it's nice.

It's only when Namjoon forced a hot cup of tea into Jungkook’s hands, that they slowly start to regain their feeling, that the older sits back down next to him on the couch. His eyes are concerned, unsure, as if all this had just been an excuse to make time, before he inevitably has to ask. “What-uh--What did you want to tell me?” He manages to smile, but Jungkook knows him all too well.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t falter though, he is ready to do this. He needs to do this.

“You...you’re probably wondering what happened to me yesterday.” Namjoon’s expression drops at that nodding a bit quickly, eagerly, and all too endearingly. Jungkook really made him worry, didn’t he?

“I was upset over some rando’s romantic poems,because--well its stupid but- they were so corny and romantic, they actually made me doubt what you and I have.” He can't help the incredulous tone of his voice because, saying it outloud finally, it really is so ridiculous. Jungkook shakes his head smiling, as if humored.

When his eyes find Namjoon again, they melt with love at the older’s stunned expression. “I convinced myself we were out of sync, or that you weren’t getting anything I sent your way. But it was just those stupid corny poems getting to me.” He sets the cup down, hands warm enough to hold Namjoon’s.

“But I am stupid, and corny, and in love.” He feels his own cheeks burning. “So I want to dedicate these poems to you.” Jungkook knows his smile is giddy like a childs as he reaches for his pocket taking the infamous notebook and handing it to Namjoon with an excited smile.

His boyfriend still looks stunned, and Jungkook can only think about how much smaller the passport sized notebook fits in his hands; even when Jungkook’s own hands aren’t particularly small, it's his boyfriend’s fault for being so family-sized.

With a great amount of strength, he forces himself to stop looking at his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands as he skims through the pages. He is a little surprised to find a frown on Namjoon’s brow, an anxious feeling settling over the younger at the bottom of his stomach.

“How much did you read of it?” Namjoon asks eyes staying glued to the notebook on his lap, avoiding Jungkook’s wide vulnerable eyes.

“U-uh.. I read… I read the first five, though--though the fifth one isn't romantic I only want the first four of them for you. They--I think they fit perfectly into my--my feelings for you.” Jungkook is growing nervous by the second, Namjoon’s eyes stay strained on the notebook, as Jungkook grows more and more convinced that he is exposing too much too intensely again.

“So you didn’t read the whole thing.” For the first time since Jungkook handed him the notebook, Namjoon’s eyes traveled to meet Jungkook’s unsure eyes. He can’t find his voice so he just shakes his head, and that makes his boyfriend's shoulders relax with a sigh. “Okay that explains it.”

“Ex-Explains what?”

“None of those poems are romantic, Jungkook-ah.”

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (allegedly).

“How--how would you know?” Jungkook asks almost defensively, as if standing up for the stranger poet with fanaticism.

Namjoon winces as if it pains him to say it. “I left the notebook by your desk, its uh--mine.” He was avoiding Jungkook’s eyes until now, staring up at him vulnerable, but with a small smile. “They aren’t romantic poems.”

Jungkook’s world stops for just a second, the shock is evident on his face. He is beginning to open his mouth to speak again but he can’t find anything in his seemingly hollow head to say anything. “Well...That’s embarrassing.” He manages to say, feeling the tip of his ears burn.

He made that whole love scene.

“I believe the reader can find more than one structured meaning to the poems, it's not that my meaning is above yours just because I wrote it.” Namjoon explains, and maybe it's his imagination, but he sounds a lot more comfortable having seen his own loss of words on Jungkook’s tongue. He is handing him back the notebook, the older’s smile is almost as giddy as his when he first started his monologue.

“That sounds like bullshit to make me feel better.” He manages to joke with a grin.

“You should read it, the ending” Namjoon’s smile turns warm. He didn’t deny it. Sounds like, thinking the creator’s intentions are equal to the perception of the auciende, is bullshit after all. “It's kinda important.” There's humor in his voice and a pout forms on the younger’s lips.

“Well I liked to appreciate them one poem at a time!” He defends but it's harmless under Namjoon’s loving stare.

“You could have just recognized my handwriting, baby.” Jungkook’s face blushes in embarrassment.

“And take away all the mystery? No.”

Jungkook’s fingers are hurried and clumsy as he flips over the pages, at first eyeing the poems that had already plagued his mind for weeks. And as he continues forward finding more scribbles and poems, only recognizing a word or two before skipping until he reached the last pages. His heart threatened to beat its way out of Jungkook’s chest.

He is pretty sure he is on page 14 when he meets what he is looking for.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend).

Jungkook

His own name stares back at him as he prepares himself for what's next. But he can't find it in himself to feel afraid, not with the weight of Namjoon’s adoring eyes on him.

If you’ve reached this part is because you managed to read through this notebook and whatever I coax out of myself to write in it. I

If you reached this part, then it means you managed to get through all the ugly that I put in here, all my doubts and fears and sour thoughts, I displayed them to you.

Because you make me believe that all my ugly insides are worthy of love; that my entire self is somehow deserving of you. You make me want to show you my realest self.

So, I did. And even if it hasn’t happened I’m terrified of the thought already; no one has made me sink as deep as you, while simultaneously lifting me up higher than ever.

For some reason, I get the feeling I’m exaggerating, since you always find a way to love the unlovable parts of myself. But despite that, I want to give you something pretty, and worthy of love.

I used to be one of those whatever people

I didn’t believe in what real love is

I used to say habitually “I want to love”

But I found myself. The whole new myself.

I met you and did I realize that I’m a book

I want to be the best man for you

It's probably naturally because you are my world itself

You are my beginning and the end itself

I wanna become part of your bookcase

I wanna interfere in your novel as your lover.

What would it be like if I really went to you?

If I went to you, would you be sad?

If I am not the one, what would I be?

In the end, would you leave me too?

The wind wind wind that grazes me

I hope that isn’t just this.

My feelings are blue blue blue

My entire head is filled with blue

How much much much

How much much much you…

You’re my person

You’re my wind

You’re my pride

You’re my love

You’re my love.

Jungkook, I want to share my ugly and my pretty with you, I want to let you see me whole .

Would you move in with me?

“You...You didn’t just imagine me acting off sync.” Namjoon breaks the suffocating silence as Jungkook’s widened eyes leave the sixteenth page of the notebook. It looks like the older’s expression has softened, even if sadly. “I thought you had read it all and just...didn’t know how to reject me.” He smiles but it's gloomy eyes avoiding the younger, as if he had assumed this was a fact.

A little bit of Jungkook’s heart breaks at that.

A life shared with Namjoon, Namjoon who trusts Jungkook the deepest parts of his being, that trusts in Jungkook’s ability to love, to treat him delicately around ugly insides, and grounding against a weak trembling frame.

Like he looks right now, eyes nervous and strained on Jungkook as his hands fondle with each other shoulders raising and falling shakily with quivering breaths. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think twice.

Both his hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulders, making sure his entire attention is on him. Namjoon's lowered head perks up startled. “Joonie… I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out the way you intended.” He smiles apologetically and he lets his hands slide down Namjoon’s arms and onto his fiddling hands. “But it's not like it matters.” His tone it's relaxed but it doesn’t seem to calm Namjoon, not even with the stroking of his thumbs over the older's hand.

There's a question rising up the older’s throat but Jungkook doesn’t let it. “It doesn’t matter because... I want to move in with you.” He sees all the tension leave Namjoon’s expression into pure surprise, endearing enough that it coaxes a giggle out of Jungkook, tugging his bigger hands closer to him, kissing him softly; surprised to find Namjoon kissing back with what he can only imagine is all the pent up emotion from this week.

He doesn’t question it for long, he can never think all that much when Namjoon is kissing him.

“Where are you going? We already have everything.” Jungkook questions his boyfriend as he starts to exit their apartment door; which is currently filled with boxes they just brought back from Jungkook’s former dorm.

“I just have one more thing to get from my car.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and without any more explanation he leaves through the door. Leaving Jungkook by himself for the first time in this entire hectic day.

The apartment looks messy, or well, messier than usual; Namjoon always tried to be neat for his boyfriend’s sake, and succeeded a few times. Most times, Jungkook would find him covered in work and would offer to clean for him, claiming to be ‘trophy wife’ material. Its catastrophic now, covered in boxes, Jungkookisn’t a hoarder but Namjoon’s apartment is what one would politely call ‘cozy’. It's catastrophic, yet Jungkook can only feel his heart size up in excitement and giddiness; as if completely unaffected by the mess like he normally would.

It's just hard to focus on the mess, when every time he tries to he sees traces of himself in this apartment: in his box of old CDs that will go in a shared collection with Namjoon’s, or how his boyfriend indulged him by taking Jungkook’s energy crystals out of the moving box and into the spaces of the apartment here they belong (even when it's obvious he doesn’t believe in them for a second), or the way Namjoon got some of Jungkook’s photos printed out and framed so they can decide where to hang them sometime this week.

He’s only been living here for half a day, and Namjoon’s place is already his.

Well, to be fair, Namjoon has been his for a considerably longer amount of time. And that fact alone is enough to make Jungkook stand just the slightest bit taller than before.

Yes he is proud, sue him.

“Back.” Namjoon announces softly shutting the door, and taking out his snow soaked boots, with a hand suspiciously behind his back.

In a wave of confidence Jungkook can’t help the flirty smile as he walks over to his boyfriend. “Yes, back.” A hand settles over the short hairs of Namjoon’s nape, caressing softly. “What’s behind it?” He tilts his head to the side with a smile that tries to be seductive but only manages to be bright.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” Namjoon’s face splits into a grin staring down slightly to Jungkook; he isn’t that short! It's just… they’re so close.

“No you can not. I own this place and I’ll establish a customs directorate right at the doorstep.” His grin is wide, cocky almost with its jokes; hands still mindlessly playing with Namjoon’s hair with arms hooked over his shoulders.

“You own the place? Does that mean you’ll pay your share of the bill?” A raised eyebrow is all Jungkook needs for his facade to collapse.

“Nooo, I think you misheard me. I just said this is my boyfriend’s place? My super generous, compassionate and broken college student boyfriend, he is great.” If hsi tone sounds desperate he doesn't care, it makes Namjoon chuckle, and that's all that matters. “No customs. But please show me? Please?” Maybe he is whining, laying limp against Namjoon’s firm torso while he whines like a child.

But you can’t criticize him for it, when it works.

“You are impossible to resist, you know it's not fair.” He says rolling his eyes and shoving Jungkook off of him, with the hand that he has available. Once they're at a comfortable distance he reveals.

A potted Camellia.

“I bet that mean poet had you pretty bummed about not having one of these.” His tone is joking but soft, adoring as a pink tone spreads over his cheeks.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he nears Namjoon again, the potted plant being the only thing separating them. “He did.” He meets Namjoon’s hands helping hold the weight of the plant. Today, his hands are cold instead of Jungkook’s. “I’ll have to make him pay me somehow.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some way.” Namjoon mumbles but leaning over close enough that Jungkook understands. Placing a soft peck to his lips.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed, with a cut Camellia on a whiskey glass with water next to it. Both manifestations of how Namjoon is just as stupid and corny and in love as he is.

#namkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #fluff #established relationship #poetry fic #happy ending #misunderstandings

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honeyandhondewberries · 4 years ago

Note

can you write about Leon, Raihan, and/or Piers getting flowers from their crush?

this one is CUTE HOW do you people think of such CUTE THINGS??

I did little pieces for all the boys bc this was just so CUTE

Impatiens, Daffodils, Daisies (PiersxReader, LeonxReader, RaihanxReader)

Piers:

Hears a knock on the door, groans loud enough for whoever is on the other side to know they are Not Welcome

Opens door ‘What do you-‘

Shit

He really wished he wasn’t so pale, because then it wouldn’t be so easy to see the pink in his face

Scratch that, flaring red

Because there you are, with your disgustingly sweet smile and a… bouquet?

‘I was in the market,’ you say with that stupid shiny smile. ‘And I bought these because they reminded me of you!’

Flowers? Him? That’s a first.

'They’re just gonna die,’ Piers mumbles. Hopefully him constantly pushing you away will give you the hint that he definitely wants you to stay

‘They’ll live for a little bit if you take care of them,’ you say, frustratingly unperturbed by his grumbling. “These ones do well in the shade – they’re hydrangeas and impatiens.’

You giggle. You giggle. Your stupid giggle is a melody in his ears. How do you so perfectly harmonize with everything in the air with that stupid giggle?

'Impatiens,’ Piers repeats. ‘Ha ha, very funny.’

‘I thought so,’ you say, offering your most charming – and most smug – smile

Piers turns before his face gets even more red.

(he doesn’t turn quickly enough)

‘Well um…’ Piers mumbles. ‘Thanks, I guess. Marnie will like ‘em.’

‘Oh,’ you say again. ‘I got some for her too.’

How do you do this? How do you care about him and the things he cares about? His face is as pink as these flowers.

The flowers for Marnie are apparently called ‘Bletilla.’ Piers would never remember those names if it wasn’t you that was telling him

‘Thanks’ he mumbles again, looking certainly out of place holding two colorful bouquets in his arms.

You’re turning, waving goodbye, still with that shiny smile

Piers fumbles. For someone who’s so often in front of crowds, being in front of just you always makes him stutter

‘D-Do you,’ Piers mumbles, ‘I’ve just put some tea on…’

You seem to understand, just as you always do, what he’s trying to say

When you nod, he lets slip a smile, and you do too.

Piers quickly forces down the corners of his mouth, but when he guides you into his house, they seem to perk right back up again.

Leon:

Flowers on his doorstep isn’t an uncommon occurrence

Sometimes they’re from his mum though, so he always makes sure to check the tag

These ones are pretty... Daffodils and carnations – his favorite flowers. How did they know?

The only person who’s ever asked about his favorite flower is…

Leon’s alone in his house, but even then he tries to hide his smile when he reads the tag

It’s from you.

Of course it’s from you.

His hidden smile slips into a big one – huge and shiny and a little doofy, he’s embarrassed at how easily you affect him, even when you’re not around

You had tried to be so sly when you asked, rocking so simply on the balls of your feet

‘Sooo,’ you had asked, drawing out the word like a piece of stretchy chewing gum. ‘You must get a lot flowers, huh?’

Leon already knew where that was going, so he set his chin on his fist and leaned closer, just to see that cute little blush creep into your cheeks.

‘I’m just curious!’ you had spluttered, already outing yourself before you could even ask.

‘It’s true. I think I’m most excited though when I get daffodils and carnations,’ he had hummed, raising an eyebrow at you.

You had nodded, eyes flicking to the side as you tucked away that bit of information

At the time, all he could think was a steady stream of ‘you’re so cute you’re so cute you’re so cute’

That’s all he’s thinking now, too, when he imagines what your silly little grin must have looked like when you sent these

He’s got it bad

He’s got it so, so bad for you

You occupy his mind many minutes of every day, and now that’ll increase ten-fold whenever he looks at these flowers on his counter

Maybe he could invite you over, just so you can see how he’s proudly displaying these flowers as openly as he can

He pauses when he reaches for his phone

A twang of excitement pulls in his stomach

As does a bundle of nerves in his chest

Even when you’re not around, you do such a good job of making him nervous. Him. Nervous.

He types something out, erases it, types something else out, erases it.

What will make you smile? What will make you blush and bite back a giddy grin, just like he’s doing now?

He gives up and just sends a picture of your flowers sitting on his counter.

He wanted to say something clever, something charming and alluring, but all he could think of is

‘got some flowers today :)’

That was pretty lame.

Hopefully that’s hint enough, though

Apparently it is, because Leon swallows a squeal (him, a grown man, squealing alone in his house) when you immediately reply

‘Ooo, those are nice. Bet they’re even more beautiful in person’

Leon sends a reply, sets his phone down, and hides his face in his hands.

He’s got it so bad.

Raihan

‘So, does he love you, or does he love you not?’ Raihan teases

‘You don’t even know if it’s a guy,’ you retort after a quick jolt of surprise.

Raihan watches in smug amusement as you try to hide the daisy petals you were plucking

You’ve never been very discreet, but Raihan loves it

‘But now I know you weren’t just plucking petals,’ he hums

His heart thumps when you blush, when you bashfully turn your head and grumble

‘C’mon, who is it,’ Raihan asks, tugging on your sleeve. ‘I won’t tease’

Probably.

Really it depends on who you were plucking petals for.

‘Rubbish,’ you say.

He playfully begs and pleads, but you won’t budge.

When you tell him to give up, Raihan wonders if now is the time to tell you

He’s been thinking it for a while now (since the second he met you, actually)

At first it was just because you’d look great with him on his social media platforms

But now he almost wants to keep you for himself

That’s why he brought you up to this hill overlooking Hammerlocke, so no one could cut into your time together

He’s mulling it over in his mind, how to finally confess, how to make it charming and suave, only to pause when you hold out the daisy stem

It’s got one petal left.

‘He loves me,’ you say quietly.

Raihan’s gaze flicks between your eyes and the single petal

Do you…? Could you?

‘But I guess that depends on if you count the last petal or if you count after the last petal,’ you say quickly when he doesn’t respond.

You’re retracting the daisy stem, only to pause when Raihan lightly pulls the stem from your fingers

‘I’d say it counts,’ he says. He wanted to make this charming and whatnot, but he’s feeling a little vulnerable himself.

He tucks the daisy stem behind his ear.

‘How do I look?’

‘Good,’ you say. ‘It fits.’

‘I think so too,’ he says.

His fingers comb through the grass, the daisy petals

His hand finds yours, and you lace your fingers together

‘I’d even say he loves you too.’

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captainsolare · 4 years ago

Text

atonement - ProHero!Bakugo

Summary: Bakugo had a plan, the only thing it involved was reaching the top. To him, that meant no distractions, at all. The day you came to him to tell him you were pregnant, he cut ties with you. Three years later, he runs into your daughter, his daughter and he learns the reality of what became of you after you parted ways and the gravity of just what he lost sets in. Can he atone for the mistakes he has made? Does he deserve to?

Warnings: pregnancy mention, mental breakdown mention, angst, fluff, ProHero! Bakugo

Word Count: 2,118

A/N: This was a request I received that ended up being way longer than anticipated so I decided to make it it’s own post. @ the anon who sent this idea in, I hope I was able to create what you were envisioning.

---

This was not what he planned. Bakugo had a plan for his life, and his one goal in life, in that plan was to become the top hero; nothing else really mattered. He hadn’t wanted to get involved with anyone past maybe taking them to dinner, but here he was, almost a year in and you were showing up at his door with a positive pregnancy test. You were going to have a child, his child.

You showed up in tears at Katsuki’s door, positive test in hand, and instead of getting support from your boyfriend, you were getting in a fight. “This wasn’t the plan.” He said, getting angrier by the second. “I don’t care about your stupid plan okay, Katsuki! You’re not meant to be alone forever, this could be a blessing, our blessing.” You pleaded, gripping his arm. “I don’t have time for a kid okay? I’m going to be Number 1, I don’t have time for any distractions.” Bakugo spat, trying to pull out of your grip. You pulled your hand away as if you had been burned. “Is- is that all I am to you? A distraction?” You could feel the burning of tears in your throat, but you pushed it down; You would not cry in front of this man, you resolved. “Yes. I never should have gotten involved with you.” You stayed silent, too frozen by the weight of his words to move. “I’m breaking up with you, Y/N. I can’t do this.” You remained silent, not saying a word as you grabbed the few belongings that were in his apartment and you left, disappearing from his life. You blocked him on social media, blocked his number, changed your number, changed your address; You left him only with his memories. He had no way to contact you, even if he wanted to.

A few years passed, Bakugo rose through the ProHero ranks, eventually landing at his current spot in the top 5. The first year he didn’t think about you much, he pushed the memories down, though he did move apartments because every once in a while his old one would smell like your perfume and he couldn’t stand it, he didn’t want to think about it. His friends asked about you, but he just told them you’d lost touch with each other. The second year was harder, he watched his friends getting married and settling down, and he’d have nightmares about what he had lost, what he had let walk out that door. Many girls tried to seduce him, tried to win his heart, but he just wasn’t interested, they weren’t you.

He tried to find you once, but was unable to even when pulling a few things as a pro hero. Maybe you’d moved out of the country, maybe you’d changed your name; either way he was sure he’d never see you again. And maybe that’s what he deserved; maybe what they said was true, you only got one chance at a soulmate.

The third year, the current year, he tried to convince his friends and his sidekicks that he was happy as a bachelor, that his success as a hero was enough for him. But on the inside, there was a void, and he knew it was he himself that had caused it. He was patrolling the city one day, passing a park, when a child, who couldn't be more than 3 bumped into his leg with an ‘oof.’ He knelt down to help the girl up, struck by her dusty blonde hair, almost the same color as his. The girl gasped when she looked up at him, “It’s (Hero Name)!!” He gave her a smile, the best one he could manage, “It sure is! Do you want me to give you an autograph?” He asked. The girl nodded and he pulled out a notebook and pen from his pocket, “What’s your name little girl?” He asked. “It’s Mizuki!” The girl said, giving him a toothy grin. Bakugo almost dropped his pen, her name was so similar to his mother’s name.

“Hey Mizuki! Let’s not bother this pro hero any longer! He needs to go protect the city!” A woman’s voice called. Bakugo looked up sharply, sure he would find you were the owner of that voice, but instead he came face to face with your sister. He had only met her once, at a family gathering you had dragged him to, but he remembered her nonetheless. “Okay Auntie!” Mizuki said, running off to go play on the playground once more. “I know you’re probably expecting me to yell at you Bakugo, but I won’t.” She said. Bakugo didn’t reply, he didn’t have the words to express a reply. “Instead, I’ll just tell you that I hope you know how upset I am with you. I can’t even express it. You see that little girl over there?” She pointed at Mizuki. “That’s your daughter. And right now she’s living with me because Y/N is in a mental ward thanks to you.” She poked his chest hard with her finger; Bakugo’s eyes widened, a mental hospital? You? The smart capable woman he knew? Your sister tried not to cry, but a single tear slipped from her eyes.

“She fell apart you know? After you told her you were done with her, after you told her she was just a distraction to you. You failed her. AND her.” She pointed to Mizuki again, then snatched the notebook and pen from his hand. She scribbled something down and shoved it back into his chest. “I honestly don’t know why I’m giving you that but maybe, maybe if you see her she’ll get better.” She choked the words out, “I’m giving you a chance to go see her if you wish, but I can’t promise that she’ll want to see you, or that she’ll give you a second chance. Now leave.”

Bakugo spent the rest of his patrol trying to process what he had learned; every step felt heavy and his heart ached with the weight of what he had done, just how badly he had hurt you. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on you, it had felt like the world had stopped, and how the first time he kissed you, how the world had started turning for the first time. Looking back on the past two years without you, his life had been dark, but now he knew that your life had been even darker, and it was all his fault. He pulled the notebook from his pocket, and looked at the address; he could practically feel his heart pulling him there. Before he could stop himself he was running, he ran and ran until he found himself across the street from where you were. He stopped short, Do I even deserve to want to see you? Would trying to come back into your life now hurt you more?

The thought of even adding a little more hurt to your life was too much for him to bear and so he left, trudging home with thoughts swirling in his head. He had missed his daughter’s first word, her first smile, her first steps; how many more firsts had he missed? How many had you missed on account of him? He broke down at his kitchen table, the reality of just what exactly he had let walk out the door of that apartment so many years ago. His phone sat on the table and he grabbed it, punching a few numbers and pressing dial. If anyone could give him advice, and tell him not what he wanted to hear, but what he needed to hear, it was Kirishima. He picked up after the first two rings, “Hello?” Kirishima was met with a scramble of words mixed with sobs and regret, years of it all spewing out at once.

“If you want to be in this child’s life and the mother’s life again, you better get your act together. She may not forgive you for what you did, I certainly think you are a dumbass for not choosing her in the first place but you need to show her that you regret what you did.” Kirishima said simply, and Bakugo felt his chest unclench for what was probably the first time in hours. “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

The next day, Bakugo went to the flower shop and bought your favorite flowers, daffodils. He remembered you loved them because they symbolized new beginnings, “Every day’s a new beginning.” You’d always say, with a smile on your face. He supposed this was sort of ironic, since he was the one who ended things but here he was, bringing you flowers that mean new beginnings. He gathered up the courage to walk up to the front desk. “Excuse me, I’m here to see L/N Y/N? She’s in room #305?” The receptionist smiled at him, “Of course, I’ll call her nurse and see if she’s taking visitors at the moment, Can I get your name?” “Bakugo Katsuki.” The receptionist was on the phone with the nurse for a bit, but hung up with a frown. “I’m sorry sir, she’s asleep at the moment.” His heart fell, “Oh. Well could you at least make sure she gets these?” He held out the flowers. “Yes of course sir. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

The next day he returned, and was informed you were awake and taking visitors. He faltered before opening the door, but he pushed the doubt to the side and opened it anyway. Seeing you took his breath away, you were just as beautiful as he remembered. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just took in your features and tried to commit them to memory, just in case this would be the last time he’d ever see you again. Before he realized what was happening, tears were falling from his eyes. You stared at him, expression unreadable. “Hello Katsuki.” You said quietly, “It’s been a long time.” You gestured for him to sit in the chair at your bedside, he tentatively did so. “I didn’t want to admit this, but I --- I have missed you every day since I left you.” Bakugo began, his tears falling faster, “I know I don’t have the right to say that. I’m the one who walked away from you, from everything we could have been. I shouldn’t even be here right now, knowing that all of this is my fault, and it kills me. I did this to you, I failed you. And I have no right to need you, I have no right to tell you that I have regretted what I did, almost every single day. I know I shouldn’t tell you this, and I shouldn’t feel this way and I shouldn’t be here in your space telling you this but dammit Y/N I’m still in love with you.”

Bakugo stiffened when you brought your hand up near his face, but to his surprise, you didn’t slap him even though he deserved it. Instead, you shifted closer to him and started, tickling him? It was just like you to exploit his weakness when he was vulnerable, but as hard as he tried he couldn’t keep himself from laughing. You pulled back and flashed him that smile, the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place. “It’s nice to hear you laugh again. I missed that.” You said. Suddenly, you scooted away from him and patted the open space next to you; Bakugo blinked in confusion, “I’m… not sure what you’re asking.” “I’m asking you to sit next to me dummy. You always were pretty dense Katsuki, but this is a new low.” Bakugo reluctantly kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed next to you, he stiffened when you pulled him close to you but soon relaxed into your touch. “I’m sorry I left.” He whispered, eyes closed. “I’m just happy you’re back.” You replied, stroking his hair like you used to do. Bakugo brought his hand up to intertwine it with yours. “When do you get out of here? I hate to think of you here alone any longer.” “A few more months I think, they want to monitor some things.” “Well, you won’t be alone anymore, you’re stuck with me from now on, forever.” “Well,” You laughed, and it was music to his ears, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m never planning on letting you go.

The two of you fell asleep like that, hands intertwined and hazy sunlight shining through the window, illuminating the daffodils sitting on your bedside table.

#request #prohero bakugo #bakugo x reader #angst #fluff #aurora borealis

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday Freddie

Summary: Just something short I wanted to write.

Mom and Granny had been telling me the same thing for years now.

“He’d have doted on you as if you were his own,” mom said quickly followed by granny with, “Especially with that no good father of yours Mercy.”

I rolled my eyes as I kept on walking to where mom had told me about for as long as I could remember. I felt my heart skip beats the closer I got to this special place, especially considering what it meant to mom. He’d been close to mom for years and became the support she needed after my dad left us even when he got sick. I remember uncle Jim being an ever present fixture in my life. Supporting what my grandfather believed to be a pipe dream of becoming a singer. How he backed me fully when he introduced me to Uncles Bri and Rog and through them the enormous family I have now.

I remember the devastation that came with his passing, how raw and numb I felt knowing I’d lost my biggest support. But I kept going, I had to beg uncle Bri not to put a word in for me unless it was truly necessary to do so. I wanted to at least get noticed on my own. And I did, I got my big break and then only then did I agree that it was finally time for a collaborative project with my uncles.

Now a week before said project is due to start, I found myself here...to tell that one uncle I always wished I had that I'd made it. I was a champion in my own right and I was going to ride this as long as I could. I saw the almost ethereally tall tree and gasped at the sheer height of it. It was no wonder mom and uncle Fred loved this place. It’s isolated without feeling empty or desolate. I sat at the base in a naturally shaped space carved out by the roots of the tree and settled in. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply feeling both jittery and stupid for what I was about to do.

“Hi,” I began just going for it, “I know you probably don’t know me but my mom said you were the best man in her life and has been saying so for all of mine. If it wasn’t for the photos and uncle Jim I’d have never believed mom and gran knew you as personally as I know uncles Bri and Rog. Phoebe likes to tell me stories of you too! Of how funny you were and all the stunts you pulled. But most importantly, they told me of your spirit, your heart and kindness, of how you were with friends and family, and I can’t help but think that I missed out on one hell of an uncle.”

You stopped and dabbed away at the tear that fell before clearing your throat and continuing, “Is it horrible of me for wishing you were here? Uncle Jim used to say that it was and wasn’t at the same time. He used to say that things happened for a reason and that that reason is often not known by anyone. I didn’t understand then but I seemed to as I grew older and he got sicker.”

You gave a watery chuckle at all those conversations.

“I’d always say I didn’t care and that the one who got you sick should get his ass handed to him for depriving me of my other uncle, of taking away my uncle’s brother and uncle Jim’s husband. I was so angry and sad and lonely because I felt alone in what I wanted to do,” I stopped for a moment and took several deep breaths. I can’t break now, I needed him to know.

“Uncle Jim told me once that mom, him and you would have been the best set of parents anyone could ask for. Grandpa got so angry for calling uncle Jim ‘Dad’ once despite my gran and mom having no problem with it and the pride in their eyes. How could I not? He raised me, he was the only dad I had,” you said, “Anyway, I hadn't come here to make anyone sad. I came here because well because I wanted to feel close to you in a way. And coming here seemed to be the closest and most obvious place considering how mom feels about it. And uncle Bri says that he talks to you a lot too. I also figured that your birthday would be an obvious day to do it too. So...instead of singing happy birthday I’m going to do the next best thing.”

I wiped my tears away and stood clearing my throat once I was on my feet.

“Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah And floating around in ecstasy So don't stop me now don't stop me 'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time

I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva I'm gonna go, go, go

There's no stopping meI'm burnin' through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you

Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball Don't stop me now If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call Don't stop me now ('cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time) I don't want to stop at all...”

I breathed a sigh of relief as a weighted seemed to lift and an unexpected warmth bloomed. As I walked out, I swore I heard humming but chucked it on it being the wind through the trees. I passed by the florist and picked up some yellow roses for the vase at home and some lunch feeling so much lighter than I did earlier.

Walking to the door passed the gate of my home I found a cat hiding behind the flower pot of daffodils mom insisted on keeping around. He looked spooked and cold so I decided to get him inside warm and fed.

The rest of the day was spent nursing this kitty back to health before having to go to Uncle Bri’s to work. The cat seemed adamant to sleep on the mantle above the hearth where a picture of uncle Jim stood. I found odd but not unlikely, granny always said to be open to all sorts of possibilities growing up.

I grinned knowingly at the cat and put the roses in the vase that stood beside Uncle Jim’s photograph. The sparkle in his eye was unmistakeable and strangely familiar, as if he knew something I didn’t. I walked up to him and pet him behind his ears.

“I guess tomorrow we’re going to the vet then huh?” I asked a smirk on my face, “I guess a name tag will be good too...I’ve always been fond of the name Freddie.”

00//00//00

Feed back is always appreciated. Don’t forget to like and reblog peeps!!

Tag List: @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain--americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danadeacon, @pastywhiteperson, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @readinghorn, @ssharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles, @simply-sams-things, @plutoneu, @bleu-jean-baby, @brian-mayonnaise, @0hour9am, @toomuchtellyneck, @kimanne723, @kyleetheeditor, @glamrockmonarch, @rawyld, @queensdivas, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @phoenixqueen07, @ohmybribri, @jennyggggrrr, @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels, @painkiller80, @whiskeyandroses31 , @hodgepodge-of-rog, @briyourmotherdown , @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @anaeve, @foxinaforestofstars

#freddie mercury #happy birthday freddie

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andyet-here-we-are · 5 years ago

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Happy birthday, sweetheart. May all of your dreams come true, and I wish you aaall the love and happiness in the world, all of which you deserve.

I feel so lucky to have you as my friend, @3tothe1 . You’re the raddest person ever 💜 (btw, if there are any Bill Hader fans on my blog, they should follow her because her blog is rad just like her~)

I hope you like your first gift! ^^

…and I hope life gives you daffodils soon.

I love you so much.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829619

Richie The Daffodil by Moreid

Summary:

Richie gives Eddie flowers more than twice a week, and at one point their home is one week away from looking like an actual garden. There are flowers EVERYWHERE, so Eddie tells his lover that he should stop giving him flowers.

Being the stubborn man he is, Richie doesn’t stop.

Words: 1,652 Chapters: 1/1

Richie loves flowers.

He loves how beautiful they are, loves the way they smell, the way they brighten up the room, and more importantly: he loves giving Eddie flowers.

Eddie teases with Richie for it every time, because “Flowers? Seriously? Since when you got that sappy?”

The truth is: he finds this really romantic and adorable. He blushes like crazy every time Richie shows up with flowers in his hands. That’s one of the reasons why the taller man keeps giving his boyfriend flowers, he loves to make him blush, and the way his eyes light up like a kid who is watching the fireworks for the first time.

But the thing is, Eddie is the one who takes care of them, and he cares about each of them because Richie gave them to him, dammit! He just can’t let them root, and even though sometimes he dry them in books, he can’t simply dry all of the flowers.

Richie gives him flowers more than twice a week, and at one point their home is one week away from looking like an actual garden. There are flowers EVERYWHERE, so Eddie tells his lover that he should stop giving him flowers.

Being the stubborn man he is, Richie doesn’t stop.

***

About a month later, Richie is away for a week because of his stand-up shows.

On the fifth day, when Richie calls Eddie -it’s Sunday and morning for him, but Eddie knows it’s almost midnight in where Richie is- Eddie answers the call as soon as he hears it.

It’s a video call, but the other man turns off his camera immediately before he can even get the chance to see him, and Eddie can’t help but worry. Because since when Richie turns off his camera when he is away?

“Why did you turn your camera off?” he asks, a little frown appears on his face. “And why you sound-”

“Didn’t want ya to catch me doing things that got me on Santa’s Naughty List, baby,” Richie jokes, because of fucking course he would try to brush off the fact that he sounds terrible.

“Richie, what happened?”

“Nothing. Just missing you.”

Eddie sighs before he says: “I know. I know you do. I miss you, too, baby. But you sound so… Off. So I’m asking you once again, what happened?”

Eddie thinks Richie will make a joke again instead of telling him what’s the problem, but Richie surprises him after a moment of silence as he says “It was so damn crowded today, and I couldn’t sleep well last night and it’s just- that’s so stupid, never mind me.”

“Richie-”

“Can we just- like, not do this right now? Let’s talk about you.” Richie lets out a yawn, “Tell me about your day?”

Eddie doesn’t force him to talk, because he knows that he eventually will when he wants to talk about it, let it be ten minutes later or when he gets back home two days later. So he talks about his day -well, more like his morning- giving him all the details.

Eddie can wait.

About fifteen minutes later, the only thing that comes from the other end of the line is his boyfriend’s soft snores, and Eddie smiles to himself slightly. He doesn’t want to end the call, there’s a good chance Richie will have a restless sleep tonight, and even if Eddie can’t be next to him physically, his voice can be there at least, in case he has nightmares.

So, he keeps talking.

And if he says "Fuck work, I’m staying home today,“ no one has to know.

At one point he finds himself in their living room, not really surprising when you consider that he’s the type of person who paces around like crazy when he is on the phone. Or when he is overthinking things. Once he realizes that he is pacing, he stops, then settles on one of the ridiculously comfortable black chairs that stands in front of their window.

"I never told you that, but… I named one of the flowers ’Richie’. That pretty daffodil you gave me two weeks ago,” he starts, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Sometimes, okay okay, more like every time you are not around, I talk to it,” Eddie admits, “…it reminds me of you.”

“Do you know what they symbolize, Richie?” he asks, pausing as if Richie will answer at any second before he decides to continue again:

“They symbolize a new beginning. Rebirth. I wonder if you knew that when you got them. Probably you didn’t, though. Did you? There could be a flower which meant 'I hope you go to hell, dickface ’ for all I knew and you would still get it for me just because you thought it looked beautiful,” Eddie lets out a chuckle.

“Anyway. What I’m trying to say is… You, Richie Trashmouth Tozier, are my daffodil. You gave me a new beginning and, I feel like… I feel like after all these loveless, dull, meaningless years… I was born with you again.”

He doesn’t notice that the snores had come to a stop.

“Geez, Eds. And you say I am the sappy one,” There comes a gravelly voice, and one very sleepy, but also happy looking Richie greets him on his screen.

His first reaction is murmuring a soft "fuck" as if he is caught doing something wrong, which makes the taller man laugh.

“…how much of it did you hear, you sneaky bastard?” He asks after a moment, pink spreading through his cheeks down to his chest. Not only he is embarrassed because Richie probably heard all of it, but because after all these years, that laugh still does things to him.

He can swear that Richie’s laugh is the most wonderful sound in the whole world.

“Just a moment ago you were telling me that I was your daffodil, and now you are telling me that I’m a bastard. Wow, Eddie Spaghetti, you wound me.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I thought you hated flowers,”

“I never said that I did.”

“Oh, you sure ‘bout that? 'Stop with the flowers, motherfucker. I hate these fuckin’ flowers, fucker!’ ” Richie imitates, “You were literally turning into a cute, midget version of Samuel L. Jackson whenever I gave you flowers.”

“I- Don’t talk like that in front of it. Flowers are affected by the way we talk,” he demands, and a wave of regret washes him over immediately after.

Richie will never let him live it down, will he?

“Now you’re just being a hypocrite. You are not exactly Mary Poppins either, ya know. And one more thing, I am affected by the way you talk to me either, but that doesn’t stop you from breaking my heart. Oh wait, I don’t have one.” Richie yawns:“ ’t was stolen from me yeeeears ago.”

“Go back to sleep, Rich,” Eddie tries, even though it’s not likely that he will listen.

“Sleep is for the weak,” claims the other man as he props himself up on his elbows on the hotel bed. “It’s overrated.”

“Your sense of humor is overrated.”

“Ouch. That one hurt, Eds,” Richie brings one hand over his heart, feigning offense “that one hurt.”

“I’m not gonna apologize for speaking the obvious.”

“You’re the meanest robber ever. Remind me why I’m dating you again? I should seriously reconsider my choices.”

“Because you love me, dickwards. And no one can love you more than I do.”

That brings a smile on Richie’s face.

“Yeah, that’s also true.”

“Did you just say 'also’ ? So you do accept that your sense of humor is shit.”

“At least I have one. Can we maybe get back to the moment you were admitting your undying love for me?”

“Nope,” Eddie refuses, popping the 'p’ “that train is long gone.”

“Damn, I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“But we all know that keeping your mouth shut has never been one of your strong suits.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Richie laughs again. “Hey, Eds.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t wait to meet little Richie.”

“You’re the one who gave it to me, you already met-”

“But it didn’t have a name back then! Now it’s not the same flower once it was. Its whooole life changed when you gave it that name.”

“Also, little Richie ? Please don’t call it that. It sounds like you’re talking about your dick. I clearly remember you referring it like that. It was a traumatic experience for me.”

Richie chuckles at that before he defends himself: “It was just that one time! I call it 'Big Richie’ now, cause ever since you came back to my life-”

“Oh Jesus, I should have never answered your call,” Eddie complains again, running a hand over his face.

“You know you love me.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

“For real, though… I can’t wait to meet Richie The Daffodil.”

“I’m sure it can’t wait to meet you properly as well.”

They both don’t say a word for a while until Richie calls his lover’s name again, Eddie only hums in response, letting his features soften.

“You’re my daffodil, too,” Richie says softly, and Eddie smiles so brightly that his eyes nearly go missing as his dimples deepen. “It’s not fair that I’m not there to poke your beautiful, adorable dimples,” he then whines, pouting like a child. “Poke them for me.”

“Leave my poor dimples alone, you weirdo,” teases Eddie, still smiling widely. “Go to sleep, and maybe you can see me and my dimples in your dream if you’re lucky enough.”

“I am lucky enough, Eddie,” Richie whispers, “I am lucky enough.”

“We are lucky enough, my love” Eddie corrects him, “we are lucky enough.”

And despite everything they both have been gone through, they mean it.

Because it’s the truth.

Because life is not always kind.

It’s not always sweet.

But if you’re lucky enough;

It gives you daffodils.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfiction #3tothe1 #my writing #not witcher related #but it's a special occasion

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resident-fungi-fren · 4 years ago

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A Rose By Any Other Name

Chapter Summary: Janus learns how his absence affected the sides, and Logan likes flowers.

Ships: kinda hints at loceit and past intruceit.

Warnings: illness, breakdowns, flashbacks, (kinda) repression, its based off of dwit and pof, so keep that in mind...

Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Pardon me Logan, but may I have a word?”

Logan was in his room, reading a book about amphibians. Janus had come in, and was waiting in the doorway.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Go ahead, you may ask me.”

“I’m Thomas’s desire, and I know when he has a big desire, and recently he’s given up on one. It was a really big one too, something he wouldn’t easily give up on. What happened?”

He knew, of course, how the callback originally went. But he played a major role in the courtroom. How had his absence changed things?

“It’s a complicated issue Dee, one I’m not sure I can explain properly. It would be best if I showed you. Would you be adverse to a trip down the memory archives?”

Dee hadn’t ever gotten to go down the archives before, atleast, not with full access. He could steal snippets here and there, but full memories? He was curious now, what he would find.

“That sounds excellent Logan, would you be alright leaving now?”

The logical side rose from his seat, straightened his tie, and moved out the door past Janus, the side in question following quickly behind.

“After you’ve learned the way, you should have full access to the memories, since you’re a ‘light side’ as Roman puts it. Ah, here we are.” Logan had stopped in front of a door, labeled “MEMORY LANE.”

The hallway, or lane, was long and filled with seemingly endless rows of shelves, much like inside out. Instead of glowing spheres though, each memory was a flower. It was a haven of petals and sunshine, and Logan walked through the rows, carefully tending to each plant like a devoted gardener.

“It’s one of my roles to attend to the memories, and I will admit, I find it quite relaxing to tend to the plants. They need close care to stay in good condition. Weeding the plants helps to keep the memories accurate, and it prevents cognitive distortions. Watering them keeps them fresh, and makes it easier for Thomas to retrieve memories. The sunshine simply keeps them bright, and helps Thomas remember the details.”

“He really has a subconscious thing for flowers, huh?” The comment slipped out before Janus could think about it, and he quickly regretted it. Logan had turned back to face Janus, and his expression was openly curious, and Janus knew he wouldn’t be getting out of this one.

“What do you mean? Have you seen some other flower-based phenomena within Thomas’s psyche? To my knowledge, it was only the memories.”

Janus sighed, and praised whatever god was out there that he could still think on his feet. “If I tell you, would you promise not to tell the others?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I will not disclose anything you share with me, unless it would be harmful to Thomas for it to remain secret.”

Well, he’d take what he could get. With another sigh, he rolled up the sleeve of his left wrist, exposing a few of his roses. In this light, he could now see what the dimness of his room hid, and the sunshine revealed the different hues of the roses. Some were a soft yellow, while others were tinted more orange. Even the reds had mixed shades, some being vibrant, while others were darker, a deep shade of crimson. There were even a few shades of coral and white in the mix. It was, for lack of a better word, beautiful.

Janus stared down at his arm, having pushed up his sleeve all the way to reveal the roses twining up his arm, entranced by blossoms. Logan too was staring, though his gaze was more calculating, and Janus realized he had to say something, before Logan took it upon himself to discover the meaning behind his markings.

“They’ve been there since I appeared, but they haven’t changed at all since then.” He felt the lie clog up his throat, and he turned away to cough up a couple petals into his hand, discarding them before Logan noticed. “I’m not sure what their purpose is though, I probably haven’t been around long enough.” There, that was close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t cost him a rose.

Logan seemed to accept that explanation, and with a reluctant promise to discuss the matter more later, he moved down the aisle, finally stopping at a row a little ways in.

This section was packed with flowers, too many for Janus to name. He saw roses and daffodils, holly and tansy. He recognized carnations, chrysanthemums, columbine, and hydrangeas. But even hidden among the hues of reds, purples, and yellows, he saw so many shapes and sizes of petals he wouldn’t know where to begin.

“This was a very emotionally charged event for Thomas, so there is more variety then you’d find in most memories. There is a total of 36 plants in this section, so I advise to get the gist of it, you look through the aloe, amaryllis, anemone, begonia, belladonna, black-eyed susan, carnations, columbine, crab blossom, hyacinth, hydrangea, hyssop, marigold, myrtle, roses, and tansy, to start. Simply sniff a blossom, and you’ll enter the memory, see it exactly how it happened.”

Well that wasn’t a lot to take in. But he still moved towards a flower, picking what he was pretty sure was a begonia, and took a deep whiff.

----------------flashback-----------------

Thomas burst in, yelling about his callback. Roman freaked out, and Patton was supportive, until he learned the date, nothing had changed there. This time though, “Foe-gan” didn’t appear, and there was no courtroom. Patton said it was wrong, and so Roman quietly gave up, pushing his dream behind him. Thomas never admitted he’d rather go to the callback, and that was that.

Until Remus came. Without Janus to rein him in, he’d gone off the deep end. It hurt to see him like that, and Janus felt the regret welling up inside him.

The darker twin was almost feral, tearing savagely into Thomas’s mind, bringing out everything Janus had worked to hide away, forcing Thomas to confront all his worst fears. It took all four of the light sides to rein him in, and they locked him in the subconscious, where he wouldn’t have nearly as much influence. Where he couldn’t hurt anyone but himself.

Thomas went to the wedding. That didn’t change. He came back though, and he snapped. All the stress, the anger he’d been repressing, Thomas had reached his boiling point.

Patton and Roman came in to defuse the situation, though that didn’t help much. Patton insisted that they had done the right thing, even if it didn’t feel right. Roman finally spoke up, saying that he wished they’d gone to the callback, and that maybe Patton wasn’t always right.

Logan came in then, saying that it was impossible for Patton to be correct 100% of the time, and that in this case, it was more likely then not that he’d made the wrong call. He pointed out how the callback had more to offer Thomas, and the huge decline his mental health had taken since choosing to go to the wedding. How even now, Thomas had gained no joy from the event.

Patton continued to insist that they’d done the right thing, that it had to be right, that it couldn’t have been a mistake because then he’d madeamistakeandhewaswronganditwasallwrongandwhatwasevenrightanymoreand-

Patton blew up, screaming and howling, holding his head as Lilypadton burst forth. Roman and Logan tried to calm him down, but Patton was gone, and he no longer knew what right and wrong were. He was being forced to re-examine everything he’d been taught, and this time Janus wasn’t there to help him through it.

Luckily someone else was. Virgil finally came in, and told Patton to breathe, to let Thomas breathe. The anxious was able to calm Morality down, and then explain that he was pushing Thomas too far, and that he needed to ease up. Thomas couldn’t keep going like this, giving every bit of himself to others, and Patton was finally able to see how he was hurting his host.

He apologized, and finally admitted that the wedding wasn’t the best choice, that maybe they should’ve gone to the callback, and explained the situation to Lee and Mary Lee.

Then it was Roman’s turn to be angry. Everything he had sacrificed was for nothing. His dream was about to come true, only for Patton to pull him back, and change his mind later? He was furious, that no one had listened before, that Patton hadn’t even given him a chance.

Janus heard Roman’s words echoing in his mind as the memory ended, harsh and broken. “You said you trusted me, I thought I meant more to you then that. Thomas, I thought I was your hero.”

------------------End Flashback------------

When Janus came too, he was holding an anemone, a flower he knew meant forsakenness. He wasn’t sure how to process what he’d learned, so instead he turned back to Logan, who’d been tending to the plants while Janus reminisced.

“What happened? After Roman left?” The logical side turned and faced Janus, placing his hands behind his back.

“Well, we made a plan to prioritize Thomas’s mental health in the future, and how to start putting him first. When we went to check on Roman, he said he needed some space, but after a few days he seemed to be back to his normal, extra, self. That was about two weeks before you appeared, so I supposed your existence is in response to Thomas deciding to start putting his desires first.”

Logan turned and gathered up his tools, before heading towards the exit. “I hope this was an enlightening experience for you Dee, now if you’ll excuse me, I have some more work to attend to in my room.” With that, he left, leaving Janus alone with the memories.

Knowing what he knew now, Janus had only one move in mind for the future. Whatever it took, he was going to find a way to see Remus again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

so this chapter kinda had a funky format, sorry bout that, but it was late

Taglist: @steampunk73

#ARBAON #ARBAON updates #ts janus #janus sanders #ts logan #Logan sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts sides #sanders sides #TSS #I wrote this instead of sleeping #crow writes

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wonwuism · 5 years ago

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Chapter 1.

Friday | Pledis Flowers | 4:00 pm

“Wonwoo, could you put these roses in the front, please? They’re selling like crazy today.”

Seungcheol walked in from the stock room with an enormous bucket of red roses in his hands, the muscles in his arms bulging out of his Pledis Flowers shirt. For a second it made Wonwoos brain short cirquit, before he shook his head and told himself for the millionth time that Seungcheol is his boss and it's wrong to thirst over his muscles during work hours.

"Sure hyung!"

Before he realized what he’d done, Wonwoo felt Seungcheols flat hand smack against the back of his head. What followed next was the usual scolding that happened after Wonwoo accidentally talked Korean to his boss again. For some reason the scolding always happened in said language, though.

"Jeon Wonwoo how many times to I have to tell you not to call me hyung during work hours! We talk English for a reason, which is to make sure our customers feel comfortable. You'll never be fluent if you keep this up, idiot."

"Jeez, Cheol, take it easy on the guy. All he did was be respectful." Joshua's amused face appeared from the top of the stairs that lead to the office part of the flower shop. As he walked down, he winked at Wonwoo and then clapped Seungcheol on the back. Wonwoo would never be able to get used to the comfortable way in which Joshua addressed his own boss, but he'd accepted a while ago that they both grew up in the US, and that things were just different here.

Seungcheol just sighed, as a way of saying he'd given up, and walked back into the stock room. Even though he'd just gotten scolded (or maybe because of it) Wonwoo couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the backside of Seungcheol's body and take a deep breath. It wasn't even a crush, he just couldn't help but feel insanely attracted to the man. Before he could get lost in his thoughts though, Joshua's lips were right next to his ear.

"Stop staring before you pop a boner, loverboy." Wonwoo let out an airy laugh through his nose and turned his head towards the voice. He raised his eyebrows, silently challenging Joshua to continue his everlasting torture about Wonwoo being a panicked gay around Seungcheol.

"I still don't really understand what is up with that anyway. You know he's straight as hell, from my more than embarrassing confessions when we were drunk, so why can't you just let it go? It's not like anything's ever going to happen between you guys. Also, he's your boss, so there's that."

"I know he's our boss, that's what he told you that night you were all over him. Remember that, Shua?" Joshua’s face fell at Wonwoo’s words. One night, after they’d closed the shop, the three of them had decided to go for drinks. No special occasion, just some bonding time between friends. For some reason, after a few drinks, Joshua decided he would teach Wonwoo how to flirt in English. Seungcheol would soon be the target of Joshua’s tactics, which lead to a hilarious case of Seungcheol turning Shua down again and again. Joshua’s ego had been ripped to pieces that night, but Wonwoo and Seungcheol did get a good laugh out of it.

"Oh, shut up, we both know that wouldn't have happened anyway, I don't bottom, you know that."

Wonwoo was about to defend himself and possibly disrespect his hyung a little in the process, but a ringing sound made them both snap their head towards the shop's door. As usual, Jun walked in with a smile that could light up any rainy day.

"Good afternoon, how are my favorite flower boys doing today?"

"Fantastic," Wonwoo mumbled. As he started gathering his stuff to leave, Jun and Joshua talked about their weekend plans. Wonwoo often thought about how strange it was that they ever became such good friends with him in the first place. Jun was just one of those people who came into his life and would probably never leave. The story of how they met was one that Jun loved to tell at parties to embarrass Wonwoo, as if he wasn't shy enough around people already.

One day Jun had just walked into Pledis to buy some flowers for his mother, but as soon as he saw Wonwoo he'd asked him out. Not a single moment of hesitation in his voice, which was the only reason Wonwoo had said yes. Well, that, and Joshua's slight pushing of course. He'd only moved there a few months prior and wasn't confident about his English at all. To make things worse Jun obviously didn't speak any Korean and that made Wonwoo feel incredibly insecure.

They went on a date anyway, that same night. They walked around the city a bit and talked a little. Well, Jun talked for the most part, but Wonwoo liked to listen better anyway. Jun spoke slowly and looked up the words on his phone whenever Wonwoo didn't understand them. Wonwoo just nodded and smiled every now and then. He was just starting to feel a little more comfortable, when Jun grabbed his hand, which made Wonwoo panic and say "No hands, no kiss, no date, please!" Jun still found it hilarious.

That was the start of a beautiful friendship. After Juns laughter had died down they'd decided that Jun would try to help him with his English, since Joshua had proven to be a terrible teacher and Seungcheol simply said he didn't have the patience to do it. Over the years Jun had proven to Wonwoo countless times that he was the kind of friend who stuck around and now they were, as Joshua called it, besties. Jun often stopped by Pledis. Mostly to pick up Wonwoo after work to go for coffee or food, but also because he had a crush on Seungcheol that was about tenfold the little thingWonwoo had for him.

Thinking about his boss made Wonwoo snap his head back to reality, right in time to see Jun laugh at something Seungcheol said as he came walking back into the store. The older man had a smile of his own and was looking at Jun in such an endearing way that it made Wonwoo question everything he thought he knew about Cheols sexuality. For some reason Jun had been the only one who was able to bring out Seungcheols soft side. Wonwoo thought it was a little strange. Joshua thought it was verystrange. Jun thought they were just seeing things.

"Okay, I have my stuff, let's go Jun." Wonwoo turned towards the door when it swung open and revealed what was possibly one of the most attractive men he'd ever seen. With wide eyes, Wonwoo dropped his bag to the floor and hurried to the side of the store to check on some daffodils for no reason. The man walked up to the counter and asked if he could get advice about some flowers he needed. Wonwoo heard Juns voice answer him.

"Well, I don't work here, but I'd recommend asking Wonwoo over there. He's the best when it comes to picking a pretty arrangement."

Wen Junhui, you're so full of shit and I will kill you with my bare hands as soon as this godlike creature has left the building.

"Hi, Wonwoo? I was wondering if you'd help me out with something?"

Wonwoo took a deep breath and turned around. Oh god, the man was close to him. Way too close. Somewhere in the corner of his eye he could see Joshua make some less than elegant gestures with his hand and mouth and Jun putting his arm around Seungcheol with a proud look on his face. They were all watching him intently. The anxiety was quickly taking over Wonwoos entire body and mind, making his mouth go dry and his brain run over with a million things he could do wrong in the next few seconds. He could just cry right then and there from how nervous he was, but then the stranger did something Wonwoo wasn’t used to.

He softly smiled and took a step back to give Wonwoo a little more breathing space. “It’s okay,” he slowly said. His voice was just loud enough for the two of them to hear, which Wonwoo was endlessly grateful for. “I’m Mingyu, what’s your name?”

Wonwoo swallowed thickly and closed his eyes for a brief second before answering. “My name is Wonwoo, how can I help you?” Mingyu smiled again and nodded. He almost seemed proud of Wonwoo, which made his heart do a little flip in a good way.

“I’m a photographer and I’m looking for the prettiest flowers you have. It’s for a photoshoot with a person.” Wonwoo nodded, ignoring for now that the fact that Mingyu being a photographer made him about three hundred times as attractive.

“Can I see the face?”

Weird sentence, get your shit together Wonwoo.

“Of course,” Mingyu said. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture of a gorgeous boy with white hair, looking into the camera with a small smile on his face.

“Wow.” Wonwoo was suddenly very aware of his breathing, but he didn’t know if it was caused by the boy on the screen or the fact that Mingyu was very close to him now, smelling amazing. Probably the combination.

“Yeah, he’s very pretty.” The way Mingyu was smiling at the picture made Wonwoo a little jealous, but he pushed his thoughts aside. Without another word he walked through the store, picking flowers with the expertise he’d gathered over the years. He decided on yellows and pastel colors that fit well with the boys hair and soft features. For a few minutes he could feel Mingyu’s stare on him, which made him feel nervous all over again. What if he picked the wrong colors? What if Mingyu thought he was weird?

Wonwoo was going through a batch of sunflowers, looking for the prettiest one, when he could feel Mingyu’s presence next to him again. He watched as Mingyu picked one out of the lot and admired it for a second. “Pretty,” he said in Korean. Wonwoos head snapped towards the taller man and he couldn’t help but smile brightly. “Very,” he replied. For a second they just looked at each other with a comfort between them that Wonwoo hadn’t felt in years, until Mingyu’s eyes lowered to the flowers in his hands.

“You have a good eye for color, are you an artist?”

I guess we’re back to English again, huh.

Wonwoo nodded. He felt like he needed to say more, but he’d never been the talkative type and Mingyu probably wasn’t that interested anyway. All of a sudden his nerves started to act up again and he cleared his throat before taking the sunflower Mingyu was still holding.

“Enough?” He lifted his head to look at Mingyu, who was still looking at him with a smile.

“Yes, that should be enough. Can I pay with my card?” Somehow his voice in Korean seemed a little insecure, as if he didn’t speak it a lot, but it made Wonwoo feel like Mingyu was trying to make him feel comfortable and he smiled at Mingyu in a silent thank you.

“Yes, follow me, please.” As Wonwoo made his way towards the counter, he could see the others in the back drinking coffee, having a casual conversation. He was glad they weren’t listening in to his interactions with Mingyu anymore. That would’ve made things even more awkward than they already were.

As Wonwoo was wrapping the flowers up in a pretty bouquet, Mingyu took his wallet out of his jacket and continued their conversation in Korean. Wonwoo couldn’t help but notice he had an American accent that slipped through every once in a while. “Since you have a good eye for pretty things, do you know a good place to shoot pictures with these flowers? I’m looking for a place with a lot of light and not too much of a city vibe.”

Wonwoo took Mingyu’s card and swiped it across the machine. As Mingyu punched in his code, he gathered up some extra courage.

“Maybe you can shoot here, we have a really pretty indoor garden in the back that you can use. Would you like to see it?” Mingyu’s face lit up at his words and he happily nodded as he took his card back from Wonwoo’s hands.

Wonwoo ignored Jun’s eyebrow roll and Joshua’s wink as they walked towards the back of the shop. Thank god he let Mingyu walk first, so he wasn’t able to see the dumb gestures they were making. He did mouth an ‘oh my god,’ to them with wide eyes, before joining Mingyu in the little inside garden, where the taller man was already looking around with a look that told Wonwoo all he needed to know.

“This is beautiful,” Mingyu said, softly.

You are beautiful, Wonwoo thought. He sat down on the little park bench that was placed against one of the white walls and looked up through the glass ceiling that gave the little patio space an outside feeling. While Mingyu walked around, looking at the space from different angles Wonwoo felt himself relax at the silence. This complete stranger had somehow made him feel completely at ease within the short time he’d been inside the shop, which was something Wonwoo wasn’t used to at all. Even thinking about that almost made his anxiety resurface again, but then he locked eyes with Mingyu’s sparkling ones and he could feel himself smile again. Mingyu just made him want to smile and Wonwoo didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Can I use it? Please? It’s perfect,” Mingyu said, doing a little spin in the middle of the room. Wonwoo stood up and nodded at him. “We mostly use it for this kind of stuff anyway, so it could be free for you tomorrow if you’d like.” Mingyu looked like he could just hug Wonwoo with the news, but fortunately decided to keep his happiness to himself for now.

“Jeonghan’s gonna love this, thank you so much! I’ll call him right away and arrange it. We’ll be here around noon tomorrow, is that okay? Thank you! You have no idea how perfect this is!” He looked like an overexcited puppy, which Wonwoo found both endearing and very overwhelming, but he liked Mingyu’s enthusiasm. It was contagious. After walking back into the shop and deciding on a time, Wonwoo kept the flowers Mingyu picked in a separate bucket to keep them for the next day. Mingyu thanked him about six more times and left the shop almost skipping from happiness.

After he was out of the shop and out of sight, Wonwoos legs gave in on him and he fell to the ground with a loud cry as he started losing control over his breathing. He heard footsteps rushing closer and felt Jun and Joshua lift him up to carry him towards the coffee corner. They put him in the big antique chair in the way back and Wonwoo pulled his legs up to his chest to make himself as small as possible. Trying to get his brain to function again, he took a sip from the glass of water that Seungcheol reached out to him. Wonwoo didn’t have the voice to tell them how grateful he was at this moment, having them take care of his panic attacks like they’d learned to. He didn’t know what he would have done without them, because right now it felt like he was dying. It always did.

A good five minutes later he was doing a lot better, although still a little shaken from his outburst. Jun had spent the entire time whispering encouraging words to him. “You did so well. You can do it Wonwoo, just breathe in and out. That’s it, you’re doing amazing. You did great. You made that guy smile a lot. I know you’re scared he had all sorts of thoughts about you, but your mind is lying to you. It’ll be okay Wonwoo, in and out, just like that.”

No one touched him while they were giving him comfort. They knew that would only make things worse, and Wonwoo thanked them for it as soon as he found his voice again.

“No problem, Wonwoo, you did really well with that customer. I’m proud of you.” Seungcheol spoke in Korean to make Wonwoo feel more grounded. “You should calm down a little more and then just go home, okay? You should have been off work half an hour ago.” With that he walked up the stairs to do some financial work for the day. Wonwoo wiped away the tears he didn’t realize he’d cried and gave his friends a small smile. “I’m sorry guys, it was all a little overwhelming, that’s all.”

“Never apologize Wonnie,” Joshua told him. “We don’t mind, you know that. You held up so well while he was still in the shop. I know he must have made you nervous.” Wonwoo nodded and then, to the other boys’ surprise, chuckled a little when he saw the bouquet of flowers. “Actually, he was really nice about it. He stayed at a distance almost the whole time, as if he could tell I was anxious.” As Wonwoo took another sip of his water he heard Jun apologize for sending Mingyu towards him in the first place. Wonwoo shook his head. “That’s okay. He’ll be back tomorrow, so this time I’ll be a little more prepared. Can we go now? I need fresh air.”

Friday | Wonwoo’s dorm room | 8:00 pm

Wonwoo knocked on the door of his dorm room twice and then opened it with his keys. Inside was Jihoon, working on his laptop as usual. His massive headphones were on his head, which explained why he hadn’t heard Wonwoo knock. When he saw movement, though, he moved his head towards Wonwoo and nodded. Wonwoo nodded back and shrugged his jacket off.

They didn’t talk much about unnecessary stuff, Wonwoo and Jihoon. They each just kind of went their own ways, but they liked it that way. From their first year on, they’d been roommates, which had always gone well. They never became really good friends, but as for roommates it was about as good as it gets. Jihoon closed his laptop with a sigh and took his headphones off. “Had dinner yet?”

“Yeah I went out to eat with Jun, you?” Wonwoo dropped himself on his bed and felt the weight of a long day pour into his bedsheets. He grabbed his phone and put some music on, that he listened to through one earphone. Jihoon put some water into the little heater they’d bought together and grabbed some instant ramen out of a cupboard. He shook the packet while he turned towards Wonwoo and gave him a sarcastic happy smile. “I’m about to. New song got me messed up, I need some kind of inspiration man. I’m empty.”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrows and shook his head a little in disbelief. This man had some terrible habits. “Maybe if you went outside every once in a while you’d feel more inspired, or do you want me to bring some flowers home from the shop?” He dodged the plushie that Jihoon threw his way as a way of answering and threw it back at him. “I’m serious man, get some fresh air.”

“What got you in such a good mood?” Jihoon asked with a playful tone. “Acting all tough, like you know it all.” Wonwoo shrugged and got up to grab a towel and some sweatpants. “Suit yourself, I’m going to take a shower. I want to sleep early tonight, I had a pretty long day.” Jihoon made a sound in the back of his throat that translated to ‘okay’ and Wonwoo walked out of their room to head for the shared dorm bathrooms down the hall. When he returned from his shower, he could see Jihoons empty bed, telling him his words did end up making an impact on his roommate after all. After texting Jun and Joshua a quick ‘thank you for today’ he soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Masterlist. | Next chapter.

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

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@natasharxmanov tagged me in this, and i am very excited! nominating @ifdragonscouldtalk, @ad1thi and @antifaironman

1. Name 4 fictional characters who showcase your personality the best, with explanations if you want.

Boyle, from B99. I always try to do what’s right for other people, and always be supportive, but sometimes I can be kind of a doormat if I don’t check myself. Mabel Pines, from Gravity Falls. I’m always kinda happy and funny in social situations, and a lot of people don’t take me seriously or my opinion because they think I’m kind of “behind” in a sense. Leo Valdez because while I’m not too great at building things or anything I shared very similar feelings during middle school and this character helped me a lot! Belle, from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I always hold a love for reading, and she was the first example I saw of a woman who knew exactly what she would stand for.

2. Aesthetic

piles of books, ink stained fingers, wildflower bouquets, red lipstick, high heels, record shop, early morning sun, stained glass windows

3. Favorite musical/play? (If you’ve never seen a musical or play, one you’d be interested in seeing?)

arsenic and old lace will forever hold a place in my heart it’s still my dream life

4. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

i was doing a retreat thing at school and we all had to say compliments that weren’t related to physical appearance, and a girl i hadn’t really ever talked to said she admired how i would always express exactly what i was feeling, and how excited i was to see my friends. i don’t think i ever thanked her for that.

5. How many times have you been in love?

once.

6. Embarrassing story or fact about yourself that makes you laugh now?

i’ve run into too many things staring at cute girls!

7. Favorite Disney/Pixar movie?

hunchback of notre dame

8. Favorite flower or plant?

lilacs or daffodils! but also maybe mint...

9. What’s your favorite holiday?

christmas. it’s always a good time to reunite with family and think of things for others!

10. Name three things that made you laugh or smile this past week.

i’m reading a new comic and it’s delightfully funny! i also got to see the sun, that was nice. and i ate a rice bowl with tuna!

11. What song would you play to introduce yourself to someone?

i’m not sure that i could choose one to actually pull it off!

12. Name something that truly makes you feel peaceful even at your most stressed moments.

reading, coffee, mills brothers.

13. What do you, did you, or would you study at college?

i’m studying anthropology!

14. This is kind of a weird one, but which outfit of yours makes you feel most like yourself?

i have a green-and-white striped shirt that i simply adore

15. What is a quote you live by?

“ask not what you can do for your country. ask what’s for lunch.”

16. Name the funniest playlist name you have.

“CJ’s Truckstop”

17. Make a reference to an inside joke you have with someone you love with zero context.

finna yeehonk

18. What is a message you would give your younger self if given the chance?

bro we probably should’ve talked to somebody about this lmao

19. Who is your favorite family member? (If you have no good blood family members, feel free to mention someone in your found family)

my dad. or my aunt from texas! i love her a lot :)

20. What’s a secret dream of yours?

i wanna get paid Big Money to just ramble about art

#lovelyirony writes #fun :)

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snowdog49 · 5 years ago

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Run With Me

Rating: T-M (More T)

FMA (Royai)

Word Count: 2994

Dedicated to @tomoehawkeye Enjoy Friend.

It started when he was out for a run. It was a beautiful spring morning, the air crisp in his lungs as his light running shoes took him through a wooded park. His arms close to his body as he looked around at the beauty of the beauty that was spring. Life flourished with the green leaves unfolding and daffodils that bloomed from the frosted flower beds. His lungs burned and his nose felt the nip of the morning. The sun was just rising above the green trees, warming his back as he turned along the trail. He felt amazing in the new day that was. There was beauty all around him. What a wonderful time of the year, he thought.

Then she appeared. Her black shirt fit her form, her hair in a ponytail. Her brown eyes caught his black and he forgot to breathe. A black and white dog stayed steady at her side. A white puff of warm air into the cool synchronized between the two. It was certain that she wasn’t even trying to run, as if she was just out to enjoy the day like he was. He wasn’t even sure if he was running until they passed each other. She nodded with a genuine smile that made his body feel hot and Roy couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to her back as she fell from his view. Sweat dripped from his temple and down the side of his head as he gulped. What the fuck was that? Who is she?

Every day. The only day she didn’t run was Monday. He ran that day anyway in hopes that she’d run it. His heart would speed up as he saw her bright blonde hair come into view, her little dog trotting along effortlessly. Her black shirt fitting to her bouncing breasts. A couple times he felt like he was going to pass out. Say hello damn it! But he’d smile as she’d smile and nod. There was a practice, a ritual, that formed over the next few months. As he tied his shoes, he would form plans to meet her, to sabotage her run even, just to stop and say hi. If I found where she stopped, I could meet her there and we’d both be standing in one spot at the same time! Then he didn’t. He didn’t want to risk not seeing her. I could easily look at my watch and bump into her. But his body forgot all other functions except to run when he saw her. I could run in the same direction! It was Monday.

Same nod. Same smile. Every day. Until June 1st. It was raining and he debated going out. Rain had never stopped him before, and it never stopped her. However, he felt a cold coming on and as it was his day off. He decided to sleep in. He looked outside as the grey clouds rolled through, the leaves on the trees shaking with the waves of the branches. One day won’t hurt you. With two cups of tea and a tuna sandwich, he went back to bed.

The next morning, with a slight cough, he insisted his body to go for a run. He’d probably have a coughing fit when he was done, but he still wanted to see her. He tied his shoes and looked at his watch. Right on time. Down the steps, and out the door he jogged. The fresh air did him better than he thought. The warm summer air brought him a breakfast of sun. The flowers along the way seemed so vibrant that he almost stopped to pick one. Just to give it to her in passing. He looked up and saw her smile as she rounded the corner. Right on time, he noted.

“Hey,” she called as she neared him. “Missed you yesterday.”

He blinked and stumbled his words, watching her run by him. “Missed you too,” he stuttered in return.

He saw her wave over her shoulder and turn the corner

What was that? He mentally slapped his forehead and cried a little inside. That was your chance you moron, he chastised himself. The next day, she waved at him in passing, and he waved. He waved as if he was stunned in her behavior, confused that she had any interest in him at all. Even his wave stuttered. His mouth would gape open and his eyes would freeze, scared to blink and she’d disappear. She’d disappear anyway, right around the corner.

June 15th came and he forced himself one word. One. That’s all his vocal cords could mutter. “Dinner?”

“Busy,” she called back, turning the corner.

June 16th. “Lunch?”

“Work,” she called back.

June 17th. “Breakfast?”

She stopped. He stopped.

It gave away that he had been turning to watch her leave because he stopped too. She turned, her dog tilting its head at the break in routine. She put her hands on her hips as she took a heavy breath and tilted her head. “Riverside cafe,” she breathed. “Eight. Don’t be late.” With a smirk, she rounded the corner and was gone.

Riverside. Eight.

Roy Mustang was not late. He stood by the door, still in his shorts and his t-shirt, standing by the outside tables. His heart pounded against his chest as if it was beating for his own survival. Maybe it was. If she didn’t show up, he was sure it’d stop. If she did show up, it might stop anyway. He licked his lips, feeling they were dry with anticipation. His hands sweated and he had to wipe them off on his sides if his shirt. It was the first time that she turned a corner to face him. His face felt hot and he was sure it was a teenager blush that he wore on his cheeks.

“Hi,” she greeted. “You could have gotten dressed.”

Roy looked down to see she had jeans on with a nice purple blouse on. “Sorry. I ran here.”

“It shows,” she giggled. She lead the way to a table outside, looking at him curiously. “I’m Riza,” she introduced after a few seconds of awkward quietness.

“Roy,” he introduced before clearing his throat.

“Roy.” She nodded. “Finally a name to the familiar face.” She turned to order a caramel latte from the waitress. “Tell me about yourself, Roy.” Her voice was soft, patient, and lower-pitched. He could tell right away that she was less of a girly girl and more of an honest down to earth natured woman. He was awestruck simply by her soft smirk, playful in manner but reserved. Then, her brown eyes stopped every cell in his body for a mere millisecond. They were a deep brown, stunning and uniform in color. It was more than just a color he’d imagine as a coffee table, but as a natural rich wood that was rare and sought by the most artistic craftsmen.

“Well,” he coughed after he ordered a black coffee. “I run every morning, even on Mondays when you aren’t there.”

“That just qualifies you as a stalker,” she scoffed lightly. “I mean, what do you do for a living?”

He looked around, almost searching for the correct answer but in reality, he suddenly felt insignificant in his profession. “I work with a security firm. It’s small, but we service fire detectors and home security monitors.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Interesting,” she praised. “For a private home or business?”

“Both,” he answered quickly.

“Grumman’s security?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s pretty neat.”

“Then, Ms. Riza. What do you do?” He took a quick glance at her finger. Over the past months, he never saw a flash of gold on her ring finger, but he thought he’d double-check now.

“Oh,” she giggled. “I work at a private veterinary hospital.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I like your dog.” I don’t know anything about your dog. For all I know it’s vicious. But he’s cute.

“Hayate? He’s a good boy. He comes to work with me pretty often.” She accepted her latte and took a sip of the frothy top.

“What do you do then?”

“Oh,” she leaned back in her seat. “I am the vet.”

Wowsers! “So what has lead you to run in Bradley Park anyway?”

She shrugged, not making a big deal about her answer. “My dog likes it.”

Every Thursday, they met for breakfast. The conversation was always light, but it was enough to fill his body with excitement. However, neither made the notion to meet for lunch or dinner. They still ran their own way and smiled with the nod each time. The difference was in the smile. There was more a blush from her, and more of a cheeky grin from him. The days grew warmer and the flowers brighter. His steps were lighter as he made his way down the familiar trail. There was a connection between the two of them and it wasn’t the trail they crossed paths on. He could see that she liked him too, and he heard it when she’d say, “Good Morning, Roy,” as they passed. Her voice was warmer than the sunshine on his back. It came to a point in the mornings that he’d get ready and watch the clock, just so that he could be there at the time of their passing, to earlier, no later. Thursday, he’d pick up his pace and make it home in time to change and drive to the cafe.

“A caramel latte and a black coffee please.”

“Anything to eat?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Riza opened the door to the cafe and waved a relaxed hello to him.

“I ordered your latte,” he smiled.

“Oh, thank you. What does your Thursday look like today?”

Roy scratched his cheek with a shrug. It felt as if he’d known her for years but it was only six Thursdays that they’d met. It was getting cooler outside, resulting in their retreat to the indoors. “Just some routine maintenance on an alarm system at Fuery Technology. What about you?”

“My schedule is open today but I do have a dental cleaning at one.”

“Dentist too, huh?”

“The owners wanted to know why he had bad breath,” she chuckled. “Your breath would be that nasty too if your teeth looked like that.”

Roy scrunched his nose as he thought about it. “And I just have to deal with customers thinking my alarm system will stop a fire when it only alerts to a fire.”

“That sounds more serious than a few teeth.”

Roy sipped his coffee after taking it from the waitress. “When a house burns down, the customer tries to sue you because the alarm didn’t go off before the fire.”

Their conversations were casual. They’d lean back in their chairs, smile, laugh, and they’d make long eye contact that made Roy’s blood run hot. He had learned so much about Riza. He learned that she was from the South, raised by her father. He also knew that her father was distant and as a result, she grew up alone. She prefers being alone, she liked the quiet. She was a morning person and enjoyed a cup of orange juice before her run. Her dog Hayate was a ham and when he finally did meet him while outside the cafe, Hayate earned himself endless belly rubs. Riza’s favorite color was purple, however, she tended to wear black or blue. She owned a car but rarely drove, enjoyed being on the water, and loved the rain. He even knew that Riza liked Sauvignon Blanc and creme brulee for dessert.

The snow began to fall in late autumn. There was a serious conversation with himself to get a gym pass. He’d even buy Riza one just to have his normal smile in the morning. However, the dog came into play and Roy knew Hayate would not like the gym as he did outside. He was invited to the park where Hayate would chase snowballs, dig and roll in the snow, and would get a running start before sliding along it. He threw the tennis ball, watching the black and white dog bark before he dove like a fox into the snow to retrieve it. Something warm grabbed his hand and he turned in surprise to see Riza looking fondly up at him.

“My hand is cold,” she insisted.

“Mine is too.”

“Your hand is cold,” she chuckled. “A warm tea sounds nice.” She turned to look down the park’s sidewalk. “Would you like to join me?”

I will follow you to the end of the Earth and jump of the ledge. You have my heart and soul. “A tea sounds wonderful.”

“Come on, Black Hayate!” She called to her dog, pulling her hat tighter over her ears. “It’s tea time!”

It wasn’t like Roy knew where tea was going to be. His heavy wool jacket was littered with little white snowflakes as they walked down the sidewalk. He had to stop and admire the crystals forming intricate designs along the sleeping sticks or the way the snow fluffed a blanket along the foot bridge’s railings. “It’s a winter wonderland,” he joked as he grabbed a tree branch above them. With a quick jerk, light sparkling snow fell upon them. They laughed, as Hayate tried to bite at it while it fell. It was another excuse to touch her. He was able to reasonably brush her shoulders and back off. She didn’t seem to mind. Her brown eyes sparkled like the snow around them as she gazed fondly back. He felt his mouth grow dry, his lips chapped, and his tongue slid to wet the bottom one. Her fingers found his as they intertwined. It felt perfect, like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. Roy looked down through his long black bangs that pressed against his forehead under his hat. His white gloves to her black ones. Ying and Yang. It was all he could come up with. We are meant for this.

For two people who talked and saw each other daily, they had never seen each other’s apartment. Roy didn’t realize any of this. It was over six months and this was the first time that he’d known where she lived. Her home smelled like apples and cinnamon. The entryway had a backpack on the wall, three pairs of shoes and two types of jackets on the pegs next to her backpack. He could see a kayak against a wall. It was clean. He was surprised by how clean it was. There was a neat pile of bills on the counter but Riza quickly grabbed them and tossed them aside. It wasn’t like he was curious anyway. He sat quietly, petting Hayate, and inspecting the apartment. She did have a couch, a small TV in the corner, and a red coffee table. He could see a yoga mat leaning against the wall and a candle, which he presumed was the apple smell, on a side table.

“What kind of tea, Roy?” She broke him from his visual adventure and looked up at her. Riza held a jar of rubios and the other an earl grey.

“The earl grey I suppose.”

She reached up and pulled a teapot from the cupboard. It was a simple purple one and it made him smile. “I like to go to Sun Valley’s Tea shop on 14th and Rivers,” she smiled as the water started to boil. “Hayate and I walk by there after work on the weekends.”

“Favorite tea?” He leaned on the counter towards her.

She leaned on the other end of the counter, her face growing closer to his. “Oh, I’m in love with their Apple Oolong.”

“I would not have guessed,” he whispered. His eyes lingered on her lips. He needed it badly. His lungs burned and his stomach tightened.

“Would you have guessed anything.”

Roy stood up and rounded the counter. He watched as she smiled, teasing him with her eyes. She wanted it too. She stepped back, putting her rear to the counter and her face to him as he approached her. It was all or nothing. His hand reached out to her hips and he grew closer still. It wasn’t until he was an inch from her that he stopped. Their hot breaths mixing, swirling like the air around them. He could feel the warmth of her and smell her shampoo in her hair. His nose just hovering over hers. “We’ve been doing this for too long,” he breathed. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re waiting for.” Her hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him into her.

It was desperate, needy, with their noses pressed roughly against each other. Their bodies pressed, Roy could not help the slight moan that escaped. He felt her tongue slip between her lips and brush against his. It was as if he was struck by lighting as every nerve fired off. Her fists grew tighter, grasping his shirt as if she was falling. What seemed like an eternity locked with her in a passion of love and destiny, she finally pushed him back. They sucked air, their eyes never parting through their skin did. He felt her hand fall down his chest feeling his fit chest and down his flat abs. “You’re pretty good at that,” she breathed. “Are you good at other things?”

Roy grinned, letting his hands slide down her thighs. “Well, if you’re asking,” he grinned. In one swift move, he lifted her to his stomach. Her legs wrapped quickly around him and Roy made a ninety-degree turn, his lips tracing her jawline with another groan.

“Wait,” she said urgently. Roy stopped and say her hand reached out. He turned back as her hand reached the stove, turning it off. “Okay,” she sighed. “Now where were we?”

“In the kitchen,” he chuckled.

“Well, the bedroom isn’t far away.”

#fan fic #FMA #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #Royai #prompt #AU

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dancingsparks · 6 years ago

Text

Don’t forget the fish

Also on Ao3

That was not good. Not good at all. Pansy was going to skin him alive and make him eat it. Or worse. Honestly, Draco should have expected something like that might happen. It was hardly the first time he forgot everything around him, caught up in some bizarre topic or other. That tended to happen rather often actually. Draco might say it came with the job, him being a journalist and all, but in reality he chose his work exactly because of this tendency. It allowed him to study anything he thought fascinating or curious and write enthusiastic articles about it. So while he was supposed to feed Pansy’s fish he had instead spent the last week in the library, buried in books and gathering facts on the mortuary cult of Ancient Egypt. Which was way more interesting than feeding some stupid fish anyway. But Pansy had entrusted him with this responsibility, which really made the whole thing her fault if you think about it, and left for her holiday somewhere warmer and sunnier. And while he could try to distract her with delightful facts about soul and consciousness of the dead, Draco was pretty sure she would eventually notice her precious fish missing. And somehow he doubted Pansy would appreciate him shifting the blame to her.

He might be able to replace it if he had more time but Pansy was supposed to be back in only a few short hours, which left hardly any time at all to find a convincing substitute. It might be just enough time to flee the country though. But as soon as Pansy realised he’d killed her fish and cowardly fled she would undoubtedly hunt him down and it’d be worse than if he had confessed to it directly. Probably. After all, it wasn’t cold blooded murder but rather an obsession induced forgetfulness that caused the poor animals death. Draco wasn’t sure that distinction would make Pansy any less likely to murder him in return though. Maybe if he could start making amends already, to show his good will, she’d be inclined to let him redeem himself. Expressing his honest regret was surely more believable if he had flowers or something as well as his verbal assurances, wasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t, it could always serve as bribe.

Draco desperately wished for some inane social rule on what to do in this situation, some commonly accepted gesture saying “I’m deeply sorry I accidentally killed your fish. I promise I honestly didn’t mean to and will do everything in my power to make it up to you.” To his knowledge, which was quite extensive thanks to his mother insisting on its utmost importance, there was no such gesture. Ridiculous really, there were social norms for the weirdest things but of course nothing you would actually ever need. He supposed he could always ask his mother for advice, she would probably know exactly how to handle the situation. She would also be very disappointed, way too amused and just a little bit smug about it. No, better to leave his mother out of it completely. She would never let him forget it and Draco was reasonably sure Pansy would see to that already. The only thing Draco could think of presently were flowers, which was rather standard really but would have to do. Pansy would certainly be able to think of more he could do to make amends, just a subtle reminder to that one time he killed her fish and how he kind of owed her. He would have to do whatever she wanted for the next month at least.

***

The flower shop seemed to belong in one of these old paintings of sunny market places with its buckets filled with various flowers shaded by a striped marquise. Honestly how he never noticed it before was a mystery to Draco, seeing as it wasn’t far from his flat at all. Entering the shop he was immediately engulfed in that special smell that seemed reserved for flower shops only, exhilaratingly alive while simultaneously calming. Looking around he saw pots with more flowers, ready-made bouquets and other floral arrangements. It was absolutely beautiful. He was startled out of his reverie by someone who must be the shop assistant greeting him. The unexpected noise made Draco flinch as he stumbled around, causing the bloke to laugh. Wanker. Admittedly, he was an extremely good looking wanker, so maybe Draco could forgive him this once. The most noticeable thing about him were his strikingly green eyes, full of life and humour. It shouldn’t be allowed to have such expressive eyes, brimming with emotion. They should also be hidden by the glasses he wore but they only served to make them stand out more. Same with the black mess of hair. What could easily resemble a bird’s nest instead gave him a just shagged look. The look was continued with a pair of well-worn jeans that sat dangerously low on his hips. Draco quickly looked up again, trying hard not to blush. Judging by the smug smile though he was not very successful with that. Deciding to pretend he wasn’t horribly flustered he quickly pulled himself together, donning what Pansy liked to call his Malfoy-mask and moved to stand in front of the incredibly handsome man.

“I accidentally killed a fish and am now in desperate need of some flowers to stop Pansy from murdering me.” The smug grin fell from the man’s face and he was instead frowning in confusion. Irritatingly, he didn’t look any less attractive for it. Or maybe it was a good thing he didn’t. Draco certainly wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t understand the reason for the confusion though; he thought he was being perfectly clear. He had killed a fish and therefore had to earn forgiveness to prevent his impending murder, what was not to understand there? Not allowing his own internal frown to show on his face he continued smiling patiently and watched as his request was slowly processed.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Oh, Draco had been sure he had finally overcome whatever caused the problem but apparently not. The bloke looked incredulous and terribly amused. Draco frowned at him. “I literally just said that, I killed a fish. Is that somehow difficult to understand?” Okay, so maybe he was slightly defensive and just snapped at the man for a justified question. He supposed he had given very little information.

“Oh of course, my apologies. Just right over there is where we keep our Sorry I killed your fish assortment. Do you want a Please don’t murder me card or balloon?” Draco couldn’t help it, he laughed. Evidently the bloke wasn’t stupid after all and rather funny. Maybe the Malfoy-mask wasn’t the right approach here.

“Let’s try that again. Hi I’m Draco, pleased to meet you. I was recently entrusted with the welfare of a fish by my dear Pansy who is just now coming back from her holiday. Unfortunately I got lost in the Egyptian realm of the dead and consequently forgot all about the fish in my care. Which cost the fish his life and maybe mine as well if I can’t convince Pansy to refrain from murder and instead make me pay until the natural end of my life, trying in vain to gain forgiveness. I had hoped that a carefully chosen bouquet of flowers might reflect these intentions and thereby save my life.” He looked confused again and for a short moment Draco debated whether he should just leave and buy flowers somewhere else, when he broke out in a loud laugh. He had a really nice laugh. Draco decided to stay. For totally unrelated reasons of course. He simply had no time to search for another flower shop, convey the dire situation and be back before Pansy arrives, that’s all.

“It’s very nice to meet you Draco, I’m Harry. I am deeply distraught to hear how very near your death is and offer my services to help you avert that horrible fate.” Then he went down on one knee, pretending to be a knight of old, offering his sword in service. Draco wasn’t sure if he was mocking his melodramatic little speech until Harry looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and failing to hide a smirk. It seemed Harry had a flair for the dramatic too. Thus encouraged Draco drew himself up to his full height and tried to look imperious. “I gladly accept your service, you may rise” With Harry once again standing (was he closer than before or did he imagine that?) Draco actually had to tilt his head up a little to look into his eyes. They silently stared at each other for a moment until they were suddenly laughing again.

The following silence had the potential to become very awkward, very fast and Draco was searching for something to say when Harry cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed rather flustered. “Well now that I pledged my soul to you-” here he smiled at Draco, not flustered anymore but surprisingly warm and earnest -“did you have anything specific in mind?”

“I haven’t really thought about that actually. Purple hyacinths classically express sorrow and apologies and they are quite beautiful, so these. Geranium means stupidity or folly; that might fit as well. Maybe bluebells too, they stand for humility. Hydrangea can mean thank you for understanding, if paired right. Daffodil might represent forgiveness. Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry stared at him, astonished and apparently just listening to Draco naming flowers.

That shook him out of his daze. “Nothing, just -” and he ran his fingers through his hair again, which explained the glorious mess it was in –“I wasn’t aware you knew what all those flowers meant, is all.” There was that smile again, that bright, honest smile making Draco feel warm and wanting to smile back.

“Oh, well. I don’t know all that many really. Just the major ones, I’m sure you know more than me, part of the job and all that.” Why did he have to be blushing again? It wasn’t even a real compliment, no need to blush.

“In fact, I know absolutely nothing about the Secret Languages of Flowers. And I don’t actually work here. I mean, I kind of do, but not on a permanent basis? The shop belongs to my grandma, you see. She has always wanted one, since she was a little girl she says, so when she came from India with grandpa he bought her this shop. Anyway, bottom line is, this shop here is her dream come true and she wouldn’t trust anyone not-family with it. So whenever they go on holyday or something I mind the shop for her.”

“Wait, are you saying you don’t know what a single flower in here means?” That couldn’t possibly be what Harry meant, could it? Wasn’t one required to know that when one worked in a flower shop, on a permanent basis or not? Even more importantly though, flowers are beautiful and a whole language consisting of them was simply marvellous.

“Not quite. Hyacinths mean sorrow, geranium folly and daffodil forgiveness. I did listen to you, you know.” Predictably, that made Draco’s heart beat faster than the situation warranted. It seemed even small smiles of Harry had the power to render him completely useless. He had to sternly remind himself of the marvel the Language of Flowers was and how Harry had to discover it as well. And maybe, how very much Draco would like to be the one to introduce him to it.

“That is unacceptable. I can’t allow you to live in ignorance any longer. I will have to teach you, anything else isn’t fair to the flowers.” Draco was proud to say that he sounded very determined und self-assured. He felt neither of these things. Quite the opposite, he was scared Harry wouldn’t want him to; that he would make him pay for his flowers and throw him out. But Harry smiled and this particular smile relieved all his fears.

“I would like that very much, Draco”

#my writing #drarry #Harry Potter #fluff #flower shop #flower #language of flowers

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thatwitchglenda · 5 years ago

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BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Glenda Calliope Chittock PRONUNCIATION: /ˈɡlɛndə ka-LYE-oh-pee MEANING: Fair and good; beautiful voice REASONING: Glenda was a sort of ‘pick a name, any name’ sort of choice. Calliope is her paternal grandmothers name. NICKNAME(S): Glen, G PREFERRED NAME(S): She doesn’t really prefer nicknames to her full name, so really it’s up to whoever is talking to her. BIRTH DATE: October 3, 2000 AGE: 19 ZODIAC: Libra GENDER: Female PRONOUNS: She/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual NATIONALITY: English ETHNICITY: Colombian/Mexican CURRENT LOCATION: While she’s shared a flat with Amelia in muggle London for some time, the two girls are currently in the process of moving to the Peakes. LIVING CONDITIONS: See above ^ TITLE(S): n/a

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: Mould-on-the-Wold HOMETOWN: Mould-on-the-Wold, a quiet all wizarding village SOCIAL CLASS: Middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: Hogwarts. While the end of her 7th year was interrupted, Glenda was in the process of and has since completed NEWT examination

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood, although her family is so far down the ranks it doesn’t say much. FATHER: Augustine Chittock MOTHER: Collette Chittock nee Alderton SIBLING(S): None BIRTH ORDER: n/a CHILDREN: n/a PET(S): None. She never got one when she went to Hogwarts, but she’s been thinking about getting a cat for some time. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: Honestly, the Chittock’s have very little family outside their immediate circle PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Peter Pettigrew ARRESTS?: None PRISON TIME?: N/a

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Working as Sienna Rowle’s stylist/assistant SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Sponsorship through her podcast CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: Very content. The podcast and getting to work with people she really admires is basically a dream come true for her. Working with Sienna, on the other hand, is just super fun? She actually really enjoys it and she can’t deny that the benefits of the job (ie pretty great pay, tagging along on trips, etc is awesome as well) PAST JOB(S): Internship at the WWN SPENDING HABITS: She used to spend way more than she has. Now she can actually afford to buy the things she likes but really she’s just... lowkey a shopaholic? She likes to shop, she loves to buy things for other people. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION:

SKILLS & ABILITIES

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English DRIVE?: Barely. Her family does own a car, simply because they live outside of London and relying on the floo and apparition constantly just isn’t an option. But she never properly learned how to drive? She’s driven it maybe a handful of times and is basically an old lady at the wheel. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: LOL CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: Definitely not RIDE A BICYCLE?: Yes SWIM?: Yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: She used to play the piano fairly well but she hasn’t touched one since she was at least fifteen. It’s unlikely she could do more than a few cords and a few songs burned into memory. PLAY CHESS?: Nope BRAID HAIR?: Yes, she loves to braid her hair! Her mum used to dutch braid her hair every night before bed and so she usually sleeps in braids out of habit? Girl likes her braids. TIE A TIE?: Yes, she learned before Hogwarts on her father. Frankly, he liked to pretend that he couldn’t, it was very cute but also pretty horrifying until she got the hang of it. PICK A LOCK?: She probably thinks she’d be able to do so with a bobby pin if she tried (thanks to all those muggle films), but thankfully, there’s alohamora.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Cierra Ramirez EYE COLOR: Dark brown HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, almost black HAIR TYPE/STYLE: She’s always kept it fairly long and can pretty much count the times she’s cut her hair in her life. Depending on her mood she’ll straighten it or just curl it; but Glenda’s gotten pretty decent at updos in the last year or so. She’ll throw in the occasional space buns or whatnot. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: Glasses but really only for reading far away/watching television. At Hogwarts she constantly forgot to take them to class with her, which often resulted in needing to take notes from whoever was sitting next to her. She’s gotten much better at wearing them when she actually needs them. DOMINANT HAND: Right handed HEIGHT: 5′1″ or 155 cm WEIGHT: We don’t need to know that BUILD: Petite/curvy EXERCISE HABITS: Honestly, she doesn’t really go to the gym unless someone forces her to go with them. Back at school when Amelia was on the quidditch team, the girls would regularly work out together. Now she more so relies on youtube videos and a yoga mat to get a workout done in her room TATTOOS: None, although she’s not opposed PIERCINGS: She’s had the standard lobe piercings for as long as she can remember, but has gotten some over the years. Two on each lobe, as well as her helix and tragus on one side, and rook on the other. MARKS/SCARS: Most of her scrapes were healed before they ever got a chance to scar; but she does have one particularly notable one on the back of her neck. Not having listened to her mum, she’d hurt herself and terrified of getting in trouble, had hidden the pretty large cut away. Sadly, it had resulted in dittany not being used soon enough. NOTABLE FEATURES: None USUAL EXPRESSION: LOL let’s just say resting bitch face. CLOTHING STYLE: Honestly, it’s always changing. Glenda’s super into what’s trendy and ‘in’ and her style really reflects that. She loves bright colors and things that make her stand out (especially given that she’s so short), and her staple is heels. She honestly almost always has some sort of heel on. JEWELRY: She basically always wears her mothers necklace that was given to her before leaving for Hogwarts. It’s a pretty simple design, just a small pendant with a tiny wildflower in resin. Earrings are also a staple for her, she rarely takes them out and is always sporting something. ALLERGIES: Pollen, latex, dogs. Sad. DIET: She’ll literally try anything once PHYSICAL AILMENTS: None to make note of

PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: True Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Musical Intelligence APPROXIMATE IQ: 121 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: None SOCIABILITY: Emotive PHOBIA(S): Touching raw cotton, spiders ADDICTION(S): At most her phone DRUG USE: Occasionally will smoke some weed but more socially than anything else ALCOHOL USE: Again occasionally and as a social thing PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: Not really. Although she might want to sometimes, Glenda’s never actually hit anyone

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: Very casual QUIRKS: Her height, she’s so short. She talks pretty loudly and very quickly compared to others, she’s definitely that person that you have to remind to speak quieter sometimes. Very extroverted HOBBIES: Roller skating, baking HABITS: She has pretty much the same wake up routine? Cannot function without making some tea in the morning. NERVOUS TICKS: Lip nibbling. So much lip nibbling. When she’s uncomfortable or nervous or basically anything other than neutral. She also tends to wring her hands when she’s nervous and she’ll fiddle with her rings or any jewelry she might have on. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: Honestly, she’s just always trying to one-up herself. It’s not that she necessarily has to prove anything to anyone accept herself. FEARS: Being mediocre. Although she wouldn’t admit it, she’s terrified of people hating or disliking her when she does actually put herself out there. POSITIVE TRAITS: NEGATIVE TRAITS: SENSE OF HUMOR: DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: Not too much, but she doesn’t mind cursing and regularly does so CATCHPHRASE(S): None, really?

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: Listening to music tbh. ANIMAL: To have? Cats. To just like admire? Sloths, man. BEVERAGE: Tea COLOR: Pink DESIGNER: Marc Jacobs FOOD: Straight up just some farfalle with pesto and loaded with pine nuts. Topped with some parm. Amazing. FLOWER: Daffodils GEM: Amethyst HOLIDAY: Halloween MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Apparition MOVIE: Ever After MUSICAL ARTIST: Tove Lo maybe? Stevie Nicks? SCENERY: Some pretty fucking mountains, man. SCENT: Woodsy, musky scents. Or rose. SPORT: Honestly, none SPORTS TEAM: ^^^ TELEVISION SHOW: Superstore, Arrested Development. ...Greys Anatomy WEATHER: Snow!! VACATION DESTINATION: She’s gone nowhere really, like, she’s been on one holiday because of Sienna and so I don’t think she actually has a favorite.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: That her podcast really, really takes off. That she becomes properly relevant in the music industry as someone who genuinely has something to say. GREATEST FEAR: Irrelevance, but also loneliness. She doesn’t want to base anything of herself on love or relationships but she definitely has this fear of ultimately being alone. Or not even being alone, but being lonely. MOST AT EASE WHEN: In her room, hanging out with her best friends and listening to music. It’s peaceful, it’s happy. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: In a new environment with new people that she doesn’t necessarily know or trust. She’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but she’s more on guard than in any other situation.

#bio #if witchery is a sin she’s going to burn-smiling︱Glenda Chittock

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tumblunni · 6 years ago

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My ideas if Wales gets referenced in this new britain region which is probably unlikely but we can hope:

* Another sheep pokemon/a mareep regional variant/just mareep being common over here

* llamhigyn y dwr regional variant of gligar! As a kid i always thought gligar was meant to be one of those! Its a mytholigical flying frog with a scorpion tail, and really the only reason i dont think gligar is based on it is because its ground instead of water type. Like its really specifically similar right down to the wings being webs under the arms!

* Welsh Lady pokemon! (The traditional costume kids wear at eisteddfods)

* Maybe instead some sort of legendary based on eisteddfods in general? Theyre a poetry/art festival where the winner gets "the chairing of the bard" aka just imagine ur average school contest except if ur in wales u literally get knighted with a fake sword, crown and The School's Personal Throne. Its very weird in retrospect but it just seemed normal when i was a kid. I won it once and i was so anxious having to go thru the big celebration thing!! Like aaa just let me take my certificate and run! XD So yeah maybe a legendary based on the eisteddfod throne itself? Its called a throne but its more of a fancy wooden chair with patterns carved into it. So some sort of wooden dragon! And the legend would be that only the most talented bards can ride it and it bucks off anyone it thinks isnt purehearted enough. And maybe it could have a lovespoon for a tail cos thats also another wooden welsh thing. (Fancy carved spoons for good luck and/or romantic gifts)

* welsh cake pokemon!! Theyre just a sweetened scone with raisins in it, but i think it could be really cute as a design. Im thinking a rock type that just coincidentally looks like a cake with raisins, and it rolls around sideways like a big goofy crab~

* or if you wanna go for other local foods maybe mix the kelpie with bara bryth? (Seaweed bread paste stuff) So its just a loaf of bread that evolves into a badass horse and it would make no sense to anyone except brits, lol.

* perhaps a legandary based on the bard taliesin? It could be similar to nebby in starting off with a weak baby form but then becoming a badass! Cos his origin story was that he wasnt naturally all super cool so talented at singing that he could make literal magic happen just by sheer creativity. Instead he accidentally drank a magic potion of creativity that a witch made, and his abilities came at the cos of Pissing Her Off Forevermore. So maybe the baby form cpuld be a witch's cauldron? And have a tail made of chains to symbolize how he was enslaved as that witch's assistant and managed to escape with her most valuable prize. And then his ethereal fancy humanoid form could maybe be similar to meloetta's living music thing but more with calligraphy instead? But perhaps still have a similar chain tail to show his origins, except now the links in the chain are all fancy calligraphy Os, lol

* accompanying legendary possibilities: ceridwen (the evil witch from that story) or morfran (her innocent son) Morfran did nothing wrong but is often painted as more of the villain of the story than she is, simply because he was black. Yeah there's racism even back in our mythology, ugh...! I always felt so depressed for morfran cos the story is that ceridwen only made this super magical potion of being the best bard ever cos everyone said her son was the ugliest man on earth and EVEN SHE AGREED so she thought she had to give him some magic powers to stop people from hating him. And instead taliesin steals it and goes off to be the most powerful and respected and also handsome man ever, the end. And seriously the ONLY THING they mention about why this child is ugly is that he was "black like a crow" and also his name means evil crow. And thats just the end of his story forever, being some other dude's origin story and then forgotten into the void :( So like hey a pokemon criticizing that part of the myth wouls be great too! Like maybe have morfran be a counterpart legendary like latias to latios and he just looks equally beautiful with a reversed colourscheme of dark skin and white calligraphy patterns. And maybe the pokedex entry could be like "taliesinmon got its powers thru a magical gift from meloetta" and "morfranmon worked really hard for its powers all on its own and also is very socially anxious and relateable and tumblr user tumblunni's favourote character in all british mythologies despite also representing the worst part of our nation but hey its not this man's fault please rescue him ok" Srsly its not like its common to see taliesin referenced in fiction but morfran is even more forgotten and i think he needs at least one positive fictional depiction to make up for being screwed over in the original myth.

* Another myth with unintended bad messages is the one of Blodeuwedd or Dwedd (friends may recognize that i named my Gourgeist after her!) Her story is that she was an artificial human created out of plants in order to be some guy's sex toy basically. Yet she's the villain of the story cos she refused to marry him and ran off with another guy. Like seriously she was BORN to marry this dude! Even if he's the big mythological prince we're supposed to root for, with modern morality perspectives its kinda impossible to see it that way. At least unlike morfran she actually does do other stuff to establish her as a villain other than just existing, she comes back with her new boyfriend to kill the dude who made her and thus set the course of history awry cos he was A Really Inportant Destiny Prince And All. But seriously dude this is 100% your own fault for being creepy enough to not want to date real women and instead have some messed up preprogrammed woman who'd do whatever you want. "The only reason she wouldnt obey like he wanted must be because the seed of evil was in her heart" yeah no maybe it was the seed of free will u bastard. Anyway they have a funny sequence where prince douche mc douchebag is prophesized to never be killed by etc etc etc so dwedd and her new boyf have to trick him into THE MOST CONTRIVED CIRCUMSTANCE EVER to find a loophole. I think it was something like one foot on a goat and one on a bucket while at the border line between two countries at the crack of dawn? And as fitting a standard boring hero story of course eeeevil dwedd gets thwarted and prince pompous is ressurected and she's punished forever by being turned into an immortal owl for some reason.

* SO YEAH! Plant owl legendary! I just thought this myth in particular would be cool cos a female plant legendary with a disney villain aesthetic instead of the cliche pretty sexy thing everyone would probably expect. Make her bombastic and badass and terrifying!!! The pumpkaboo line is the closest thing so far cos bat pumpkin is KINDA close to daffodil owl. At least in terms of spooky aesthetic, lol

* oh and also her boyfriend was named gronw pebr and honestly he barely does anything in the whole story but he has a really cool name so i felt like mentioning it

* our national flower is the daffodil and our national vegetable is the leek so maybe a farfetch'd variation with a daffodil? Or maybe a saucepan or somethin. It could kinda work with farfetch'd origin, plus one of our most famous nursery rhymes is about saucepans. AR GATH WEDI SCRAPU GROOKEY BACH

* our national animal is actually the dragon not the sheep! So definately give us some good dragon types!! Our flag is a dragon so maybe our legendary could be that? And perhaps reference the whole "red dragon beats the white dragon symbolizing how much england sucks" legend by having it have two forms like minior or darmanitan and the weaker cowardly defensive one is england. Just sayin!!

* i dont think you can really make a pokemon personification of england conquering and literally owning us and us taking so long to even get considered a separate country again and be able to have our native language in schools except it was already so many generations passed of it being forbidden to be spoken that barely anyone still knew it and even nowadays when we have billingual road signs the rate of billingualism is incredibly low and im really jealous of my sister growing up in a school that taught it from a young age cos i was thrown into intermediate level welsh without having the basic lessons and thus nevee managed to learn it at all and felt both stupid and disconnected from my ancestors irretreiveably

* MAYBE A RUGBY POKEMON I DUNNO LOL

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rafaelina-casillas · 6 years ago

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Flower Asks

@december-girl06 Thank you so much for asking me! *sending a bear hug*

Alisons: Sexuality? - Heterosexual.

Amaranth: Pronouns/Gender? - Sher/Her. Female

Amaryllis: Birthday? - 29th august

Anemone: Favorite flower? - Cala lily and white rose.

Angelonia: Favorite t.v. show? - BBC Sherlock, Hawaii Five-0, MacGyver, Hannibal

Arum-Lily: What’s the farthest you’d go for a stranger? - I don’t trust people so pointing the right direction 😁

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?

Aubrieta: Favorite drink? - Coke, sparkling water.

Baby’s Breath: Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? - Umm, I’ve probably kissed Mom so yes.

Balsam Fir: Have you ever been in love? - I had crushes but nothing more than that.

Baneberries: Favorite song? - The Point of No Return from The Phantom of The Opera

Basket of Gold: Describe your family. - Pretty ordinary with the occasional dosage of drama.

Beebalm: Do you have a best friend? Who is it? - That’s classified.

Begonia: Favorite color? - Black.

Bellflower: Favorite animal? - Wolves.

Bergenia: Are you a morning or night person? - Definetly a morning person.

Black-Eyed Susan: If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be? - A raven so I would what flying feels like.

Bloodroots: When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? - (That’s embarrasing) Michael Schumacher or Batman or an astronaut.

Bluemink: What are your thoughts on children? - Little monsters, I don’t like them.

Blazing Stars: What are you afraid of? Is there a reason why? - I’m afraid of snakes. Just look at them! Do I need a reason?

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhood. - I made plans with best friend to run away from my parents. He was suppossed to get a job as a cooker. And, yes, we were 10 years old then.

Bugleherb: How would you spend your last day on Earth? - Reading, I guess.

Buttercup: Relationship Status? - Forever single.

Camelia: If you could visit anywhere, where would you want to go? - Hogwarts or the set of Hawaii Five-0

Candytufts: When do you feel most loved? - When people show me that they trust me.

Canna: Do you have any tattoos? - No, I don’t like tattoos.

Canterbury Bells: Do you have any piercings? - No, I don’t like piercing either.

California Poppy: Height? - 158 cm or 5′2

Cardinal Flower: Do you believe in ghosts? - That’s complicated. Let’s say I can’t simply ignore all the stories about people seeing ghosts.

Carnation: What are you currently wearing? - My home clothes: a track suit.

Catnip: Have you ever slept with a nightlight? - I can’t remember for sure but I don’t think I have.

Chives: Who was the last person you hugged? - Mom.

Chrysanthemum: Who’s the last person you kissed? - Mom.

Cock’s Comb: Favorite font? - All the academia made me like Times New Roman. I also like Gothic fonts.

Columbine: Are you tired? - Yes.

Common Boneset: What are you looking forward to? - The next semester.

Coneflower: Dream job? - University professor, editor and writer.

Crane’s-Bill: Introvert or extrovert? - MAJOR introvert.

Crocus: Have you ever been in love? - Nope.

Crown Imperial: What’s the farthest you would go for someone you care about? - Protecting them at all costs.

Cyclamen: Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? What was it? - I still have that animal! A small pink monkey, I love it too much.

Daffodil: What’s your zodiac sign? - Virgo.

Dahlia: Have you done anything worth remembering? - I don’t think I’ve done something that special.

Daisy: What do you feel is your greatest accomplishment? - Getting a place in a PhD programme.

Daylily: What would you do if your parents didn’t like your partner(s)? - I’ll answer this when (if) I have a partner because I honestly don’t know how to answer this.

Dendrobium: Who is the last person that you said “I love you” to? - Don’t know.

False Goat’s Beard: What is something you are good at? - Trapping over my own feet 😁😄

Foxgloves: What’s something you’re bad at? - Singing, drawing.

Freesia: What are three good things that have happened in the past month? - Getting the news about my lecturing, seeing Venom and Bohemian Rhapsody, starting learning basic linguistics.

Garden Cosmos: How was your day today? - It’s 11 in the morning!

Gardenia: Are you happy with where you’re at in your life? - Not so much.

Gladiolus: What is something you hope to do in the next year or two? - Writing the first two chapters of my PhD thesis and feeling more confident in academia.

Glory-of-the-Snow: What are ten things that make you happy/you’re grateful to have in your life? - Mom Friends My supervisor Books Movies TV Shows The pigeons on my balcony Music ... I can’t think of more

Heliotropium: What helps you calm down when you feel stressed? - Reading.

Hellebore: How do you show affection? - I’m very clumsy at this. Taking extra care. Telling stupid jokes.

Hoary Stock: What are you proudest of? - Winning my supervisor’s trust.

Hollyhock: Describe your ideal day. - Meeting with friends, going to the cinema, reading.

Hyacinth: What do you like to do in your free time? - Reading or watching a movie/a TV show.

Hydrangea: How long have you known your best friend? How did you meet them? - I met her 15 years ago when she was transfered to my class in 5th grade.

Irises: Who can you talk to about (almost) everything? - Mom and my friends.

Laceleaf: How many friends do you have? - Few but I love them very much.

Lantanas: What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? - That people liked my writing.

Larkspur: What do you think of yourself? - *censoring self hate* Not much actually. I know I could do better.

Lavender: What’s your favorite thing about yourself? - My kindness and intelligence (if such a thing exists).

Leather Flower: What’s your least favorite thing about yourself? - My looks.

Lilac: What’s something you liked to do as a child? - Colouring books!

Lily: Who was your best friend when you were a kid? - A boy with whom I’m still friends though we are not that close.

Lily of the Incas: What is something you still feel guilty for? - That I never got the courage to talk to my biggest crush at high school.

Lily of the Nile: What is something you feel guilty for that you shouldn’t feel guilty about? - Being rude to toxic friends.

Lupine: What does your name mean? Why is that your name? - It comes from the word for flower in Bulgarian. I was named after one of my grandmothers.

Marigold: Where did you grow up? Tell us about it. - I grow up in the same city I’m still living - Sofia.

Morning Glory: What was your bedroom like growing up? - Full with stuffed toys.

Mugworts: What was it like for you as a teenager? Did you enjoy your teenage years? - Not at all. I don’t like my teenage self, I cared too much about people’s opinion.

Norwegian Angelica: Tell us about your mom. - She’s the greatest person inhabiting this world, my best friend. I love her sooo much!

Onions: Tell about your dad. - A normal person.

Orchid: Tell about your grandparents. - I only know one of my grandmothers, unfortunately. But she was great when I was a kid, now she’s too old to have normal relationship with her.

Pansy: What was your most memorable birthday? What made it be so memorable? - Going to the cinema with all my school friends on my 15th birthday. Before the group feel apart.

Peony: What was your first job? - I was an intern at the Ministry Of Foreign Affairs

Petunia: If you’re in a relationship, how did you meet your partner(s)? If you’re not in a relationship, how did you meet your crush/how do you hope to meet your future partner(s), if you want any? - I want to meet him suddenly, just starting to talk about different things.

Pincushion: How do you deal with pain? - I try to distract my mind.

Pink: Where is home? - Where the heart is.

Plantain Lilies: If you could go back in time, what is one thing you would stop/change? - World War II

Prairie Gentian: Who is someone you look up to? Describe them. - Scientists like Alan Turing, Albert Einstein. Shakesperare, too.

Primrose: Describe your ideal life. - Having a stable partner whom I love and who loves me and who doesn’t want children. Being a professor with major works in her field who travels the world to read lectures.

Rhodendron: What is something you used to believe in as a child? - The kindness of people.

Ricinus: Who’s the most important in your life? - Mom.

Rose: What’s your favorite sound? - The atmosphere of a library. Quietude with the occassional hushed talks.

Rosemallows: What’s your favorite memory? - Every time when I’m with my best friend.

Sage: What’s your least favorite memory? - Visiting the Museum of Natural History and and all the snakes surrounding me.

Snapdragon: At this moment, what do you want? - To finish my PhD successfully

St. John’s Wort: Is it easy or difficult for you to express how you feel about things? - Rather difficult.

Sunflower: What is something you don’t want to imagine life without? - My favourite people.

Sweet Pea: How much sleep did you get last night? - 7 or 8 hours.

Tickseed: What’s your main reason to get up every morning? - Achieving my goals.

Touch-Me-Not: How do you feel about your current job? - I don’t have a job.

Transvaal Daisy: What’s your favorite item of clothing? - T-shirts.

Tropical White Morning Glory: Describe your aesthetic. - Books, autumn, quietude, stationary, dim light.

Tulip: What would be the best present to get you? - A rare book.

Vervain: What’s stressing you out most right now? - The upcoming conference at which I had to make a presentation about a report I’ve written.

Wisteria: How many books have you read in the past few months? What were they called? - Too many, I can’t count them. But there are two kinds: 1) Literature that I enjoy and read for pleasure (I’ve read mostly Joanne Harris books during this time); 2) Literature for my thesis which includes many books on psychoanlysis, feminist thought and linguistics.

Wolf’s Bane: Where do you want to be in life this time next year? - Having a job and a confident lecturer.

Yarrow: Do you know what vore is? - No, I don’t.

Zinnia: Give a random fact about yourself. - I hate to be the center of attention.

#me #persona #answered

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