#the first person who i’ve felt even an inkling of a romantic feeling towards in over a year and of course it’s a fucking pisces

[dancedance-resolution]

well fellas it’s happening i think i am maybe developing a crush on the girl ive been fucking recently 🫥

[sunshinestayy]

i wrote this for the love of my life

one day i'll be brave enough to tell you these words instead of hiding behind them...

Note: 'Axel Engelbrecht' is a pseudonym. I've kept my love's name hidden for obvious reasons lol).

(I'll probably publish all my "love letters" here since I can't give them to 'Axel'. Not yet anyway.)

(Thanks for reading:]).

30 March 2023

dear axel

one day you’ll read this. maybe not. maybe it’ll stay here forever, lost in the archives to collect digital dust. maybe it’ll find its way to you. if it does, i hope it finds you in love, light, and happiness.

i can’t lie and say that my heart doesn’t shatter, and my stomach doesn’t drop whenever i see, hear about, or picture you with someone else. merely typing that brought tears to my eyes. it’s selfish of me, i know. you are the last person that i want to be selfish with or towards, but i can’t help it. i am selfish with you because i want to be the one. i want to be yours, and i want you to be mine, neither possessively nor from a place of objectivity. i’d like us to share one house, one home (because a house and a home are two different things), one heart, one life, one love. ours as separate vessels may be imperfect and not in working order, but maybe we can build something so strong, powerful, beautiful, and everlasting together.

i’m willing to do whatever it takes. i’m willing to suffer for ten, fifty, a hundred more years if it means that, in the end, i have you to hug, kiss, hold, laugh with, love, and cherish for all the days of my life. i’m willing, able, and ready to get out of my comfort zone; to try new things, struggle through what makes me uncomfortable, embarrassed, and/or afraid. i will fight for you and defend you from everyone who tries or thinks of even hurting you. when necessary, i’ll defend you from myself. i would and will do anything for you; not just as your partner/person, but also as your friend, confidante, companion, and whatever else you need me to be.

if you let me, i promise that i will try my hardest to make you happy all the days of my life. i will be faithful, honest, respectful, and i will try my best. i’m not perfect at all. i still look in the mirror – and/or i look within – and i wish that i was a different person. i wish that i was better than what i am; that i wasn’t as stubborn, self-deprecating, insecure, self-sabotaging, fearful, and weak. i only ask that you love and accept me as i am, and i will do the same.

i will screw up. i’ll say and/or do the wrong thing every once in a while. i won’t always get it right. i won’t always be happy. i will have my moments where i push you away even when every cell in body is screaming at me to reach out to you for help and support. please bear with me, and please forgive me for any pain i may put you through. with all my heart, i promise that it is not intentional. hurting you is the last thing i want to do – i swear.

i also don’t want to restrict or change you, or make you feel like you have to behave a certain way or do/say/think differently. i love you for you; and not for what the unrealistic and idealistic parts of my brain dictate the love of my life to be (no doubt due to me consuming too much romantic fiction for my health). i don’t want or need a perfect love. i just need you and your love.

i love you, and i want you to let me to in a way that will cross the boundary of a typical friendship. i would also love it if you felt the same, and i do not wish for you to feel coerced or pressured into returning my feelings. in fact, if you feel even an inkling of doubt at any point in time, just say the word and i’ll back off. i’ll let you go. i’ll set you free. no doubt, it’ll be one of the most agonising and difficult things i’ll ever do, but i want you to be happy even if it is without me and/or because of someone else.

i felt an inkling of this sensation when we first got to know each other, but now that i’ve known you for over a year i can confirm and declare it with confidence. you are my person. you are it for me. you are my endgame.

when i was (or thought i was) in love in the past, it fogged my mind. it completely consumed me and became my identity. i almost made the same mistake with you, but the breakup – and the few months we weren’t talking – really opened my eyes. i learned that pursuing a romantic relationship with you instead of simply appreciating the relationship we already had nearly destroyed you. when i’m not hyper-focused on my feelings for you, i can truly enjoy my time with you. i can be present in the moments and the memories in the making. i can learn more about you, and i can learn more from you. i become calmer and more centred.

loving you is no longer the centre of my life. it, however, makes my life more enjoyable and worthwhile. it makes me want to be a better person. you make me want to be a better person.

you’ve taught me some of the most important lessons in my life – including how to not take things for granted; how to persevere through the difficult times; how to find happiness in the unlikeliest of places; etc. above all, you have taught me what true love is. love is not a Wattpad book, romance movie, or a painless and picture-perfect scenery.

love is challenging, complex, confusing, and not for the faint of heart. it has no recipe, formula, or structure. it is the strongest and most fragile thing to ever exist. it exists in abundance, and humanity often takes it for granted, and misuses, misinterprets, and wastes it. love is not an end goal or destination. it is not a beginning or end. it’s a-fucking-lot, that’s what it is.

however, it is worth it. when you have the right person, the amount of tears, sacrifice, suffering, pain, and difficulty pales in comparison to the ultimate joy, blessing, gift, and treasure that is love.

axel, you are worth waiting for.

you are worth fighting for.

you are worthy and deserving of the greatest and most beautiful love to ever exist.

i hope and pray that i will be that lucky person who will give you the love that you deserve.

in case it wasn’t already clear, i love you. with a clear, sound, sober, and unbiased mind – and a determined and persistent heart with quite a few abrasions and stitches in it – i love you. differently and more than i have ever loved anyone in my life. i love you. i admire you. i respect you. i appreciate you.

 i want you in every capacity, every category, every city, scenario, universe, timeline, and lifetime.

my belief in god wavers every day, but my belief in us is as solid as the house that was built on the rock. i truly believe that you are my person, and i will continue to work hard to be the person that you deserve.

one day – god willing – we’ll live in a spacious apartment/house/dwelling/whatever together. we’ll have at least 2 bedrooms and a guest room, so that you can sleep in your own room when you need your space, and you can have a sleepover in mine whenever you want. we’ll get tile flooring so that we don’t have to worry about vacuuming. we’ll get a dishwasher, or i’ll wash and rinse the dishes and you can dry and pack them away. you’ll sweep and i’ll mop. we’ll both handle laundry. we’ll teach each other new recipes; i’ll try my best to nail your ouma’s date bread and you’ll get me hooked on mango cheesecake.

should we ever marry – which is my greatest heart’s desire – i will ask for your sister's permission, because i know how much she means to you.

if i’m rich enough, i’ll get someone to perform for us at our wedding. i highly doubt that it’ll be skz, but i’ll make sure that this artist does our songs justice.

i want to give you the world, for you make mine better by simply being in it.

i love you, axel engelbrecht, with everything that i am. everything that i will be.

i am so grateful that you exist, and i am so grateful that i know you, and that you are part of my life.

you are my person, my best friend, my happiness, my laughter, my joy, my hope, my love, my confidence, and everything that you are is phenomenal. everything that you are is more than enough for me.

here always,

your sunshine

[jeongvision]

unconditional love

synopsis. if you were to ask yourself, ‘when did you realize that you were in love with lee jeno?’, you wouldn’t know how to respond. in fact, there was never a moment where you weren’t in love with him. but what happens when he asks you the same question? you might have to take a rain check, literally.

pairing. best friend! lee jeno ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, childhood friends au, friends to lovers au

word count. 1.6k

warnings. none! but highkey though this made me fall in love with jeno :(

song. walking in the rain by chancellor & younha

author’s note. happy birthday @sehunniepotwrites​!​ not sure if this is fluffy enough for you but hope you enjoy this lil blurb! cheers to another one of your milestones and many more in life!

ps. there are two lines in this fic that are from a poem written by e.e. cummings! not going to say which ones or the title of the poem bc it might spoil future plans i have oop

You were one of the few fortunate people on the planet to still be friends with someone from your childhood. To have so many worthwhile memories shared with someone must be cherished at all cost. And many times were you afraid that Jeno might get tired of being friends with you, but being the ethereal person he is, he casted all your worries away and assured you that he had no plans on leaving you any time soon.

And perhaps somewhere down the line, the love you had for him went far beyond what people would label as ‘friendship,’ and dared enough to say, you were in love with him. If a stranger were to describe how you looked whenever you were with him, many would describe you to be enamored.

And if you happened to be enamored for your childhood friend, then so be it.

You fear no fate, for he is your fate, your sweet.

“Can I ask you something, y/n?”

Currently, you two are sat outside of a café near your home: 7 Dreams. It was a beautiful day out, the sun warming the air around you, flutters of clouds scattered throughout the blue sky. You expressed your desires to Jeno earlier that you wanted to sit out on the tables they placed outside their shop. It has been a little chilly from the past few days with occasional rain showers here and there, and you want nothing more than to relish in the warm weather after days of being forced into the solitude of your home.

“Sure. What is it?”

But before you could take a sip of your green tea latte, you’re thrown off by his question.

“When did you first fall in love with me?”

Your fingers stilled at the ceramic handle of your mug. You didn’t know what brought that question to the latter’s mind. Granted, you two have had your fair shares of flirtations and courtship, but never acted beyond past it. It was all done with jest, as you two would put it. You could easily lie to him, saying that you only saw him as a friend, but never to yourself; your heart betrays you with palpitations and inclinations for your best friend from just the mere thought of him.

You forced a stoic expression on your face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs out a breath from your response.

“Y/n, there’s no point in trying to hide it. I’ve known you for almost my whole life, so I know when you’re lying to me. The look you give me is different from how you looked at Johnny when you two were together.”

A snort escapes from your lips.

“And what does my ex have to do with this?” You could see a teasing grin poke through his demeanor, prompting an eye roll from you.

“So you admit that you do look at me differently then.”

“No, Jeno, I am not admitting to anything. And even if I did look at you differently, how would you know if I was in love with you?”

“Because you would’ve denied it by now. And right now, you’re just stepping around the question.”

You squint your eyes a little, to which Jeno does the same back.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy now? How about when I asked you for the name of the person you liked a couple years back?”

And so, his eyebrows rise a little at your bold question, head tilted a little to the side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he counters.

You couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh, your head shaking from disbelief.

“Oh, don’t fake naivety, Jeno. Senior prom, when we were each other’s date because you ‘didn’t receive any prom-posals from anyone’, when I knew fully well that you received many of them from both guys AND girls. You just denied them all.”

You could clearly play the memory out in the back of your head, a movie projector showcasing your youthful-self slow dancing with a bashful Jeno in the middle of the dance floor, your arms wrapped his neck and his hands on your waist. Both of your feet moved in sync with one another, eyes searching within the depths of each other’s soul, oblivious of the whispers and stares around you that spoke nothing short but envy for the sight that laid before them is one worth capturing.

“We were dancing to Hearts Don’t Break Around Here. You know, the one by Ed Sheeran?” you followed.

His smile grows fond at the memory of it.

“Oh, we’re in love, aren’t we?”

“Jeno!” You give a light slap on his forearm and he laughs at your response. “Now is not the time to start saying song lyrics!”

It’s a wonder how you managed to last this long from professing your feelings out to him. You two did almost everything together and experienced many firsts together. First road trip together, first beach date together - you even experienced your first pet purchase together. So what’s stopping you from confessing to him?

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that I have a feeling that you’re in love with me,” you said.

There’s a glint in his eyes filled with mirth.

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because of the way you look at me?”

“And it’s the same way as how you look at me?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure.”

“So you admit that you’re in love with me.”

Before you could continue on with your playful banter, you stopped yourself short. You take a moment to process his words in. Wait, did he just? Your words get caught in your throat. Did he just admit that he feels the same way towards me?

He notices your shock and uses this moment to his advantage to continue on, each word laced with certainty.

“If you’re saying that the way you look at me is the same as how I look at you, then that means that you are in love with me, because I don’t know how else to say that I am very much in love with you, y/n.”

Heat resonates all throughout your body. Your heart beats erratically and you’re at loss of words. Flustered you are, but who wouldn’t be? For years, you’ve pinned after your best friend, hoping for the day to come where he reciprocates your feelings. You had an inkling that he had some sort of romantic feelings for you as he always seemed to reject everyone’s relationship proposal, justifying his reasoning to be that there’s already someone he likes.

“Who is it?”

“An angel.”

“What’s their name?”

“Something pretty.”

“Jeno.”

“Y/n.”

And you just drop the conversation like that, frustrated by his vague answers. But nevertheless, you could never get tired of him. Something about him gravitates you towards him, the feelings you’ve harbored in secrecy burning brighter than ever whenever you’re by his side. He’s not perfect, but to you, he’s the best thing to appear in your life. From the crinkling of his eyes to the sweet smiles of his lips to the red tint of his neck and ears.

You want no world, for he is your entire world, your true.

“Look, it’s raining.”

Breaking out of your reverie, you look up to Jeno to see him peering out on the streets. You follow suit to see raindrops falling onto the pavement. It slowly gains momentum, growing heavier and louder with each passing second. Fortunately, you two are shielded from the rain with the veranda attached to the cafe. The sun peaks through the crevices of the clouds, still lighting the world around you with a subtle rainbow blossoming up into the spring sky.

You hear Jeno let out a laugh, bringing your attention back to him. There’s a wistful smile on his face when he asks you, “Remember when we were little, we would always run out in the rain on the concrete and just jump around? Pretend that we were in some kind of movie?”

You mirror his expression, your mind replaying a distant memory you shared with him.

“Our parents would always yell at us for that, saying we’ll get sick if we don’t stop.”

Your gaze trails back out onto the pavements. Then, you felt an itch in your fingers, an itch in your feet. Not literally, but you have this sudden urge to move. To dance. To celebrate. To relive those moments once more.

It’s almost as if the stars were aligned at that moment and heard your wishes, because you see Jeno get up from his seat and take a step forward and immerse himself out into the rain. His entire figure instantly gets drenched from the falling raindrops, not caring for a single second that he might catch a cold from his actions. Before you could call out to him, he looks back at you with a grin, and perhaps it might be your most favorite accessory he wears on himself.

He offers his hand out to you.

“May I have this dance, ma chérie?”

You’re taken back to the same distant memory again. Every single time, without fail, young Jeno would always ask for your hand to dance with him under the rain, to which you would always oblige with, “Well, of course mon cher.” But this time, you decide to switch it up a little.

You stand up from your seat and step closer to your best friend, a push away from falling victim to the rain with him. Your pupil flourishes with adoration for the man that stands before you.

“Only if you hold onto my hand, mon cher.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposition. Amused he is, for there is a sliver of smirk adorned on his lips.

“Is that a threat, ma chérie?”

If Jeno were to ask you again when you first fell in love with him...

“It’s an invitation, mon cher.”

… you would say that you were always in love with him.

“If it’s like that, then I’d never let you go.”

[toadkisses]

alistairs years in review continued

when we left off, i had quit my job because it sucked and i was having some real mental health struggles because of it. at this point in the story, i am still unemployed and living at home. spoiler alert, at the time of writing this, i am ALSO still unemployed and living at home! but a lot happened in between these two unemployment bits so let us continue.

in may of 2021, my irl friends and i got together for the first time since february of 2020. i was glad to see them of course, and especially glad to see rose, since i had been wanting to talk to her.

we had all regularly voice called on discord, often for multiple hours at a time at least 3 nights a week. and during that time, i became more and more aware of some romantic tension between rose and myself.

rose and i met in high school, when i was a junior and she was a senior. well, we actually met two years prior, in an art class. but that only sort of counts because we were both too shy to talk to each other even though we were the only ones at our table. this is somewhat prophetic now that i think about it.

anyway! rose and i had mutual friends, so when we ate together at lunch or hung out before the first bell, so off the bat i just assumed that meant we were friends too, haha. rose remembers liking the frog i would bring with me to school every day. we did wind up getting along well, and stayed in touch even after i wound up being moved to homeschooling like i did every school year, and after she graduated.

in 2019, we watched lord of the rings along with another friend. and it made me start thinking about being transmasc, and made her start thinking that maybe she liked men, and wasnt a lesbian. we held each other and cried while frodo and sam lay there on mount doom and our third friend asked what was happening to the hobbits.

unbeknownst to me, rose was planning on telling me that she had feelings for me in january of 2020, but some personal events made it so we didn’t actually see each other irl around then. and then of course, we didn’t see each other for another year because of the pandemic! my poor girlfriend. 😭

from my point of view, rose was my best friend who i thought was really pretty and funny and warm, and who i felt extra tenderly towards. she was the stable presence i really needed during the aforementioned irl events. sometimes i would accidentally think about us having sex, but then i’d shove it out of my head because it seemed a little rude to imagine that with my best friend! and if i felt a little jealous and left out when she’d mention dating someone, then that just must be because i had never dated anyone myself and felt left out!

i very occasionally had crushes on people in middle and high school, but never pursued them. not to get too deep into my backstory, but i am not familiar with being somebody’s favorite person or first choice, even among friends. im familiar with being sexually harassed, but not with someone being actually romantically interested in me with good intentions. all this to explain that i had no experience acting on romantic feelings or even how to really identify them.

but after hundreds of hours of voice calls, i did start to have an inkling that rose might have feelings for me. stuff like how she has never been a fan of dogs, but she mentioned how she’d be willing to get along with them if the person she was with liked them, etc. and it made want to figure out how i felt about her.

i have journal entries from this time that i’ve shown her where i talk about how i didn’t know how to tell what i was feeling, but that i was concerned about if we dated, what if i would be using her to figure myself out? which concerned me because she’s my very dear precious friend and i would never want to hurt her if i figured out “no actually im not interested in women, thanks for helping me learn that!”

i knew i needed to talk to her though when, as a group, we all compared star sign compatibility. and of course someone made the joke that whoever had the best compatibility had to start dating! and wouldn’t you know, rose and i had a STELLAR (haha) chart!

like im not super into astrology but check it. anyway i could tell that she was a little flustered so i knew i needed to talk to her because i didnt want her to be anxious.

and about a week later, we all had our vaccinations and some of us finally met up irl. i have very detailed journal entries about this day because i knew it would be something i’d want to have later in my life. i sat next to rose at the coffee shop we went to, was very pleased that she rode next to me in my car, we broke off from the group and walked around the craft store together. and i was glad when she asked me to drop her off last, since i knew we could talk then.

and once everyone else had been ferried home, i parked in her driveway and she told me she had an ulterior motive for asking to be dropped off last, and she wanted to talk to me! perfect as i’d been hoping for the same thing.

and she mentioned lord of the rings and the revelations we had at the time, and that she had feelings for me, but it’s okay if i don’t return them. and i got emotional because “i don’t know how i feel but i wish i did so i could be with you”. of course, i now know that wishing you knew what romantic feelings were so you could date someone is an indication of romantic feelings!

she was really really kind and patient and understanding. and she said that if i wound up not feeling the same, it would be okay, because she loves me and loves being my friend. which of course made me feel really loved and i suggested we try kissing and see how it feels! and we did like five quick little pecks and laughed and i was still like “i don’t want to take advantage of you” and she encouraged me to think a little and we could see each other the following day and visit.

we talked more on voice chat with everyone later that night and were all giddy, i asked a different friend for advice in private. and the next day i went over to her house where it was just the two of us alone in the house, to watch one of our mutual favorite movies, THE PRINCESS BRIDE, which in retrospect is a VERY romantic movie for people who have not confirmed that they’re dating yet.

our expectations going into this were very different though, quite humorously. rose was preoccupied with making sure i didn’t feel like she was expecting me to have sex with her, because she’d never want to pressure me or make me uncomfortable. i went over thinking that the plan was that we would have sex, and was happy about this proposed activity.

and after the movie we had a little conversation about what we were comfortable with, and did wind up being intimate. which honest to god still makes me a little teary because it was my first time and it was such a gift to feel so safe and happy and cared for, i love this woman so much.

and after that was when we decided yes, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. 💖

we were very sappy and unbearable! and still are, i suppose. :-) spoilers, but the 12 months that follow are ones that i could very well call the worst year of my life; except i cant, because they also had some of the best parts of my life so far because of her. 💖💖💖

it’s been really fun because i will think like “i love her so much i can’t possibly love her more”, and then time will pass and our relationship evolves more and i find that i CAN love her even more.

i have an amy lowell poem i really like that expresses the change from like exciting but still nervous to familiar but no less adoring

When you came, you were like red wine and honey, / And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. / Now you are like morning bread, / Smooth and pleasant. / I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour, / But I am completely nourished.

we’ve gone on road trips and adventures together near and far. sharing things with her is the biggest joy in my life. my world is bigger with her in it. for the first time i am excited about what the future holds because i know she will be a part of it. she supports me when i need her and encourages me to support myself at the same time. i love making food or tea for her, or finding little gifts that i hope will delight her. i love when she falls asleep in my arms. i love doing her hair while we watch something and comment our thoughts and opinions back and forth. she makes me riotously happy.

i have not mentioned anything publicly, and i still don’t intend to give any details, but nine months ago we lost someone who was very, very, very dear to us in a very upsetting way. earth shattering is the closest words can come to describing it. in my very worst times i have wondered how grief like this is survivable, both literally and figuratively. but even when i was at the lowest i have ever been, when i felt like all i’ve ever done is tread water and am ready to just slip under; she’s been a rock on a sandbar. i can rest with her, i can find strength to keep swimming. i adore her.

she’s my favorite person.

next installment will include my hrt diaries and dreadful medical saga!

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn��t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[dweetwise]

Deathslinger x doctor or deathslinger x oni? Headcanons or fluff for whichever one you choose, I don’t mind :) (happy birthday to your blog!)

oh it’s been a long time since i’ve written sparkslinger! thanks for requesting <3 i made this as a continuation to my previous fic of them, i hope that’s ok!

word count: 1740

Caleb X Herman: Accidental martyr

Since starting his arrangement with Herman, Caleb had to admit that his time in this neverending hell had become a lot more entertaining.

Whether it was getting roped into questionable experiments, late nights drinking cheap whiskey in the saloon, or his own sporadic visits to the old hospital, being around the doctor was a great way to alleviate the boredom between trials.

Unfortunately, that often came at the cost of Caleb’s sanity.

This moment was a prime example of such an occurrence. After Herman had showed up to their latest encounter with a torn jacket and fresh wounds, Caleb was practically forced to play doctor to make sure the man didn't succumb to his injuries.

That didn't mean he had to be nice about it, though.

“Figures ye’d be cocky enough to try to take the bitch out on yer own,” Caleb snarked.

He attempted to clumsily dress one of the numerous gashes marring the doctor’s shoulders; the Entity’s handiwork, no doubt.

“What can I say? I’m a man who likes to push the limits—shit!” Herman hissed out a curse when Caleb tightened the bandage a little too forcefully.

“Don’t do it again,” Caleb growled, masking the uneasy feeling in his chest with anger.

Herman waved off both the threat and concern with a simple "Yes, yes, now get on with it" and Caleb went back to his mediocre job of caring for the wounds.

Since that first night in the saloon, they’d never talked about whatever this was between them. And that suited Caleb just fine; he was a man of few words, and if anything, he should thank his luck that the blabbermouth he kept for company hadn’t deemed it a subject worth discussing.

Apart from a few snide comments of Herman getting his ass kicked by the Entity, Caleb didn’t bring up the incident again.

And he’d probably have forgotten about it completely, if he hadn’t happened to pick up some spare parts from Autohaven a few days later.

“Are you alright?” Philip asked as soon as Caleb arrived at their designated meet-up spot.

“Just dandy,” Caleb drawled, inspecting the Wraith’s latest haul of scrap from the junkyard.

“You don’t have to act tough, Caleb,” Philip insisted, clearly not getting the hint.

Caleb whipped around to give the other killer a properly disgusted look that he hoped conveyed just how little he appreciating being coddled like a damn child.

“It’s okay; we’ve all been there. I understand,” Philip said, giving a look of sympathy that made Caleb’s skin crawl.

“The fuck you on about, boy?” Caleb spat.

“The Entity,” Philip said.

The Wraith flinched at his own words, quickly glancing around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping.

“It… punishes us when we’re not brutal enough or efficient enough,” Philip said, lowering his voice. “And after your leg—there have been rumors, you know.”

Caleb felt the anger bubbling up. Not only did he hate people bringing up his brief time of injury and subsequent uselessness in trials, he also had an inkling of just who had been spreading these specific rumors.

“What kind’a rumors?” Caleb asked.

“You’ve been going to the hospital a lot to treat your wounds,” Philips said. “Herman even had to borrow ointments from Sally, since you’ve been coming in so often.”

Caleb’s eye twitched as he tried to reign his temper. Herman knew damn well that Caleb was insistent on keeping their whatever-it was a secret, yet he seemed to happily gossip to anyone he came across.

“‘Scuse me,” Caleb said. “I’ma need to have a chat with the good doctor.”

When Caleb slammed open the door to Herman’s office, the man didn’t even flinch.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t break my furniture,” the doctor merely offered, not even looking up from his book. “I could hear you stomping here from across the hospital.”

“You,” Caleb snarled, grabbing Herman by the collar. “What did you do?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Herman said, infuriatingly calm even when face to face with a very dangerous and very angry gunslinger.

“Why does Phil think I’m gettin’ beat up by spider-bitch?” Caleb spat. “Why does Sally know I’ve been comin’ here and you need a bunch’a salve for it?”

“Oh,” Herman said, finally getting his point. “That’s not something you should worry about.”

“Try me,” Caleb snarled, tightening his grip around the man’s jacket collar.

“It might be easier to talk without the strangulation,” Herman countered, his voice strained from the pressure on his neck.

Caleb released his hold but didn’t back off, crowding the man against his office chair.

“Then talk,” Caleb commanded.

“Very well,” Herman said. “As you may or may not know, our Eldritch overlord closely monitors our performance in trials. However, if said performance isn't up to par, it isn’t afraid to take disciplinary measures.”

“So ya didn’t fight it, it fought you? That what yer sayin’?” Caleb asked.

“In a way, I suppose,” Herman said, still annoyingly secretive.

“So what’s that gotta do with me? And stop fuckin’ horseshittin’,” Caleb said.

“Well, in a nutshell,” Herman paused, as considering how to phrase the message simply enough for Caleb to understand. “There was word of the Entity being more agitated than usual. I concluded it was only a matter of time before it chose you as its target, and as a precaution, I deliberately attempted to draw its ire.”

If Caleb was confused before, he was even more so now. The doctor had… volunteered to be the Entity's pincushion? And for what?

“Why?” Caleb asked, hesitantly stepping back from the man and his unknown motives.

“You’re my patient,” Herman simply answered.

“Oh, like these sorry fuckers?” Caleb said, pointing at a human heart sitting neatly in a jar on the desk. “You wanna cut me up yerself, that it?”

“...No.”

“Then what? Ya get off on bein’ tortured?” Caleb prodded, angry at still not getting a real answer. “Well, what is it!?”

“I don’t know!” Herman snapped, slamming the book shut.

It was the first time Caleb had seen the doctor lose his composure, and on reflex he reached for the empty holster on his hip.

“I’ve spent over a decade studying the human psyche, and I don’t know,” Herman said, moving to stand up. “I have no illusions of morality, yet seeing you in agony over your leg—”

“I was fine!” Caleb rebutted.

“The thought of inflicting more pain on you was simply out of the question. So I offered myself up in your stead, until you were recovered. And then I… just kept going.”

“Hold on,” Caleb realized. “You’ve—for all this time!? It’s been, what, months?”

“Fifty-three days, according to my calculations,” Herman said, so matter-of-fact.

“You’re fuckin’ bonkers,” Caleb said. “That shit ends now! ‘M not about to let you deal with my punishment!”

Herman was silent, for once, and Caleb could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. There was a sudden realization that Herman probably felt the same way that Caleb did, a few days ago when he saw the man badly hurt.

Protective.

The anger slowly released from Caleb’s body, and he took a step toward the doctor in a silent peace offering.

“I’ma big boy, doc,” Caleb said. “Been through shit none of yer experiments even come close to. I'm not fuckin' made o’ glass."

"I realize that," Herman said, sighing. "It wasn't my intention to patronize you."

"Pfft, like that ain’t your goal most days," Caleb shot back, the good side of his face drawing into a smirk.

"Well," Herman said with a dry chuckle. "Not in this particular instance."

An apology was left unsaid, but Caleb didn't want one. Still, he kept unwavering eye contact, waiting for a promise that never came.

"And?" Caleb asked when neither of them were budging.

Herman sighed in annoyance, most likely peeved at having been out-stubborned.

"I will make sure it doesn't happen again," Herman reluctantly assured.

"Good," Caleb said, and then inexplicably felt unsure about where that left them. "So, uh… we good, or…?"

Herman smiled. He usually just grinned, or giggled or laughed like a psychopath, but now he looked stupidly handsome with a smile stretching over his lips and making his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Splendid," Herman said.

Caleb could only withstand another few seconds of looking at the damn smile before his patience ran out.

"Get over here," Caleb said, tugging the doctor closer by his lapels and into a kiss.

They didn't do this often, and feeling the warm, chapped lips against his own, Caleb couldn't help but think what a damn shame it was. After the injury to his jaw that felt like a lifetime ago, Caleb didn't think he'd be doing much kissing for the rest of his days, but Herman never seemed bothered by it.

Large hands settled on his hips and Caleb could feel the dormant energy lying underneath, electricity always at the doctor's fingertips. It was absurd to think that their hands, constantly used for killing and more often than not caked with their victims' blood, could be used to hold each other this gently.

Realizing he was getting alarmingly sappy from nothing more than a kiss, Caleb pulled away from the liplock and reluctantly stepped away from the doctor's embrace. He adjusted his hat in an attempt to hide the reddening of his sickly pale cheeks.

"Alright, now come on," Caleb urged, cocking his head in the direction of the door.

"Are we going somewhere?" Herman asked.

"Yer comin' to Glenvale where I can keep an' eye on ya," Caleb said. "Don't trust ya not to break a promise."

The words came out harsher than he meant to. Luckily, Herman didn’t appear to take it personally, instead going to grab some of his things without any further fuss.

"If you wanted a romantic getaway this badly, you should have just asked," Herman teased.

"Shut up," Caleb said half-assedly.

Watching Herman pocket a jar of an unknown substance, Caleb suddenly remembered something crucial.

"Oh, one more thing," Caleb said.

"I'm all ears.”

“Tell Sally to keep ‘er fuckin’ trap shut,” Caleb snarked.

He received a fit of maniacal giggles in return, and Caleb realized that the sound that once grated on his nerves now brought a sense of belonging.

He still didn't know what this was between them, but he'd be damned if he let it go.

[ae0nx]

FRUITS BASKET S3 EPISODE 1 + 2 RECAP!

Yayyy! Season 3! Finally! I’m hoping this season will make me understand/sympathise with Akito and maybe even Shigure a little bit more because... honestly? My opinions on episode 2?... I might get some flack for my opinions on them...  😬

But, first: I’d like to appreciate how on the Funimation app we got a little interview/message from a few of the english dub VAs! Specifically Colleen Clinkenbeard, Jerry Jewell, Eric Vale, Ian Sinclair and Brina Palencia (Akito, Kyo, Yuki, Kureno and Isuzu). And it was nice seeing some of their opinions of the characters they play and how much they’re emotionally invested in the story. (Ian’s such a nerd ‘I wanna see giant mechs later this season’ 😂 - I lowkey stan him lol)

You should definitely check it out if you’re interested in what they would have to say!

ANYWAYS, let’s get into it...

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EPISODE 1

I really love this depiction of the original zodiac and how you can just tell from the tone of the scene how desperately the God of the Zodiac was clinging on to these connections that they had with the participants in the banquet. How much they clung on to and loved the cat... Also, interesting how Tohru’s narrating this scene... almost like she can relate to the desperation of wanting to keep things the same... but we’ll get to that later. But also, Tohru is a God

This new opening is beautiful, I love the way that camera moves around the still illustrations and how the general tone just hammers down that... this season is gonna be some real shit lol (which makes me nervous for the opening for the second half 😳). It’s so warped and the general blue, grey and black tone that follows around every Akito scene we get in the anime has bled into every scene in this opening concerning the rest of the zodiac. Almost... like something is decaying. It’s great, it’s just very sad lol. I love the song tho, issa bop.

One of my favourite things in stories is when we get a bigger villain than the ‘pronounced’ villain of the story. Ren’s introduction through a manicured outstretched hand towards Kureno and Hatori is so weirdly gross in what it insinuates (especially when you apply her connection with Shigure) but again... I wanna know why she’s such an asshole to Akito specifically besides the bad mental health management within the Sohma compound. I have an inkling of what it is through memory of the manga, but like Akito and Shigure... I just wanna understand why.

Also, Ren is gorgeous and I’m sorry for simping. 

I mean... she’s kinda got a point? She just didn’t need to be so mean about it lol. It’s pretty clear that the connection the zodiac have to each other is real and something they cannot control. BUT, wouldn’t it be easier if this connection wasn’t perpetuated by outer circles of the family and if Akito herself wasn’t so cruel about it? But, I guess Akito - through her relationship with her mother - kinda doesn’t know how to genuinely show love and affection. (Which brings me into my thoughts of how the manga ends and how I kinda... have a few problems with it which I will get to... when that comes lol)

Lol - weeeeeeeee! (flashes back to Tohru being yeeted into the river). Is this a part of Akito’s god-like powers?!

Again. She’s got a point! They’ve both got a point. But, they’re both the source of the problem. It’s really painful to see two mentally ill people duke it out. This whole institution is just rotten.

- I am super curious about what Akira’s relationship was like with the zodiac and if it was just as dark. I’m gonna assume it slightly already was, as the exclusion and degradation of the cat curse is already dark in itself but maybe the rest of the zodiac were just fine with how things were? I dunno if we actually will get the full backstory of Akira and his zodiac but I’m definitely intrigued

Ok, but if four crying children came up to me after I’d just consummated with my partner to reach out at my stomach chanting ‘we’ve been waiting for you’. That would disturb me and scar me for a while too so... 😂. I know it’s supposed to be ethereal and spiritual but... dude, wtf lol

...I don’t like how much I’m into Ren being such a Villain™  😅

- Akito being seen as a crying child by the older zodiac members has always been interesting to me because yes, they could see her as that through mainly the age gap, general empathy and the way she sometimes irrationally acts out. But, also the depiction of Gods being seen as children having tantrums has being reflected in many different beliefs and myths (especially Greek Mythology) and I just like the fact that this all powerful, all knowing being would be compared to a child. It gives you a different perspective on power.

- Is the paper note in the CD case that Kureno gave back to Tohru an extra addition or was it always there?...

Mannnn... I really wanted Isuzu to fuck shit up after seeing Tohru so upset but... *le sigh* (outfit’s still on point)

But, I’m so glad we get an equal Ethereal Goddess to save Tohru! HANAJIMA! We love her, we stan her. <3

- ‘Tohru will be in my custody’ 🤣 I personally think Hana’s bluntness was a kindness in her conversation with Yuki because if I found Tohru upset? I’d automatically start firing metaphorical shots at everyone in that house

- Shigure fearing Hana makes me sleep better at night <3

Hana’s just like ‘hmm... sounds like someone I know... 👀’ I’m here for this parallel between Tohru and Kureno in the hopes that Tohru doesn’t ever get in as bad a situation as Kureno. Ahhh... Kureno... (Also, Laura Bailey was killing it in this scene as always)

- Hmmm... there’s something terribly poetic about Kyo saving Tohru’s scarf from oncoming traffic... but also, Kyo can’t help himself aha

KWEEEN! I love this look for Uo, it’s very Kyoko. I already said this in Season 1 but I STILL need to get wool-lined jacket. Outfit Appreciation goes to her - 3.5 stars.

<3<3<3 Friendship is magic!

- Megumi is such a good egg as always! From him going to get Uo to him being so wise with his outlook on love and how it takes time to really flourish. The best!

- This whole episode ends really nicely from Tohru’s return home and Kyo washing and returning Tohru’s scarf and Yuki being happy to see Tohru and Shigure being somewhat decent. It was nice to get a bit of relief after the tornado of emotions

Also, this was a nice screencap! Even Kyo is smiling!!! :))))

EPISODE 2

*takes sip of wine* ...ok.

👀... later lol

This scene really highlighted how Tohru is starting to see Shigure and the whole zodiac curse in a new and darker way. For the first time, it felt like Tohru was a little bit more guarded around Shigure and I hope they delve more into this season. Her description of her feeling around the curse being like a ‘dark well with no bottom in sight’ is pretty spot on. Ugh.

Aw! Is this the last we’re getting of Small!Momiji?! I love them :3 (Momiji’s shorts look a little shorter too, like he’s growing out of them ahaha)

- I haven’t found the Yuki fan club funny since their first scene in the anime but their poor disguises made me chuckle

- Yayyy! Kyo has an obsessive fan club too? ...Yay?? 😅 haha

- ‘I won’t kill them but they can go to hell’ why is Kyo speaking like me?! 😂

The fact that we got a scene of Yuki kinda admirably looking at a group of friends (boys and girls) playfully physically interacting and he unconsciously reaches out to Machi almost like he forgot about the curse? Heart eyes... 🥰

Again. Relatable. 😂 God, Yuki. You really are an airhead. Bless your soul. <3

And that look says it all. Damn. Kyo’s sense of hopelessness is heartbreaking but I still stand by it being understandable considering his circumstances.

Kyo freaking out about Tohru being visually upset was super cute but I couldn’t even appreciate the fluff because the whole scene had such a morbid tone to it, despite it being so visually romantic:

KYO’S FACE!!! 💔 Ahhh, my emotions!!!! Also, that shot from Tohru’s perspective under her bangs is great.

- Poor Mitsuru, I’d ask for extra pay just for dealing with Shigure’s ass.

Hahah - what a great metaphor!

- Now that Shigure’s ‘true form’, so to speak, has been fully exposed all his comments that are supposed to be teasing come off so much more awful. Him insinuating Mitsuru wasn’t ‘upper class’ enough for Ritsu was awful

COLLLDDDD. AS. IIIIIIICE. But seriously, Shigure this whole episode was cold in many different ways but I definitely felt this personally since I’ve been told something like this by a family member before... 😕 Also, it’s just gross how both Shigure and Akito are taking their own personal issues and mistrust of each other out on to other people. The curse and the institution behind the curse complicates a lot of feelings for sure, but there’s a difference between wrong and right and I get the general feeling that they both are just using the muddy waters to their advantage. Although, I feel like Shigure is taking more advantage of this than Akito but I’ll get into that in a bit.

- There’s also something about this episode that made me sympathise a lot more with Kureno in a more understandable way. But, it also makes me question the ending of this whole story and the resolutions that happen and what life for the whole Sohma institution/family looks like after the curse has broken.. I guess, I should read ‘Fruits Basket Another’ after this, huh?

😳... Shigure is so petty, man. Really?!

So...

I hate this relationship. I’m sorry. I know there are loads of people who like this relationship. And I’m still giving myself space for the show and the story to convince me why it’s worth it. But... I really don’t like this relationship. It’s so toxic. In so many ways. And in a weird way, this scene made me feel a LITTLE bit more for Akito than Shigure. It feels like Shigure gaslights everyone in his life but none no more than Akito, herself. I hate the fact that he keeps saying he loves her while hurting her or disregarding her. You know, almost like he’s treating her like a child. But on the other hand, I hate the fact that Akito has lowkey gaslighted herself into thinking she can treat people however she wants because she is ‘God’. I understand this is part of the way she was brought up and it seems like life in the Sohma compound has been very isolating for her so there’s been no one really to show her better (or have the confidence to show her better). But, at least I can be a little bit more sympathetic on her side than Shigure’s. I dunno... it’s just all very ugly and toxic and I’m hoping that it’ll turn around somehow.

I just hope it’s not one of those relationships that are ‘so good cos it’s so bad’.

...I’ll briefly talk about the ending theme to end this on a good note lol:

I really like this ending! I dunno if they’re gonna have two endings and two openings for this season but this ending definitely feels like it should’ve gone in the second half as it’s almost spoiler-y? But, then again what anime opening and ending isn’t packed with spoilers lol

All the illustrations are gorgeous, I’m assuming they were drawn by Takaya-sensei herself as it seems very much in her current style of artistry but my favourite illustrations are definitely the ones shown above! <3

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

Ahhh! Fin! Sorry, about this one being super long and you probably having to scroll past a whole lot on your dash 😝 As usual, I had a lot to say. I’m open to hearing from people who actually like Shigure and Akito’s relationship btw, it’s just that everything before and episode 2 just really didn’t sail the ship for me, personally. I do want to understand! Haha

See you soooon!

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 2.3.7 “Cosette Side By Side With The Unknown Man In The Dark”

I think it’s really important that Hugo starts off explaining that Cosette is unafraid. Partly because Valjean’s sudden appearance beside her is kind of creepy. But mostly because we’ve seen that she’s scared of most other adults. The Thenardiers, definitely, but she even seems frightened of the peddler whose water she’s currently fetching, despite (or maybe because of) the fact that she lied about giving his horse water. She’s scared of most adults, it seems, without knowing them, and yet here she’s unafraid.

Valjean is incorporeal until this moment, but it’s magic that makes him corporeal here, too. He doesn’t know that this is Cosette yet. And he has spent whatever amount of time since escaping the Orion in this nonspecific state, seemingly hardly interacting with other people and barely being real. And yet something has compelled him to stop and help this child. The nature of his dead-ness before coming upon Cosette makes me wonder if he would have ignored a different struggling person or not. Is it his inherent goodwill that makes him stop and help Cosette, and would he have helped regardless of who it was and despite his dead-ness, or is it the fact that it is Cosette he comes upon first that revives him and revitalizes his inherent goodwill? In any case, this magic pull has brought him to Cosette’s side and brought him alive again.

“I don’t think I do. Everyone else does. But I don’t have one. I don’t think I’ve ever had one.” Cosette as a heavenly object? No, but really this is an illustration of how intensely alienated and foreign Cosette feels. Everyone has a mother, but she doesn’t and never did. It’s dialogue like this that makes me sad that Hugo kind of gently retcons all of this for her. She doesn’t just feel alone in this world, she feels wrong. She doesn’t have the same origin that everyone else does, the same connection or support that everyone else might feel towards their mothers. Instead, she has no mother and never had one. Hugo lets her forget these feelings, and by the time we see Cosette properly as a teenager, these memories of childhood don’t seem to affect her as much. But I wish Hugo had let her retain them more obviously, because I think that’s one of the reasons Valjean and Cosette connect so intensely: they both feel (or felt) totally alienated and different from everyone around them.

The providential electricity between Cosette and Valjean is so interesting. It’s like they are both unaware that they are aware of this connection. Cosette looks at Valjean here and sees hope and joy. Later on, in Gorbeau house, Valjean will look at Cosette and see the same. Marius and Cosette get the romantic connection in this book, but Valjean and Cosette are soulmates, in that they are two lost souls who save each other. This, I think, is ultimately why Valjean’s actions at the end of the book are so unbearably sad. Not only because it really reveals his thoughts and opinions of himself and his relation to the world, but because he and Cosette are meant to save each other. Marius does not have the same soul connection to Cosette as Valjean, cannot fill the same roles that Valjean fills, no matter what Valjean says when he decides not to return to Gillenormand’s.

“They play, they have fun.” “All day long?” “Yes, monsieur.” “And you?” “Me! I work.” “All day long?” The child raised her large eyes, whose tears could not be seen in the darkness, and answered softly, “Yes, monsieur.”

Poor Cosette. Like I said a few posts ago, child labor laws didn’t exist in France until around 1840 or so. We know Cosette knows that she should be playing, that she wants to play, but I feel like her response of “Me! I work.” holds a sort of surprise that anyone would ask her what she wants or that anyone would expect her to do anything but work. And again this is Hugo’s critique of capitalism, of abusive labor practices, etc etc. The condition the Thenardiers keep Cosette is is the “ideal oppression,” and that includes this constant, exhausting forced labor at a young age. We see later how much it’s affected her, when she wakes up early in the morning and starts sweeping the rooms at the Gorbeau house until Valjean reassures her that she’s meant to play.

Again, Hugo being so adorable and realistic when writing children. I love that Cosette has this little lead sword that cuts lettuce and the heads off of flies. It’s too cute! It’s also a good symbol for her inner strength. She has this little lead sword literally, but also inside her, figuratively, is this strength and determination she has to keep going, and she will continue to be adorable and stubborn as she grows up.

More evidence of Valjean being nonexistent until this moment: he doesn’t know it’s Christmas (cue Band Aid 80s drums). If he was in Paris not long ago, and even acquiring lodging, then you’d think he’d have some inkling of the date. Maybe not the exact day, but that it was around Christmas-time. But he didn’t exist until now so he doesn’t know the date.

[utterlyinevitable]

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao)  Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex.  Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.  

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her. 

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth. 

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are. 

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become. 

He’s such an old man… 

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?” 

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”  

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.   

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?” 

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock. 

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman. 

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.  

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.” 

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry. 

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?” 

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that. 

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife. 

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.” 

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words. 

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”   

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost. 

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further. 

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”   

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.” 

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface. 

She nodded. 

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.” 

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.  

“Would you agree, darling?” 

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?” 

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple. 

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense. 

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.” 

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.” 

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel. 

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates. 

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;   

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?” 

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.  

She simply responded, “Two. You?” 

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions. 

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.  

“Maybe?” 

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”  

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly. 

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.” 

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?” 

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan. 

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey. 

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote. 

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. 

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.” 

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another… 

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.  

“Your turn.” 

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.” 

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?  

He nodded. 

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words. 

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.” 

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.  

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.” 

“You’re romanticising it.”  

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having. 

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”  

“Excuse me.”  

“You heard me,” she challenged.  

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.  

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?  

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.” 

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed. 

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”  

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.” 

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work. 

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is. 

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?” 

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…” 

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”  

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”  

“We didn’t.”  

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”  

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked. 

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”  

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.” 

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.  

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”  

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”  

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”  

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today. 

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?” 

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer. 

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.” 

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart. 

“Then why do it?” 

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.” 

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else. 

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.  

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.” 

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women. 

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

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[escapereality2002]

Straighten Things Out...with A Twist (SakyoIzu One-shot)

Marry me

He knew it was a prank, one that he once saw from the smartphone of a younger MANKAI member. He also said that he didn’t understand why one would prank people with questions like that, on a chatroom for that matter. But he never thought that he would be on the receiving end of this prank.

Especially when Tachibana Izumi was on the giving end of it.

He knew it was a prank, but...but he couldn’t help to indulge himself with what ifs.

What if Izumi has a hidden intention behind this?

What if it’s actually real, under the layer of childish prank?

Ever since he finally joined MANKAI Company, just as his younger self desired, he began his path to grow and bloom on stage. Yet, it seemed that another thing began to grow as well. A feeling, once so innocent but complicated as it grew. Like a seed buried deep, settling its roots, and then began to sprout. It grew with each chat, discussion, and argument. Actions in an attempt to show their care for each other are like sun rays and fertilizers. Smiles, frowns, and accidental touches were like a drizzle, refreshing every time he noticed it.

So when she sent him this chat he…

He couldn’t help but hope, though a realistic thought shadowed that hope just a second later.

“I’m overthinking this…” Sakyo sighed, thumbs still hovering the digital keyboard of his smartphone. “What answer should I…”

Well.

Two could play this game.

He typed his answer in no time, since the answer IS short anyway.

Sure.

His heart leapt when he saw a grey chat bubble with three dots popped up just seconds after he sent his answer.

Didn’t that count as proof that she waited for his answer by staying online?

Wait, really?!

He held a snort, fingers typing another answer. Her reaction triggered a cheeky thought for his answer.

Bet you weren’t expecting that.

~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~

“Oooh, why am I doing this in the first place?!”

On the other side of that chatroom...was a flustered director at large. She was in her room, on the second floor and away from room 106 where he resides. 

The finance manager and unofficial father figure in MANKAI, who is also the recipient of her prank.

Sakyo Furuichi. 

The very man who made her feel different yet...pleasant. 

Her feelings toward the man changed over the course of time. At first, she won’t deny that she was scared of him. Sharp eyes, taller stature, his occupation as a member of yakuza, and the amount of money that the company owed him had deter her at first. Such an impression that if Izumi didn’t notice his small gesture (like a 10 pages review, checking on why the theater lights are still on, or watching Spring and Summer debut shows), she would always see him as a man whom the company had debt for.

Those gestures actually showed how he’s passionate about acting and deeply cared for this specific theater company. It’s like it was Sakyo who is indebted to Mankai Company instead of the other way around. Though, Izumi didn’t want his passion to remain dormant, remain on the sidelines rather on the stage where he could bloom to his fullest potential.

That was what she did. Like a gardener, she took the chrysanthemum from a pot and planted it in a garden. Just where it belongs, where it blooms beautifully along with other flowers in a garden.

Little did she know that something else was blooming in her heart too.

‘Would you laugh if I told you that pipsqueak was my first love?’

‘You’re something else to me.’

Now, the next question would be: Is it still there? Or is it nothing but a memory?

By doing that prank, she knew that she hoped that it’s not the former. Now that she felt that different yet pleasant feeling...she began to notice that some things that he did could pass on as his care for MANKAI Company. But some others, more specific and subtle gestures, may not be a part of his caring to the theater company.

It may be a part of his personal, more intimate feeling. May, being the emphasised word.

At least, she hoped so.

“Sigh…”

She shared these woes with her small circle of friends from university and after whole gush and teasing, they encouraged Izumi to straighten things out. The truth will set you free, as one song recites.

After a few minutes leaving him hanging with that cheeky answer of his, Izumi patted her cheeks. “Right...no backing out now, Izumi! You DID want to use this opportunity to set it straight! ...unfortunately.”

She took her smartphone and marched out of her room to reach that one place where she knew he’s present.

 ~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~*****~

After sending his reply, Sakyo managed to refocus on the novel he was reading. He immersed himself in the ocean of words, yet some knocks pull him back to the surface. 

Irritated, he’s about to make a snarky remark but Izumi’s voice halts it.

“Sakyo, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Fresh memory of their earlier chat rushing down like waves. He took a deep breath to control the bubbling warm emotion inside him and exhaled, “Yes, what is it?”

The door slowly opened and Izumi stepped in. Her eyes were glued to the ground even after she closed the door.

“What is it, Director?” To say Sakyo didn’t have an inkling about what she wanted to talk about would be a lie, but he wanted to prolong this for a while. 

‘She DID start it...might as well make the most of it.’, he thought.

“Uh...um,” She gulped, “what, what do you mean by that reply, Sakyo-san?”

He reviewed his options for reply. He could prolong it by asking her to point out the specific topic she wanted to discuss and maybe see her squirm and blush. Or he could answer it. That option bears another set of options too. He could answer it nonchalantly, saying that he played along her prank. That could result in breaking the tension over this silly chat and chuckle will be exchanged.

Or her eyes could glaze and downcast, even when her lips curved upwards. 

‘If she believes it’s a prank then she won’t be here to get confirmation now, isn’t she?’

He sighed.

‘No more hiding, so it seems.’

“It may start off as a prank...but I mean exactly what I said.”

Now that he doesn’t need her to read between the lines, he has to do his part to diminish those lines and reveal the true meaning. With resolve, he stared at Izumi and...

“I love you, Izumi.”

Once the words were said, the rest were breathed out. Sakyo tried to keep his emotion in check but it seeped through every word he said, along with rushing blood on his cheeks. Sakyo dropped his gaze to his lap, knowing that Izumi still fixed her eyes on him.

“And if you’d allow me, I’d marry you. Not now, of course. I still have those years I’ve lost to catch on and I know you’re still focused on the theater. There’s also…”

Izumi stayed still as each word flew softly out of his mouth and hung in the air. She marveled at how easy he looked when he poured all his feelings in words. 

‘It’s like he already had it recited every day...maybe even every night.’, she thought, face getting warmer and warmer with every word.

Sakyo closed his eyes and gulped a few deep breaths to ease his rapidly beating heart. He’s still unable to meet Izumi’s gaze and opt to bore his gaze on the floor near her feet.

‘Feels like I’m doing some kind of portrait...with a romantic theme.’ He thought, fingers drumming on his lap. He won’t deny that there's relief after pouring his feelings out, but of course her possible reaction looms hauntingly even more. 

If only he was brave enough to look at her when he said all those words, he would have the front row seat of her reddening face and glossy eyes. It touched her, really, on how much he cares about his family, acting, this company, and...her.

Hearing no response from her, Sakyo sighed in resignation, “You don’t...you don’t have to answer it now. I just...your prank and you asking for confirmation have nudged me to say all of that. I’m comfortable on where we are so-”

Izumi cut him off after finding her courage to answer, “No I...I am honored that y-you think a lot of this matter, Sakyo-san. Frankly speaking, it made my own explanation pales in comparison…”

“Heh, I don’t really expect you to weave words like I did anyway...” Sakyo chuckled.

“Hey!” Izumi puffed out her cheeks before letting out a chuckle too.

Her positive response melted a bit of tension around them, enough for Sakyo to raise his head and looked her in the eye. Redness may not dissipate from his cheeks, but seeing hers were in similar condition was reassuring for him, even just a bit. 

“So then, let’s hear what you have to say.”

She joined her hands and dropped her gaze, “To be honest, I...did use this prank to somehow test the waters. Now that I thought of it, it was pretty stupid thing to do. Of course, it was intended for laughs but um...in our case…”

“...it was used with a hint of seriousness?” He picked up where she trailed off.

She gulped a breath, “...yeah. Heh, childish isn’t it?”

‘Yeah, and adorable too.’ He disliked it when his mind automatically supplied him with that response.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to straighten things out about this. Now that you already said your part, I’ll say mine.”

‘Here it comes.’

‘Brace yourself.’

“At first, you’re an important person for MANKAI Company even when I was scared of you. No, you always have an important role to make this theater what they are now. I am very grateful for what you have done to this theater...”

She took another gulp of breath, “I cherished you as a companion at work and as a friend, Sakyo-san. But somewhere along the way I...realize that I wished for more.”

Giddiness bubbled inside her as hope bloomed inside him.

“I love you too, Sakyo-san. And it made me the happiest when you said that you love me.”

If this is Muku’s shoujo manga, then this scene would have flower petals and sparkles flying around them. Maybe they would run into each other’s embraces, smiling and laughing and then they’d-

But this is not a shoujo manga now, isn’t it?

Though, they did smile in relief with blush on their cheeks.

‘Ah, your smile is so cute...you should do it more often, Sakyo-san.’

‘That smile, that damn smile. I can’t believe I’m the one who made her smile like that.’

After that, shyness slipped back to her and she lowered her gaze, “So uh...I know marriage is not going to be soon but…do you want to try?”

“Dating, you mean?” Sakyo replied, pushing the glasses perched on his nose. “Well...if you want it too.”

“I won’t suggest it if I don’t want to, you know.” she retorted, “Then, please take care of me.”

“Likewise, please take care of me.”

“Now that all is said and done, can I come in?”

They jumped at a new, monotone voice they didn’t expect rang from outside the door. Had they’re too focused on straightening things out that they didn’t realize that somebody is outside?

Just beyond the slightly ajar door?

“Aw, Azamin! They’re about to do something more! Maybe they’d do something that Mukkun would swoon at!”

“Sakyo-nii, you’re so cool! I want to be like that too!”

“Shithead Sakyo, you better not doing something indecent when I- ”

Ready to prove Azami wrong, he took three long strides and yanked the door to reveal the three eavesdroppers. 

“You three! Don't you know ANYTHING about privacy?!”

“Waaaaah! Let’s skedaddle, Taicchan!” ~FIN~ A/N: Aaaaah, what a nice feeling to finally finished a fic, even if it’s a one-shot. The idea pops up when I saw this text react and I just have to write it down hahaha. I struggled quite a bit for the confession scene, since I only got confessed once lol so I learn a thing or two from this sweet SakyoIzu fic. Go check em out! I LOVE AZAMI AND KAZUNARI TOO, MY BOYS MUAH MUAH

[tiaragqueen]

Effete

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Alastor x Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,2k+

✂ Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, confinement, mention of murder

[Edited]

***

I can't believe I've regressed far enough to like this bastard, but I have no regrets. And it's very, very self-indulgent.

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“When we first met, I didn't know what to do. So, I gave you my heart. Now, it belongs to you.” - Gave You My Heart [Teenage Bottlerocket]

Perhaps, you’d grown comfortable with him. Perhaps, his jovial and charismatic façade had fooled you a bit too much. Perhaps, you were just stupid for dismissing Vaggie's warning as mindless concern and ended up falling into such a flagrant trap; one that you could’ve avoided had you take a step back and perceive the world through a realistic eye.

This was Hell, not Heaven. The inhabitants constituted of wicked humans whose circumstances had forced them to act that way or personal autonomy. Therefore, it was only natural to presume that their attitudes remained the same and reformation had probably never crossed their minds before. Sure, a lot of them suffered in here, but wasn’t it the very definition of punishment? To make them suffer for their sins?

And, well, some people enjoyed dwelling on this pandemonium and planned to dominate it. Namely, Alastor himself. You had an inkling of suspicion that he only assisted Charlie to use her to expand his already large territory; something that Vaggie shared.

Unfortunately, it remained just that; an inkling. It didn’t blossom into a full-blown paranoia and overprotectiveness like Vaggie had so readily displayed to her girlfriend.

No, you’d regressed.

All traces of apprehension and skepticism from his abrupt appearance vanished the moment he serenaded and bantered with you. It came to the point where you fell into melancholy whenever he ‘disappeared’, giving tight-lipped smiles to concerned questions and often ignored people on accident. Being a sensible person, it didn’t take too long for Vaggie to put two and two together and, suffice to say, she looked rather… disappointed in you. Even Husk noticed this and wondered, aloud, if Alastor had ‘poisoned’ you with his ‘shitty’ grin somehow.

But you genuinely liked Alastor, and although you knew he would never reciprocate your feelings aside from a sneer, you wanted to keep this childish crush alight. In a way, it reminded you of your old life where you used to get all giddy over attractive men, even if they didn’t exactly possess a ‘boyfriend material’ or even good personality to begin with.

You just… hadn’t considered the possibility of him liking you back. And, maybe, his infatuation had overstepped the boundaries a little. But that was to be expected, no? He was a demon, after all. So you shouldn’t hope for a benign, or even fair, treatment beyond courtesy from him.

Because, as he’d kindly remarked, you’d brought this upon yourself. Therefore, it was your responsibility to deal with the repercussions.

Was it really your fault, though? You just wished for romantic love and attention from a special someone; something that you never truly had even during your lifetime.

And, perhaps, that was what plunged you to Hell in the first place. You were so desperate for affection until you willingly gave them everything, only to ended with a crushing disappointment once the truth manifested. From cheating to manipulation, you’d endured it all. And then you murdered them slowly, painfully, methodically. You’d reminded yourself many times that you wouldn’t fall in love again, but every lesson and bittersweet memories seemed to have escaped your brain the second someone displayed a hint that they liked you somehow. Never mind that it was probably platonic or accidental, you’d cherish it.

However, it was different now. You were no longer able to kill the men who had disappointed you, or tortured them until they begged for undeserving mercy because Alastor was stronger than you. He’d been here longer than you were, and he’d committed crimes more than you did.

Now, you were the captured one. The tortured victim. And you were what you’d always been; a hopeless romantic.

“Good evening, my dear!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Oddly enough, he always came whenever you recollected your first meeting with him, as though he knew that his appearance could exacerbate your predicament. You began to wonder whether he could secretly read minds, or if he was just that good at reading you. The latter didn’t sound as farfetched as the first one considering how… manipulative he was, and something that you hadn’t fully swallowed despite being aware of his intelligence.

Alastor burst into the room and skipped towards your cage. It was tall enough for you to stand at half your height, yet narrow enough to limit your movements, and was made from sturdy iron painted in gold to appear deluxe. You didn’t react well when he told you that he’d abducted during slumber and tried to stab him, thus, the cage became your new ‘room’. It was rather pitiful to see you slumping on the floor like you’d lost all hope in the world, but it was better than seeing your reckless attempt of murder. And he wouldn’t deny the surge of pride he felt whenever you pleaded him for something so mundane like food and never bothered to conceal it, either.

That just served to further established his power over you, whether you admitted it or not. Without him, you wouldn’t survive and Alastor reveled every moment of your dependency. It was nice to watch a cautious girl like you gradually stooped at his allure until you collapsed, the lights in your eyes dimmed to mere voids.

However, it was just a little ‘love test’. Alastor would surely release you after you’d ‘proved’ yourself, because even he was still capable of doing ‘good’ sometimes, however vague it sounded. He only wanted to see whether you were worthy of his love, although he didn’t know how to love beyond himself.

Then again, why did it matter? As long as he provided you affection, you’d surely be able to overlook his ‘deficiency’, right?

“Hey, Alastor.” You raised your head and smiled weakly, stretching his already wide grin. Ah, that expression was always a joy to see.

“Dear, have I told you how positively radiant you are tonight?” With your slightly hollow cheeks and fish eyes, he could marvel it all day without getting bored. He smiled when you nuzzled into his palm and caressed your jaw. “And you’ve been such a good girl, too. I think you deserve a reward for your behavior.”

Euphoria suddenly filled your whole being as you perked up and stared at him wide-eyed. “R-really…?” you whispered hesitantly, afraid that it was just a diabolical joke on his part.

Alastor nodded giddily, though it wasn’t due to the prospect of rewarding you. No, your happiness was simply contagious for him to repress. And it wasn’t as if he’d ever bothered to mask his feelings from public, anyway. “Why, of course!” he beamed, eyes narrowed. “I have a reservation waiting for us in an exclusive restaurant. Only the best for my darling, no?”

Envy and resentment slithered like poisonous vines around your thumping heart as you watched him producing a key from thin air. Why couldn’t you have the same power? Why was life so hell-bent on torturing you even in the afterlife? Why were you born with such bad luck in romance?

And, most of all, why did you still fall for people like him – the chaotic yet charming men – despite knowing the inevitable pain that would soon follow?

Your parents once said that you could be too stubborn for your own good, and you rarely learned your lessons. Well, would they laugh at you now?

Alastor gently guided you out of the cage and stroked your disheveled and dusty hair. “Oh, my. Look how dirty you are, my dear.” he tutted, shaking his head in disapproval. “Well, I believe we have some time to spare. So, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 25

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

Word Count: 4071

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

There was no use in dwelling over Harry right now. It seemed silly to even want to cry, considering Paul, who was seated across from her, was literally fighting for his life. Who was she to cry over a boy that had no interest in dating her? Her problems seemed minuscule to the real tragedies happening all around her. The four of them finished up dinner and when they had finished, Carol whisked their dishes away to wash.

“I should get Zoey over to her mom’s to change now so I can get to the bar in time,” Michael called, standing up, “We’ll meet you there later?”

“Yeah, go on. We’ll see you there,” Paul nodded from his seat at the table.

Being alone with Michael wasn’t as awkward as she thought it’d be. His old, beat-up red car, which usually reeked of stale cigarettes, now only had a lingering scent that was hidden behind the sweet smell of moonlight breeze Gain car fresheners. He explained to her how he’d quit smoking a month ago and it was going well. The twenty-minute conversation to her parents’ house didn’t seem forced like she expected it to be. And he hadn’t once made a pass at her. Maybe he finally moved on.

When she led him into the landing of her parents’ house, her mom’s voice rang out, “Zoey? Is that you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Mikey with me!” she called back, urging him on.

She could hear her mom’s voice sing his name from the other room and they both shared a look, knowing that Michael was about to be trapped in the endless tirades of Mary. Zoey giggled watching him drag his feet in the directions of the living room, leaving her to go change.

“Hurry,” he quietly urged before he rounded the corner.

She had managed to take up her luggage that morning, so she made her way towards the bedroom, noticing Katie’s bed neatly made and the lights still off. Her car was in the driveway when they arrived, so she must be in the living room with her mom. 

Rummaging through her suitcase, Zoey grew more frustrated, feeling silly. All of her clothes were new and were geared more towards her life in LA. Her wardrobe had changed along with her personality and she felt like if she walked downstairs wearing any of these clothes Michael would see right through her and think that she was an imposter.

She had no choice. She didn’t fit into Katie’s clothes and there was no time to go shopping. With a sigh, she slipped into a straight, spaghetti-strapped, white dress and paired it with white sneakers and a jean jacket to make it look more casual. She ran her fingers through her dirty blonde hair, looking at herself in the reflection of Katie’s mirror, finally embracing her new look. This was her. It took years to feel comfortable in her own skin and she wasn’t going to let her insecurities ruin that.

Zoey bounced down the stairs and towards the living room where, sure enough, Katie sat beside Michael, both listening to Mary blabber on about how sorry she was to hear the news of Michael’s dad and the trauma he and Zoey have experienced already. Zoey would have felt embarrassed for her mother’s constant and unwanted reminders, but Michael was used to it having had Mary in his life for five years now. He knew she meant no harm from it and had grown enough thick skin by this point to not pay it any mind.

“I’m ready,” Zoey announced, walking into the room.

“Where are you going?” Katie asked curiously.

Michael stood up, “I have a show tonight at Slyfox. You can join us if you want.”

Before Katie could respond, Mary interrupted, chuckling slightly, “No, Katie’s too young to go.”

“But I’m eighteen! And Zoey will be there!” Katie countered, eyes pleading, but to no avail. Her mom wouldn’t budge.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Michael roughed up Katie’s hair, “maybe next time.”

Zoey always appreciated how Michael treated her younger sister and tried to include her in things, even though it usually got shot down by her parents. Zoey had tried talking to her mom about loosening the reins on Katie a little bit, but the conversation clearly hadn’t done much. At least she started college soon. Her freedom was only weeks away.

“You nervous to see your old coworkers?” Michael asked as they loaded back into the car.

Zoey, shrugged, “A little. But I miss them.”

“Well, the guys are excited to see you,” he said, mentioning his bandmates, “I think Dan is bringing Becky, so you’ll get to see her, too.”

Zoey smiled. Becky was Dan’s girlfriend. The two of them have been dating since right around the time she and Michael first got together. Becky was a sweet girl, but shy like her sister. The two of them had gotten along really well, hanging out during their band rehearsals and attending their little shows together. Zoey liked to think that she had helped Becky come out of her shell in the beginning. 

“Listen,” Michael started, his tone a little hesitant as he scratched the back of his head, “I think I should warn you, in case you hear it from any of the guys, but, uh...I’m kinda seeing someone.”

“Oh?”

She had been anticipating this conversation. She knew the day would come where Michael would have moved on and started dating again, but honestly, it threw her off guard. She was happy for him, don’t get her wrong, but there would always be a part of her that still loved Michael. They had been through a lot together for nearly five years and she was so close to his family. There were so many plans and expectations within their relationship that they never got to carry out. They had talked about kids and marriage and buying a house together, and it ended before either of them could accomplish any of it. She wasn’t hurt. She’s the one that ended things, after all. And she didn’t regret that decision, either. But it still left her a little sad. It was the ending of an era.

Michael rushed to explain himself, his tone still the same. She could tell he was trying to ease into it, afraid of hurting her feelings, “It’s nothing serious, yet. But, yeah, I just thought you should know.”

Zoey turned to look at him, grinning understandingly, “I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

Michael smiled back, nodding. She could see the relief wash over him as his shoulders relaxed. It’s weird - being back in this car with him. There were so many memories involving this car. A stain on the upholstery of her seat from when she accidentally spilled hot chocolate after a spontaneous midnight Wawa run. Warn out stereo buttons from the endless song skipping they did on their long road trips to the Poconos. A dent in the dash from when she had kicked it a little too hard in an attempt to get to the back seat. The number of times they had car sex in the back was, admittedly, a bit ridiculous. 

It started pretty early on at the beginning of their relationship. They met at the Slyfox. His band was playing a gig while she bartended. His friends dared him to ask her for her phone number, typical young kid shit. Then it turned into them sneaking away during break to have sex in his car. She’d always come back in, hair disheveled, trying her best to act nonchalant. She had an inkling everyone knew what she was doing, but no one said anything. Not like Andy would. Andy had no problem calling her out.

They had their fair share of fun during their relationship, that’s for sure. And Jess liked him, which only furthered her appeal for him. Jess, as kind and personable as she was, was very protective over Zoey and the men she dated. Having fun was one thing, but if you were going to make it official, it better be a good guy. It wasn’t often that Jess approved of the guys she dated. It could have been why Zoey held onto her relationship for so long. She always had a feeling that she was destined for something, or someone, else. But Jess liked her and Zoey loved his family, so why bother ruining that on a nagging hunch? 

She knew now that she was right. They were destined for something else. It was proof enough that she needed to listen to her instincts more. Which is why she tried so hard to listen to her instincts when trying to cut things off with Harry. Ever heard of the saying ‘If you care about something, let it go. If it returns, it was meant to be?’ It wasn’t a test for Harry. He didn’t get brownie points if he shot her a random text saying ‘Sorry. Let’s date.’ But, to her, there was some sort of truth in the statement. She knew how much she cared about Harry, romantically, and platonically. Harry was, in every literal sense of the word, her soulmate. She knew it to be true very early on in their relationship. 

Zoey honestly believed that this hiccup that was happening between them wouldn’t last forever. Things may not end up the way she wanted; she might not ever get the chance to be with him on an intimate level again. And she was okay with that if it meant just having him in his life. But he needed to be ready. Emotionally, he still didn’t know who he was or what he wanted to become. He needed to figure that out himself. She had no doubt in her mind that he would return to her one day. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now. Maybe not even ten years from now. But one day, he’d be back. She had to believe that. She needed to believe that. Otherwise, she just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Pulling up to the bar filled her with the biggest sense of nostalgia. When they walked through the door and the aroma of liquor and greasy food hit her, a smile instantly formed on her face. Everything still looked the same as it did the day she left. Lighting so dim that it took a minute to adjust, old tables and chairs scattered throughout the building, a poorly wiped down bartop with early 2000’s hits playing loudly over the speaker, patrons scattered around loudly yapping at each other. She saw the wall of framed pictures with workers and various ‘famous’ people, who weren’t all that famous to begin with, but noticeable enough. She noticed one framed picture that stood out from the rest. It wasn’t quite in the center, but close to it. A framed picture of Jess smiling and holding up a bottle of beer with light-up necklaces and gaudy party hats amongst the rest of their coworkers, Zoey standing right beside her, with an edited banner at the bottom that read ‘Jessica Lewis. Rest In Peace.’. 

Zoey remembered the day that picture was taken. It was New Years a few months before Jess died. Their boss had gathered everyone together to take a picture for their Facebook page to advertise discounted drinks. Jess was in the center because of course she was. Everyone loved him. 

“Zoey?” she heard the familiar booming voice of Dan, Michael’s friend, and the singer of their band. She turned and smiled seeing him and the rest of the guys in the band walking towards her. “Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down. How have you been? You look hot!” 

Zoey laughed, giving him and the rest of the boys hugs. Dan was always very blunt, as were the rest of the guys. Before she could respond, Zach, the drummer, joked, “Not here to waste your time on this loser again, are you?” he backhanded Michael on the chest with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed, bantering, “I live in LA now. I’ve got a city full of D-list celebrities at my disposal.”

Suddenly, she heard a screeching echo from behind the bar and turned to see her old coworker, Riley, jumping over, “Shut the fuck up! Zoey? What the hell are you doing back here?” She ran, practically tackling Zoey into the wall with such force that a framed fire exit picture came crashing to the ground. Riley paid it no mind, however, as she was too busy admiring Zoey’s hair and outfit. “Fuck! What’s in the LA water? You look so good!”

After seeing the commotion that Riley caused, more of her old coworkers had realized who had come in and they all started running over to greet her, welcoming her back with warm hugs and compliments. Michael and the guys had excused themselves to finish setting up while Zoey made her way over to the bar so that she could continue talking to her friends while they worked, laughing, and exchanging old stories while they caught her up on what’s been going on at the bar.

She felt a presence standing behind her and she turned to see Becky, a nervous grin on her face. Zoey’s eyes lit up and she stood to pull her into a hug, “Becky, I missed you!” 

“I missed you, too,” she muttered, smiling wider. “I was wondering when you’d come back to visit. Wish it was on better terms, though. I’m sure Paul was happy to see you.”

Zoey nodded solemnly, “It’s hard to believe it’s real, you know?”

“I know, he’s a good man.”

It didn’t take long for the boys to finish up their tuning before they were finally introduced and began playing. Monday nights were always live-music nights at Slyfox in an attempt to draw in more business. And it worked pretty well. The first half of the night was always slower, but the crowds usually started pouring in around 9 PM and you could always be sure to see the same groups of people coming in. 

Eventually, Michael’s parents had gotten there. They always did their best to attend any performance of their son’s, always having been supportive of his hobby of music. They knew all of the songs, singing and dancing along. Zoey always admired their parenting and knew that if she were ever given the chance to be a mother, she would want to be just like them. 

Listening to the band play brought Zoey back even more. She felt like she was reliving her memories at this point. The only reason she wasn’t entirely warped into this false sense of reality was because Jess wasn’t there. It just didn’t feel right being here without her. The familiar chords of a slower song began playing. It was a song that Michael had written about Zoey in their first year of dating, and to this day was still one of the favorites amongst the crowd. It wasn’t cheesy or too romantic; just about seeing a pretty girl from across the bar. But it was a tradition for Paul to dance with Zoey to this song.

Instinctively, the two turned to look at each other and Carol smiled, knowingly, as Paul struggled for a split second to stand up, “I’ve got to dance with my girl,” he grinned, holding a hand out for her.

Zoey grinned, taking his hand as he led her a few feet away at the edge of the crowd of people before she turned and put a hand gently on her waist while the other continued to hold onto her hand. Paul was a tall man, towering over her a good eight inches. She rested her head on his chest, bonier than she remembered it being. But it eased her tension to hear his heart beating strongly in his chest. She thought, for a moment, maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe he wasn’t dying. A man this good and this kind couldn’t be taken from them. But she felt his weight beginning to bear down on her, becoming too tired to stand for much longer. She felt angry and upset. Why was this happening? It wasn’t fair. 

“You alright?” she whispered, trying not to sound too concerned.

His voice replied, more strained, but confident, “Yeah, I’ve got a strong dance partner.”

The song ended and Zoey led him back towards his wife who urged him to sit down while Zoey shared a quick look with Michael. He nodded, seeing the worry in her eyes, and she knew that he felt it, too. 

Harry hardly got any sleep that night, and by the next morning, he had practically downed a quart of coffee at his mother’s house for breakfast with her and Gemma, the words from the fight of last night repeating in his head. He analyzed every tone in each word he spoke, infuriating himself. He was better than that. He knew he was. For years he has been handling tough, hard-hitting questions with grace and ease. Why was it that he struggled when it came to his own intimate relationships he got flustered and spoke out of his ass? Almost every single thing he said he didn’t mean. Why was it so hard for him?

Zoey was right. She had never been anything but open and honest with him. There was no reason for him to feel like he couldn’t tell her any of what he was feeling. He didn’t need to worry about hurting her feelings because she was the most understandable person he knew. He was so caught up in being afraid that he was going to lose her, that he pushed her away. What kind of idiot did that make him?

He wanted to call her back or text her, but he didn’t know what to say. An apology seemed pitiful. He couldn’t seem to find the right words to express just how regretful he was. And he still couldn’t figure out everything he was feeling enough to give her an answer to her question. He cared for her so deeply that hearing the silence on the other end of the line just about shattered his heart. And waking up this morning to texts from everyone but her only made it worse. 

He wondered how her night was with Michael. She said that she had no intention of getting back with him, but he still found himself wondering if he had pushed her back into the arms of her ex. He knew how strong of a relationship she had with his family, it was certainly possible. He needed to stop thinking this way. He needed to stop assuming.

“Now, I know you don’t have jetlag,” Harry’s mom, Anne, spoke after placing her cup on the table, noticing Harry’s exhaustion, “Rome is only an hour difference. What’s the matter, darling?”

“You look like you got dumped,” Gemma teased, unknowingly.

The look on Harry’s face must have hit both women at the same time because their eyes widened in realization and they shared a glance before Anne spoke again, more softly, “Is it that Zoey girl?”

“Mom,” Harry warned.

“I didn’t know you two were dating,” Gemma spoke.

“We weren’t.”

“Well did something happen in Italy, then?” his sister pressed. When Harry didn’t answer, her eyebrows raised and a smirk began to form, “It did, didn’t it? I knew you liked her!”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure she hates me now.”

“What happened, dear?” his mom asked, placing a hand on top of his.

Harry sighed, slouching more in his chair, “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Well, maybe we can be of some help,” his mom offered.

Harry hesitated, taking a moment to decide before taking a breath. Why not? “It’s my fault, really. Things happened in Italy and they were great. But then she asked where our relationship was going and I panicked and said I didn’t know and accused her of still wanting to be with her ex-boyfriend because she flew home to visit him.”

“Why is she visiting her ex-boyfriend?” Gemma asked, her face screwed up in judgment.

Harry winced, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed as he explained, “Because she found out his dad is dying of cancer and has three months to live. And she’s extremely close to him.”

The girls gasped. He didn’t need to look up at their faces. He knew that the judgment they had for Zoey a second ago would be shifted onto him. And his intuition was correct as he heard his mom breathe his name in disappointment, “Oh, Harry.” He looked up to see her eyes filled with sadness, almost pleading, “You didn’t.”

He groaned, throwing his head back, “I know. I don’t know why I said it. She’s the one that broke up with him in the first place. I just panicked!”

“Well, why did you panic, you idiot? You obviously like her!” Gemma urged, as though it was the most obvious thing on the planet.

“You know how hard dating is for me!” Harry defended himself, “It’s a lot more complicated than just liking each other.”

“Darling,” Anne spoke so evenly that she made everything sound so simple and plain, “It’s okay to be worried. We know your life isn’t as black and white as most people, and that’s okay. But you remember how it feels to lose a loved one from cancer. Remember Robin and Johannah? Remember how hard that was for you? All she needs is someone who understands and someone who can be there for her. Not the added pressure that you put on her.”

“I know. I messed up,” Harry groaned into his palms, “I don’t know what to do. I really don’t want to lose her. I’m just…I don’t know. My life isn’t easy to keep up with.”

“Do you care about her?” Anne asked.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t you think she can decide if she can keep up with you or not?”

“....yes.”

“Then tell her, you idiot!” Gemma smacked him.

“What if she’s still pissed off at me? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” he stressed.

Anne shot her daughter a look of warning before calmly explaining, “Darling, you both clearly care about each other. She might still be upset, but I doubt she’d be unwilling to talk to you. You don’t have to jump into a relationship if you don’t want to. But you should be honest with yourself and her and have a conversation about what you really want out of it. If you just want her in your life as a friend, then tell her. But if seeing her with someone else is upsetting you that much, then maybe you should give it a try. All I will say on the matter is that you seemed genuinely happy when she was in your life. Just be honest with her. Lay all of your feelings out on the table and go from there.”

Harry took a breath, letting the words his mother said to sink in. He needed time to gather his thoughts. He needed to figure out everything he felt. He looked at his phone to see the time. It was 9 AM in London.

“It’s too early to call her right now,” he said, “It’s only 3 AM.”

“Don’t call her! Go to her!” Gemma threw her hands up.

“Honey, he just flew back home. He can just Facetime her or something.”

“Mom, it’ll be more romantic if he flies to her!” she shot back, turning to Harry, “Just go to her. You said you visited her family before. Do you remember where they lived?”

Harry sat up, intrigued by what his sister was saying, “Y-yeah, I think so. I have her family’s phone number, though. I could always get it.”

“Then go!”

Harry nodded, flustered trying to get up from his seat.

“Not this second, Harry,” Anne reached up to his arm with a laugh, “You can carry out your Romantic Comedy fantasy after breakfast.”

Harry laughed, nervously as the two of the girls he loved most in his life chuckled at him and took a swig of their coffees, nerves rushing through his veins. How could he eat now? He was too anxious.

KEEP READING

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Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish​ , @stilljosiegrossie​ , @odetostep​ , @apples2019​ , @stylesmioamore​ , @inyourhaven​

[topaziraphale]

so fucking tired of people defending queer baiting in this fandom. like hello the TV show literally is. but people hiding behind “progressivism” say that it’s fine the way it is. a relationship is never explicitly shown and it is teased so the network gets the best of both worlds. i.e homophobes and gay ppl being able to consume the same content and be okay with it. with homophobes, you can claim they are “just friends” but gay people always have to delve deep into subtext to get an ounce of rep

I have mixed feelings about this. I am a person that is very picky and hyper-critical of the media I choose to consume. I went into this show expecting queerbait, and I lowered my standards substantially. I expected nothing but teasing and the characters being very coy with each other and absolutely no deliverance on their relationship. I watched it for the interesting apocalypse story, and for the first couple episodes, found myself groaning and thinking “here we go” the moment they started to interact with each other in a lovey-dovey way. I’ve been queerbaited before. I’ve had my heart broken time and time again looking for at least decent rep in shows. I can always call it, and know it when I see it. When I finished that last episode, I somehow wasn’t left disappointed like previous times. I was happy, but also confused. That’s not a good thing either. For the first time ever, I actually had to ask myself “Did I get baited?”

At the time, I figured “If I even have to ask that question, then the answer is yes, I was baited.”

Then I gave it some thought, particularly as to why I felt so confused in the first place. The rest of this is under a cut.

I realized that Aziraphale and Crowley met all the qualifications for not being queerbait except for having an explicit declaration of love - an “I love you,” or a kiss, or even a hand hold. Then I realized, wait, if they were a man and a woman, no one would doubt that they love each other for even a second. There wouldn’t be an inkling. Not after everything these characters went through, and how they interact in that last scene of the show, where they say To The World.

The way Aziraphale and Crowley interact with each other is romantic in a way, and it’s hard to deny. Find your closest yet entirely platonic best friend, and say some of the things Aziraphale and Crowley said to each other in the way that they did, and it’ll definitely feel like you’re trying to go for something other than a platonic friendship. I’ve seen homophobes argue that they’re not a couple, that they’re just friends. And I’ve seen homophobes turn their noses up in disgust at this show because they noticed the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. I’ve seen queer people across the spectrum - not just cis gay men - feel so represented and estatic at this show and how Aziraphale and Crowley are portrayed. And I’ve seen queer people angry and frusturated that there was queerbait.

It all comes down to if you think everything they went through, and said to each other, etc, was not romantic in the slightest. If you can watch all 6 hours of the series and not even pick up an inkling that they care for each other in a way that is loving, because there is not a kiss at the end, that’s on you as the viewer. I always ask myself this: if straight couples can be represented like this, why not queer couples? Why can’t a queer couple have a romance that’s portrayed in a different way through their actions and words toward each other? Straight romances have those everywhere. Homophobes will see two men or women in real life kiss each other, say “I love you” to each other, and live together, and still think that they’re not actually in love, that they’re just friends going through a phase - of course they’ll be just as inclined to argue the same thing in a show that does things differently.

I think we see them get their happily ever after at the end there. A lot of people have noticed it. This show has an entire reputation around them loving each other. I have told my cishet acquaintances about this show, and have seen them squirm to change or ignore the topic, in a manner because I can only assume they think of it as the “gay angel demon show,” because that’s what it’s literally known as, and they don’t wanna watch a show that’s predominately what they think is “gay.” The way I see it, if so many people think it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, well, then, you know the rest. And that isn’t about “headcanon,” that’s about the actual dialogue and actions and other things we see visibly on screen.

For those that can’t see it, idk what else to say other than maybe take a step back and see how this challenges some predispositioned views on how one can view romance in a television series, specifically between two queer characters that don’t fit the conventional “cis gay men/women who kiss at the end.” The book confirms that they’re genderless beings. Fans have called this show a good slate to see different kinds of queer rep - ace people feel explicitly represented by them, bi/pan people feel represented, nonbinary people feel especially represented. There’s a reason for that. Hell, I’m trans and had to work through my own internalized transphobia to understand why so many trans folks enjoy this rep, even if there’s nothing in the show to explicitly tip us off that they’re genderless. I, a queer person, had to sit back and take a deep dive into my own understanding of what is “queer enough” to be called rep in a show where the characters aren’t exactly allosexual cis gay men, like most queer rep is these days. Let it be a lesson.

[lovelybrittxo]

where do I even start?

I’m literally only writing this for myself since typing a whole novel out on the computer is way easier than writing this in a physical journal which is what I normally do. I come to Tumblr though when I have way too much to say and don't know how to say it. I just need to get it off my chest before I blow up. so here it goes...

shall we start at the beginning? I grew up in a decently religious household. my mom, sister and I went to church almost every Sunday with all our aunts and uncles. don't get me wrong, I still believe in God and whatnot and I wouldn't change my upbringing in the church for anything. but it may have suppressed my views on the world. something my aunt said to me a few years ago has stuck to brain ever since and I can't seem to shake it. she told me that she actually believes that being gay is a sin and that you can love the sinner but not the sin. so like, she believes if you're gay, you can be gay but don't act upon it/the sin. she believes, for example, that being trans is a mental illness. like, I just can't wrap my head around that. and honestly, she spoke with so much conviction and “sense” that she actually had me fooled to think the same way for a hot second. and then to learn that my other “cool” aunt also believes this... kinda sad. both of those aunts have literally talked down upon family (and our family is very tight knit) and people they love... what would they do if they ever found out about me?

ive felt a lot of feelings ever since I was young. mostly towards males... but also towards females. I just thought the female part was me wanting to be like them or be their friend and just have them like me and accept me as a chill person to be around. but fast forward to a couple years ago. I was bombarded (in a good way) by social media flaunting (in a good way lol) different sexualities and things. its hard to describe but that “world” was just becoming more prominent to me I guess.

I started to try and put my religious upbringing in the background so I could focus on trying to figure out who I really was. ive been doing this for at least a couple years now. and although im still trying to really figure it out, right now half way through 2020, I think im getting closer to an answer. and guess what has helped me the most? tiktok lmao! no but for real, the internet is an amazing place for discovery in any form. after I started to get into real communities online (like kpop and penpaling) i’ve never felt more connected to the internet and it allowed me to try and find real personal help... if that makes any sense. i’ve just tried to put myself out there and not just google my feelings but piece together a map from asking real people over the Internet here and there to try and figure out who I am.

sometime last year (or maybe earlier) I found a YouTube video of a popular creator retelling her coming out story. I just randomly commented on the video about how I had been feeling, not to get a reply but just to comment. but then I actually got a real reply (not from the creator but still a nice person). they said something along the lines of me basically being bicurious. I had never in my life heard of such a word and I had thought that this person was just making it up. one google search later I found out it was a real thing. although at the time of first looking it up I was still very confused about the word... still kinda am? lol. however, just a couple weeks ago I had seen a post somewhere (an ad I think selling pride flags) saying there was an official bicurious flag. I was in shock. I thought it was a scam, but its not, it’s real (I just don't think it’s talked about very often cause it doesn't seem like a solid sexuality that you can claim your entire life). but anyway.

now what i’m gonna say next I don't want to come off in the wrong way (you nonexistent person reading this lol), but I feel like dating a trans person brought me into that “world” a bit more. like, i had literally never met anyone who was trans before him or anyone who was gay or used a they/them pronoun... never. but in his world, all of that was common and normal. and this is where I don't want to come off wrongly... I don't wanna make it seem like because I dated a trans person i’m qualified to be included in the LGBT community now or to talk about LGBT stuff or whatever. I just think because I dated him, it opened up my shallow world a bit. especially because he’s open about it (on a side note I always loved looking at his huge trans flag above his bed. that was the first flag I had really ever memorized because of him. besides the rainbow one obviously lol). like, his best friend uses they/them pronouns, and although i’ve always been aware of that, i’ve only ever seen things about it through YouTube videos and whatnot. I had never had to actually use those pronouns for anyone I knew in real life until I met his best friend. like, everything I knew about that “world” had only been through online researching/consuming. i’d never experienced it in real life before.

I remember one night we talked about it a little. I knew he was bisexual and so I asked him if he’d ever dated a guy. he asked me if I would ever date a girl and i just said that I had always thought about it and that my tinder profile was set to find both genders. then we talked about pride since it was at the beginning of quarantine and we didn't know if parades were still gonna happen or not yet. he said I could always go as an ally because I told him I felt ashamed and like I shouldn't be allowed to attend a pride parade. (of course he reassured me I can go and he wasn't shocked about me liking both genders at all...he just said ‘nice’ lol)

I still have a little inkling in the back of my mind that I still shouldn't be able to attend though. honestly because I don't know what I would be attending as. I feel like an imposter. I don't want people thinking that im doing all this for attention or just because I dated one person in the LGBT community. i’ve been struggling with this for so long... but it just so happens that now at 27 years old im coming to terms with who I am. I just feel like because I didn't figure it out earlier that I’m not “worthy” of being included. I feel like such an outsider because no one’s “invited” me in yet lol because im still trying to figure it out.

and on the same note, I don't feel like i’m worthy because I still really don't have a solid answer. at the moment I just use bicurious because ive never dated a girl before. the trans guy ive been talking about has been the only person i’ve ever been romantically involved with. im serious. I made it 26 years without being with anyone in any type of way. I feel like I don't have the right to call myself bisexual. however, I feel a tiny bit more confident in using that label maybe after I do end up dating a girl in the future and not feel guilty about using it because that same guy calls himself bisexual but told me right out one day that he’s way more attracted to girls than guys and im in the same situation but opposite. the only difference at this point in time is that he’s dated both and I haven't. but thennnn on the other hand, do I even need to label myself at all right now??

even if I did wanna come out, I don't wanna do it until I really have a solid answer about my identity. i just feel like such a fraud or something because im trying to figure it out so late. and like, im going so over the top with my support this year because I feel like I should fit in and maybe im trying too hard? again, I just don't want people thinking its because I dated one trans guy and all of a sudden im huge into the LGBT community. it’s not like that. all of this is just helping me bring out my true self. ugh this is the part where it gets confusing to put into words. i’m aware and I have pure intentions. im just trying to figure out myself after a long time of trying to figure out myself lol

some days the research is overwhelming. there's so many facts and opinions and different people’s stories and labels. as crazy as it sounds I just want someone who’s been gay their whole life to come up and tell me “yup, your bisexual no doubt” lol or something like that. I guess I just want to be validated in my exploration. and i’ve seen random tiktok comments saying stuff like that, that validates me, but the difference is that their comments aren’t directed specifically to me. they don't know me personally. it’s hard to have a random social media comment resonate with me. honestly, and this may sound selfish and not right, but when I was talking to the guy I was seeing, I almost wish he just told me straight out what I was that day. but instead he said I could go to Pride as an ally. and that was probably just him being respectful and not forcing me to be anything, but it almost had the opposite effect on me. by saying I was an ally it felt like he was giving me that permanent label even after telling him I like guys and girls.... ya know?

something recently happened to me that really stuck with me and I was so happy. I have a penpal who is very southern Texas raised religious. she knows the Bible better than I do. I had posted a Pride doodle I did on my Instagram at the beginning of this month and she was the only one who personally responded with an encouraging and supportive dm. if she can support whole heartedly the LGBT community and still love God, then why can't I?? and that's when I trulyyyy knew that I was right and my aunt’s were wrong and I wasn't going insane lol

I wanted to buy a bicurious or pride flag recently. but then was torn when I saw the ally flag (which I also didn't know existed until recently) and the bisexual flag. I know they're just flags but it feels so solid?? like you buy one when you know what you are.... and I don't yet. so I ended up not buying one at all :/

again, there was no purpose to this post because I know no one is going to read it but I just had to type it out into the world so I didn't have to bottle it up anymore.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Thank you to all who have left kudos/comments/reviews and even have taken the time to read this story thus far! I'm having loads of fun writing this one and I'm hoping you are enjoying it too! Okay, enough of my blabber, here's the next chapter! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                             Chapter Four

Twelve weeks. Two plums. At a development standpoint, that was the current size of each of the babies. It was a weird thought, comparing unborn fetuses to food. And yet, there was something slightly entertaining about it. The imagery. Zoe found herself in the market one day, the fruit section no less, picking up one and studying it carefully. She snorted to herself and placed a few in a basket. Plums. How peculiar.

"Well, are you going to grant me passage?"

Dracula stared intently at the scientist, an eyebrow cocked as he waited for a response. Zoe merely met his gaze dumbfounded until the realization of his unanticipated arrival set in. She frowned, one hand already gripping the door knob. Who the hell did he think he was? Had he honestly thought she'd willingly grant him passage as if they were friends?

"Why are you here?"

"I told you," he replied simply. "I came here to discuss an important matter with you. Well," once more his eyes flashed down to her stomach. A smile crept across his features that didn't settle right with Zoe. "A few things, to be frank."

"I think we've chatted more than enough," the scientist stated, moving to close the door. Dracula inserted the toe of his shoe just before she could, leaving a visible crack between them. "As much as you'd like me to, I assure you, I am not letting you come in."

The vampire seemed unfazed by her insistence, standing stoic in her line of vision. It wasn't until she got a good proper look at him that she noticed a folded piece of paper clutched in his right hand. Dracula caught on to her attention and, eyes flickering from her to his object, causally lifted the parchment up for a better view.

"What's that?" Zoe asked hesitantly, uncertain if she really wanted to know.

"A letter," the man replied. "I thought it would be appropriate to bring."

"A letter," the scientist repeated, frowning softly. "Since I've blocked you from texting me, you've resorted to physically mailing your harassment? Or hand-delivering it I should say?"

"Of course not, that would be dreadfully predictable," Dracula snorted, rolling his eyes. "No, this is something more than that. Far more important than a silly text or a friendly postcard." He paused, one of his sharp nails tracing the edge of the document. "It's a little something I had written up with Frank-you remember him, yes? Frank Renfield? My lawyer?"

As if someone hit the thermostat, the air suddenly felt colder. Uneasy settled in the pit of Zoe's stomach, and from the expression on Dracula's face, she knew he could tell he was getting to her. She remained silent, fingers still gripping the knob.

"Though I cannot be certain, I have a feeling that those who do know of your pregnancy, do not know who the father is." The count began to unfold the paper, mindlessly smoothing out the creases. "This is just a copy, don't worry," he assured her as if she cared. "Anyway, who knows and who doesn't, it's important...for now, at least. What is important is that I, just as you do, have every right to have access to my children." He held out the paper towards Zoe before adding, "...go on, take it, it won't bite you."

Reluctantly, the woman took the slip from the vampire. Her eyes scanned every word, every detail typed out before her. Arrangements. Custody. Child support. Zoe's heart began to pound against her rib cage to the point where it nearly hurt. Fury began to fester deep within her as she immediately snapped her head up to glare at Dracula.

"You're threatening me with a custody battle?!" She nearly hissed, clenching the document in her fist. "Is this some kind of morbid joke?"

"On the contrary," he assured her, tone serious. "I am very adamant about this, Zoe. I will have access to my children, even if I do have to go through legal measures." Dracula straightened up, clearly not taken by the woman's rage. "I thought that perhaps we could go about this with a civil prospective, you and I. Before it has to come to a point like that."

"You aren't taking them," Zoe said firmly, her free hand touching her stomach protectively. "They're mine."

"And I don't want to," Dracula rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "That's why I wish to talk. Only talk. Get everything out in the open so we can figure things out," his lips curled into a smirk. "As a family."

Family. He sure as hell was NOT her family. If looks could kill, there would be a million stakes embedded in the centuries old vampire's chest. The nerve. Christ, she had never despised someone more in her life. But as she stood there watching him, knowing deep down she had no other choice-hate it as she may-it had to be done. For the sake of her twins.

"You may…" she struggled, chewing on her bottom lip as she forced the next words. "You may enter."

Her grasp on the door handle loosened as Dracula offered a genuine smile before striding past her and into the main room. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe could see Agatha's spirit giving her a disapproving look. Fantastic. Not only was she stuck dealing with the vampire, but now her great, great aunt's spirit had made its presence known too.

"Go away," she muttered under her breath, Agatha's stare reproachful. "I don't need your judgement right now."

"I'm sorry?" Dracula inquired, turning on his heels. "Did you say something?"

"No," Zoe exhaled tiredly, shooting a quick glare at her dead relative. "You can go sit at the table. I'd offer you some wine but…"

"But neither of us drink," he finished pleasantly. "At least wine, and in your condition, I believe the consumption of alcohol is frowned upon?"

"You've been reading up on pregnancy."

"A lot," he remarked. "It's lovely how much information the internet offers. Plus books on the subject are plentiful," his eyes flickered around the room. "If you'd like to borrow one, I suppose I can lend a few."

"That won't be necessary," Zoe exclaimed, somewhat irritated by the fact that he acted as if he cared, or implied she lacked the knowledge. "I can research on my own, thank you."

She eased herself down onto a chair, one that was as far away from the vampire as possible. So much for the quiet, uneventful night she had planned for. She could sense that Agatha was watching them, but apparition remained quiet.

"So," Dracula began, breaking the silence. "I suppose I should first say that I'm glad you're willing to meet on your own terms." Zoe opened her mouth, but he continued before she could get a word in. "Honestly, Zoe, for a scientist, I'm surprised how quickly you've jumped to conclusion-particularly about me. I am, after all, a myth. Legend. But facts are muddled. How are you to trust who someone truly is without getting to know them personally?"

"Your charismatic attitude only goes so far after I've literally witnessed you biting off one of my colleague's thumbs and murdering an innocent man," the scientist frowned, folding her arms over her chest. "Not to mention validated testimonies of your actions. I think it's very clear what kind of person-monster, you are."

"And yet, here we are, sitting about to discuss two offspring that share our same genetic makeup," Dracula smiled. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Your point?"

"Well, one might say we have more in common than you think," he paused, eyes narrowing just the slightest. "How are you feeling, by the way? I read by the end of your first trimester your biggest symptoms are fatigue and possibly morning sickness."

"You being here alone is exhausting," Zoe mumbled, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "So what exactly do I need to do to get you off my back?"

"As I said before, all I want from you, at the moment, is to become better acquainted with me," the vampire said simply. "Perhaps with the hope you'll see that the intentions involving our children are not sinister. Say...I dunno, how does a date sound?"

If Zoe had been drinking water, she would've spit it out at his words. Had he really just suggested what she thought he did? A date? The scientist stared at the man blankly, unsure of how to respond to such a preposterous invitation. First he threatened to take custody of her children and now he wanted to go on a romantic getaway? Surely she was sleeping. This had to be a cruel nightmare.

"Well?"

"Jumping into a swimming pool of broken glass sounds more inviting," she answered, looking appalled. "All of that sea water must've gotten into your head for you to even fathom that I have an inkling of a romantic feeling towards you."

"No one said it couldn't be platonic."

"We aren't friends," Zoe emphasized. "And we won't ever be."

"You've surely inherited more from Agatha than just your looks," the vampire chuckled. "You even speak like her."

His words might've sparked some hilarity if the nun hadn't currently been hovering over the other woman's shoulder. At least the ghost hadn't attempted to possess her. Agatha had some dignity in that. Zoe massaged her temples, all of this just inflicted her ever growing exhaustion. She could rescind his invitation, but Dracula wasn't one to give up easily. Especially if he'd gone to such lengths to threaten getting legally involved in the twins' lives.

"What are you suggesting?" The scientist muttered, clearly worn down to the last stray. "What will make you leave me alone?"

"Friday night, say...around nine? You come over to my humble abode and I cook you something and we have a nice chit-chat," Dracula answered. "I'm a rather good cook, all things considered."

"I have a doctor's appointment at eight…" she saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. Of course he knew.

"I'll retrieve you at half past seven so we'll make it to the clinic on time and afterwards, we can get you something to eat," he smiled. "Anything certain you've been craving recently?"

"Your head on a platter," Zoe muttered.

"So something meat based," Dracula nodded, completely unfazed by her sarcasm. "I'll do some searching on the internet and find something to fit your palate."

"Wonderful," she rolled her eyes. "I'll be looking forward to it with bated breath."

The vampire grinned, rising from his spot at the table. The scientist did the same, a feeling of relief overcoming her when she noted he was making his way to the front door. At least now maybe she could get some peace.

"It was lovely to finally speak with you," the vampire stated. "Oh, and since I believe we'll be in contact more, I'd much appreciate you unblocking my number. It will make things easier," a glint of mischief sparkled in his eyes. "For the both of us."

Zoe merely glowered at him as she pushed the door open suddenly wishing the sun was out and the heat was past boiling point. Dracula stepped past the threshold, still sporting that ridiculous smirk as his eyes met hers.

"I'll be seeing you, Zoe," he smiled. "And I look forward…"

She slammed the door in his face before he could finish. Running a hand through her hair, the scientist sighed heavily. Her eyes fell to the crumpled piece of paper that lay abandoned on the floor. She was screwed. Royally. And something needed to be done about it. Hell would freeze over before she'd let him have access to her children. But until she figured something out, she'd have to play along. Whatever it took, she wouldn't let him win. Exhaling, she touched the apex of her stomach. She'd have the last laugh.

[andiandyandee]

We Are Going to Be Friends Pt. 10

I’m not crying, you’re crying, shut up

Words: 1,978

Tag List: @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

Ask if you want added!

This is part of an Ongoing Parental Logince/ Punk AU. This is a prequel to the main stories, which can be found in several places. You don’t need the rest of the AU to read this, but it will give you some insight.

Here’s a link to the series on Ao3 

Here’s a link to the last part, In case you missed it

Here’s a link to the First Part, If you’re new here.

 Aaaannnd.... here’s the fic. 

    Friday sleepovers became just as much of a tradition as Saturdays on the lake or Sundays in the den once the Sanders moved into their new house, but Logan finds himself curled up in Remus’s bay window, watching the stars and listening to Remus talk for hours most nights. Which is why it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when someone finally asked the question that so many had assumed.

    “So, are you two, like, dating now? Should we invest in soundproofing?” Roman asked one night in late March when Logan came stumbling into the kitchen in search of water.

    “Who, Remus and I?” Logan was too tired to hide his surprise. He and Remus were close, they spent most days together, and he was really one of the only people Logan referred to as ‘friend’ (best friend, even), but there had never been any inkling towards romance. “Of course not.” Roman did look surprised at that. Logan was trying to deal with both the fact that someone thought that he and Remus were romantically involved and that Roman, who almost always avoided Logan, looking uncomfortable and confused whenever Logan sought him out for conversation, was capable of being a normal human being. “Remus and I are friends, he’s my best friend, but He’s.. not exactly my type.”

    “Oh, I, sorry, I guess. I didn’t mean to offend, I just know you said you were queer, I assumed you were into guys.”

    “I am.” Roman looked even more confused at that, “just not Remus. One, I Iook for someone who shares important core beliefs with me, but otherwise is an opposition to my personality. Where I am relatively quiet, I prefer someone loud, but not just chaotically, like Remus. I prefer a partner who is confident. Someone who is intelligent, but not necessarily in the same way I am. Remus and I share too many interests to be compatible romantically. The dynamic would just be as it is now, chaos and humor, but not romance.” Logan shrugged. “Why are you awake, anyhow? It’s quite late, Roman. Don’t you have weight training in the morning?”

    “I can’t sleep. Too many thoughts for that.”

    “Oh? If you want to share, I’m all ears. Figuratively, of course.”

    “Would.. would you go to prom with me? If I asked?” Roman blurted out, immediately turning red. “I- oh my god I can’t believe I said that out loud, I’m sorry- I can go”

    “ Are you asking?” Logan replied in a voice that was completely neutral.

    “Y-yes? If that is.. okay?” Roman squeaked, looking like he might faint.

    “I would, er, enjoy that, I believe,” Logan replied, tugging at the collar of his NASA t-shirt. “Though, I am surprised you would ask me of all people. I was under the impression you were not particularly... fond of me.” Logan admitted, his cheeks and ears slightly pink.

    “I’ve been hopelessly and all-consumingly in love with you since you came stomping into school in that leather jacket on the first day.” Roman shrugged. “I thought you liked Remus, so I tried to avoid it, which probably just made me sound like a moron most of the time.”

    “Only some of the time.” Logan counter-argued.

    “That first time you slept over I almost died several times just because you looked at me.” Roman looked faint. “When you and Remus came in I was actually talking about how hopelessly in love with you I was, which is why Elliot almost died laughing, and I nearly died of embarrassment. Then when you were talking about your rebel shit, about music and rioting I actually thought I was gonna pass out because you had this fire in your eyes like you were single-handedly going to fix all the shit that was broken. Every time you answered a question in truth or dare, you answered it like it was the most important thing in the world, and you sang and I thought I would die then .

    Then Dahlia did your makeup, and you looked so pretty , and your eyes were sparkling and I wanted to flirt but instead, I choked and dumped soda on myself and then sat in the shower for twenty minutes wishing I would be struck by lightning so I didn’t have to face you and oh my god I’m rambling,”

    Logan was smiling. It wasn’t something he did much, but the more Roman talked, the more his face pulled up, his heart rose to his throat, he could practically feel the waves of adoration pouring off of Roman, so open and sincere, and it was only then that Logan realized that the reason he was so disappointed when Roman was awkward around him was that he wanted this, this conversation, so desperately it ached, and he didn’t know what came over him, but he stepped forward, his hands gently cradling Romans like he was the most precious thing in the world, because he was, wasn’t he? He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Roman’s lips, a little beyond ‘gentle’ but he didn’t have the words to express how he felt, so he did his best with what was at his disposal. Roman just let out a breathless laugh when Logan pulled away, staring up at him with his warm, cinnamon eyes just a little glassy. The air around them buzzed, not quite fireworks, but something more than what was there before.

    The moment was shattered by Remus, who pretended to gag in the doorway behind them. Logan and Roman jumped, turning to stare at him with identical shocked expressions, but he was beaming. “Thank god you two idiots figured out how talking worked, I was afraid Lo was gonna short circuit. But if you two are done, we need to go back to sleep because we really do have weight training at 4:45 am, Ro, and I am not going to be late again.”

***

    Lunch was an endeavor, the two close but previously separated tables now pushed together, Logan’s group and Roman and Remus’s group making awkward small talk, with the exception of October and Kai hitting it off immediately, finding solace in having someone to talk doctors with, finally. The rest were dealing with the others, all of them occasionally laughing at the way Roman and Logan were caught up in flirting. It was a Friday, which meant it was sleepover night, which Roman and Remus’s father had agreed to on the caveat that they stayed in the living room now that Logan and Roman were... whatever they were, which had not been discussed.

    “Lo, Toby and I are gonna get tattoos next weekend. You down?” Micheal asked with a grin. “Toby’s cousin got a gun and said he’d do ‘em for free.” Logan instinctively wanted to say no, because that was a horrible idea, why on earth would he want a mediocre tattoo permanently on his skin, but what came out of his mouth was,

    “Fuck yeah I am.”  Roman and Remus, as well as several others from both groups, looked nervous about that, but none of them said anything. It was a discussion for another time.

***

    “Larry! We have to have flowers!” Dot whined, which made Logan chuckle quietly. “I am not getting married and throwing a bouquet of Ferns.”

    “You don’t even like flowers! You actually told me, when we started dating, to never buy you flowers. Why would we have them at the wedding if you don’t like them?”

    “Well- well because you like them, L.” Dot had that soft expression on her face again, the one that said she would do anything for his happiness. “Maybe we can do some violets or something, and the rest can be foliage. Compromise.”

    “If I may interject, and frankly even if you said no I would anyway, I think you’re both the most disgustingly romantic nightmare couple I’ve ever met, and I hate you.” Logan was color coding binders on the floor with seating charts and schedules, pointedly ignoring the way his whole body hurt to move. “Also, are we inviting all of Dot’s brothers? Because if so we’ll have to dedicate them two tables, and I need to know which sets will get along best.” Larry and Dot grinned, both tackling L, pulling his from the binder and into a hug.

    “How is it that I have six brothers and somehow my favorite is the one that I have to sign a contract for?” Dot teased, ruffling Logan’s hair. Her hand paused when he flinched and the smile immediately dissolved. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

    “No, you don’t need to apologize. You know that.” Logan smiled sadly at her. His brother cut the tension.

    “On the subject of disgustingly Roman -tic things, how's that boyfriend of yours?” Larry grinned at the blush.

     “We have a wedding to plan. I know you’ve already booked the venue, but the caterer has not been confirmed. You’re getting married in four months and 9 days. We need to make these decisions now, or we’re going to have to learn how to cook and bake.”

     “When you and Roman get married, do you think you’ll be older than 21? As your best man, I think I’d like to take you to Vegas.”

     “Dot is going to be my best man.” Logan deadpanned, biting back a laugh at Larry’s faux hurt expression. Dot ‘whooped’ beside them.

     “Nice, I definitely want to take you to Vegas.”

     “Also, who’s to say I’ll marry Roman. Maybe by then I’ll have lost my mind and marry Alex.” Logan shrugged. “Or that new girl, Terra. Though I think she may be interested in Remus, actually.” Larry was loudly laughing now.

     “Logan… you know you’re gay, right?” Dot asked with false concern.

    “Preposterous. I’ve never had a molecule of serotonin in my life.” Larry laughed at that, but then got a serious look on his face.

     “You know, Lo, We’re renting a house right outside of town starting in June.” Dot looked at L with raised eyebrows.

     “I thought we were waiting until the paperwork was done to tell him?”

     “Tell me what? I already knew you were getting a house, Dot.” L shook his head.

     “ We’re getting a house.”

     “That’s what I just said.”

     “A three-bedroom house.”

     “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so large. Were you planning on having children, then? I thought you were waiting until after you had finished your degrees.”

    “One of the rooms is going to be a study, the other is going to be for family.”

    “Oh, that’s a good idea. Having so many siblings-in-law I assume you two will have regular visitors.” Dot was laughing lightly at L’s expression and the rapid way his hands were flailing.

    “Logan, the room isn’t for my side of the family.” Dot was looking at him pointedly. He still did not understand.

    “So it...is for you two to have kids? Again- I thought you wanted to wait unti-”

    “It’s for you, dumbass!” Larry looked like he was going to explode, and Logan was quite sure he was imploding. “We’re getting a three-bedroom house outside of town because we want you to live there, not because Dot has a big family or because we are going to have kids. We’re going to get you out of here, kiddo.”

    Logan couldn’t breathe. He wanted to argue, to tell them it was too much, that he could never accept, but what came out of his mouth, small and broken and just a little bit afraid was, “you are?” Which was all that they needed before the floodgates were broken, and the two brothers were crying and hugging. Despite the height difference, Logan had never felt smaller than when his brother wrapped him in his arms and whispered,

    “I’m never going to leave you alone with them again, Logan. I promise.”