#wanna just take fics fully formed out of my head and they’re perfect and then i just post them

[gregmarriage]

gonna become pepe slivia charlie, while trying to write the plot for this fic

[blueprint-han]

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay​ skznta event, written for @stayndays​ !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it!  ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started  is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”. 

 “Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them. 

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock. 

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.” 

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose. 

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date. 

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too. 

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter. 

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it. 

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion? 

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own? 

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it. 

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous. 

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long. 

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now. 

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch. 

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was  neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across. 

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all. 

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.” 

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.” 

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned. 

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon.  You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have  the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door. 

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod. 

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

 It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up. 

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days. 

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly. 

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it. 

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately. 

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly. 

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.” 

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?” 

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.” 

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course. 

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

taglist: @inkidz​ @stayverse​ @districtninewriters​ @kpopscape​ @skzwritersclub​ + @sunoo-luvs​ @sleepylixie​ @rae-blogging​ @happiestgirlontheeastcoast @guerillrah​ @p2q3r4​ @baby-innie​ (Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!) *oh holy lord pls let this show up in the tags*

[chaoticevilqueers]

Just start here by 28sunflowers(me) 

Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson | 1384 words | General Audiences | Fix-It Of Sorts | Pining | Fluff | First Kiss 

What if the scene of Sam telling Bucky to stay over ended a little differently?

Read on AO3 or under the cut. 

–– 

Bucky has been stalling. He knows he should just drink the last of his beer and say goodbye, but he can’t seem to make himself do it. 

He wants to stay. 

But that, right now, will implicate in too much, and he doesn’t know where Sam is at or where exactly they stand with each other. It’s one thing to get back from fighting, exhausted, and ending up on the same bed, usually to wake up alone and not to speak about the previous night at all. It’s a completely different one to explicitly make the decision to share the same sleeping space for comfort. 

With a resigned sigh, Bucky drowns the rest of his beer and stands up. “Well, I should get going, get a hotel room for the night. Gotta catch my flight tomorrow.” 

“You’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?” Sam gives him an unimpressed look. 

“I don’t wanna make it weird,” Bucky says easily, before realizing what he just did. He tries to quickly amend things. “For your family.” 

Sam rolls his eyes at him. “Just stay here. You can crash on the couch if you rather.” 

Bucky watches him for a second. Sam looks so sure of his choice, the perfect picture of calm and collected. It’s a huge contrast to how much of a big deal this sounds to Bucky’s ears. He clenches his hands in repetitive motions to force some tension out, and then accepts the offer. 

“Okay.” 

–– 

Bucky stares at the ceiling of the living room, the shadows from the light post on the street hitting the window blinds make soothing patterns on the white pain. Bucky watches it like it’s a painting that holds all the answers to the questions running a mile a minute in his mind. 

The night was great. Sarah cooked, Sam cleaned and Bucky helped them both. It was domestic and easy in a way Bucky hasn’t experienced in… so long. Too long. It both satisfied his desire for that type of routine in his life and made him long for it even more, now that he got to experience what he misses most for one night. 

The two boys, Sam’s nephews, weren’t scared of him. They talked around him with no reservations, didn’t flinch or look skeptical at his vibranium arm even though it wasn’t covered up. They invited Bucky to play Uno with them after dinner. Sam made fun of him for being a pushover when he immediately agreed to it, but all it did was make Bucky smile at the teasing. He had always had a soft spot for kids. 

But now that everyone is asleep and Bucky is left alone to his own thoughts, he realizes that this night wasn’t enough to fully satisfy his needs. There is still something missing, and he knows exactly what it is. 

He has kept himself stuck to the couch for almost half an hour, but the more he stays, the more his body screams at him to get up and move, to be a little bit braver and ask for what he wants. 

Bucky takes a deep breath and pushes himself up in an impromptu boost of courage. He doesn’t look back, because he knows how easily he would talk himself out of doing what he’s about to do. So he just moves, one foot in front of the other, until he reaches Sam’s bedroom door. He pushes it open slowly, careful not to make any loud noises, then closes it softly behind him. He tries to control his breathing so it doesn’t match the rapid beating of his heart and brings attention to himself inside the quiet and dark space. He blinks a few times to adjust his sight and then tiptoes around the room, moving towards the side of the bed with more space on it. 

Sam has his back to him, which makes things easier. He climbs on the bed and under the covers before his brain starts telling him to get out because Sam is better off without him. He slowly pushes himself closer to Sam, until he is satisfied that he can feel his warmth against his front. His left arm hovers over Sam’s form as he realizes that, if Sam hasn’t woken up yet, the cold metal touching him most definitely will jolt him awake. 

He stays like that for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do, until a hand takes his arm and pulls it tight around Sam’s waist. 

And then Sam closes the last of the distance between them until he is plastered against Bucky’s front. 

“Took you long enough,” Sam sounds smug even through the soft tiredness in his voice. 

Bucky swallows. He fits his face on the space between Sam’s shoulder blades and lets out a heavy breath. His body immediately relaxes, tension leaving his muscles progressively as he molds himself more against Sam’s back. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s alright. Goodnight, Bucky.” 

“Night, Sam.” 

–– 

Bucky’s eyes open fast, something waking him up hastily. He tenses up but stays still, trying to account for what sent off warning bells inside his brain. The door creeks and he realizes it’s been opened. Bucky is almost pushing himself off the bed to close it when he hears a soft giggle followed by a shush. 

He relaxes back down against the bed for a second, before realizing that’s not any better. Sam’s nephews have just caught them cuddling in bed. There is no platonic way to explain this. 

He turns to look at them and his worries are only slightly calmed by the fact the boys are paying them no attention, whatsoever. They are focused on stealing Sam’s shield. He has to bite down a smile at the endearing scene. The feelings of longing and affection from last night come rushing back in and he hides his face on the pillow to try to contain them. 

He only hears the two pairs of feet rushing out of the room and the door clicking behind them, not bothering to push his head up to watch the little menaces run off with something that most definitely isn’t theirs. 

Sam doesn’t wait a second before speaking up. “Did they take the shield?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms. 

“Is that why you’re so tense all of the sudden?” 

Bucky appreciates the out in the question, as he is sure Sam worded it like that on purpose. It’s a chance for him to approach the topic, but without pushing. He could easily say “yes” because they both know how dangerous the shield can be when in the wrong hands, but that’s not what worries Bucky right now. 

“No, I was just caught by surprise. Didn’t expect them to see us like this,” he admits. 

Because the boys might’ve not paid close attention to them, but they could talk. And their position is pretty incriminating to anyone who is older than 8 years old. Bucky doesn’t want to overstep boundaries in Sarah’s house, especially in front of her children. 

“They are good ones. They know about me since forever, Sarah always made sure of it.” 

Oh. 

“Oh. I didn’t –,” 

“I know, we’ve never talked about it before.” Sam cuts him off. He turns around in Bucky’s arm so they’re facing each other. It’s intense, and so much more than what Bucky allows himself to have normally. They keep things to the dark, they keep talking to a minimum. This is a lot to handle at once, and Bucky’s head feels like it’s spinning. It doesn’t stop Sam, though. “I know we have this… rule, I guess, of not talking about these things, but I want to break it.” 

“Okay,” Bucky rasps out. 

“Sarah and the boys know about me. If you’re comfortable sharing that part of yourself, there will be no judgment from them. You’re safe, at least inside this house, alright?” 

Bucky lets out a shaky breath. “Alright.” 

“Alright,” Sam repeats after him, a smile growing on his face, both happy and mischievous. “Now, can I finally kiss you, or is that too much homo for you?” 

God, Bucky hates him. But he may actually love him. 

He doesn’t give him a verbal answer and just closes the space between them. 

––

Hello, if you liked this short fic, please reblog it, give it kudos and comments on ao3 or let me know in some other way? Thanks xx

[waka-chan-out]

Aaaaaa!!! I wanna know all your thoughts on them! Tbh i can totally keep going bc aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. I actually do see Sakusa being an asshole, but not intentionally? More like... Picking the wrong choice of words. But he'd be a cuddle monster in a relationship when he's comfortable and I don't take criticism. ❤ you tell Kita you want a pet and he assumes a cat or something, but you bring home some cows. Oh! Oh! My sweet Aone... If you can't sleep at 3am he's awake just listening to you ramble bc he loves everything you have to say. ;-; all 3 show their love in gestures that would go unnoticed by everyone else, but you? You absolutely can tell. Aaaaaaa!!!!!

gear up everybody meg is gonna yell !!

i was gonna talk about all of the characters you mentioned but then i got carried away talking about kiyoomi so i guess that’s what this post is.

think i phrased my thoughts about him wrong in my other post. he totally is an asshole, just not in the way people think. i think it just kind of naturally happens because of his preferences and comfort zone? of course he would be a little rude if people confuse him or violate his boundaries. that’s just the kind of person he is. (i also definitely think he’s coded as neurodivergent but i know not everyone shares that opinion). kiyoomi is an ass, but he’s very rarely acting that way maliciously. he’s just naturally rough around the edges.

i’ll die on the sakuatsu hill, but i also think looking at kiyoomi’s friendship with atsumu is a great way to understand his character. obviously they butt heads, but i see their dynamic as extremely similar to atsumu and osamu’s. yeah they’re at each other’s throats and it’s usually atsumu getting carried away, osamu calling him on it, and atsumu telling him to shut up. gee, i wonder where i’ve seen exactly that??

YOU EVEN GET TO SEE OSAMU LAUGHING AT THEM. their dynamics mirror each other perfectly. yeah kiyoomi is an ass, but he’s an ass in a way that makes people like him more. we recognize that osamu is a bit of an ass, but he’s so passionate about what he was and would do anything for his brother. kiyoomi is the same. he shows affection by butting heads with those around him.

also, holy shit. look at the black jackals. really think it through. look at manga panels. atsumu is like the absolutely terrified caretaker of bokuto and hinata. he’s no longer the “annoying” one. this man is fighting for his life. that’s why i think he and kiyoomi probably get along so well. they’re both overwhelmed by the personalities and behavior of their teammates, so they get along perfectly. as far as kiyoomi’s character goes, i just think that’s fantastic. he can find someone that he’s comfortable with even if they aren’t ‘perfect’ for him. atsumu as a person pushes kiyoomi’s buttons, but that’s part of the fun. he’s kind of a solace from the rest of the chaos in both of their lives. i think he’d carry that into a relationship as well. yeah life is crazy and he has lots of very specific needs and boundaries, but he’s willing to be flexible for someone he really cares about.

but kiyoomi is also just as chaotic as everyone else on the team? he’s a fully formed person beyond being the weird, kinda mean one. this is the duality of man:

HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT THESE AND STILL TELL ME HE’S ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE “stoic asshole types.” HE’S EVERYTHING BUT.

anyway, this was a long winded way to say you’re totally right. kiyoomi is soft for the ones he likes, and though you’ll never be able to get rid of his bastard energy, i don’t think you’d want to. that’s what makes him charming. all you gotta do is tease him back. roll with the punches and dish out your own, and you’ll have kiyoomi wrapped around your finger in no time.

i’m writing a character x character fic w kiyoomi so can you tell i’ve thought about this lmao

but yeah looking for images for this post made me fall into a hole and now i’m dying so i’m making you all lose it with me.

THE SMIRK I CAN’T

how can you see the light leaving atsumu’s eyes without actually seeing it in this.

terrified caretaker atsumu:

just more examples of why he and kiyoomi get along so well. you can’t tell me they don’t share a room every time there’s an away game. i don’t think they’d survive anyone else.

finally, my favorite:

the “smish” and “i could watch this all day” get me every time.

[searchingforbucky]

Fic Rec (Part 19) :)

Hi everyone! And welcome to day 1273198172 of quarantine lol. On a serious note, I hope you all are staying safe, happy, and healthy. I know these stories in this list provided me much needed entertainment for the past week or so, and I’m hoping they will help you all the same. I love this AU, its always so fun to see the different routes people take, so without further ado welcome to the Vampire!Bucky Rec List :) *** Means Smut Sorry its a bit short, theres not many out there. The links weren't working so there is none in this.

Biting Cold by @hootyhoobuckaroo

OK so this one I think is a perfect start to the vampire list. This one is absolutely fantastic. So it’s about Bucky and the reader being in a pre-establish relationship, when suddenly some freaky stuff starts happening very close to home. So Buckys a Vampire, and the reader doesn’t know it. But the reader is terrified of vampires. Obviously that causes a little problem. I just really liked how unique of a storyline this was, I love just how genuine the fear was and the emotions they had were. It constantly kept me on the edge of my seat because I was wondering what was gonna happen. I am absolutely in love with protective bucky so you know that this has it lol. And honestly I just really loved how one it was well written, but to reply with something that I had never read before. And I don’t wanna spoil it or anything, but it was just a real nailbiter. Definitely recommend. 

All My Friends Are Heathens by @sebseyesandbuckysthighs ***

OK, so I think this one was the first vampire Bucky story that I ever read, and it’s absolutely fantastic. So this one is about Bucky being a vampire, and he’s amongst the avengers who are all their own sort of “monster“. And the reader comes to visit them, and Bucky is just absolutely drawn to her, and unfortunately she is human. I think my favorite thing about this story is just how well drawn out each character is, I was absolutely invested in not only their relationship growing, but the whole storyline in general. I was obsessed in learning about what the different monsters were, what their little thing was that they did. And I really loved how absolutely cocky and mysterious Bucky was. This one is smutty, but nothings wrong with that LOL. This is just a really good, really head turning story. A lot of twists in this

Bad Things by @xbuchananbarnes *** (kinda)

All right, now this one is really something. So this one was incredibly interesting. It’s about Bucky in the reader being in a pre-established relationship, and he promised to turn her when she turns 28, but in the meantime he makes her move to 10 different places so that way she can get used a whole bunch of different things that she would have to win when she does actually become a vampire. I really liked how mysteries this one is, just how sweet they are together. The fact that her 10th Pl. is what it is, for the reason it is, is something that is incredibly sweet to me.  anyways, I loved seeing all of the little snippets in to how they met, and everything like that. but I really honestly just love how sort of vague it is? If that makes sense? Like there are so many possibilities that your mind is running for miles after you read it. It’s one of those stories that you just keep thinking about, you keep thinking about what the other eight places were, what’s going to happen in the future it’s really awesome. The sequel is even wilder lol.

Thirsty by @jobean12-blog ***

So this one is a short yet sexy little Drabble. It’s technically a vampire Bucky, though it’s not necessarily like a main focus of the story. But I really liked it so I’m going to include it anyway. This one is just you know really cute. It shows the fun little feisty side to them, it’s pretty sexy, some dirty talk that’s like....damn lol. But I really just like stories that show couples are kind of so obsessed with each other, and so in love with each other, that they’re able to have fun in that way no matter where they are. I really liked it 

Craving You by @propertyofpoeandbucky ***

So this one is really cool, this one is about vampire Bucky and succubus reader. It is a compilation of little drabbles, and it’s really interesting. So I love seeing the dynamic between the two of them, just how interesting it is to see how they deal with their lifestyles, and having to do it together. And stuff happens that they have to navigate how they’re going to deal with it. I don’t wanna spoil it but it something that is very interesting to see. It’s also kinda smutty so that’s nice hahaha. Just a really cute, really interesting story

Blood Bound by @the-omni-princess ***

Ohhhhhh man! Now this one! This one is like a TV series I swear, like vampire diaries but a lot better. So this one is about vampire Bucky and a witch reader. And it is so freaking good, and so interesting. So currently is on hiatus, but I thought it was awesome enough to put it in there anyways. Because it doesn’t matter how much of it there is, what there is is amazing. It is like so nailbiting, there’s so many twists and turns and angst, but it’s also incredibly cute. i’ve never read a story like this, and I’m not sure if anybody else could do it like this. And I love how the soulmate idea is interwoven in there, I’m a sucker for soulmates. Honestly it’s like every trope that I love is somehow in this story, but it’s not overwhelming, it’s just really well done. In the world that’s created is so immersive and awesome

In the Dark by @persephone-is-here-omg​

All right, I really like this one too. I think my favorite part about this one is the fact that it relates Canon Bucky to vampire but you. It talks about how Hydra made him a vampire and the torture that he went through because he was a vampire. I really like how it didn’t completely get rid of his story, it wasn’t fully an AU, and that’s so interesting and cool to me man. And I also thought it was interesting seeing all the small little snippet into their relationship. It’s interesting to see EV juxtaposition of how she willingly gives up everything for him, but he got that stuff stolen from hydra. It’s just a really interesting story

Sunshine by @iwillbeinmynest ***

​Alright so this one was amazing. This one is about vampire Bucky, and it’s honestly pretty sad, at the beginning he had basically resigned himself to live a life in the cold. However he needs the reader who somehow can make him feel warm. And that was honestly the cutest part of the story, just how much he loved feeling warm, and she made him feel warm in so many different ways both physically and emotionally and it was so soft. But don’t let that trick you into thinking that this is just a soft story, there are absolutely some crazy things happening in the story. And I absolutely love Tony in this, I think it’s a great representation of him. Such a really awesome story

Men of the Moon by @hellomissmabel

So this one is really cool. It is a vampire diaries a you. It’s also kind of a Stucky x reader but not a Stucky fic if that makes sense? Like Bucky x reader and Steve x reader but no throuple. Obviously, that would be weird because they’re brothers lol. Anyways, now that I just rambled through that. I really love this. I think that all of the characters fit into the vampire diaries characters very well. I’ve honestly never liked vampire diaries, but this made me really like it LOL. I think it was done so much better than the actual show was, why couldn’t the show be like this. anyways, it was just so interesting to read the dynamic between the three characters, and everyone else really. I also loved just how invade the ending was, it’s like I can imagine so many different things happening after it and that’s always something that’s really nice with the story when I can kind of finish it myself.

Hungry Eyes by @lenavonschweetz ***

OHHHHHH this one is SPICY lol. Bucky is one cocky son of a gun. So this one is about vampire Bucky, and for the betterment of the town, him and the reader make a pact that he would feed off of her to avoid suspicion. Except for he would only feed on her wrist because anything else is too intimate. Well that went out the drain real fast. This one was honestly kind of just straight smut lol, but there’s some plot in there that’s really awesome. There’s some awesome tropes, friends to lovers, cocky Bucky, vampire Bucky, SMUT. It all comes together to form a really interesting really well done story. I really liked it  

In the Dark by @waiting4inspiration ***

Oh man, so this one is really interesting too. So this one is about vampire Bucky and werewolf reader, and the reader is an arranged marriage with werewolf Steve. There is a sort of creature war between vampires and werewolves, and that leads to a bunch of problems. But surprise surprise, the reader falls in love with her sworn enemy. And that’s awesome, I love those tropes. I think it’s Really incredible just how well she balances the two worlds, it’s way better than twilight I’ll tell you that right now LOL. But I just really love the dynamic between everybody, there’s angst, there’s fluff, there’s never a time when you’re bored. It’s just left and write something that either leaves you on your toes you’re feeling everything at once. It’s really great. It’s not finished yet but what it’s there is amazing.  

Special: For Heavens Sake by @221bshrlocked​ ***

wow OK, talk about unique. So this one is a vampire reader story, but it was so cool I have to include it. So obviously it’s vampire story obviously, but it also an ABO story, like whaaaaat. So ABO is admittedly the main aspect of a story, but I just thought it was absolutely incredible how well they combined the two tropes. I loved how oh much fuck he was actively trying to be with her, I really love the dynamic between them. I really loved how raw and genuine emotions are, I can’t imagine how scared them both must have been during certain parts of the story, I’m not gonna spoil it but there were definitely some parts where I was on the edge of my seat wondering what was gonna happen because it was so interesting. There was so much happening in the story and it was just awesome.

Thank you all for reading, again, sorry its so short. and sorry it took so long lol. I appreciate you all. :)

[spaceskam]

anon prompt: I don't suppose you'd be willing to write a coda to your own little "spite" fic, would you? Something like how Maria finds out Michael spent the night with Forrest and Alex and gets mad about it, but they're like "not everything is about sex you know." If you don't want to, that's cool. Just thought I'd ask lol

follow up to this; it’s a mix of this prompt and just straight-up self-indulgence that has been on my mind since I finished the original

ao3

Michael woke up slow, his mind reminding him that he was snuggled into Alex and, thus, making him really not want to move.

He could hear Alex breathing and feel his heart beating, all the best signs that he was doing great. Michael’s hand was still pressed over his stitches and the hand print that he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know had fully formed. He could feel that too. Loving Alex was never as easy as it was in that moment when he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Alex loved him right back, even though he was still sound asleep.

However, Michael smelled coffee and eggs and, well, he hadn’t fucking eaten anything in a day. So he opened his eyes and reluctantly peeled away from Alex, looking over him to make sure he was okay. He looked more peaceful than Michael had ever seen him. Still, he peeled his hand away from his stitches and moved it to his forehead, checking for a fever. He couldn’t really tell, but he didn’t feel any hotter than he normally did so that felt like a good sign. 

A stupid part of his brain wanted to kiss him awake or just kiss him in general, but that wasn’t an option when Alex’s boyfriend was in the next room. So he didn’t, just let his hand slowly trace over his cheek and his jaw before pushing himself up.

The old mattress creaked no matter how careful he moved and Forrest’s head popped out from the kitchen. 

“Morning,” Forrest called, smiling softly before he disappeared back into the kitchen. Michael got up, his back hurting just a little bit from such a shitty mattress. That is to say, it wasn’t his shitty mattress, so his back wasn’t quite used to it yet.

“Morning,” Michael said, clearing his throat as he pulled himself into the kitchen. It was old and underused, but Forrest had still managed to put together a breakfast. “Where’d all this stuff come from?”

“Uh, I took your truck, hope you don’t mind, but there’s a farm about a mile from here and I know one of the farmhands, so I asked to borrow some stuff,” he said simply. Michael eyed him and then the carton of eggs, the coffee grounds, the perfect procured bacon, fresh milk, and presumably gas for the generator if the working stove said anything.

“You used to sleep with a farmhand who just gives you shit without question?” Michael clarified. Forrest grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“You have your ways, I have mine.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing.”

Michael poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, watching Forrest layout bacon on the pan like he’d done this a million times. And maybe he had. Michael wasn’t sure what a typical morning after with Forrest Long might’ve looked like.

“How are you feeling?” Forrest asked, looking over at him. Michael had to blink a few times before he realized he was talking to him. Right, he actually wanted an answer.

“Uh, my head’s still a little fucked and my back hurts from that mattress, but otherwise I’m more worried about Alex,” Michael admitted. Forrest nodded. He cleared his throat. “A-and you. How are you? Are you okay? Yesterday was a lot.”

“I’m okay,” Forrest sighed, “Still processing the alien thing, I guess, but I can wait for more information later. And it’s not every day your boyfriend gets kidnapped and then presumably kills four guys with his bare hands and one leg.”

“Yeah, Alex is a badass,” Michael laughed softly. Forrest nodded.

“You got that right,” he huffed, “I knew that, but I guess I never really... knew it. Like I was aware that he was pretty decently high ranking for his age and that he was apart of special intelligence ops and stuff, but he’s... Is he gonna be okay? Is this gonna fuck with him mentally?”

Michael shook his head slightly. “No. Alex only would’ve done that if they were going to do something much worse. He would’ve only subdued them unless they were doing something actually harmful. I think he’ll be okay. Might take a little reassuring, but he’ll be okay.”

Forrest flipped the bacon and nodded, thinking it over. Michael just watched him for a moment while he sipped his coffee before peeking back out to check on Alex. He was still sound asleep. It was probably the longest Alex had ever slept at one time.

“I checked his stitches,” Forrest said suddenly.

“You did?” Michael asked hesitantly. In the info dump of alien bullshit, Michael hadn’t really gone over the concept of a hand print.

“Yeah, both of you slept a lot harder than I did. Kept waking up, so I just made sure you were both breathing and that Alex wasn’t bleeding,” he explained. Michael held his breath subconsciously, not really understanding how someone just casually woke up to make sure he was still breathing. For Alex, yes. But for him? “So, uh... The hand print.”

“The hand print,” Michael repeated. Forrest started separating the eggs and bacon on three separate plates, each of them seeming to be made of wood. “Uh, we don’t really know why it leaves one when we heal people. The working hypothesis is that we’re giving so much of ourselves that it sort of... leaves a trace.”

“So it’s not gonna hurt him?”

“No, he’ll be okay.”

“And you? Does it hurt you?” he asked, turning and handing him a plate. Michael grabbed it and furrowed his eyebrows, staring at him for an extended amount of time. Forrest didn’t seem phased as he waited for an answer. “Does it hurt you?”

“Um,” Michael said, “Not... not really.” He tilted his head in concern, but Michael spoke again before he got the chance. “I’m sorry, I’m just still confused. Why do you care about me? I know you said that I take care of Alex, you take care of me, but... I’m Alex’s ex. I still love him. You should hate me.”

Forrest laughed and shook his head, putting his and Alex’s plate down and using his hand to touch Michael’s arm gently as if he was about to make a very important point that Michael should listen to. So, obviously, he did. 

“Let me explain it like this. You’ve both been through more shit than I can even imagine and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that neither of you have had a real safe space before. And, well, you love Alex and Alex loves you. You protect him and he protects you and, fuck, you both protected me. That’s what you do for people you love, isn’t it? Yesterday was scary and we only made it out because it was all three of us, that makes us family. I take care of family, so let me do what I can since I don’t have superpowers or, special training like you and Alex,” Forrest explained. It still didn’t really compute as he stared blankly at him. Forrest rolled his eyes. “I care about you, Michael, stop questioning it. Eat.”

Michael stood there, feeling frozen in place as Forrest just picked the plates back up and walked into the living room. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel or respond to that. Alex’s boyfriend liked him. Not in a I-Wanna-Sleep-With-You way, but in a You’re-Safe-Here way. Was he allowed to like that? Would Alex be mad if he did?

He blinked away tears that threatened to fall and turned to go eat breakfast with the two of them.��

Alex was sitting up against the two pillows the three of them had shared the night before, bare shoulders seeming that healthy color with the sun peering through the windows instead of how pale he’d looked when he was hurt. That helped Michael breath a bit better and he sat cross-legged on Alex’s left side, across from where Forrest sat on his right.

“Morning,” Alex said, reaching out to touch his arm as if he couldn’t help himself. Michael’s eyes drifted to Forrest who didn’t seem phased. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t jealous. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t all that jealous either for once. 

“Morning,” Michael told him, eyes scanning over his face to make sure he was okay, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Alex admitted, picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it, “Better than I should be after getting stabbed.”

“Stabbed? I thought it was a GSW,” Forrest said, leaning forward and pressing his fingers around the slightly swollen area that was glowing with Michael’s hand print. Seeing him touch it, feeling him secondhand, made Michael feel like getting caught in a wave in the middle of the ocean. He was just drowning in feelings he didn’t understand. He had to take a deep breath to bring himself back.

“I think it was both?” Alex said far too casually, touching the stitches himself. Again, Michael got taken out by a wave. “Yeah, one of ‘em shot me and then his buddy stabbed me to make it something that couldn’t be fixed. Clearly they forgot I have good company.”

“Jesus, Alex,” Forrest sighed, shaking his head, “You will never fail to impress me.”

“Good,” Alex said with an easy smile. Michael watched them share a kiss, something short and not meant to hurt him and it didn’t. But it made him feel like his skin was on fire. “Sorry, Guerin, you okay? You feel weird.”

“Hmm?” Forrest hummed, looking between the two of them, “Feel? Is that what you meant by not really?”

“Not really what?” Alex asked. There was too much attention on him and Michael looked away. He didn’t really know how to explain himself. “Hey,” Alex said, his hand going to his chin and making him look at him, “What’s wrong?”

“I think I should go talk to Maria,” he said. Alex’s hand immediately dropped and hurt washed through his system.

“Oh, okay,” he said, clearing his throat. Forrest’s eyebrows knitted together, tilting his head. “Are you gonna come back?”

“Um,” Michael said, looking between the two of them before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll be back in a couple hours. Call me if you need me.”

Michael got up, plate still in hand, as he quickly slipped on his boots and headed out of the door. He needed to think things over. Mainly why the hell he didn’t hate Forrest right now.

He made it about halfway to his truck before he heard footsteps and his name being called. He couldn’t explain why, but he turned to give Forrest his attention.

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” Forrest said, “But Alex is on painkillers that make him emotional and you hurt his feelings.”

“Yeah, I can feel it, thanks for letting me know,” Michael said. Forrest stepped up to him and cautiously took the plate from him, hands brushing deliberately.

“It’ll be here when you get back,” he said, “I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

“You didn’t,” Michael admitted, “You didn’t and I’m still trying to figure out why you didn’t so I’m gonna go and I’ll be back later.”

“Okay. Drive safe.”

And, for some reason, Michael put in effort to listen.

-

“We’re closed.”

“For me?”

“Especially you.”

Michael hovered in the doorway at that, not quite understanding what he did wrong. Sure, he may have accidentally stood Maria up the day before, but he had a damn good excuse. He started walking towards the bar.

“Look, about last night, I–“

“Went on a little trip to the wilderness to spend the night with Alex and his boyfriend, yeah, I know,” Maria said, looking to him with more than a little bit of annoyance. He just blinked.

“Alex was hurt,” he said simply, “He needed me.”

“He had Forrest,” she said, “His boyfriend.”

“I had to heal him,” Michael tried to explain, “He needed me.”

Maria eyed him for a minute, irritation slipping into straight hurt. He felt like he missed a few steps and suddenly he really, really wanted to crawl back into bed with Alex and Forrest even though he was confused. They didn’t make him feel bad.

“So, what, you had to sleep with him to make him feel better?” she asked. Michael blinked and his head moved back in shock. Where the hell did she get that from?

“What?” he asked, “No. We didn’t–Where did that even come from?” She just stared at him like he should know. He couldn’t help but scoff. “It wasn’t about sex, we just had been through a shitty event and didn’t wanna be alone. We just slept.”

“Sure, like I believe that.”

“You don’t have to, but you should,” he said simply, no animosity in his voice, “Alex almost died and Forrest was shaken up, I wasn’t about to leave them.”

The stress seemed to build the more she stared at him with hurt, accusatory eyes. But then he could feel Alex, trying from afar to make sure he was okay and knew that he was loved. It made things click a little more in Michael’s head as to why he didn’t hate Forrest and it just so happened to be for similar reasons that Forrest didn’t hate him. They both loved Alex and Alex loved them both to the point that they were all a little too willing to put themselves in danger for each other. That was bound to bring two people together.

But, more importantly, it was hard to hate someone who put so much effort into making you feel safe and welcome. He’d been so scared of saying or doing something wrong that he hadn’t realized that, as long as he asked before he didn’t something drastic, he wouldn’t say or do anything wrong. They wanted him there because he was him, not because of who he was pretending to be. He was wanted.

Why had he even left in the first place?

“I didn’t sleep with Alex or Forrest, Maria,” Michael said, “It wasn’t about that. They just needed me there and I needed them. That’s what you do for people you love. Simple as that.”

“So you don’t love me?” she asked. He took a heavy, grounding breath and focused on Alex.

“I do,” he said honestly, “But I don’t think it’s the way you want me to.”

Maria stared at him for a moment before nodded, turning away from him. It was clear that was the end of them. He didn’t mind.

“Right. I don’t really want to see your face right now. Tell Alex I hope he feels better.”

“Okay.”

-

Michael took a deep breath as he stared at the cabin. He’d only been gone two and a half hours, having stopped at the store to get groceries since it was clear they were going to stay here until the rest of the crew figured out what was going on with whoever took Alex.

He grabbed the grocery bags and started heading towards the cabin, unlocking it with his mind to let himself in and then immediately locking it back. Forrest and Alex were still in bed and they turned to give him their attention when he walked in.

“Hey,” Alex said, trying to sit up.

“Hey,” he said back, “Let me go put these up.”

He headed into the kitchen where the fridge had gotten cold since Forrest had plugged it back in once he started up the generator that morning. He started putting what he got in there or in cabinets when he felt a hand on his hip. Michael jumped and spun around to see Alex holding his hand up in defense while the other clutched a crutch he absolutely should’ve heard. He had a soft smile on his face and he was still shirtless, eyes tired but still beautiful. He was beautiful. Really, unfairly beautiful.

“I’m sorry I left, I didn’t mean to upset you, but I needed to clear somethings up with Maria and–“

“Hey, we haven’t gotten the chance to talk just me and you,” Alex said softly, changing the subject away from Maria, “Can we do that now?”

Michael swallowed harshly and nodded, waiting. Maybe he wasn’t as wanted as he thought. But that idea only stayed in his mind for a few seconds because, instead of talking with their mouths, Alex grabbed his hand and pressed it to the hand print.

“I wanna try it,” he said, “Liz said we can share memories with it. Show me something?”

“Like what?” Michael asked, that confusion hitting him again. He knew that the last few months, Alex had been a lot more open with him, but this... Well, this felt like he was asking permission to cross one of those lines with his boyfriend in the next room.

“Anything.”

So Michael pressed his other hand on his back, pulling him in close and resting their forehead’s together. Alex gave him an encouraging smile before they both closed their eyes. And then he thought of Alex.

It wasn’t hard to do that, to just flood him with the way he saw things back in high school. The first time he saw him and being confused, playing Romeo opposite his Mercutio and being confused, staring at him in every advanced math class they shared and being confused, constantly just being lost until he realized he wanted to kiss him. Which cleared up the second he did.

He skipped over the pain of the night in the shed, instead skipping to long nights making out in the back of his truck in the desert. He reminded him of that one time they got caught by Sanders who acted like he didn’t see anything or that night that was so hot they were sweating buckets but couldn’t bear to separate or that night they went skinny dipping the only pond in Roswell. He showed him how much he missed him when he was gone, how happy he was when he was home, and how much he loved him even when he left. And he showed him how confused he was right now, not quite understanding what this meant for them.

He could deal with Forrest being kind to him and caring for him, but he couldn’t comprehend how Alex could feel how much they loved each other and not want anything. Right now, they knew, and yet that still didn’t make sense for them. How fucked up could they be?

“You thought you weren’t good enough for me?” Alex asked when he pulled away. Michael stared at him, wondering how that’s what he got from everything he’d shown him. “That day in your truck, when I said that I wanted to be with you, but not if you threw your life away, you thought that meant that I thought you weren’t good enough. And you never stopped feeling that way. You feel that way right now.”

Michael stared at him, unsure of how to answer. Alex looked sad all over again and it was his fault. He tried to pull his hand away, but Alex held onto it and stepped in closer so they were chest to chest with only their hands between them.

“You’re good for me,” Alex whispered, “You’re so good for me.”

“Your boyfriend’s in the next room,” Michael told him. Alex bumped his nose against Michael’s.

“You don’t think he knows how I feel about you?”

“He’s been too nice to me, I’m not about to–“

“Listen to me,” Alex said a little more firm, staring him in his eyes, “You don’t think he knows?”

Michael felt like his skin was on fire again, that wave hitting him again as Alex’s eyes flickered down to his lips.

“No,” Michael said, “You’re just feeling an echo of what I feel for you. That’s not real. Or-or if it is, you’re not in the right headspace. Forrest is in there.”

“You don’t think he knows?” Alex repeated, slower this time. Michael exhaled slowly, his shoulders deflating and his heart going haywire. 

“Knows what? You know I don’t understand half the things you say,” he said. Alex smiled and shrugged a shoulder.

“True,” he said, laughing softly. It sent chills down his spine. Alex’s hand slowly slid up his side and then two fingers pressed against his jaw, tilting it up and his eyes locked with Michael’s. It was unspoken as it usually was between them and Alex pressed a soft kiss to his lips, not lasting more than a second and yet somehow packing more of a punch than any kiss they’d ever shared. It wasn’t even like a real kiss, there wasn’t even passion, it was just him saying ‘hey, I’m here, you’re safe’. Michael loved it. “He knows about what I want.”

“And he doesn’t care? You’re his boyfriend,” Michael pointed out, torn between wanting to kiss him again and feeling guilty for doing that to a guy that had been so nice to him. But, more importantly, he’d shared Alex once and he never wanted to do that again. Still, Alex shook his head.

“I’m not gonna kiss you for real until the hand print is gone and we have a conversation about everything, okay?” Alex said. Michael nodded.

“I don’t wanna share you, Alex, not like that,” he said. Alex nodded.

“I know,” he whispered, fingernails gliding over his stubble, “But Forrest knows everything now, so he can’t just disappear completely.”

“Everything?”

“I filled him in on it all,” Alex confirmed, “He doesn’t want to leave even if that means not having a relationship like that. We already talked about it, we already set new boundaries.”

“How?” Michael asked. Alex smiled and shrugged.

“He’s a good man. Better than we’ve ever been raised to see,” he answered simply. Michael knew that well enough to not need any further explanation. “I love him and he loves me, but not necessarily the way we love each other, does that make sense?”

“So much.”

“Good.”

They sat there for a minute, just staring and sharing what exactly this meant. And it just meant that, for now, this was their new boundaries. Michael was okay with that.

He helped him with his crutch and they made their way back to the pullout couch. As uncomfortable as it was, he couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be. Forrest didn’t seem upset which was wild in concept, but Michael appreciated in practice. He really was great.

“Thank you,” Michael told him as Alex got settled in the middle. Forrest just flashed a smile.

“No worries,” he said. Michael huffed a laugh and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed. “How’s your stitches?”

“Fine. Painkillers are wearing off, but I can handle it,” Alex said.

“You sure?” Forrest asked. Alex grinned his way and nodded. Michael settled into the pillow as he watched Forrest lean down to kiss him again. This time he recognized it as what it was: an act of comfort, not pleasure or romance or desire. Which would explain the weird feelings he got from the mark when they did it before and the kiss Alex had given him only a few minutes prior. That was definitely not something he was used to.

He liked it.

“You look exhausted even though you slept until noon,” Forrest noted as they all three got comfortable, “Is that like an alien thing?”

“No, it’s an ‘I just got accused of cheating and then got dumped’ thing,” he teased. Both men looked towards him with confused faces.

“She accused you of cheating? With us?” Forrest clarified, disbelief laced in his voice. Michael blew out a breath of air.

“Yep, apparently it’s weird to want to be around people if you don’t want to have sex,” Michael said. 

“I think if I tried to have sex, I would pop open my stitches and it would not be sexy to started bleeding from my abdomen in the middle of it,” Alex noted. Forrest snorted a laugh and his eyes went to his stitches again, double checking that they weren’t irritated.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pop your stitches open, I think Kyle would’ve killed me,” Michael added. Alex smiled easily and closed his eyes, looking so relaxed that it was nearly unreal. Especially when they all knew he could feel the pain of literally being shot and stabbed and beaten.

“I feel really loved,” Alex admitted.

“Yeah, you definitely still are feeling the painkillers still at least a little,” Forrest whispered. He smiled a bit broader and shrugged his shoulder. 

Michael mindlessly pressed into Alex’s side, wanting to just fuel that feeling he had even more. He pressed his nose against Alex’s jaw, breathing in slow as he closed his eyes. Alex’s arm made it’s way under his head and his fingers wove into his hair, his bicep making the world’s best pillow. Michael’s hand went to it’s rightful place over the hand print.

“How close am I wanted?” Forrest asked carefully to both of them.

“As close as you want,” they both answered without hesitation. 

Michael had a newfound appreciation for Forrest in a way he hadn’t really expected, but he understood things better after thinking things over. Forrest was clearly as much as touchy as Alex was, if not more. Michael had taken it as clingy before, but now he was starting to see that’s just how he gave and received comfort. That’s why he kissed Alex when their new boundaries had been set, that’s why he touched Michael when got confused, that’s why he was so fucking aware at all times. Michael wasn’t used to platonic affection; he was interested.

So Forrest pressed up on Alex’s other side, the man in the middle having to lay on his back due to his wound. Then his arm went around, laying on top of Alex’s in Michael’s hair. His other arm draped over Alex’s abdomen and paralleled Michael’s. His fingers laid gently against Michael’s side, just enough to know that they were there.

And he was welcome.

[alteridolriley]

Finding My Place [Part 1]

Heya there everyone! Today is a super special day! Today is @availe‘s birthday! Maxi is one of my very best friends, one of the most important people to me in the world so I told her to pick two pairings and I would write a fic about them. I wasn’t sure what the topic would be so I just kinda let the words flow!

This is a bullet fic because writing a whole fic is hard right now with my current state in life so I apologize.

This fic includes (in its entirety not just this part): human AU, Anxceitmus (QPR Remus/Virgil and QPR Deceit/Virgil, Demus is romantic in the ship), Logince, swearing, violence mention, angst, depression, suicidal mentions, fainting, general not taking care of yourself moods, drugs, alcohol, and.... all sides are shown in a positive light, if that matters. It’s an AU anyway.

Devyn = Deceit (That’s also important LOL)

With all that said, please enjoy!

---

Devyn knows a lot of things. He considers himself an expert in some fields but still a jack of all trades in certain situations. However, there is one thing he feels he lacks. No matter how much he thinks about it, researches it, and records the process and its results, the outcome is always the same.

"Remus, you can't just hang up those creepy curtains on the front window!" Virgil calls up the stairs. The man in question cackles and Virgil growls back. "Don't expect your villain laugh to get you out of everything. I already got an earful from the lady next door about it disturbing her kids."

"Ahhh they'll get used to it." Remus says as he walks down the stairs to meet Virgil at the bottom. He stays on the second to the last step, making himself nearly a head taller than Virgil. Without warning, Remus wraps his arms around Virgil's neck and squeezes as a big smile appears on his face. "Oh golly gee, I just love you Virgil."

The black haired boy couldn't prevent the smirk that appears on his face as he leans back and kisses Remus on the cheek. "Mhmhm… love to be a pain in my neck is more accurate."

Both of them laugh before turning to see Devyn standing in the doorway to the kitchen across from the stairs, staring at them intently. 

"Do we have something on our face?" Virgil questions before Remus jumps down and runs to Devyn, almost slapping him with his arms instead of wrapping him in a hug.

"No…" Devyn assures. He leans his head against Remus. The smallest boy fits perfectly under Devyn's arm and Virgil walks over slowly, Devyn reaching and grabbing Virgil's right hand. He brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. 

"I want a kiss!" Remus pouts.Devyn obliges, kissing him on his forehead. Remus feels his cheeks burning red as he hides his face in his partner's chest.

"Is something the matter?" Virgil questions.

"No." Devyn says quickly as a blink of panic passes Virgil's eyes. "I just still have yet to fully understand what I've done in this world to deserve this with both of you." His voice trails off at the end as his gaze fell along the house surrounding them. 

Boxes scattered everywhere, some half empty as they unpacked to live in this new beautiful home. One picture was on the mantle above the fireplace: a shot of all three of them in suits: Devyn in yellow, Virgil in a deep purple, and Remus in a forest green, framed in a brown oak frame. Their wedding day only a month prior. 

"Dee…" Remus says softly as he hugs Devyn tightly. 

Devyn feels himself remembering. He tells the two he wants to take a break while they unpack upstairs. The two agree after giving him more hugs. Devyn sits on the couch in the living room.

xxx

Devyn had just been released from prison two years prior. 

He had been wrongfully charged with murder and had his life turned upside down for over ten years.

Upon release, he met Remus at a local gay bar. He hadn't intended on falling in love with the strange man but it just sort of happened. 

Devyn quickly learned Remus was already in a relationship.

Devastated by this, Devyn cut off all contact with Remus and stopped going to that specific bar all together. 

Drinking his sorrows away at a bar closer to his home, Devyn accepts that his life as a 32 year old gay man meant that he was probably doomed to be alone forever. 

Music started playing and he realizes it was live, playing in the next room over.

He peeked in to see a huge crowd surrounding a stage. Neon purple lights lit up the band. A lead singer with a guitar, a bass player, a drummer, and a… violinist? Wait, what?

The music was beautiful and the singing amazing, but Devyn couldn't tear his eyes away from the violinist. 

Such perfect strokes and form, the melody tore right at Devyn's heart. 

The song finished with a dramatic solo from the violinist and Devyn applauded along with the crowd. 

He listened to the voices around him closely, trying to figure out who they were.

"My gosh they're all so amazing! Virgil knocked it out tonight! How does he play the violin so well??"

"Gotta give props to Roman too! He goes through those low notes to high so easily. Is he even human with that range?"

"Nah nah did you listen to that drum solo? My boy Logan is the most talented by far. The technical details in his playing is just… so damn good."

"But Patton's bass solo was good too! He's come a long way in the short time he's been playing."

"Flight of the Hearts is just an amazing band. They're gonna take the world by storm, I just know it!"

Devyn stared at the band and they signed and took photos with fans at the foot of the stage. He wanted to hear more. 

He noticed a merch table just next to them and wondered over. Two self published CDs were on the table “Dreamer” and “Cyclone” and one of just Virgil's violin creations called "Calming Yourself". 

Devyn never purchased anything faster in his life. 

A bell went off above his head once he purchased it all. 

"Major sale! All CDs plus a shirt!" A voice shouted.

Devyn felt himself wish he wasn't where he was.

Until---

The whole band came over behind the table.

"Hey thanks for your support!"

Devyn recognizes him as the lead singer (Roman?) He was built like a jock, a football player to be specific, but had very soft eyes and a gentle smile.

"Dearheart, there's no reason to yell at him. He looks utterly confused. I told you that bell wasn't the best idea…"

The drummer… Logan right? He was smaller than Roman by over a foot at least. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose (was he wearing those on stage?) and he pushed them up. He had an air of a person who would win on Jeopardy by a mile. Logan had his arm around Roman's waist, pulling him gently back. 

"Thanks for purchasing all of our work! We really appreciate it!"

Another glasses wearer? Oh it's Patton, the bassist. Right, right. He seemed the most genuine and down to earth, at least in this instance. He gestured to take the CDs back.

"Come on everyone let's sign them!" Patton called out to his bandmates.

Roman and Logan returned, holding hands and Roman kissing their entangled fingers.

Devyn wanted what they had, desperately. He felt an emptiness in his heart.

Without realizing it, Devyn had Virgil standing in front of him closer than he would've liked. 

"Can I help you?" Devyn demanded. 

Virgil squinted his eyes and frowned. "What's your name?"

Accusatory voice, mean look… the glare peeking through his long bangs and was that heavy eyeshadow?

"We just wanna sign your stuff! Right… Virgil?"

Patton clearly fell the same unease emanating off of Virgil as Devyn did. The more he stared back at Virgil, the more angry Devyn became. 

"My name is Devyn. What about it?" Harsh tone, spat in anger.

"I knew it. I recognized that scar on your face. How fucking dare you?!" Virgil leaped over the table. "How dare you break my Remus's heart, you bastard?!"

The crowd began chanting. "Fight, fight, fight!" and before he realized it, Devyn was about to punch Virgil before both of them were pulled back. Patton had pulled back Virgil and Devyn realized Roman had grabbed him under his arms with his own.

Security had quickly corralled everyone out of the tiny room, leaving only Devyn with the band. 

Logan stood between the two warring ones. 

"What are you talking about?" Devyn demanded, shaking off Roman, nodding to agree he wouldn't fight. 

"Remus has been so upset since you cut him off. He loved you, you dickhead!" Virgil was basically foaming at the mouth. His eyes were red and filled with tears. "Why? What possessed you to do that to him?" 

Devyn's memory flashed to the last image of Remus he remembered. Smiling brightly at him as he left the bar that night over a month before. Devyn had blocked and deleted his number. Basically ghosted him. 

But…

Remus had been in a relationship, right? Devyn didn't want to force his way in and hurt someone else. 

Devyn looked up to see Patton comforting Virgil in his arms, shhhing him like a small child.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced over.

Roman. 

He had a sad look in his eyes. 

"Allow me to explain, Devyn. I'll start from the beginning. I am Roman, lead singer of "Flight of the Hearts". This is my partner, Logan, our drummer. The one holding our dearest violinist, Virgil, is the wonderful Patton. He is also Virgil's older brother. Virgil's partner is Remus… the man who works at The Half Side of the Full on Center Street. He's also my twin."

Devyn blinked and realized in that moment that Roman was the spitting image of Remus, only taller and a bit more buff. He was also missing Remus's adorable mustache but that was beside the point. 

"I left Remus because he told me about you." Devyn started, glancing at Virgil. "Never mention you by name of course. Just that he had the most amazing boyfriend in the world and I decided I didn't want to break my own heart. So I left him and his perfect life alone. Because who needs a fucked up person like me in his life?!"

Devyn realized he was shouting but he didn't care. He also ignored the tears rolling down his face. His scar around his left eye burning from the salt in his tears. Devyn knew in that moment he'd always be a fuck up somehow. 

"Remus was so important to me. I love him more than anything. Because… he allowed me to forget and move on. I was no longer trapped in my lying, deceitful past. I was able to actually be me."

Devyn turned and shoved past Roman only to stop short of the exit, blocked by a familiar face. 

"Remus…" it barely left Devyn's mouth. 

"I never got to tell you." Remus said. "I was going to tell you I loved you the next day. And I wanted you to meet my boyfriend because we're both poly and you had mentioned in passing you were too. I didn't press it because well… I wasn't sure how much you enjoyed how I am."

Devyn had never seen Remus so calm. It was weird and he didn't like it. He liked his Remus bouncing off the walls, talking about his latest findings on the side of the road; alive or dead. He liked Remus when he tried to make fake blood to put on the windows for Halloween and it ended up being actual animal blood because that's how obsessed Remus was with what he did.

This calm demeanor didn't suit the wacky man at all.

"Like them…? Remus… I adore you. You were so true to yourself in ways I couldn't predict. I love that even though you were pushed away by society for who you are… you didn't let that change you. You refused to live a lie. Something I had done all my life."

Remus crossed the gap between them and in one full motion, pulled Devyn down like a princess, holding him gently in his arms.

"Let me do what I've been holding back for so long." Remus begged.

Devyn nodded and they kissed. It was soft at first, tickling Devyn's upper lip with Remus's rough mustache, before Devyn felt it deepen even further. He didn't want it to stop…

"Geez, brother! Get a room!" Roman blurted which caused the two to pull away.

Devyn licked his lips and Remus did as well, promising more later.

Remus allowed Devyn to stand as they walked back over to the rest of the group. Virgil reintroduced himself and apologized as did Devyn. Remus explained that Virgil is his QPP as Virgil is asexual and quoiromantic. Both were fine having other partners. Devyn joked about the fact that maybe he would fall for Virgil too if Virgil played him the violin more. The group laughed even though Devyn was dead serious.

As it turned out, the band, including Remus, lived together in a rented house just down the street. It wasn't glamorous or anything but enough to keep all of them out of the rain and comfortable.

As they walked in, Virgil asked Devyn about his living conditions and he dodged the question by bringing up food. 

Remus grabbed Devyn's hand and squeezed, asking again.

Devyn admitted to living in a Motel 6. It was all he could afford after being released from jail. His factory job was paying him well now but he had to consider uber fees to get to and from work. The off three days working four was nice too but he had to be careful. He had no savings to fall back on. 

Remus jumped up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"My past is not something I am proud of." Devyn admitted. "But… it is something I should explain before we get too far into things."

To Be Continued….

[dumbdotcomm]

something about the rain

(a/n) i had the most fun time writing this fic for @sassatello and their amazing oc, Adrian!! thank u so so much for letting me write him and donnie!!! love u!

//

Donnie remembers seeing space for the first time, wide-eyed and curious, only sixteen and terrified. It would have almost been perfect, had it not been for the mind probing and electrocution and shit.

But in spite of it all, being in the depths of space was probably the most exhilarating, awe-inspiring, fantastical thing and there were an awful lot of perks about floating through stars literally and saving and liberating and all that. 

It had its ups and downs, Donnie had to admit. And now he’s a little bit more removed from the trauma of his last intergalactic encounters. He’s not sixteen, he’s not even a teenager anymore, and so he’s sort of learning how to detangle himself from the awful shit he’s been through.

And maybe the universe has kinda given Don a reason to move forward. 

Like it got very, very tired of seeing Donnie destructively bury all of his stress until it made him physically sick. So it gave him something that would kill him if he ever let that happen.

That universal gift is named Adrian. And he’s fucking insanely the greatest. 

////

Going through District TZ-3 is hell. But it’s the best way to Zrt•vn. 

On this edge of the galaxy it snows. Though it looks more like ash the further towards the epicenter of the planet they get. 

The flakes fall slowly and some stop suspended in the air, rotating on an axis as they melt, and rocks float through them, falling down to the ground. They bounce off the shuttle and dent the sides, skipping back into the moving sea of snow and ash. 

The storm lasts a while and the wind rolls the snow and ash and rocks form like waves, over the wings of the space shuttle, rocking it softly. 

Inside, Adrian watches, his eyes lost in the swell of waves, fingers pressed lightly against the glass windows; something is aching in him, picking at him as a familiar kind of thing, as he looks out into the flakes that spun so slowly to the waves. 

It was one of those things, he guessed- like when he saw the Guide maps with all of these galaxies and planets and worlds and he'd look real, real hard at one of the planets, green and blue and huge, and know it instantly. Donnie’s planet. 

Donnie calls that place home so naturally; no uncertainty in the way he claims that world, and Adrian knows that as much as he’s tried to- he knows he doesn’t belong there fully. 

That he’ll never have the contentment Donnie so easily possessed. It drove him crazy thinking about how someone could be so grounded and yet such an incredible dreamer. 

And how someone who dreamed so hugely for others couldn’t even make sure he got more than three hours of sleep a night. 

It’s wonderfully out of reach to Adrian. Donnie’s always been one notch above him in that way. 

And as he watches Don fight sleep at the control of their ship, Adrian adds Earth, belonging- and Donatello- to the plethora of things that he can't get out of his head. 

///

It takes only another half hour for Donnie to stop blinking away exhaustion and just full on pass out at the helm, his head officially connecting with the control panel and sending their teeny explore ship zooming through the sea of snow and ash. 

Adrain only lets himself completely chortle over it once he knows they’re definitely not gonna crash, and that Donnie definitely didn’t hurt his forehead. 

“‘M okay…. ‘m okay, really,” Donnie mumbles, blindly swatting Adrian away because that’s convincing, “Just resting... my eyes.” 

“Like hell you are,” Adrian snickers, and hefts Donnie up as best he can, Don’s sleepy eyes blinking open to find his, cheeks all droopy and shit, “Don’t think Raph didn’t tell me about you pulling, like, an all-weeker.”

There’s cots in the back, a small tucked away space Adrian sorta designed himself, filled with a collection of things he’s picked up from dozens of planets he’s traveled to on his journey to come pick Don up. 

They’ve known each other for a good while now, a real good while. Enough for Adrian to know that Donnie’s bound to be feeling kinda shitty this week because their little talks of late have been nothing but Don being grumpy and self-deprecating through little soft spoken jabs at his worth. 

And so Adrian stopped his work and his planet-hopping and came to scoop his best friend up, finding a nice little corner of this district with just the best scrapped tech and organisms worth studying. 

And a long enough travel time to catch up on some much-needed sleep. 

He gets Donnie onto the cot and watches him sink instantly into it with a content sigh, a smile following it. Mission accomplished, Adrian goes to stand, only pausing when his wrist is tugged, caught in Donnie’s grip. 

“This means nothing…” Donnie yawns, “You just wanna drive.” 

Adrian hopes Don can’t feel his pulse, that he’s too out of it to notice the way Adrian freezes up, breath caught in his throat. 

“Get sleep, dummy,” he forces out, patting the side of Donnie’s face affectionately before closing the curtains to the cots.

He settles down in Don’s spot at the controls, resting his chin in his palms and breathing out wistfully. 

/////

Neither of them are the best at preparing meals, and preserving food on a space shuttle isn’t the easiest, but there’s something about eating next to the best person you know that makes bologna and colby jack cheese sandwiches taste exponentially better. 

They touch down on Zrt•vn earlier than they estimated, and rising suns are a marvel.

“I cannot believe Earth has like, only one sun,” Adrian says around a mouthful of bologna and cheese, “That’s drab.”

Donnie snorts, brushing the crumbs off his thighs, “It is drab. I mean, it’s beautiful...but compared to this?”

He gestures to the horizon, a blaze of brilliant purples and oranges. Adrian loves this most of all- seeing Donnie so amazed, seeing all the things Adrian himself might feel are mundane shine so beautifully through Donnie’s eyes. 

Eyes that light up, still, in spite of all the horrors he’s been through.

It’s extraordinary. 

Extraordinary. 

“I’d love to study the UVs- I mean that’s definitely not my field of study but geez….it’s gotta be a whole different setup here.”

Adrian nudges Donnie softly, “‘Field of study’ my ass… you have a gillion fields of study.” 

He subconsciously wonders if he shoved too hard, or too softly- was it too weird? Ill-timed? Jesus, he was overthinking, spending too much time with this goof, and Adrian would be damned if he started second guessing himself around Don like this. 

“I actually don’t dabble in a ton of fields. I wish I had the time anymore...there’s just so much to retain, you know?” Donnie says, every attempt at flirtation going above his head as he smiles softly and aloofly at Adrian. 

“Yeah… yeah I feel ya,” is what Adrian murmurs back, unable to completely detach himself from Donnie’s stupid big ass brown eyes. 

They hold a stare for what feels like an eternity, before Donnie blinks and lets out a laugh that cuts through Adrian’s thoughts.

He goes to stand, offering a hand to Adrian, “Guess we better get this exploring on, right?”

Adrian takes it, swallowing hard and getting to his feet too, offering Donnie a lopsided smile, “Early bird gets the worm!”

Donnie’s grin widens, he doesn’t let go of Adrian’s hand.

“Hey, lookit you! Picking up on lowly Earthling terms,” he teases, poking at Adrian’s plastron. 

It pierces right to the heart, and Adrian can’t get a normal rhythm back the whole time they suit up, not with the way Donnie stays so close to him the entire time. 

////

On this planet, it rains. Just when the suns rise and just as they make it out the ship, the clouds roll in thick and heavy and dark, and the precipitation starts. 

In the darkness patrol lights from ships in search of spare parts sway across the dirt, and they hide, Adrian and Don, search goggles glowing in the heavy blackness. The sky lights up with dying stars that burst quietly from miles away, their dust falling onto them right alongside the rain, making the downpour harder. 

Still, from afar, the sky is pink and purple, and even in this, there’s beauty to be found. But Donnie can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Maybe if he’d just slept back home and didn’t freaking pass out on Adrian, maybe if he got up sooner they’d- 

A hand rests heavy on Donnie’s shoulder, startling him out of his racing spiral of self pity and loathing. His eyes snap up and Adrian comes into view, his lips moving before sound even registers to Donnie. 

“-ood? I can go find- find the ship if you’re not feeling good, I’m so sorry, shoulda double checked the weather…”

Donnie takes a gulping breath and blinks away the heat behind his eyes. 

“I’m okay…” he says, as confidently as he can, because he is, now, “And don’t be silly, Adrian, it’s a mess out here...you could get hurt or...really wet or...you know…”

As stupid as he feels, Adrian’s slowly spreading grin somehow pacifies the feeling, and Donnie finds himself rubbing the heat from his neck.

“X’vr’s forbid I get wet now,” Adrian jokes, his hand falling from Donnie’s shoulder, but it still hovers beside his arm, “But we shouldn’t split...this rock’s a pretty great cover for now.”

Donnie chuckles breathily, surveying the storm happening around them, “Yeah...yeah I guess it is. Sorry I panicked- I mean, I- I don’t know. I fucked this up...we could’ve been done scavenging if I hadn’t-”

Adrian looks a cross between hurt and confused and it’s a look powerful enough to shut Donnie up a little.

“And now I’m making shit worse by...rambling like this,” he mumbles guiltily, wringing his hands. 

There’s only a few heartbeats of silence where Donnie’s sure Adrian is gonna chew him out for being so...himself. But that’s a stupid thing to think, actually. Because Adrian’s face softens into a smile. 

“You didn’t make nothin’ worse, Donnie,” Adrian says, his voice quiet but firm enough that it overpowers the sound of the pouring rain, “You couldn’t have...because as shitty as this rainstorm is...it’s kinda pointless ‘cause I’m. I don’t really care, as long as I’m with you.”

At his admission, Donnie stops wringing his hands. He just stops...everything really. He blinks slowly. “You...well, I mean-” he tries searching for his words, because surely Adrian is just- “That’s...that’s really nice of you to say but-”

“Don,” Adrian says, more loudly, more certain, and holds Donnie by his shoulders this time, “I’m not… ‘being nice’ or some shit. I like being near you.”

Donnie’s eyes widen, the silly, lovely lost look in them subsiding as realization takes its place. 

And without taking his eyes off Donnie, Adrian presses the release to his helmet, searching Don’s face breathlessly. “Can I kiss you?” he asks around this huge, wonderful smile.

Donnie’s only half-sure that he nods, and still unable to form words he undoes his helmet too, his lips meeting Adrian’s within seconds- half of seconds. The embrace is warm and strong and frames by overeager and overjoyed smiles. 

And Donnie silently thanks the universe for this, for this wild gift he’s been given- for yet another beautiful thing to live for. 

[nope-we-are-friends-now]

Soulmate AU

Reposted because I accidentally deleted it. 

Title: Traveled the Universe Just to Meet You.

Tenth Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader, featuring Donna Noble

A/N: This fic took three weeks in total to write; the first 3,600 words took two days to write and the last 700 words took two of the three weeks. hahahaha…….why?

Also, I wanted to add more like include adventures and develop the readers and the Doctors relationship but it was already too long. Thinking about writing a part 2 but I also have a few other fics I wanna write soo…

Word count: 5070

Soulmate. Someone who understands, believes in, and inspires you. Someone once a stranger becomes a person you can’t imagine live without.

As children, a soulmate’s presence isn’t all there. A numbness resides in the Soullux, the organ that handles feeling one’s soulmate. In childhood, it isn’t mature enough to project one’s soulmate emotions. But, every so often a child would feel something like a light breeze on a hot summer day. The phenomenal sensation of stretching after waking up. The feeling one gets after cleaning out their room.

You were a bit different from other children. See, you were born with Lonely Soul syndrome, a disease that affects one out of 14,530,000 people. Now, this syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. You were born with your Soullux fully formed, meaning you constantly felt your soulmate. Doctors gave it such a saddening name because of the effects. Children suffering from this often are forced to mature earlier, they struggle with emotions, and experience periods of desolation. Doctors recommend therapy and if needed, medicine.

You were five when you went to your first soul therapy session. Your family didn’t think you needed it, seeing as you were a typical child. Happy some days, moody others, but they promised you a present after the appointment, so you went.

The therapist’s room was bright. There were small toys on small shelves, posters with words you couldn’t quite read, but knew you’ve seen before. On the ground was a rug with houses and roads on it, you thought it was cool.

The therapist walks into the room and smiles at you, “Did you find a toy you like, Y/n?” She asks, she only just told you her name, yet you forgot it and didn’t want to make her feel sad, so you didn’t ask. Instead, you nod and point at the Lego box sitting on the rug.

You were building a house when she speaks again, “how are you, Y/N?”

“I’m sad.” The therapist said earlier that you could talk to her about anything that was on your mind, so you did.

“Do you know why?” She’s sitting on the rug with you. It’s odd, adults don’t sit on the ground and they certainly don’t play with Legos. You decide she wasn’t an adult, just a big kid.

You’re not sure what to say so you let your mouth run, “My soulmate,” you begin. With the blue house finished, you start to reach for the Lego people, “isn’t an animal.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does hand you the last Lego person. With the perfect amount of people around the house, you start to work on a car. Cars have always been difficult for you to build.

“It sucks. I heard that some people have animals as their soulmates and I was hoping I would too. But I don’t.” You huffed.

“Why would you want an animal as a soulmate?”

Shocked with disbelief you dropped a Lego piece. Maybe she really was an adult? “Because animals are cool. At first, I wanted them to be a horse, ‘cause that would be awesome, but then I realized that if they were a cat or dog then I could cuddle with them every night.” Excitement washes over you. Yet, when reality hits, you feel like the car you stopped building, unfinished and misshaped.  

“Well, who says you can’t cuddle with your soulmate?”

“Pets have fur. That means they’re always warm and soft. People don’t have fur.”

“Y/n,” She says softly, you like the sound of her voice. It’s not wheezy like your neighbor, Ms. Henson’s nor is it high-pitched like your babysitter. “Do you like to cuddle with from your family members?”

  “Yeah,”

“So, why do you think it’s different from your soulmate?”

Well, you think, my family always acts weird when I talk about them. You’re not sure why though, your soulmate feels like blowing dandelions and eating your favorite fruit. What could be so wrong about that? You don’t tell your therapist that though. “Maybe,” you start hesitantly, when she nods her head, you’re back to being excited, “maybe we could get a pet too? Then I could cuddle with both at the same time.”

“Maybe,” She agrees with you, “Y/n, that’s a lot of people at the blue house. Do you think we should build them another house?” Looking at the blue house you see the eight people surrounding it.

“No.”

  It happened after dinner. At first, you didn’t know what it was, you only knew it was something coming from your soulmate. Lately, your soulmate has been like an ocean, waves of strong emotions crash down on you. It leaves you wanting to crawl into bed and stay there all day. Every time it happens you could hear your family whispering through the door. You knew it wasn’t normal, but you couldn’t control it.

  You head to your room and shut the door. Everyone always found out when you have an ‘episode’, but sometimes you could hide how long it went on. You expected it to be the same as the other times. This, however, was nothing like you ever experienced before.  

It starts with a spicy taste in your mouth. A ringing in your ears. Underneath your skin, something wants liberation. You try to hold it in, but it burns.  

  You blink and the next thing you know your bedroom is a wreck.

On the floor near your desk was a torn paper with a smiley face. Bending down you picked up the paper to see that it was your math test. You had practice from the moment you came home until dinnertime for it. You didn’t ace it, but it was the highest grade you got so far, and you were so proud you put a smiley face on it. It was ripped up into three pieces. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. You were only seven years old and you would have many other tests this year alone, let alone for the rest of your academic life. It isn’t a big deal. So, why were you kneeling on the ground with tears blurring your vision? Why were your hands wrapped around yourself, silent snivels escaping you? Why were you pressing your face to the floor in hopes that your family wouldn’t hear? If it wasn’t a big deal, why does it hurt so much?

Someone opens up your door and gasps. They hold you as you try to remember how to breathe.

(Afterward, they help you tape up your test and you wonder if taping your heart back together will be as easy.)

They hand you a broom along with trash bags and tell you to face the consequences of your actions.

Bed overturned, clothes ripped apart, posters and old homework assignments shredded up.

The burning sensation lessens to a simmer and you’re left all alone.

With a look, around the room you think, Anger. This is what anger looks like.

Months pass by, and you grew an inch. The sun brings heat and with it comes water balloon fights and laughter. With a group of classmates, you compare birthmarks and scars. With the sun shining down on you, you think, happiness is bright.

You had finished brushing your teeth and were pulling silly faces and grinning at the mirror. That’s when you felt it. This new emotion is bitter and cold.

The you in the mirror starts to glare at you, baring their teeth like a wild animal. They mouth words that feel like ice water. “Stop it,” you say, “go away.” You glare back and mirror you smiles. “You’re my reflection. If I leave, you’ll be nothing.”

Mirror you silently laughs at you and you punch them. “I hate you.” You shout. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate-” You punch at the mirror repeatedly and mirror you starts to bleed. The glass shatters. A piece of the mirror slightly larger than your hand sits in the sink with drops of blood resting on it and you smirk. Only then do you see your fists. Bruised and bleeding, your blood stains the bathroom floor. You close your eyes in hopes that you don’t see your reflection.

When someone comes to check on the noise and see you there, they carefully drag you out and scold you. They clean your fist and check for glass, then they bandaged your hands and sigh. As they clean up, you sit in your room.

(“why are you so broken?” Mirror you shouts. “Why can’t you be normal?”)

Staring at your bandaged fists, you think, hatred is a violent emotion.

Nearly a year passes by when the next wave hits. Unlike anger, this emotion does not burn you. Instead, it lingers in everything you do, every day, every moment. It waits. It makes you silent at the moments you want to speak, and it makes you cry when you want to laugh. It waits. You can’t explain it to anyone, they don’t understand. This emotion waits until you are truly alone when it strikes.

At eight years old, you learn a hard fact.

(If anger burns, happiness shines, hatred bruises, and love heals. Then sadness takes it all, swallows it whole, leaving you to wonder if anything was there in the first place.)

The increased therapy sessions and nervous glances from family members lets you know something is up. With a little snooping around, you find out what. Hurrying back to your room you lean against your door and stare at the pamphlet. “Why choose Soullux removal?” The pamphlet shows happy people doing everyday things. You read the pamphlet three times. Each time deepens the sick feeling you have.

Soullux removal.

Doctors found out that humans don’t need a Soullux to survive. “The organ is not like the Heart,” the pamphlet reads, “one could live a healthy and even happy life without a soulmate.” It goes on and on talking about how many famous and successful people have removed their Soullux so that they can “focus on more important things.”

Seconds later, you realize your family wants you to get the surgery.

No, you think. Never.

Angry you make your way to the living room and seeing as everyone is there, you erupt.

“No. It’s not right. I won’t do it. You can’t take them away from me.,” You shout. “I won’t do it. You all have your soulmates. If you want Soullux removal, get it yourselves!” By the end of your speech, you’re panting, your vision is blurry, sniffs do nothing to help with the snot dripping out of your nose.

“Soullux removal?” One of them says, “Y/n, we would never.”

You throw the pamphlet on the table. “Yeah, right.”

“That was in my room. Y/n, you know you not allowed in there.”

“And you not allowed to steal my soulmate from me, but that’s exactly what you were planning.”

“Y/n, you-”

“-Even though it was wrong of you to sneak into their room,” a different family member interrupts, “Y/n, it’s important for you to know we would never do that without talking to you.”

After all the emotions cooled down you all talked. They handed you a different pamphlet. This one talks about pills you could take to “lessen the intense feelings your broken soulmate forces on you.”

“Broken” soulmates are soulmates with such mental and/or physical “problems” that causes their soulmates to feel the pain of their disorder. These pills eventually block you from feeling your soulmate entirely.

As you read the pamphlet, you note all the times it says broken. Three.

Broken. Like that time, you accidentally dropped a bowl and it shattered. Broken. Like when your classmate broke their arm, and everyone wanted to sign it. Broken.

They think your soulmate is broken. They want you to abandon them.

You want to throw up.

No. You think, you can’t take them from me. I won’t abandon them so please don’t take them from me. Please. Please. Don’t. They’re not broken. Please don’t take them from me. I’ll do anything, please.

“Please,” you say, “Please. Don’t. Please.” And you repeat those words over and over.

At the age of thirteen, you give up on your soulmate. You tried, honestly. You read every book, watched every video, and even posted on all kinds of forums online in hopes of finding a way to help, but nothing was working. You were useless.

Really, it was your soulmates’ fault. No one could constantly be sad, angry, and full of self-hate, right?

It makes you wonder though. What was it about your soulmate that they only felt those three emotions? Was someone doing terrible things to them? Or were they terrible people?

You didn’t know. What you did know however was that you couldn’t help them. You wanted to continue listening to music on your bed thinking sad thoughts, but you needed to clean out your room. You’ve been putting it off for weeks. And that’s what you did, for about the first fifteen minutes, but then you found an old shoebox in your closet. You couldn’t leave it, could you?

In the shoebox were tiny trinkets and a stack of letters all addressed to someone you’ve never met.

You remember when you started going on little adventures after your soulmate started to feel down. You were only seven then.

The idea was you would go on fun adventures like those happy kids on TV. You figured that your soulmate had Lonely Soul syndrome too, then they would feel your happiness. If they couldn’t be happy themselves, you would share yours. Then you thought that if you saved tiny gifts and letters when you finally meet them you could give it to them. If they knew you cared for them, maybe, just maybe, a bit of their sadness would go away.

You didn’t think about the shoebox in months. You wonder what younger you would say if they knew you gave up on your soulmate just like everyone else.

You open one of the letters.

Dear Soul Mate,

Hello, it’s me.

I’m seven now, but my birtday is in a few weeks. You’ve been sad lately and I’m here to tell you that won’t do.

That won’t do.

See ya, Y/n.

That was all the letter read. No adventure no nothing. You shoved the letter back in the envelope and grab another one.

Dear Soul Mate,

My family thinks you’re broken. I don’t know if your family thinks that about you too, and maybe that’s why you are sad all the time. But you should know that I don’t think you are. I don’t think people can break. Sometimes it might feel like it though. Sometimes it might feel like shards of who you used to be are missing and no matter how many times you try to piece yourself together again you don’t fit. You might feel defeated and completely alone. But you are not an object. You are not glass that can be shattered. Broken means that you’ve given up, and you haven’t. You’re still, living, breathing, feeling. As long as you are still alive, you are still fighting. You’re not what people define you as, you’re just you and that’s all you need to be.

I wish I could promise that I would always be there for you, but I can’t. I wish I could tell you that I believe in you, but I’m not sure you care about what a stranger thinks. I can promise you that I’m telling the truth when I say that you are the strongest person I know. Everything you feel is whole and true. Your anger, your hate, and your sadness feels like it consumes you, but underneath it all, you have pure wonder, unconditional love, and constant kindness. You amaze me. Despite never meeting you, I know you. And I am proud to have you as my soulmate.

See ya soon, Y/n.”

You don’t remember writing that. You didn’t even know you could write like that. Honestly, you were expecting all the letters to be like the first one.

It was harder these days to feel the emotions younger you talked about. These days all your soulmate felt was sadness and hate.

Maybe writing one more letter couldn’t hurt, right? Beats cleaning your room.

Why the heck were you in the park? You have an essay that’s due soon and yet here you were sitting on a park bench.

A quick look around shows an average park. Trees, benches, grass, and a playground with a group of teenagers.

They had to be older than you by a good three years.The way they were standing was weird.Four of the five teens were facing the last one, a girl. You didn’t like the smug looks on their faces.

The girl was shouting. Her back rigid and arms crossed.“We’re soulmates.” She practically shouts. “What do you mean you don’t need me?”

You should leave.

“It means I would rather get that surgery everyone talks about than have you as a soulmate. Look at you, you’re worthless.” He says. You could see his hideous smirk from where you stood. His friends holding onto one another as they laugh.

Her shoulders shake and-

“Hey,” You don’t even register the fact that you’ve spoken until everyone’s looking at you. “Don’t you think this is a private conversation between the two of you, you know, in private?”

“Who the hell are you?” Of all things, you didn’t expect the girl to shout at you full force.

“I’m just your common citizen trying to run away from my responsibilities, so if you could quiet down that would be great.”

“Kid, why don’t you mind your own business?”  Jerk face asks.

By now you are standing face to face with Jerk face and his groupies. You turn to the girl who looks like she’s in complete shock. Her face is red and eyes puffy. “Normally I would. But I think you should leave.”

“Or what?”

“Run.” You tell her.

“What?” She whispers.

Jerk face is still smirking. You want nothing more than to punch him in the face, but you can’t. Instead, you kick him where it hurts and with the girl in tow you dash out of there.

After a while, you two reach a neighborhood. You didn’t recognize it, but it seemed like a good enough place to rest.

“Why did you do that?” The girl asks.

“I know, I should have punched him, but,” you hold up your dominant hand, “I need this hand to write my letters, they’re important.”

“Letters? how old are you?”

“I’m Fourteen.”

“And you write letters?”

“Yeah,”

That’s all it takes to set her off. She starts to laugh and can’t stop. Bent over, hugging herself, she laughs until she can’t breathe.

  You don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you do. “Your soulmate is a jerk.”

“Lance,”

“What?”

“His name is Lance.”

“Yeah, well, Lance is a jerk, and as your friend, I suggest slapping him the next time you see him.”

“Friend?” Her laugh turns a little hollower, “you don’t even know me.”

“Well then, let’s get to know each other. Name’s Y/n.”

She looks at you, stares as if trying to decide whether or not you’re screwing with her.

She nods then, “I’m Donna,” she says, “Donna Noble.”

You decided to walk Donna home. She’s quiet; a direct contradiction to earlier. You understood what it was like to have a lot on your mind, so you tried to stay quiet as well. It was Donna who ended the silence.

“I always thought that I would find my soulmate and we would fall in love. That I would get what my parents have. My mom always told me ‘your soulmate is exactly what you deserve and everything you’ll ever need.’” Tears fall from her eyes, but with a deep breath she continues, “He is exactly what I deserve. My one and only soulmate.” She laughs bitterly.

You wish you knew what to say. You wish you could pluck the right words out of the air and weave sentences so beautiful Donna would stop laughing and start smiling.

Over the years as you watched friends and family find their soulmates you learned that just because people can feel their soulmate doesn’t mean they truly understand them or their life experiences. That takes work and commitment. It is odd to think about however; knowing someone deeply, yet at the same time not at all.

“Maybe, soul- people,” you correct yourself after Donna flinches at the s word. Yeah, there were some days where that word burned you as well, “maybe, people aren’t supposed to fill a missing hole in you. Maybe they’re just the cherry on top.”

You reach her house and she points you towards her kitchen when you ask for a glass of water.

In the kitchen, are who you assume are Donna’s parents. Music and laughter fill the air and the two of them are eating. With such soft smiles and tender touches, you could tell they were deeply in love. It was as if they were the only ones in the room.

“Here.” Donna hands you a glass of water.

You were so captivated by her parents you didn’t notice Donna slip pass you. A glance at the two eating shows they haven’t even noticed two people in the room with them.

“Thank you, Donna.” You practically shout. Everyone looks at you oddly, but at least your plan works.

The day you turned thirty, your life took an odd turn.

Technically it started six months before that.

See, Donna started a temp job at the same place Lance the Jerk works. Apparently, as Lance claimed, he was a changed man. He said he wanted to start fresh with Donna. Donna was all for forgiving him. (“Y/n, he brings me coffee every day. Me. Coffee!”)

You felt there was something odd about the whole thing though.

It wasn’t the fact that the best friend rulebook states that you have to hate him for how he hurt your best friend.

It also wasn’t because he never once apologized to Donna. (Saying “I was only a kid at the time,” is not an apology.)

The problem is you didn’t think Lance was the right person for Donna, ironically enough. Donna is full of life, she’s loud, kind, and slightly ignorant, Donna is passionate. Lance is indifferent, he’s judgmental and arrogant.

Seeing the two of them together puts a sour taste in your mouth. Aside from a few subtle comments, you haven’t really talked to Donna about it. How could you tell her you thought her soulmate wasn’t right for her? Maybe you were reading too much into it? You hope Donna sees something in him that you are overlooking, you hope Lance has a better side of him that he shows Donna.

You wanted nothing more than for Donna to be happy. If it means holding your tongue around Lance, you would duct tape your mouth shut.

Donna tells you she wants to marry him, and you play the role of the excited best friend.

It happens on the day of your thirtieth birthday, two weeks before Donna’s wedding. Donna throws you a big surprise party, but halfway through she disappears. Nerys-why is she here? You don’t even know her, and Donna hates her- tells you that she vanished into golden dust, but you figured she was wasted. You ask around, but no one’s seen Donna.

Soon, the party is over, and you still don’t know where Donna is.

When you get home, you find Donna sitting in your kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. Her hair is a mess, clothes tore and she was soaking wet. How in the world?

“Donna? I was looking everywhere for you. I almost punched like three people when they said you were-”

Donna rushes into your arms. She’s shaking, holding you as if you are the only thing in life that makes sense.

“Donna?” Sighing, you hug her back. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

After Donna is clean and in dry clothes she talks.

She tells you that Lance was lying. That he was in love? With a spider? And there was a doctor trying to help. The spiders died. Lance died. Thames flooded?  Or was it drained? Honestly, you couldn’t really make out much of what she was saying with her face buried in your shoulder, tears staining your clothes. All that matter was that your best friend needed you. You held her until her sobs turned to snores.

Donna spends the next year traveling, learning, and looking for trouble.

You spend the year working, paying bills, and wishing you could do the same as Donna.

When Donna calls you to excitedly tell you that she’s speaking Latin of all things, you decided enough was enough.

Three hours later, you meet up at a small café.

You see Donna the moment you walk in the café. She’s sitting at a table for four with a man beside her. Both of them seem to be having an interesting conversation because both of them can’t seem to stop laughing.

The sight brings a smile to your face.

When someone walks into the café, Donna glances up and meets your eye. She stands, waves her hands in the air, practically shouts your name.

Before the temptation to act like you don’t know her kicks in; you rush to her. The hug she pulls you in is unexpected but nice.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in months!”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you run your eyes over Donna. Taking a step back you notice that the Donna before you is different from the one you saw a few days ago. There’s something about this Donna that makes her shine. Maybe a new haircut?

“Did you get a tan?” You notice it then; Donna definitely got a tan but… a quick look at the window shows you that it is still pouring out just like it has for the last week.

Donna laughs and drags you to the table. She introduces you to the man whose name is the Doctor and you say hello. It’s as he’s about to reply that you feel it. A wave of happiness hits you like a smack upside the head and spins your world around. Colors are brighter and what once was gloomy rain is now the water that brings life to mother nature. Too busy looking around you miss everything the man, the Doctor, was saying.

“Sorry about that.” You give a sheepish smile. The Doctor grins. With one hand ruffling his hair, he leans towards you from across the table.  

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing, I think it’s just my soulmate.” The last bit of the sentence comes out as a question.

“Them again? Listen Y/n the second I meet this bloke, I tell you what, I’m gon- ”

  “Donna you are not going to assault my soulmate.” Donna ‘offers’ to slap your soulmate every time they feel something other than happiness. You can’t help your smile grow though; before Donna you never really had someone who was ready to fight anyone who hurts you.  

“What’s wrong with your soulmate?” The Doctor raises an eyebrow.  “I think your soulmate is perfectly fine. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this is one of the greatest days of their life.”

“And why is that?” You don’t notice that you are leaning towards him.

“Well,” he drags the word out, “I think he just met his soulmate.”

It takes a moment for your brain to process what he said. When you do, you jump from your seat spinning around to search for him. “What? Where is he?” Your heart is pounding.

From a distance, you hear Donna whisper an “Oh my God.”

“If my soulmate is here why doesn’t he come up to me?”

You turn to Donna after she calls your name, “your soulmate is right in front of you.”

Looking from Donna to the Doctor to Donna again you open your mouth and- “Donna,” you sigh, “you are not my soulmate.”

Slumping down into the chair, you rest your elbow on the table with your chin in your hand.“You guys really got me excited for nothing.” You pout. Your other hand plays with the teacup in the center of the table.

“Um, if your soulmate was right in front of you what would you want him to do?” The Doctor asks.

“Anything really. A simple ‘Hello’ and their name is good enough.”

“Hello. I’m the Doctor.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve already introduced yourself.”

“You spend all this time waiting for your soulmate and now that he’s in front of you, you can’t see him? Y/n you are an idiot.”

“What are you talking about? The only people in front of me is you tw-ooh.” Looking at the Doctor, you don’t know how you feel. The best way to describe it would be dancing. It’s like back when you were a teenager listening to music in your room. The music turned on loud, your door closed, and you start to dance. Jumping around, singing, and having fun, the joy you feel from hearing your favorite song runs through your veins; nothing could ruin the moment. As you spin around, in the midst of singing your favorite verse, someone opens the door. The two of you stare at one another as you wait for them to decide if they want to embarrass you by walking away or join in on the dancing.

That is the best way you can describe how you feel.

That happiness with a side of embarrassment.

The Doctor and Donna spend the next few hours explaining who the Doctor is, what they do, and all the places they visited. They told you about the chaos, the fun, and the universe. If you were anybody else, you would have gone into shock and cancel the whole day. However, you are you and so the only thing you can do after discovering that aliens exist is laugh. Because your soulmate is an alien who travels all of time and space in a phone box and your best friend, Donna Noble-

“My best friend traveled across the universe and brought me back my soulmate.”

[awkwardkitten13]

Oh My My (Drarry fan fic written to Oh My My by Blue October)

Harry's POV

Harry paced his living room waiting for Ron and Hermione to get there. He was being forced to go to a concert. It would be the first time out since the war ended three years ago, but Hermione talked him into it saying that it was a muggle rock concert so it was highly unlikely they'd see someone they knew.  After thirty minutes of pacing he finally heard the door bell.  Instead of apperating they all climbed into a cab and they were of.

"So who's playing?" Harry asked as he watched the dark trees and building pass the cab window.

"Mostly indie bands, Wretched Air, Home For Sale and I hear Dirty blue will be there, they're supposed to be really good." Ron said. Harry didn't reply. He just stayed quiet till they arrived. As the first two bands played Harry stayed by the bar watching  Ron and Hermione dance. He finally got bored so he asked the bartender for a rum and coke. About four of those later he was finally feeling a bit looser.

It was at that time he looked up at the stage. The next band was just setting up, when the singer stepped up to the microphone Harry's jaw dropped. standing beneath the spotlight with bright blue hair, leather pants, and a tatted up torso was Draco Malfoy. He began to sing and harry was fully entranced. He couldn't turn away. Draco's voice had him lulled into hypnosis, and he was reminded of all those times he wanted to touch him when they were in school together. When they reached a slower love song it felt like draco was staring directly at him and his heart began to pound frantically. He couldn't understand why he felt this way still.

Draco's POV

As the band set up before the lights came on Draco scanned the crowd, but he almost fainted when his eyes got to the back where the bar was. Standing back there wearing tight blue jeans and a black T-Shirt was a familiar mop of black hair. He shook his head and reminded himself that this happened every show. He always thought he'd seen Harry before every show but its always turn out to be some stranger. He stepped up to the microphone and prepared for the first song, but before the lights came on the stranger turned around and this time his dream had come true. There was harry starring straight back at him with a socked expression on his face.

Draco put everything he could into his performance that night and when it came to the love song he sang it directly to Harry, as if he finally wanted harry to know how he felt. At the end of his bands set he threw on his jacket and went out front to "get a drink" as he told his mates. Really he just hoped to run into Harry. As he approached the bar he could feel Harry's eyes melting into him from just a few feet away. Form the corner of his eye he could see Harry trying to walked towards him but he was stopped by some drunk girl.

"Your super cute." Draco overhead the girl say to Harry. Draco kind of felt a little remorse and was ready to return to the green room when he heard harry's response.

"Sorry I don't swing that way, if you'd excuse me there's someone I have to meet." Draco smiled to himself as Harry finally made his way to his side.

"So the great Harry Potter's a gay huh? who'd have thought?" Draco said before Harry could say anything.

"Judging by those pants, your not so straight yourself Malfoy." Harry laughed.

"You got a problem with that, hot stuff?" Draco said as he turned and gave Harry a wink. Harry turned bright red and Draco couldn't help but smile.

"well that's a first!" Harry laughed.

"What? The flirting?" Draco asked.

"No, smiling while you flirted with me!" They both laughed.

Draco felt amazing it was the first time he'd talked to Harry and no pain was shed. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Hey you wanna get out of here?"

Harry's POV

Harry stood there shocked for a moment. He never expected Draco to ask that. "I'd like that alot. Let me message Ron and Hermione and let them know i'm leaving."

He sent Hermione a message saying he was leaving with another friend and with in seconds Draco had him by the hand and they were getting into a cab. The skin on skin contact filled his stomach with butterflies.

"So is Granger going to be mad that you ditched them?" Draco laughed.

It took Harry a minute to comprehend what he had said because he was too busy staring at Draco's laughing face. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen him genuinely laugh before. He found it absolutely beautiful. He shook his head, "No but Ron might be." he laughed in return.

They laughed and told stories of what they'd been up to the past three years, and within 15 minutes they arived at Draco's flat.

"Do you want a drink?" Draco asked as they entered the extravagant flat.

"Sure!" Harry said feeling a little nervous now. Draco poored him another rum and coke and they both sat down on the couch.

"I hope i don't get you to flustered but i got to take the jacket off." Draco laughed with a wink.

"Get me to fl...?" Harry went to say but stopped mid sentence with his mouth still open when Draco finally had the jacket off. He had forgoten he was shirtless underneath.

Draco looked at him and laughed. "I wasnt being serious."

"What?" HArry shook his head again and tried not to stair at Draco's toned Tattooed torso. "Oh, I'm not flustered." He said turning red and feeling a stirring in his pants.

"Oh really?" Draco said with a bit of sass, "So if i..." Draco trailed of as he scooted closer on the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Harry said as he began to panic a little but in a good way.

"Nothing." Draco smiled as he lifted his hand and gently touched Harry's knee. Harry let out a quiet moan. "Ha not flustered my ass."

"Oh come on how could I not be you've always been so hot to meand that tattoos just add to it!?" Harry exclaimed and stuck his tongue out.

"Oh yeah? I've always been hot to you?" Draco smiled.

"Yes." Harry said quietly. Draco got up and straddled harry's lap with out warning making Harry's go eye wide. He slowly leaned down so his lips were brushing Harry's ear.

"I've always found you hot too," He whispered as his hand slowly slid up to harry's ribs, " But no one sticks their tongue out me." Harry felt him smile and soon he was being tickled viciously. they both laughed and Harry rolled trying to get away, but it was no use Draco had him. Somehow they ended up on the floor though and Draco paused for a moment. They were looking into each others eye. they just sat there staring for what seemed like eternity. Till Draco broke the silent with a whisper " What? Whatcha gunna do?" For some reason the way he said that sounded like the hottest thing Harry had ever heard. Harry smiled and placed his hand on Draco's cheek. Draco leaned down and they kissed passionately.

When they pulled away they were both out of breath. "I've been waiting to do that for years." They both said in unison. They smiled and Draco caught Harry's lips again. He slid his hand inside harry's shirt and harry let out a light moan, just enough for Draco to snake his tongue into his mouth and explore every inch of it. Harry bucked his hips up and that was the first time he'd heard Draco moan, but before he could cause any friction Draco stopped.

"Did i do something wrong?" He asked kind of hurt.

"No baby, no." Draco said and harry had to hide his blush at the pet name," I was just thinking, I want to do this right. I dont want our first time together to be some drunken night. I want us both to be sober and for the night to be perfect. If i keep going i won't be able to stop myself." He brushed Harry's cheek with his hand. "Can i take you to dinner sometime?"

Harry laughed, "I wish you were this perfect a few years ago. I'd like that a lot."

This time Draco stuck his tongue out at harry, so harry pinned him and started tickling his sides. Draco wriggled and escaped pinning Harry to the ground again. "Nice try."

"How's Saturday?"

"Hmm?"

"For dinner?"

"That will be perfect." Draco smiled. He hadn't felt this happy ever.

Harry left about thirty minutes later.

Draco POV

Saturday arrived like syrup on a cold day. Draco almost went crazy from the waiting, he was so excited.

He styled his blue hair and put on his best green button up with his black skinny jeans and combat boots. He was out the door and at the restaurant 30 minuted ealry. He sat at the bar and waited for harry. Soon he saw the all to familiar mop of black hair walk in the door. Harry was wearing a tight red T-shirt and dark blue jean that were just tight enough to show off his perfect ass. He smiled and approached and almost drooling Draco.

"Hi, sorry i didn't relise this would be such a nice place. I should have dress up a little more." Harry said.

"You're fine you look sexy." Draco replied leaving Harry blushing. "Shall we sit down?"

Dinner was perfect. They laughed and picked on each other, shared secrets, and even talked about what happened in school and put it behind them. After, the sat outside the restaurant and talked somemore till the sun was long gone.

"I dont normally ask this on a first date, but do you wanna come back to my flat? There's something i want to show you." Draco asked.

"Ive already been back to your flat." Harry laughed.

"True." Draco smiled in return, "So is that a yes then?"

"Yes." Harry laughed again.

They apperated back to Draco's flat and he let them in the front door.

"What is it you wanted..." Before harry could finish his sentence he was pushed up against the door and kissed.

Draco pulled back and both were out of breath. "Was that it?" Harry asked giggling.

"No. I've just been waiting to do that all night." Draco whispered in harry's ear sending shivers through Harry's body. "Come with me." Draco whispered again. He took Harry's hand and lead him to the living room where harry sat on the couch. He walked over to the closet and pulled out an acoustic guitar. He then pulled up the ottoman and sat in front of Harry. Harry was quiet but his face showed excitement and that made Draco smile. Draco started to strum and sing...

"You wear black hair I have blue

You look sadder than most boys do

The way you walk around

Always watching the ground

Well I like watching you

Your friends, they don't like me

I think they're jealous of my tattoos

I'm not a bad guy

Just like wearing black

I'm not scared of anything

But saying this to you

It's going down, neither of us wanna be alone right now

come on come on"

Draco looked up and he could physically see Harry falling in love and that made him fall too.

Harry's POV

When Draco started to sing Harry felt his chest grow warm. He felt himself fall in love and it was the realist it had ever felt.

"Oh my my

Yeah I'm loving all your warning signs

Cause I'm a sucker for you oh my my

boy you get me high

Yeah you're my type, you're danger, danger"

Draco looked up again and paused. They stared at each other with a burning intensity for what seemed like forever. Then Draco quickly moved the guitar to the side and they collided in a frenzied kiss. Harry laid down pulling Draco in between his legs

Draco grabbed harry's wrists and pinned him to the couch. He then kissed his way down to harry's neck and started sucking and biting till he heard harry let out a loud moan. He continued biting and licking the spot that made him moan till he felt Harry's hips jerk up and felt Harry's hard cock against his. This time he let out a hard moan and harry took the opportunity to capture his mouth and snake his tongue inside. He grabbed Draco's hips and started rubbing their cocks together through their pants. Draco became a moaning mess and soon couldn't take it anymore he stood up leaving Harry shocked but not as shocked as he was when Draco picked him up and carried him to his bedroom.

"Is the what you want?" Draco whispered sweetly as he laid Harry on the bed.

"Yes, more then anything." Harry whispered in return. Draco swished his wand and both they shoes were off. he then sat his wand by the bed. "Why didn't you just undress both of us?" Harry asked.

"Because i want to undress you myself and savor every inch of your skin." Draco whispered hotly. He then gently cupped Harry's face and kissed him passionately while straddling his hips. He slipped his hand under harry's shirt and started circling on of his nipples. Harry's breath hitched and he let out a quiet moan. soon Draco was slipping Harry's shirt off and sliding down to bite and lick at his nipples till Harry was shaking and gripping the sheets. Draco slowly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside.

"Come here. I want to feel you against me."Harry moaned as Draco obeyed and pessed his naked chest against Harry's. " I need to feel more of you." Harry moan into their kiss. They both started fumbling with the buttons and zippers on each other pants. Soon they were both in nothing but their boxers grinding against each other in a moaning mess.

"I need more, baby." Draco moaned.

"Me too. Please fuck me Draco." Harry whispered in Draco's ear. If Draco Hadn't caught himself he would have came right there. Hearing harry beg for him was such a turn on. He slid Harry's boxers off, admiring the girth of his cock as he did so, and conjured some lube. He then grabbed Harry's cock, which harry was not prepared for and let out a loud moan as Draco slipped it into his mouth and down his throat. Then harry felt Draco's wet finger start to slide into his hole. He moaned even louder and gripped the sheets. Within a few thrusts harry was begging for more so Draco added a finger and began scissoring them.

"Baby i need you cock!" Harry moaned.

Draco pulled his fingers out and popped Harry's cock out of his mouth. He then slipped of his boxers watching Harry's face the whole time, and giggling when harrys eyes got wide at the size of his cock.

"Do you think you can take all 9 inches?" Draco laughed

"I don't know but i'll try." Harry laughed in return, "Do you want me to turn around?"

"No, I wanna see you face when i'm balls deep in you." Draco said as he kissed harry deeply while lubing up his cock and sliding it in ever so slowly.

"Oh gods! Your'e so big, Draco!" Harry moaned.

"You can take it." Draco moaned in return. Harry was so tight aground him it took everything he had not to cum.

Soon he was burried to the hilt and he could feel Harry quivering around him. "PLease Draco, move." Harry begged.

Draco pulled out slowly then slammed back into him making Harry scream with pleasure.

"Oh Gods, please dont stop!" Harry screamed.

Draco started puling out fast and slamming back inside harder over and over till they were both a sweaty moaning mess.

"Harry i'm going to cum." Draco moaned.

"Me too, please cum inside of me, baby!" Harry screamed again and Draco's thrusts got sloppy. Within second they were both shaking through their orgasms as Draco came inside Harry and harry came all over their stomachs and chests. They kissed tiredly but still lovingly as Draco collapsed to the bed and waved a quick cleaning spell with his wand. He then wrapped Harry tightly in his arms.

"Harry, i don't know how you did it, but you got me to fall in love with you all over again."

"You started it. I've never felt this way for anther person. I love you so much Draco."

"I love you more." They both laughed and fell into a deep sleep.

The End

[letmeringabell]

Legends Never Die - Chapter 1

Lately, I’ve been consuming a lot of Mortal Kombat content (Especially Erron Black and Kabal ones). So I thought that I should contribute in some way to the fandom, because you just gotta be the change you see in the world sometimes.

My OC’s name in this, is Vanessa. Basically, this is an Erron x F!OC fic, where the OC is a field medic, and Kotal wants to have friendly relations with Earthrealm by calling Special Forces for a field trip. 

I’m sorry for a slow first chapter, but sometimes you gotta lay down the framework, the same way you lay down a table mat before you eat to avoid making a mess. God, I’m so hungry.

Anyway, enjoy! I’ll include a link to the AO3 fic, or you can just search for it with the same name. 

Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806688/chapters/49453874

- 

“And thus, Kotal Kahn has agreed to receive Special Forces’ Entourage as a sign of trust and cooperation between Outworld and Earthrealm.”

She hears General Blade’s voice boom throughout the hall, the entire fleet pays close attention to their leading officer-in command.

“This delegation will be led by Commander Cage. I, myself and Johnny will stay behind to watch over things here, just to make sure Earthrealm is kept in check. Take this as an opportunity to further sharpen your skills and reflexes. Don’t ever let your guard down, you never know what danger finds you in Outworld.”

There is no sugar-coating with General Blade, but it is apt for the situation.

General Blade continues on with her announcements; The time and place for the Delegation to assemble, the necessary and optional squadrons needed, and a briefing in Outworld Etiquette and Propriety later in the evening. The General ends the meeting, and dismisses everyone early to allow for preparation and packing. Every soldier needs to be fully ready; Their physical fitness at their peak, and iron-clad mental fortitude to persevere through the unknown days ahead.

Despite the warnings and precautions, the allure of danger and mysticality still has everyone whispering excitedly, or worriedly. She can’t tell at this point, because all sorts of whispers seem to drown out any distinction between the two.

What would they be doing there? What would they see in Outworld? What does Kotal Kahn want with Special Forces? Is Outworld coffee stronger than Earthrealm? Better yet, does Outworld actually have coffee?

She doesn’t stay long for the excitement nor dread that has everyone rapt in their conversation. She sees Jacqui and Cassie in the distance, and calls out to them eagerly. There are more pressing and urgent matters on hand, and she has a tendency to procrastinate.

-

“And here I thought packing my stuff would take the longest,” Cassie grumbles as she hoists another box to the corner of the room.

Jacqui is busy going through her extensive vault of books; Any journal, document, or research paper that would be useful goes in the box while others, would collect dust on the large shelf during their 6-month stay in Outworld. Jacqui is impressed by the sheer volume of reading material in the office, but silently hopes that this is the last of it. The whole sifting and sorting process is wearing her spirits down, and she feels the impending migraine pulsing at the back of her head.

“Don’t worry gals, I have come with gifts,” She comes in with a tray of hot coffee in hand, and immediately, the girls lighten up.

“God, I needed a break from all these books!”

“And I need a break from all this heavy lifting. We’ve gotta KonMari your office when we get back, Van,” Cassie says, taking the offered coffee with a tired hand and a soft thank you.

“We’re almost done, actually. All that’s left is the books, and after that, we can start moving my stuff onto the trolleys.”

“Thank God! If I have to sit through another ‘Cardio’, ‘Surgery’ and ‘Benign’, I’ll go nuts and throw the books through the roof. Why do you need so much books anyway? Most of the information is in the Special Forces Database.”

She shrugs carelessly, “Some of them are very old tomes and medical journals that are not online, and I prefer having paperback anyway. Makes jotting and scribbling little notes easier.”

“What ever you say, Doc,” Cassie holds her hands up in defeat, “Just make sure you pack for all sun and no rain, because Outworld is hot as hell.”

“No kidding. I almost got a heat stroke, and Outworld’s bedside manners aren’t exactly… up to par,” Jacqui’s grimace at the recollection is evidence enough that Outworld weather is not to be trifled with. Although, it does sound like the perfect weather to have ice cream and brownies, and every other dessert on the chilled spectrum.

Her glance moves beyond the window, into the outside world, and finally, settles at the sunset sky – The splashes of purple, pink and orange washes the sky in vivid technicolor, and it leaves her feeling some kind of way; Like she would never come to see the sunset sky the same way ever again. It is somewhat unsettling, yet, she doesn’t feel her skin prickle at the thought. Maybe it’s just her nerves or paranoia flaring up.

All of them finish packing her things up, and unloaded the boxes onto the designated trolleys. At least, she’s packed her stuff early and if she ever needed to pack more, she could just add to the load.

Cassie is the first to initiate the conversation, “So, Jacqui, Van, where do you wanna eat? We’ve got 2 whole days before we make a move, so we might as well start satisfying every craving known to man now.”

“Should we make a head start on sushi, then?” Nothing could’ve been any better.

-

Outworld is every bit as hot and dry as Jacqui and Cassie had described it to be, and she is thankful for their advice; Her medical outfit is light and loose, allowing for easier movement and a reprieve from the searing heat. She wonders whether everyone else is suffering in the heat, and if they’re cursing their decision to come to Outworld—Whether the allure of ‘I’ve been to Outworld and survived its hell’ had been worth the attraction in the first place.

Although, it is not her place to doubt the Special Forces. All of them had been trained for extreme climates and situation, and this delegation is no different. Cassie is front and center, with Jacqui at her side as her right-hand man. Everyone has their guns lock and loaded, and a contingency plan had been formed prior to their arrival should anything go wrong.

She catches a glimpse of 3 figures in the distance, and she can only guess who they are: Kotal Kahn, Kitana and Jade. They had rolled out the red carpet treatment, coming to greet the delegation themselves. The air surrounding the Force tenses in anticipation as they near the Kahns—Everyone’s standing a little straighter, and the grip on their guns tighten ever so slightly.

“Welcome to Outworld, fellow Earthrealmers,” His welcome had been loud and clear, “We hope that you enjoy whatever Outworld has to offer, and do not worry, we have prepared food and accommodation for your stay here.”

The Imperial Army had descended upon the Special Forces, (and to their relief) started helping them with their equipment and luggage. Immediately, everyone was up in arms, trying to work and sort through all the different boxes and luggage, making sure they don’t accidentally end up in the trash or some other unsavory place. She’s never went dumpster diving in Earthrealm, and she’s not going to start the habit in Outworld.

The Imperial Guard guided her through the Palace halls, and like any person with new experiences, she observed her surroundings; Talltalltall ceilings overshadowing longlonglong hallways, the pillars stand strong with their embellishments of royal red and gold, and there are windows interspersed to grant the Palace inhabitant a splendid view of the City from above. All in all, this Palace is bigger than any castle she’s seen back home.

The infirmary is nothing out of the ordinary – Cabinets filled with medical equipment and solutions, the beds are adjacent to the wall and there are people filing in out and out of the room. Her office is neat and tidy—Tables, bookshelves, and other assorted furniture had already been moved in for her comfort. I could get used to this, she mused to herself. Her office back home wasn’t this big nor spacious. It wasn’t cramped either, but one could always upgrade to bigger spaces once in a while.

There is a garden outside of her office, and its splendor can be admired from the infirmary. The spread of green stretches as far as the eye can see, yet there are fragments of oranges, reds and white that makes the garden all the more surreal. She spots the row of unknown plants in one corner of the garden, and wonders if there are herbs planted here for easy access. Maybe, she’ll ask some of the other doctors for help.

“Miss Vanessa,” The guard brings her out from her daydream, and speak of the devil, “I would like to introduce to you the Palace Doctors. They will be here to assist you should you need it.”

“Thank you, but I think I would be needing their help more than they mine.”

“Don’t be so modest, Miss Vanessa. We could all stand to learn from each other,” One of the Doctors joked, and before she knew it, she was being huddled by all these strangers. She was relieved to be welcomed so warmly, the fear of being an outcast had been an idle thought playing in the back of her head for the past few days.

The routine in the infirmary had been simple; 2 off-days, make sure that the medicine cabinet is always stocked, all rounds must be completed on schedule, paperwork must be filed, and other things she was already doing back at Earthrealm. She is reassured by the fact, that there is something that she is used to doing and it makes adjusting to life on Outworld a little easier.

Clack!

The sound of heavy footsteps against the marble floor had everyone’s breath held, there had been some sort of frenzy; Some frantic urgency that had caused them to file out of the room like a deer out of headlights. She was… confused? Confounded? What? She had walked to the doorway to find the reason for the commotion, and true enough, there had been a man at the center of it all.

Deadly—Had been the first word that came to mind. Gore and glory seem to go hand-in-hand because he shows up bloodied and slightly haggard (with mud trailing behind him, to her annoyance), yet his mere presence is enough to command everyone’s respect, is enough to have people whisper in awe and alarm at the sight of him.

He is tall—He towers over some of doctors crowding him, and even she can see that his physique is packing serious amount of muscle under all that clothing. He is dark – The tufts of brown can be seen in his sideburns, and he has a slight tan from all his days of yeehaw-ing around. Is he handsome? Hard to tell considering he has the bottom half of his face obscured with a mask.

He looks at her, and it makes her stand a little straighter. His eyes are intense, and it scares her how deeply he’s staring into her, but she still can’t look away-- Something in her tells her, forces her to hold his gaze.  It feels like forever since they’ve been staring at each other, but finally, something in his eyes change, and he subtly tips his hat off to her. Whether it is a sign of respect or acknowledgement, she doesn’t know.

But she breaks their staring contest, turns around and shuts the door behind her.

 -

1868 words

[acrobaticcatfeline]

The Fear of the Dragon Witch (triplets rolorem) Chapter One!!!!!

Word Count: 2762

TW: remus, deceit, swearing, sibling rivalry, I projected on Roman so anxiety, I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything!!!

Notes: Well it’s not posted when I said it was, but you know I got distracted so here it is, have the triplets fic we’ve all been waiting for!!! Hope you enjoy!!!

Pairings: side logicality, possibly more in the future.

Summary: “you are the absolute worst!” Roman had a hectic life, he had a full time job basically in theatre, honors classes, major anxiety and ADHD. Oh. And he had two brothers who were minutes apart from him in age. As you could guess, high school is a bit stressful.

“you are the absolute worst!”

Roman sat on the ground beside a chair that now seated his brother who just smirked down at him. He begrudgingly stood up and looked at his other brother who was watching with calculated indifference. He pouted and went to sit on the other chair, just to fall on his ass again. His cocky brother let out a delighted cackle and he finally sat in the stupid chair before he could recover.

“you’re an obnoxious haughty jackass and I hope that you choke on deodorant.”

“wow that’s creative baby bro! oh we’re so pwoud of youuu!”

“fuck off! I’m literally a minute younger than you!”

“you two act like toddlers. Hurry up, we have to get going, I don’t want to be late.”

“I don’t wanna be late… blah blah rant rant dick joke”

“Remus I’m going to literally drag you out of the door don’t test me.”

“do it you won’t no balls”

Remus very much regretted the next two minutes as he was, literally, dragged out of the house by his ears. Roman also felt secondhand regret as he had to rush even faster to finish getting ready. He ran out the door, locking it behind him, and jumped into the car. He grinned at the fact that he automatically won shotgun because he wasn’t mouthing off to Logan. He settled as Logan started driving, fussing with his hair in the mirror, before pulling on his Once beanie. He futzed around with it until it looked right and then stimmed with the hem of his Rent shirt, humming the song his shirt referenced quietly. He shook his shoulders trying to adjust his jacket without using his hands. Regardless of what it said he was not succeeding at being more ‘chill’. He was what would have happened if you asked a witch to fill a doll with anxiety and excessive amounts of energy with no coping mechanisms left to spare. Oh, and a love of the arts. He sure did love the arts.

“Ro, take this.”

Logan had handed Roman a small box, and Roman looked at him for a moment before opening it. In the box was a Maui hook on a cord, a spinner ring with a bird flying on it, and a fidget spinner designed like captain Americas shield. He smiled then looked at Logan a bit confused.

“why are you giving me this?”

“because you keep ripping your shirts when you play with them. That shirt was expensive, I’d like it to last. They’re stim toys, a spinner ring, a spinner, and a chew necklace. They’re silent and not destructive, I thought it might help.”

“…did you get this yourself?”

“mhmm. Saw them at the mall after work. Why?”

“its nothing, just… you didn’t have to get these for me lo. You should save your money; I know these aren’t cheap.”

“I think you forget that the whole reason I have the job I do is to buy you guys gifts. Mom and Mimi have the whole money thing handled.”

“yeah but-”

“Roman I love you, shut up and let me ok?”

“…ok”

“you guys are gross”

“and you act 5, what’s your point goblin”

When they got to school they all went their separate ways quickly, Roman giving Logan a brief hug before running off. Logan didn’t have to walk far to bump into his best friend Virgil and his significant other Patton. He glanced briefly at the chain around Patton’s neck and smiled seeing they were using their pronoun necklace. He laced his hand with Patton’s, bringing it up to place a kiss on it then went back to idly swinging. He let out a soft complement for Patton’s dress then started chatting with his two friends about last nights assignments.

Remus on the other hand found his friends still stalling in the parking lot, waiting for him. He wandered over with a grin on his face, glancing as Damián leaned on his motorcycle while talking to Remy. When he was close enough, Damián, Remy, and his brother Toby all gave him a smile. Damian threw out a bland shallow insult then kicked Remy before urging all of them to follow him to class.

Roman had to trek across campus to meet up with his friends. He had made a b-line to the drama room, grinning wide as he saw his favorite people doing one thing or another on stage. He saw Valerie swaying around mid-stage with a broom, singing quietly in a voice that was beyond rehearsed, Joan, who was fidgeting with some of the wires on the walls, their SO Talyn sitting nearby and humming a tune, and he saw Terrance, standing on some of the set pieces, fixing up other pieces, all while singing wonderfully to one of the songs from the upcoming musical.

He climbed up the stage offering hellos to everyone and making his way to the ladder center stage, climbing up to adjust the cording for the hook that hung there for a yet to be finished prop. After fully fixing it, he descended and went to the prop corner where all the props, finished or not, sat. He grabbed the giant moon and three different cans of paint and his personal paintbrush set and started coating the crescent with the scattered look of craters with the occasional splash of pure white accenting the light blues and grays and the dark blacks that formed shadows. After about 10 minutes, he heard the backstage door clatter open and he smiled. He turned his head with the rest of them, their eyes all landing on Mr. Sanders who had two drink holders and a donut crate. He smiled back and lifted his arms carefully. Then set everything down on the table near the door.

“coffee and donuts anyone?”

Everyone walked over in time, to grab their coffee and their donut, knowing exactly which one was theirs before walking over. When Roman finally got up from his project and got his, he grabbed the one in the holder with nothing else, separate due to its contents, and grabbed the Boston crème donut. He took a taste of his drink and smiled; Starbucks had some amazing hot chocolate. He sat back down next to his project and set down his drink, quickly snatching up the blow-dryer to speed up the paints setting process.

The five of them were always there in the mornings, they were in fact, trusted with their own sets of keys for the theater and the smaller classroom adjacent. Well technically 4, as Talyn wasn’t actually in the class, but they were consistently there, and was always helping when they could spare the time. They helped before and after school, and they held lunch meetings every day, which would eventually devolve from Important Drama Class Discussion to gossip circle. They would pop by in between classes to see if they could help, they would create sets like magic, not there the day before and completed by the end of the next, they were the committee that helped Mr. Sanders choose the musical for the quarter, they helped grade, they did everything a TA did and more without being asked and without having a TA credit.

The four students all took at least two different classes with Mr. sanders and also had leading roles in their departments. Roman and Joan both lead tech, Joan being the stage manager and Roman being the assistant stage manager, and Valerie and Terrance would aid there if they didn’t always have a spot in the musical productions. Most of the time the two of them would sit and run lines for hours at a times, and often Mr. sanders would join them, taking the parts of the other characters they weren’t playing. They had a class with just the four of them, and then Valerie and Terrance had an acting specific class, where Joan and Roman shared a technical class as well as a stage prep class.

Roman didn’t know how the others had time to do all of it, since they all had super intense classes outside of theatre and jobs on top of it all. He didn’t have a job, he had accelerated in middle school, so he was two years ahead in English and math, and a completed second language course, and he had finished his last math credit the year before, leaving him with world history, biology, and a senior level English course, he also had a dance class, but nobody was going to talk about that. He wore a face mask in that class and had the teacher call him a different name because he was embarrassed about it. He was sure if anyone saw him doing ballet that his life would be over. Not even his brothers knew, his moms did though, and they were very supportive. That was completely irrelevant.

The others had just left to help Thomas-Mr. sanders! Get something from his car, leaving him to his devices. He stood up, hot chocolate in one hand, a broom in the other and he started to sing to himself, dancing about the stage with eyes closed in bliss.

“Babe, there’s something tragic about you Something so magic about you Don’t you agree? Babe, there’s something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No ‘who cares’, no vacant stares, no time for me”

While he sung, he spun around and around, oblivious to the world, even the loud clanking of the door opening. He got louder, more confidant, he leapt over the obstacles he knew were there, as if his eyes weren’t shut and he was aware. Valerie and Joan had pulled out their phones, quickly starting a video, not moving other than to let their teacher get a better look. Roman sung with a deep emotion and a vibrato deep in his chest, having perfect form in his singing as well as with his dancing. His falsetto rang out just as strong and he just continued to dance and sing.

“Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door”

And then his eyes opened, and he was glad he had drained his cup because it flew out of his hands as did the broom as the calm bliss drained from his features and filled back up with panic and fear. He pressed to his chest, blindly checking for his book bag, backing up slowly before turning and leaping off the stage and running out the doors, the screams from his friends and teacher calling for him going silent in his ears as the only thing he heard was the blood pumping through his head. He hid in the bathroom stalls, sending a text to Logan.

‘Help help Logan I can’t breathe I’m in the bathroom next to the theater please I can’t I can’t breathe’ it had an immediate response, shorter than most his texts ever are, a simple ‘omw’ shot back seconds later, and within 5 minutes he heard the door open and Logan call his name. By then he had been chewing on his new necklace obsessively, and when Logan called for him, he scrambled up and out, throwing himself into his brothers’ arms. Logan held him protectively, calmly waiting for the sobs to quiet. Eventually they did and Logan pulled back to look at Roman properly. Roman’s hair looked stressed and messed up almost beyond repair and his beanie was pulled lower than normal. He frowned.

“Roman what happened?”

“it-its nothin, its real- it’s really dumb I should- I should just suck-suck it-suck it up, it doesn’t ma-matter I’m sorr- I’m sorry lo I just- I just-”

“Roman breathe. Breathe first. I’m sure its not dumb if it caused this ok? Just breathe and explain when you can.”

“o-okay. …they saw- they saw me singing. And-and dancing and I can’t believe I was so dumb to let them see how am I gonna face them now lo they’re gonna hate me!!!”

“hey. You’re making jumps in logic. I know you understand the connection, but I don’t okay? How are you getting from your friends seeing you singing to them hating you?”

“because! Because! Um… I-I don’t know, I just, I know they will!”

“Roman what you’re experiencing is a cognitive distortion. You’ve come to the conclusion that you singing will cause your friends to hate you, and I know from experience that if you had any real reason to believe that they would hate you over something this inconsequential you wouldn’t have befriended them. Have faith in them ro. Give them a chance to prove you wrong before deciding this.”

“… o-okay. Do you, do you really think they don’t hate me?”

“I don’t know your friends very well, but I highly doubt anyone would hate you for this. Now, when you’re ready, go back to them. I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

“yeah… yeah okay. Thank you, Logan, you’re a life saver”

“don’t mention it.”

Roman took a few more deep breaths and gave Logan one last hug before going back to the theatre room. He shyly opened the giant hall doors, feeling like an ant in the huge auditorium. The first face he saw when coming back in was Joan who was sitting on the edge of the stage on their phone, legs dangling off the end. They raised their head at the doors sound and brightened. They sat still however, and then came Mr. sanders. He had rushed forward and met him where he was with an outstretched arm and a smile on his face. Roman took his hand and let out a yelp as he was dragged forward. He couldn’t quite concentrate on what his teacher was saying but he knew he was smiling so he hoped it was good.

“-Roman can you sing what you were singing before for me again? Please?”

They were on the stage now, and Joan was nearby with a wide smile. He looked between them and Mr. sanders, and slowly and cautiously nodded. He began the song again, slowly, quietly, but by the time he was at the chorus he was belting out the lyrics once more. His chest felt light, like it was filled with helium and was floating away. His friends all stood grinning at him as he sung, and he was elated.

Imagine for a moment that this was a child’s cartoon, impossible wacky things happen to show emotion. If it were a tv show he would be flying, hair blowing around his head as he was fully submerged by the pure joy of singing. This isn’t a tv show however, and so its just a boy singing his heart out on stage. He wrapped up the song, shocked to see his teacher nearly bouncing from excitement.

“you’re our lead!!! You are a perfect cast!!! You have the perfect range and dance style and I haven’t seen you act but Roman you’re it!!! You’re what we’ve been looking for!!!”

“wh-what? No, I, I can’t do that! I couldn’t get on stage and perform like that!!! I-I didn’t even audition! You-you can’t just, just give me the part! Mr. sanders I’m honored but I can’t let you-”

“Roman, I know you can do it. Also, it’s quite exactly my job to give kids the parts they’ve earned, and that song was enough to see that you deserve that role. You can still say no I guess, but really Roman, I honestly believe you’re exactly the person I’ve been looking for this role. I would be forever grateful if you took me up on it.”

And what could he truly say to that? To his closest friends who looked so thrilled, so proud of him. He couldn’t say no, that would let them down. He looked up at his teacher, the man who would be his mentor for at least another two years after this one and said yes. He agreed and he was terrified. But, singing and dancing made him happy, so he doubted he would end up regretting it completely. He brought his chew necklace up, absently chewing as his peers and teacher cheered. He was going to… have a whole lot to explain to Logan and Remus. And mom and Mimi. That will be… fun.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @demented-dukey @karmels-stuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank my fanyou for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

[egotuberwriting]

Long Live the King

*Walks in with a smoothie* Yo. I finally have another fic after being gone forever. And of course it deals with angst ;D

Bless @sidespromptblog for coming up with the prompt that inspired me to write again, and I’m just gonna casually tag @starwarsdestroyedme and @ky-likes-sanders-sides because I saw their expanded ideas in the notes and decided to use those in here too! Because more angst is the best!

I’m gonna be basing King Creativity’s, Mars, outfit from these pics

Tw: Getting sliced in half; though it’s not graphic I don’t wanna risk anyone getting uncomfortable when getting to the part. If I need to add something, let me know.

Free Cookies to anyone who gets why I named King Creativity ‘Mars’

Wordcount:  1832

    Things were not looking good in Patton’s eyes.

    With Thomas now a teenager and the horrifying thing that is puberty starting to kick in at full force, the Mindscape was a mess. 

    Logan was swamped with work. While he did enjoy learning everything Thomas learned in school, he struggled to ensure Thomas kept the dang knowledge in his long term memory. He was also in a losing battle with him to make sure he ate healthy and went to sleep at a reasonable hour, though Patton would take the blame on that one since he just wants Thomas to have as much fun as he can and eat all the yummy treats he can too.

    And then Anxiety fully made himself known. Sure he was always around, but now he practically took over the driver's seat and is steering the poor boy down an angsty path. Sure, this is the time where Thomas is supposed to discover who he is, but it doesn’t have to be like this! Thank goodness Patton knows how to steer Thomas onto a ‘better’ path, even if for a little while. 

    Patton isn’t even gonna think about what Deceit will be capable of later on in Thomas’s life. Although he does wonder if that snake is the reason Anxiety is the way he is… And then starts to wonder if Deceit’s influence over Anxiety is the reason his friend started changing for the worst.

    The King of Creativity, or Mars, was noticeably getting more and more disturbing, to say the least. While he of course continued to create the  loveable fantasy ideas that he was supposed to be known for, he had started to make very crude jokes and began to delve into dark humor. And to top it all off, he started to go a bit insane and took an interest to more ‘physical humor,’ to put it lightly. Patton gags every time he thinks about the last ‘joke’ Mars showed him. 

    Patton had asked Logan if he noticed these changes in their friend, and while Logan did notice, he only said that this is just a normal phase that will pass. When asked how long it would take to pass, Logan couldn’t give Patton a straight answer since it could be a few years at best, if that.

    That, however, was not the answer Patton wanted to hear.

    It’s been roughly a year since Mars started falling down the rabbit hole of ‘impureness,’ and Patton have had enough. Instead of improving, Mars got worse, and Patton was going to put an end to this once and for all. 

    He stood in front of his best friends door, starting to question his if his decision was a good one or not. He let out a stuttered breath as he reached for the doorknob, only to hesitantly pull away.

    ...No, he had to do this. He had to go through with this. For the good of Thomas, this was something that needed to be done. 

     Patton is Morality; he knows what’s best for Thomas. 

    Besides, if he doesn’t do this, then no one would accept Thomas. He wouldn’t ever grow and would devolve into something horrible and would thus be shunned by everyone around him.

    Taking a deep breath, Morality finally entered Mars’s room. It was a mess; filled with many journals containing ideas for different things that Thomas could create, good, angsty, and disgusting, and a lot of art equipment. Though Morality would prefer to ignore some of the unfinished paintings that’s in his peripheral vision. 

    Mars’s room is significantly bigger than everyone else's due to him wanting to wanting to feel like he’s actually in a castle, so it takes Morality a few minutes before he actually finds Mars. 

    When he finds him, he has his back turned to the other Side and is aggressively painting a new picture with both hands, not at all noticing that Morality stepped into the room. Using this opportunity to his advantage, Morality quickly looked around for Mars’s favorite sword. It was always in the same room as him, so it had to be around here somewhere. To his delight(?), he left it against the wall, almost as if he just left it there while in a rush to paint whatever new thing he thought of. Morality made sure to take it without making a noise, then hid it behind his back.

    He has reached the point of no return.

    Clearing his throat and putting his happy persona on, Patton tapped on Mars’s shoulder. 

    “Hey there, kiddo!” 

    “wHO GOES THERE-” Mars wildly spun around to face the other man, almost hitting him in the face with a paint brush, and didn’t realize that Patton was trying to hide something behind his back. “Oh! It’s just you, Pa! Erm, I’m afraid I cannot show you my next masterpiece because it’s not yet PERFECT! And therefore not actually a MASTERpiece yet. And you know how I HATE showing things that aren’t a perfect masterpiece!” 

    Patton chuckled nervously, “It’s fine. I, uh… I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you have the time.” 

    Mars gasped, offended at the thought he wouldn’t have the time to listen to his best friend. “Have the time?! Patton, you know I always have time for you, my friend! So, what can I do for you?” He asked, throwing the paintbrushes he was holding to his sides.

    “Well… I wanted to talk to you about your… recent behavior.” Patton gulped. 

    Mars tilted his head curiously at him. He honestly had no idea what Patton was talking about. For all he knew, he was acting normal and adapting to whatever Thomas seemingly had an interest to. 

    “You’ve been, how do I put this? Erratic and really disturbing. The crude jokes and the ‘physical humor’ just isn’t right!” Patton continued with the feeling of dread starting to wash over him.

    Mars was quick to defend himself. “What do you mean? I’m just adapting to what Thomas is growing interested in, or at least what he takes in from his environment! It’s fine!” 

    “No! It’s not fine!” Patton’s breathing started to stutter. “I… I don’t want to do this, but… If that’s what you think, and you’re sticking to it, then you give me no choice.” 

    Slowly, Patton revealed the sword and held it in both hands. Mars’s eyes immediately widened as he took a step back and Patton lifted the sword so it was above his head.

    “W-Wait… Pa… Dad… What are you doing!? Y-You don’t have to do this! Please, think this through!” Mars began to plead, holding his arms up in a defensive position. 

    “I’m sorry…” Patton whispered as he closed his tear-filled eyes. 

                                       “...Long live the king.”

    With a quick slice of the sword, Mars, King of Creativity, was sliced in two. 

    As the two halves slid apart and hit the floor, the Mindscape shook violently. Everything in the room, and probably everywhere else, fell off the walls and onto the floor. 

    The reality of what Morality did hit him quickly. He dropped the sword and looked at the scene in front of him, dropped to his knees, then looked down to his hands. He did this. This was his doing. But… it was for the best, right?

    He didn’t have time to really fully process what happened before he heard the sound of footsteps running towards him and stop at the doorway.

    “...Patton… What have you done?” A shocked Logan asked.

    Morality didn’t answer right away as he was still staring into his hands in horror. Logan is only able to take a step forward before Morality looks over at him, tears streaming down his face.

    “L-Logan… I… I… I had to do it… I couldn’t take it anymore so I… I cut him in half… I-It was the only way… O-Otherwise poor Thomas would have been rejected by others...” 

    Logan, unsure of how to comfort him, just stood there in the doorway. Why in the world Patton would go this far to stop those intrusive thoughts Mars produced was beyond him, but what's done is done. All he can do now is watch as the two halves regenerate to form their own whole body, and watch as Patton continues to break down in the middle of the room.

    What intrigued Logan was that as the halves regenerated, so did their clothes. One half had his clothes turn white, his sash remain red, and had a small bit of gold on his clothes. He looked the most like the former king. 

    The other half, however, was almost dramatically different. He kept the primarily black outfit, but had a green sash, a silver quiff in his hair, his eyes looked like they were both bruised, and his outfit human teeth and eyeballs. 

    It was obvious which half had which traits.

    While Logan was still observing the halves, Patton managed to get up and stumble to him, falling into him grabbing his shirt before he fell to the floor.

    “Y-You need to help me… They can’t remember this. They can’t remember what I did to them!” He pleaded, looking the other man right in the eyes. “A-And we need to figure out what to do with… him…” He then glanced at the more disturbing looking half.

    Logan felt bad, which was new, but Patton was right. If they remembered what Patton did, it wouldn’t end well. Also, something did have to be done with the two new sides anyway. 

    He gently nudged Patton off and carefully helped him sit onto the floor so he wouldn’t fall down. Then he goes over to the now fully formed sides and crouches next to them.

    “...They’re gonna need names you know…” He said. There was silence between the two before Logan finally spoke up again. “...I think Romulus and Remus are adequate names for them. Romulus shall be the one in white while Remus is the… more disturbing one…”

    Patton had to think about it for a moment, all while still trying to calm himself down, and nodded at the name suggestions. 

    “I think those are good names… But, Romulus is a bit much, don’t you think? How about just Roman?” 

    “Well, Romulus named his city Rome, so I suppose Roman shall suffice.” Logan agreed. “Now, Patton, I would suggest you go to your room to calm down. I’ll… figure out what to do from here. You’ve done enough today.”

    “...No. Let me at least finish what I started.” Logan looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “I know what to do with Remus. Just… figure out how to wipe their memories and I’ll handle the rest.” 

    Normally Logan wouldn’t want Patton to handle anything by himself, especially after this mess, but something told him this was an argument he wouldn’t win, so he allowed it.

    Nothing would be the same ever again.

    The king was gone forever.

    All that was left was the Prince and the Duke.

    ...Interestingly enough, the painting Mars was working on depicted an army of red exiting a castle to face an army of green, coming from a tower. 

[lostinreality014]

A Perfect Birthday (Evie)

Author’s Notes: Since writing A Perfect Christmas, I’ve had it in my mind that Niall and Evie adopt a husky puppy at some point in time after they get married. I’ll attribute a part of that to my own personal obsession with huskies. Any how... I went back and forth on how their puppy would come into the picture and decided Niall would surprise Evie for her birthday. So that’s how this came about. Not sure this blurb is as strong as APC, but hopefully you all like it. :)

Thank you to the ever so lovely @wdmsusie for being beta to this piece. Hopefully one of these days I’ll be able to write a fully chaptered fic as amazing as the stories she shares with us :)

This piece will also be posted to my Wattpad account.

Any pieces I post here are mine and all rights are reserved. I do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform. Unless I explicitly state that I have posted one of my works on another platform, please let me know immediately if you see my writing anywhere other than Tumblr. Thank you.

“Happy birthday, darlin.” Niall said softly, planting gentle kisses along my bare shoulder. If not for his kisses pulling me out of my peaceful sleep, I wouldn’t have heard his happy birthday wish.

“Hmm…” I hummed softly as I turned my head on my pillow toward him. “Thought you were gonna let me sleep in for my birthday.”

“I did.” I felt him chuckle more than I heard it. “It’s nearly noon.” My eyes snapped open in shock.

“Really?” he nodded with another chuckle.

“Mhm. And you’ve got one very impatient nephew who is dyin to wish you a happy birthday.” There was no stopping the pout from forming on my lips at the thought of Theo wanting to wish me a happy birthday.

“Aww. I miss the little guy.”

“He misses you too. Didn’t even want to talk to me when I answered me phone earlier. Just asked for you cause you weren’t answerin your phone.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged with a smirk. “I have that magic touch.”

“You’re so funny.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “What do you say to breakfast for lunch in bed and a FaceTime call with your nephew before I spoil you for your birthday?”

“I think breakfast in bed is spoiling enough,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t need anything else. Just wanna spend my day with you.” I smiled.

“I’m still gonna spoil ya even if ya protest.” I swatted at his chest lazily, earning a hearty chuckle from him. “What would you like for breakfast, birthday girl?”

“Hmm… an omelette sounds good. With some fruit and a cup of tea.”

“I think I can whip that up real quick.” He smiled, which turned into a teasing smirk. “And look who’s calling again.”

“I’ve never known someone so enthusiastic about wishing someone a happy birthday.” I giggled as he answered the call.

“Hey little man. Callin me every ten minutes won’t wake up your Aunt Evie any sooner.” He smirked.

“I know. But I gots ta wish her a Happy Birfday. And it’s almost lunch time!” he exclaimed. I felt my heart melt in my chest. “Is she awake yet?”

“Hold on a sec and let me check.” I watched him mute the call then place the phone in his lap so it was a black screen for a minute or two.

“You’re so mean.” I admonished though it was hard not to smile.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“Quit stalling and let him wish me a happy birthday.” He laughed, picked his phone back up, and unmuted the call.

“Guess who finally woke up?” Niall smirked at Theo.

“AUNT EVIE!” He exclaimed. We heard Denise tell him to lower his voice in the background.

“Give her just a second and she’ll be on the phone, yeah?”

“Okay.” If I had to guess, he was probably bouncing around waiting for me to appear on screen.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with breakfast.” Niall whispered as he stood up. I nodded as he handed me his phone then pecked a gentle kiss to my forehead before heading out of the room.

“AUNT EVIE! HAPPY BIRFDAY!” Theo exclaimed when I appeared on screen.

“Thank you!” I smiled at him. “You’ve been waiting a long time to see me haven’t you?” He nodded emphatically.

“You was asleep for a looooong time.” He said. He was so matter of fact about it it made me giggle.

“I was, wasn’t I?”

“Uh huh. Why you sleep so long?”

“Well, I was at work really late last night and I didn’t get home until it was way after your bedtime. So one of my birthday presents from Uncle Niall was to let me sleep as long as I wanted.”

“That’s a good present.” He said with a smile.

“Yes it is. It’s a lovely present.”

“Have you got any other presents yet?”

“Not yet. But Uncle Niall said he’s going to spoil me for my birthday. So I bet that means more presents.”

“Good. You deserve lotsa presents.”

“I do?” he nodded and I giggled.

“I make sure Uncle Niall knows.” He said adamantly.

“I think he already knows,” I winked at him as Denise called for his attention in the background.

“I gots ta go, Aunt Evie. Mumma says it’s time for lunch.” I giggled and nodded.

“You go enjoy lunch. And thank you for the birthday wishes.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled big.

“I love you a lot.”

“I love you more!” He exclaimed.

“Not possible.” I smiled. “Go get your lunch and I’ll talk to you soon okay?”

“Okay. Bye bye!” we waved at each other for a moment before the call disconnected and I was met with the blank screen of Niall’s phone.

A couple of hours later, after enjoying a birthday breakfast in bed with Niall, and getting myself ready for the rest of the day, we were walking around the farmer’s market not far from our house. Walking through this market was one of my favorite things to do. I’d always found it calming to walk through the various aisles full of tables and tents, looking at everything people had to sell whether it was sweets, artwork, or handmade clothing and jewelry. Perhaps it was calming to me because it reminded me of all the early Saturday mornings I spent with mum at local markets back in Mullingar when I was younger.

“Havin a good birthday so far?” Niall asked as we turned down another aisle of tents and tables.

“Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my birthday.” I smiled up at him.

“Good. You deserve the best birthday every year,” he returned the smile, dropping a kiss to my forehead as his hand gave my waist a gentle, loving squeeze. “See anything ya like?”

“Of course. I always find things that catch my eye. Not that you need to buy me anything else.” he scoffed.

“Of course I do. It’s your birthday. And Theo made it perfectly clear you deserve lots of presents.” There was no stopping the laugh that escaped from the back of my throat.

“He’s eight. Of course he’s going to say everyone deserves lots of birthday presents.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“Mhm.” I hummed, narrowing my eyes at him. A table a few meters from us caught my attention as he slowed our pace down before stopping at a table that had vintage band tees and various records on display. If my attention hadn’t already been elsewhere, I would have stopped to browse the shirts and records on display.

“There’s a table just down the way I want to check out.” I told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “Catch up to me?”

“Sure. I won’t be long,” He smiled. I untangled our fingers and made my way down the aisle, stopping in front of the table that had some of the most unique, and beautiful handmade jewelry I’d seen in a long time.

“Hello.” A kind, older woman smiled as I walked up.

“Hello. How are you?” I smiled.

“I’m wonderful. How are you?”

“Never been better.”

“Oh that’s wonderful to hear. Looking for anything in particular or just browsing?”

“Just browsing for the moment. My mum’s birthday is coming up soon and I haven’t the slightest idea what to get her. Kind of hoping something will jump out at me.”

“The right gift will come along. Browse as long as you like and I’m here if you have any questions.”

“Great. Thank you.” I smiled as I started looking at all the jewelry that she had out on display. A few pieces made me think of Mum, but nothing quite jumped at me. Until I saw a necklace and earring set a few minutes later. I gently picked up the set so I could get a closer look at it. It was absolutely perfect for mum. The right color, the right style, and the earrings weren’t too big.

A few minutes later, I had purchased mum’s birthday present and was tucking it safely into my purse. After thanking the woman one final time and wishing her a lovely afternoon, I glanced back to see Niall still at the table I’d left him at and chuckled to myself. I was about to turn and head back to meet him, but was immediately distracted by a pen of husky puppies. How I hadn’t seen them prior to stopping at the table I’d just left was beyond me.

“Oh my goodness.” I cooed softly as I approached the pen. “They’re so sweet.”

“They are, aren’t they?” The middle aged woman asked with a smile as she marked her place in the book she was reading. “You’re welcome to visit with them.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She smiled, walking over and opening the small door to the pen for me. As soon as I stepped through the small door, all but one of the puppies made their way toward me, barking and whining excitedly.

“Are they all in need of homes?” I asked as I tried to give each puppy in front of me some attention.

“They are. I’ve just recently posted a notice they’re available for adoption.”

“They’re so precious. I’d take them all but my husband would kill me.” I chuckled as the puppies started jumping around and wrestling with each other to get my attention. The one puppy not partaking in the shenanigans of its siblings had made its way toward me, staying close to the wall of the pen.

“That’s the general consensus we get.” she chuckled fondly. “I’m Laura by the way.”

“I’m Evie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” she smiled as the one puppy who wanted to do with the comotion gently pawed at my leg. I pouted and scooped up the ball of fluff with eyes that were the color of Niall’s.

“Hello precious. What’s your name?” I asked, settling the puppy in my lap.

“That’s Selke. She’s normally quite shy and it usually takes her a long time to warm up to people. You’re actually the first person she’s approached on her own so quickly.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” I cooed as she curled up in my lap, her chin resting on my thigh. “Selke is an interesting name. Does it mean something?” I asked, looking up at Laura.

“Interestingly enough, she’s named after an award that’s given to hockey players. My husband is originally from the States and is a big hockey fan. There are awards for the player that scored the most points in the season, the best defenseman, the player with the best sportsmanlike conduct, that kind of thing. I don’t remember what the Selke award is for, but she responded to the name so it stuck.”

“I think it suits her.” I smiled as she lifted her head up to look at me.  

“I agree. Looks like she’s taken quite the liking to you.”

“Seems so. Which means it’s gonna break my heart to leave her.”

“Ev?” I heard Niall’s voice from a few feet away. He must have heard me talking to Laura.

“Over here.” I called, already bracing myself for whatever reaction I was about to get from him.

“Oh no.” he half groaned, knowing it was going to be a chore to get me to leave. “Never should’ve let you wander off on your own. Now I’ll never get ya home.”

“You’re so funny.” I said before sticking my tongue out at him. Laura giggled at the pair of us. “And be nice. It’s my birthday.”

“Would you like to join her?” Niall thought about it for a moment before nodding.

“Wouldn’t hurt I guess. But we’re not leavin with one of ‘em.” He stepped through after Laura opened the gate just has she’d done for me to make sure none of the puppies escaped. I made a face at him. I knew of his reservations of adopting a puppy and I completely understood them. But one of these days I’d convince him that having a dog wouldn’t be so bad.

As soon as he sat down next to me on the other stool, the puppies ran up to him, barking excitedly. Selke lifted her head off my thigh again and whined at him softly, still not the least bit interested in participating in the antics of her brothers and sisters. I smiled when he slid off the stool to sit on the ground, the puppies immediately climbing into his lap. I laughed as an uncharacteristically high pitched giggle escaped his throat, the puppies jumping up in his face and trying to lick him so he’d give them more attention.

“I’ve only got two hands,” he laughed as one of the puppies toppled out of his lap. I couldn’t help but giggle. “Ya alright there, lil one?” he asked as he helped the puppy back up onto its feet.

“How old are they?” I asked Laura as I continued to pet Selke and watch Niall entertain the others.

“Just turned six weeks old yesterday. They still need a couple more weeks with their mumma before they can head off on their own.” Selke lifted her head off my thigh again and sniffed at Niall, whining softly in his ear. He immediately turned his attention to her, and the look on his face when he came eye to eye with her made my heart squeeze in my chest.

“Perfect. That gives us time to puppy proof our house.” Niall said. My head snapped back to him so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t give myself whiplash.

“Puppy proof...?” I started. He nodded, his smile stretching across his face. “But you just...”

“Happy birthday, darlin.” Tears welled up in my eyes immediately.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, a tear slipping free before I could stop it. “Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“You better not be messin with me.” He laughed and shook his head.

“Not messin with ya, love.” I shook my head in disbelief as a few more tears escaped. “One of these cute pups is comin home with us.”

“Did you just decide this? Or was it planned?”

“It was planned. With some help.” He glanced up at Laura, who was leaning against the railing, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You cheeky bastard.” I muttered, wiping the tears from my face. He laughed again and leaned over to peck a kiss to my knee as that was the only part of me in his reach.

“I’ll leave you two to spend some time with the puppies so you can get to know them. I’m here if you have any questions.” We nodded and thanked her before turning back to each other.

“I can’t believe you.” I said softly, looking down at him, tears still in my eyes.

“Can’t believe I managed to completely surprise you.”

“I can’t either. Only other time was when you proposed.” I smirked.

“It hasn’t been easy to keep this a secret. I’ll tell ya that.” Selke sniffed at his hair before licking at his nose. “You’re cute.” he smiled as he reached up to scratch behind her ears.

“Her name is Selke.”

“Look at those eyes. They’re stunnin. And that face.”

“I don’t see how anyone could say no to that face,” I commented.

“You’d have to have a heart of ice to say no to her. Or any of these little guys.” He giggled as a couple of the other puppies scampered back over to him. Selke watched them for a moment before wiggling around in my lap and settling down on her back, with all fours in the air.

“Oh you want a belly rub, don’t ya?” I asked as I started scratching her chest and tummy gently. I completely melted when she wrapped her little paws around my wrist, her head lolling off to the side, clearly enjoying the tummy rub.

“Hand me my phone, please?” I asked Niall. He pulled it from my purse, opening the camera app on it before handing it to me. I snapped a few pictures of her before dropping my phone back into my purse. She enjoyed her tummy rub for a few seconds more before rolling back onto her side and barking softly.

“I think she wants some Niall cuddles.” I smiled as I scooped her up and set her in Niall’s lap. The two puppies that had just been climbing all over him were now running around by my feet, chasing each other and wrestling once one caught the other. The other three puppies had calmed down and were curled up next to their mumma for a nap.

“This face kills me.” He pouted as Selke sat back on her hind legs, her tiny front paws resting against his chest. He helped steady her with one hand so she wouldn’t topple over, while gently scratching behind her ear with his other hand.

“It’s the eyes. And that little smile.”

“Oh now she’s layin it on. Won’t let go of me hand.” He pouted. “Any idea which one you’d like to bring home with us?” Niall asked.

“Selke.” I answered without hesitation. Even though we hadn’t spent too much time with the other puppies, there was something about Selke that felt right. And it wasn’t that the other puppies weren’t just as sweet and friendly as Selke was. Because they were. But knowing that I was the first person she approached on her own only cemented the fact that she was the right match for the two of us.

“What do ya say, Selke girl? Wanna come live with us?” She barked softly and licked at Niall’s chin.

“I think that’s puppy for yes.” I giggled.

“I think so too.” He smiled, looking up at me. I leaned down and kissed him softly.

“Thanks for the best, and most perfect, birthday present ever.” I smiled, pecking his lips once more before sitting up a bit.

“You’re welcome, my love. Happy birthday.”

[thefauxfox-blog]

A Catastrophe

(Alternate title- Purr-plexed. Alternate title 2- Meow What? Alternate title 3- Pawzzling. Alter-someone stop me)

Summary: Fluffy (literally) Sanders Sides fic where the Sides suddenly have a kitten and nothing makes sense anymore. but who cares, have you seen that kitten? cute. so so cute.

At this point, they'd all heard Patten scream enough that they didn't tend to hustle to his side anymore. Spiders, hot coffee spill, jelly staining his polo, existential crisis, someone using foul language, an especially cute birb video- they just didn't drop what they were doing and show up.

So when Logan heard Patten shriek, he finished his chapter, placed his bookmark, set the book down, and then made his way to the mind palace commons. He gathered a roll of paper towels on the way- useful for both killing spiders and mopping up stains.

When he arrived, he stopped dead.

Oh.

He opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again, and paused.

He… he was at a loss. Well. That was new. He'd never experienced this severity of perplexity before. The situation wasn't merely improbable, it was impossible. He would’ve briefly wondered if he was dreaming- but he didn’t really do that, Roma was the dreamer. But then how…?

“That is sooooooo cute!!! What's their name?” Patten was cooing, crouched over where Virgil and the…. other thing… was.

“I was thinking Ursula. Cause she's mostly black. And she's a total baddie,” Virgil said. “It's a girl.”

“Ursula?” Patten repeated,wrinkling his nose. “Isn't that an evil squid woman? Son, you are just such a dark villainous soul, and it’s frightening yet charming. Ursula it is!”

“Octopus, not squid,” Virgil corrected absentmindedly. He was staring down at the tiny thing.

Data. Logan needed more data. He approached cautiously, observing. Mostly black with brown tortoiseshell pattern. Calico, female. Short haired. Polydactyl front paws. Probably 9-10 weeks old. Comfortable with Virgil as demonstrated by the tucked in position, eyes closed, purring loudly.

“Great Odin’s beard, is that a kitten?!?!” Roman had finally joined them, and was dramatically pointing, arm fully outstretched at the thing.

“Yeah. It's a kitten. Her name is Ursula,” Virgil said protectively, petting the small creature.

“Virgil,” Logan finally managed. The anxiety avatar hummed to indicate his attentiveness, so Logan continued. “Virgil. Where- why- how do you have a cat?!?!”

“I dunno. I just woke up and she was curled up on my bed with me,” he said carelessly. “Jealous?”

“Technically, it would be envy, not jealousy, as envy is to covet while jealously is to hoard- and no, I am not either jealous nor envious. I am… Virgil, this can't happen.”

“I'll take care of her, don't be such a party pooper,” Virgil scoffed. “I'm the embodiment of worry and over thinking and stress, as if I’m ever going to neglect her. I’m like, the ideal cat owner.”

“Ohmigod. So you're a cat mom now! Except- you’re male, so cat dad? Is that a thing? We both are dads! High five, kiddo! So I get to be the cat granddad?” Patten said excitedly.

“No, I'm not your kid, and the cat isn't my kid either. She’s not my baby. We’re bros.”

“I can't believe you named her Ursula. Don't you think she looks more like an Aurora, or Tiana?” Roman grumbled, approaching to better appreciate the kitten.

“No, she's totally going to be a mischief cat, not some princess.”

“Like- there's this adorable cat I follow on instagram, his name is Oreo, and he steals bread, like, all the time. And it's so cute and naughty, the owners are like making a sandwich and they turn around and he's in the bread bag and has a slice-”

“Ursula is going to disrupt everyone's sleep and steal their socks and act cute but just be luring you in, and bite you, because she’s ferocious and terrifying and the coolest cat ever-”

“Or what about Mulan? I think she looks like a Mulan. She's not a water creature or a witch, and I've become well versed in both identifying and killing witches, I have been known far and wide for my prowess-”

“-but Oreo is running off with a whole piece of bread, half dragging, and they get to chase him, and-”

“She's my cat, so I'm naming her and she's going to take after me-”

“If she does turn out to be a witch, I will be forced into the terrible dilemma of killing evil but also killing cuteness-”

“HOW IS THERE A CAT?!?!”

Everyone went quiet at Logan’s exclamation. They all looked surprised.

“Whoa.”

“Loud much?”

“Rude.”

“You okay, son? That was just a liiiittle aggressive.”

“This doesn't make any sense. We are all- this can't just wander in here! We're not in reality, we're in Thomas’s head! He can manipulate our environment and we can manipulate the forms we present with, but to introduce a new creature that is a) not human, b) not an aspect of his personality, and c) not consciously created, is simply not possible. I do not understand and that is not okay,” Logan said, starting to get a little breathless and alarmed at the end.

“Look, I don't know how she got here. But here she is. I have a cat now. That's a thing, you can see and feel her, she's really here,” Virgil said. “That's reality. I don't know anything about cause, history, any of that, but I know present and I can give a pretty good guess at future stuff. History is your department. So if you wanna try and figure it out, sure, but I'm happy with her.”

“This doesn’t- this doesn't make any sense!”

“But it's happened.”

“No, no, no, no,” he said, pointing at each of them to emphasize. “We are figments of Thomas’s personality, and this is a created reality of consciousness, but we still have rules!”

“We also have a cat now,” Patten said delightedly.

“My cat,” Virgil grumbled.

“Let her be the judge of who’s cat she is, and may the best side win,” Roman said impetuously.

“Doesn’t this bother you? Does this bother any of you? This. Is. Not. Possible. We can’t just magically appear a cat!”

They ignored him in favor of coddling and cooing at the kitten. He let out an irate breath and sank out.

“Thomas,” he said, dropping in on him. Thomas yelped and smacked his keyboard.

“Oh! Jeez, you spooked me. What's up, Logan?” Thomas said, frowning at his screen and backspacing all the keyboard smash he'd accidentally put in.

“Virgil has a cat.”

Thomas looked unreasonably unbothered. Why was nobody else perturbed?

“That sounds pretty cool. Can you guys like… dream up cat food? Where does your garbage go? Am I going to be dealing with imaginary cat poop-,”

“No, those are all the wrong questions. Because Virgil can't have a cat. Because you are not a cat, and you don't have a cat side of your personality-,”

“I dunno, I like having my head scratched, and I've bit people before. It's certainly not a manifestation of any gracefullnes, though-”

“Can we please be serious for a minute!?!?”

“I'm not putting a tie on.”

“Oh, for- mmmmmm. Mmmm-mmmm. Okay. I need you to try and-” he pulled his flash cards out of his pocket and flipped through them for a moment before selecting something he hoped would convey the preponderance of the situation. “Be ‘hella legit’ for a moment.”

Thomas blinked at him.

“Was- was that not good? I thought if I combined two, it would have a multiplier effect on the level of colloquialism usage. No?”

“...no.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ll just take note of that. Won’t happen again. I am a work in progress,” Logan said quickly, scribbling himself a note on the back of the cards.

“Good. Okay. But- I’ll be… serious… for a minute. Why is it important that Virgil has a cat?”

“Because this is breaking the basic rules of our existence. I know that your reality has rules, of course- gravity, conservation of mass and energy, particle resistance and friction, colloid rules, etcetera, etcetera. Your world exists in a framework of parameters that simply cannot be crossed. Our reality is the same- though there are some different rules, because we are apparitions of personality traits and exist to your consciousness, on a different plane of perceived reality than ‘reality’, for lack of better terminology. Now, our mind palace can have temporary sprites- I believe they’re similar to a video game NPC- that are usually created by Roman, as he is creativity, but they’re not properly real. And our inanimate environment is subject to change at will as well, it doesn’t have to stay the same, as your reality does. And we can change our own appearances at will. But this- a real, live, sentient creature? It can’t have come from anywhere, it can’t exist, it can’t- it’s impossible.”

“But it has to be possible. Because it’s there.”

“It- well, we should say ‘she’, it’s a female calico kitten that Virgil deigned to name ‘Ursula’, to Roman’s horror- it is there. I cannot deny that. But I also cannot deny the rules of our reality. I have two directly opposing true statements that cannot exist simultaneously, but they do. The cat cannot exist. But the cat does exist.”

“This is like that Schrodinger thing, a little. But way cooler, because there’s no death.”

“The only similarity is the species of the subject, Thomas, this isn’t an existential paradox of the same manner as that. Try and keep up,” Logan said impatiently. “What could’ve created this cat?”

“I dunno.”

“Perhaps we need a new angle.”

“Wait- you said right when you showed up- ‘those are the wrong questions’. We need to trace it back to the start. So instead of asking what created this cat, what can we ask and answer? Something that exists now, or will exist eventually.”

“Why was this cat created? Perfect, Thomas, that’s exactly where I need to start. If I can divulge the motive, perhaps I can better understand the origins. What are cats good for?”

“Memes,” Thomas said without hesitation, confidently.

“Great. No. I mean- yes, but why would a cat be good for your mind?”

“Uh… cats are… pets? And they’re something you need to be responsible for.”

“Why would your mind need additional responsibility?”

“Becoming an adult?” Thomas suggested with a shrug.

“No, no… I don’t think that’s it. I don’t think a cat would exist to create more responsibility. I suspect that the existence of the kitten isn’t to create something, but to modify. Within minutes of us discovering it, our entire relationship dynamics changed. Our usual patterns were broken and we all- or, the others did- began to focus on the cat. Why?”

“Diversion,” Thomas said excitedly.

“Diversion! Of course! The cat is distracting us from something.”

“Cats are also comforting. Usually. People go to cats when they’re sad or lonely. The stereotype of the lonely single person with a cat exists for a reason- it doesn’t represent every case, but it does represent some. Cats aren’t useful like dogs are, they’re just cozy and soft.”

“Do you require additional comfort?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t. Wait- the kitten… she appeared to Virgil?”

Logan could feel the realization starting to form, like a half forgotten song or a sense of a coming rainstorm. It was just there, just…

“Virgil got a cat. A comfort creature that is distracting and creates additional responsibility.” He rubbed his chin, thinking, alternately chasing the idea and trying to just let it come on it’s own. “Comfort, responsibility, distraction… Oh. OH! Oh, we’re- I’m an idiot, it was right in front of me, we both knew- it’s all for him. It’s all for him! Your anxiety!”

“What?”

“Thomas. You’ve been working harder with your friends to understand and manage your anxiety, through diet change, meditation, cognitive behavioral changes, and self-monitoring. You created the cat- the cat is your efforts to placate your anxiety without putting him off completely!”

“I’m not following. I made the cat?”

“You made the cat, yes! Look- people can often get a doctor’s note for a landlord or a college room assistant if they have mental health issues and need a cat. Because cats create responsibility- a person is much less likely to commit suicide if they have a cat, because they know that if they’re gone, nobody will care for the cat. Just that small responsibility is frequently enough to help people push forwards and keep living. Cats are also distracting- stressors like work, classes, homework, socialization, home maintenance, etcetera are all lessened when you have a cat. People tend to spend less time thinking about their problems and worrying, replacing those negative thoughts with thoughts about their cat. And cats are comforting, for when someone is upset or anxious.”

Thomas’s mouth had opened slightly. “Whoa. Whoa. Okay, so… so you’re saying that my anxiety management techniques manifested in the mind palace as a cat?”

“Precisely! Now, this doesn’t get rid of your anxiety, but it keeps him from bothering you. He might be distracted by the cat, or caught up in his cat-caretaking responsibilities, or be too comfortable and at ease to bother you.”

“That’s… that’s actually super cool,” Thomas said, starting to giggle.

“Your subconscious did it, obviously, or else we all would’ve known. Your subconscious recognized your attempts to placate your anxiety, and drew upon the information that cats can help with mental health, and manifested that as a cat. Fascinating. You make some very odd leaps of logic, Thomas.”

“Well, you’re me, and you’re my logic, so that’s on you,” Thomas laughed. He suddenly gasped. “Can I- can I see this kitten? Can you guys bring her out with you?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have any precedents to draw upon. Give it a try.”

“Virgil! Ursula!” Thomas called. Then he gasped delightedly. “Ohmigod. That. Is. So. Cute.”

“It worked,” Logan concluded as Virgil looked around, holding the tiny black and brown kitten protectively.

“Oh hey. Figure out the mystery yet?” Virgil said. He nodded at Thomas. “Check it. I got a kitten. Sick, right?”

“Is the cat sick already-?!?”

“Stop. Taking. Me. So. Literally,” Virgil said with a groan. “Dude. Seriously-”

“He’s wearing a tie, he’s always serious,” Thomas said. “That is the cutest kitten ever. My subconscious is awesome.”

“Your subconscious needs to stop pulling this strange and unexpected hokum because it’s wasting my time to figure it out. I’ve got more important things to do,” Logan scoffed.

“But Logan. Look at this kitten. Just- just look at her. Tell her she wasted your time.”

He looked at the kitten. “You….” Her eyes were big and round, the fur around them appearing to be improbably soft, and her nose was so tiny… 

He tried again. “You, cat, are…” Virgil was giving him a wide eyed stare that was somewhat analogous to the look the animated deer, Bambi, often wore in the Disney film about the creature and his woodland friends. Somehow, the cat was also wearing a look similar. He cleared his throat. He could do this.

“Cat. You are wasting…”

He couldn’t.

“It’stooadorableIhavetogetoutofhere,” he said in a rush, sinking out. He could hear Thomas laughing, Virgil laughing (Virgil?! Laughing? Anxiety was LAUGHING!? What kind of miracle kitten…?) and the stupid adorable impossible cat purring.

Author’s note: This was supposed to be short. I started this on my phone last night after getting home at 10 from watching IT. I don’t know where this idea came from, but there you have it. It happened. And I’m absolutely taken by the Sanders Sides, if anyone wants to send me requests or prompts, I might very well write them! 

[renee-walker]

fic: a song, high above the trees

So clearly I’m doing a fantastic job of keeping up with prompts (yes that was sarcasm), but in any case, have … whatever the hell this is.

The prompt is: carol & rosita (just friends) 3) “I wish I could feel things like you,” and this is a tiny Christmas present for the wonderful @tarascarol. I love you with my heart bby.

Anyway, I guess it’s kinda Carol/Rosita friendship with some random Caryl too, for flavor and because apparently I can’t write things that aren’t shippy?

(p.s. Idek what au we’re in here for real. We’re in Alexandria and some of the people I want to be alive are alive, basically.)

“You sure you don’t wanna forget about the cookies ‘til later and come upstairs with me for ten minutes?” Daryl slid both his hands under the hem of her shirt, warm calloused fingers brushing her ribs and then her stomach as his wandering touch moved closer to the button on her jeans.

“Ten whole minutes?” She wiggled out of his grasp, careful to put some friction in all the right places.

“Haven’t seen you in almost a week,” he mumbled, brushing a finger down the back of her neck before he leaned in to whisper against her ear, “Just tryin’ to be realistic.”

She licked a glob of peanut butter cookie dough off the spoon and turned to face him, grinning as she took in his expression, which was caught somewhere between the look he usually gave her when he was about to pull her into his arms and cuddle her until they fell asleep and the look he usually gave her when he was about to get her out of her clothes as fast as possible and put his hands and mouth all over her until she couldn’t breathe, much less think.

Bouncing up on her toes a little, she brushed her lips over his and said, her voice low even though she was pretty sure they were alone in the house, “Or we could compromise.” His hands drew her hips closer to his, and she didn’t fight it. “I’ll finish these cookies and make dinner. But it’s Aaron and Eric’s night to clean up, which means we could go to bed early.” The eagerness in his eyes combined with his hips pressing into hers made her want to forget all about compromises and cookies, but it was only two days until Christmas (or as close as they could figure anyway), and she’d promised Carl she’d do what she could to come up with something like those peanut butter cookies with the Hershey kisses in the middle.

“Early like right after dinner?”

She raised an eyebrow. “If you want.”

He took her face in his hands, tilting it up towards his. “I definitely want,” he muttered before his lips were on hers, warm and soft, the piece of chocolate he’d stolen mixing with the peanut butter cookie dough when the tip of his tongue stroked hers, and she made a low, needy noise.

“Cookies are delicious,” he whispered into her mouth, pushing her back against the counter.

“Shut up,” she murmured, her thoughts getting fuzzier as her cheeks heated and she felt her heart tapping too rapidly against his chest.

The decisive slam of the kitchen door startled them instantly apart. Rosita was standing there, arms across her chest, wearing an expression of boredom mixed with a tinge of amused disdain and … something else Carol couldn’t quite categorize.

“Just want a glass of water.” Rosita strode past them and lifted to her tiptoes to reach the biggest glasses on the top shelf. “And then I’ll let you two get right back to it.”

“Daryl was just leaving,” said Carol, shooting him a pointed look and stepping back far enough that he couldn’t reach her.

“You and I clearly have a very different definition of that word,” Rosita shot back, shoving the faucet handle up to fill her glass.

“I’m outta here.” Daryl’s face was tinted slightly pink, but it made Carol feel warm all over to notice that he didn’t look ashamed or even particularly concerned that Rosita had caught them making out.

Progress.

He leaned forward to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Later then, you promised.” His words were so soft that she almost didn’t hear them.

Almost.

He gave her a tiny, one-side smile as he grabbed his bow off the floor and fled.

Carol turned back to the cookies, spooning out a chunk of dough and rolling it between her palms.

“You want some help?” Rosita gulped down the last few swallows of her water and flipped on the tap to wash her hands.

Carol glanced up, puzzled. “I didn’t know you liked baking.”

“I don’t.”

“So why do you wanna help?” She dropped the mostly rounded ball of dough on the cookie sheet and reached for some more. “I’m fine finishing up here.”

“I don’t feel like being alone.” Her words hung in the quiet air of the kitchen.

Carol stopped and looked at her for a second, wondering why Rosita had chosen this specific moment to be so blunt. Then she nodded. “It’s really easy. Just take about this much dough- (she extended her hand to demonstrate) and then roll it until it’s reasonably close to round.” She deposited the finished product on the cookie sheet. “It doesn’t have to be perfect or anything.”

For a few minutes they worked together in silence, the only sounds in the kitchen the background hum of the refrigerator and the Andy Williams Christmas CD Carol had put on before she started. He was in the middle of “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” full orchestra and choir backing him up.

“Who the hell tells ghost stories on Christmas?” Rosita blew a strand of hair out of her face as she attacked the ball of dough in her hand with what seemed to Carol like unnecessary ferocity.

“What?”

“That stupid line. Something about ‘scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long long ago.’”

Carol pulled in a breath, expecting the familiar ache that bloomed in her chest before it had a chance to fully form. “Sophia hated that line, too.” She scooped more dough onto her spoon. “She said whoever wrote it could have come up with something less creepy.”

“Smart kid.”

“Yeah. She was.” Carol swallowed. The song switched to “Silver Bells” and the relief that washed over her made her feel almost silly.

“Why’d you come back?”

“You’re in a talkative mood.”

“I’m sorry.” Rosita dropped her second perfectly-formed sphere on the cookie sheet and looked over at Carol. “Sometimes shit comes out of my mouth and I don’t even think.”

“I don’t mind. I’m just curious why.”

Rosita paused, resting her hands on the counter and staring at the cookie dough with a faraway look. “It’s been really hard for me to settle down since-“ She glanced up again, redirecting her sentence. “But you seem a lot less … “

“Bitchy?” Carol offered with a smirk.

Rosita grinned. “I was gonna say, ‘Touchy,’ but sure.”

“I needed some time away. To think.” She paused for a few beats before adding, “And maybe a break from taking care of everyone.”

“But here you are, baking enough cookies to feed a small militia.”

Carol let the steely edge that sharpened Rosita’s words slide. “Lori used to make those peanut butter cookies with the Hershey kisses in them every Christmas. Carl says they’re his favorite, so I figured why not try?” She shot a glance at the unevenly broken chunks of dark chocolate sitting on a plate to her left. “They won’t be as pretty, but hopefully it’s the thought that counts.”

“My abuela used to make candy canes,” Rosita said after a long pause. “You know the kind where you have to split the dough in half, then dye part of it red and twist the red and white dough together?”

Carol nodded. “I tried them once and it was a disaster.” She laughed. “Attempting those with a four-year-old assistant turned out to be a terrible idea.”

“I doubt I was much older than that when my abuela started making me help her, and goddamn if she wasn’t pickier than the lord himself.” Rosita licked the tip of her finger and started on another cookie. “All I ever did was grumble under my breath and wait to be finished. When I was little I wanted to watch cartoons, and when I got older I wanted to go to the mall with my friends or try to impress some asshole guy.” She shook her head. “I don’t even remember his name. Jack? Jake? Something like that.”

Carol remained quiet, reorganizing the peanut butter balls so she could fit the final two on the cookie sheet.

“I never just appreciated the time,” Rosita said after the silence had stretched out. “There are so many questions I wish I’d asked her. About what things were like when she was a little girl. About where she learned to grow every flower I could think of. There’s so much shit I wish I-“ She cut herself off, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Did she die before-“

“Yeah, breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” Carol paused in the middle of filling the sink to wash the dishes and waited until Rosita’s eyes (red and a little shiny) rose to meet hers.

“I miss her.” Rosita cleared her throat and stood up straighter, rubbing at her peanut-butter covered fingers with a paper towel. “But I’m glad she never had to see any of this.”

“Yeah.”

Andy Williams had moved on to “Do You Hear What I Hear?” Carol finished filling the sink, white mountains of soapy froth rising toward her as steam shifted and vanished into the air.

“I guess that’s the main reason I came back,” she said, searching for the sponge in the suds. “I didn’t want another endless list of ‘What Ifs?’ to deal with.”

“Well Daryl definitely didn’t look confused when he left,” Rosita retorted, but this time there was no edge to her words, and the corner of her mouth tilted up a touch. “Horny maybe, but not con-“

“Okay! Would you like to play Scrabble while we wait to put in the next batch?” Carol cut the other woman’s sentence in half, ignoring the pink she knew was in her cheeks as she walked over to the cupboard filled with games.

Rosita offered her a self-satisfied smirk. “Sure, but prepare to get your ass kicked. I was reigning champion at my high school for three years running.”

Carol dropped the Scrabble box on the counter, tiles jingling faintly inside. “Well, you should have seen my Words With Friends rank.”

Rosita dried the last of the water off her fingers, hung the reindeer-print dish towel over the stove door, and pulled out one of the wooden stools. “Bring it on.”