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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

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Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus.

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck.

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled.

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin au #jimin series #bts au #bts series #jimin dance au #bts dance au #jimin e2l #bts e2l

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luvidzy · 3 years

Text

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: hwang yeji x reader

☆ summary: it’s the day of your first art exhibition and yeji isn’t there to hold your hand

☆ word count: 1.8k

Your fork clattered onto your plate, your hand trembling as you took in the news that your girlfriend, Yeji, wouldn’t be able to make it to your art exhibition tomorrow. You had been so excited and proud to share your artwork with her, having spent a long time on the specific piece being displayed. The display that she would never see.

She stared at you with eyes full of sadness, moving to take your hand in hers. You were still frozen, your lips shaking as you tried to stop the oncoming tears that were making their way to the corners of your eyes.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really did everything I could, but we are just so close to our comeback that I can’t miss anything.” Yeji’s voice was soft, almost as if she was afraid you might break if she raised her tone. You squeezed your eyes shut, begging yourself to get a grip on your emotions. You needed to calm down, afterall this really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“No…. No, it’s fine. I promise. Sorry, I guess it’s just been a weird day.” That was a lie. Your day had actually been really good (up until now), but Yeji didn’t need to know that. If lying was what it took for her to feel a little less guilty about the situation, then you would lie until the sun began to rise in the morning.

“Will you take pictures? I still want to see everything, and I want to hear about everything. I promise, the minute I come home, I’m all yours,” Yeji said, giving you the smile that always managed to warm your heart and bring you a little bit of solace.

“Won’t you be tired from practice?”

“Too tired for my beautifully talented partner? Never.” You giggled weakly at that comment, feeling a small smile make its way onto your face. You were still upset, still cursing the fact that you couldn’t have Yeji there for something so important, but you knew that she meant every word she said about staying up to listen to you recall your experience.

“Okay. I love you.” Yeji lifted your hand and pressed the smallest kiss onto the back of it. You felt your face heat up as she smiled at you, continuing to hold your hand while grabbing her silverware with the other one, determined to give you comfort in her touch, even if it was only the smallest sliver of happiness.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast with Yeji, she headed off to do some outfit fittings while you headed out to do last minute checks on your art before it was taken to the small gallery the event was taking place at. Your teacher was already waiting in the classroom, your canvas sitting on an easel.

You took one last look at the piece in front of you, of the watercolors that splashed together on the canvas to create the perfect image, before you let the black cloth drop over it. Your teacher gave you a smile as she patted you on the back.

“It’s going to look great at the exhibit tonight, Y/N. Just you wait,” she reassured. You gave her a soft smile, though you couldn’t get rid of the pit that sat in your stomach. After all, the one person who you wanted to see the piece most wouldn’t be able to make it.

You knew that it wasn’t Yeji’s fault; that it was the price that you paid for dating an idol. You would simply have to get used to the fact that she wouldn’t be available all the time, and that you would simply have to do certain things alone, even if you wanted nothing more than to hold her hand while doing them.

Upon leaving your classroom, you headed straight to your apartment. As much as you would have loved to sit and mope around til the time came for the exhibit, you knew that getting ready would take much longer than you wanted. Afterall, this wasn’t a simple class gathering, this was a public art exhibition, and you wanted to look your best for the masses.

After showering and spending about half an hour wrapped in a towel looking at your phone, you finally decided to get ready. You sent a quick text to Yeji, wishing her luck on their practice tonight, before throwing your phone gently onto your bed and focusing on getting yourself presentable.

It wasn’t until you were on the way to the exhibit that the nerves began to set in. This was your first time showing art to such a big group of people, and you hoped that they would find it as beautiful as you did. Despite the reassurance from Yeji and your teacher prior to this moment, you still found your finger nervously tapping the steering wheel as you tried to get your heart to stop pounding.

This was right about the time that you would have loved to have Yeji’s hand to hold, to squeeze, to ground you and let you know that everything was okay. But unfortunately, it was just you.

Your anxiety only worsened as you walked into the gallery. It wasn’t your first time here, and you usually loved visiting, but for some reason you couldn’t find it in you to step into the gallery knowing that your art was on the wall, waiting to be seen and critiqued.

You squeezed your eyes and pretended that Yeji was beside you, calming you down. You imagined her hand gently rubbing circles on your back, and it felt so real that you almost got chills as her hands moved from your back down to your hands. You could practically feel the weight of her palm in yours, and you squeezed lightly. You felt your eyes shoot open in surprise as her hand squeezed back, except it was too real to be just in your head.

You turned your head quickly, your breath catching as Yeji smiled from beside you. She looked gorgeous, in a simple skirt and a nice blouse, but she looked so much more magical to you. Your mouth opened in surprise as she smiled giddily at you, pulling you into her embrace. In no time, your hands were wrapped around her petite waist, holding her close as you felt the urge to cry again, this time with happiness.

“I thought you said that you couldn’t make it,” you said, pulling back to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Her laugh filled your ears and you were certain that, no you weren’t dreaming, you were just dating the most perfect girl to ever exist.

“I managed to talk my way out of practice. I owe our choreographer dinner, but it was more than worth it to be here.”

“But, you shouldn’t miss practice! Your comeback is soon and this is something so small, it really doesn’t matter that much.” Your voice trailed off as Yeji squeezed your hands again. You looked at her, your heart melting at the soft smile that was on her face, along with the look of complete adoration in her eyes.

“But it matters to you. If it matters to you, then it is the most important thing in the world. I know that you were looking forward to showing me your art, and you support me all the time, it’s my job to do the same for you,” she explained, her voice warm and steady. Your arguments died in your throat as you let your joy spread to your face, a smile breaking onto your features. You hugged her again, quicker this time, before pulling her into the exhibit.

You walked around, observing the art and talking about the different artists and techniques used, until finally you came to your piece. Yeji let go of your hand, her eyes wide as she walked closer to it, as if in a trance, while you watched from the sidelines with a smile on your face.

Splashes of neutral colors were painted onto the canvas, the watercolor causing the paint to flow from one color to the other. A large tree stood in the background, the brown standing out against the black and gray night sky. Warm white lights were painting along the branches of the tree, the watercolor allowing them to look as though they were truly glowing steady and bright. In the middle of it all was a beautiful girl, your muse. She looked off into the distance, her sweater pulled up above her palms as she held them to her face for warmth. Her brown hair flowed around her shoulders, perfectly messy in the way that only the girl could pull off.

To anyone else, the painting might have looked simple: a girl by a tree at night. But Yeji instantly recognized the photo. It was one of your favorite photos that you had taken a few months into your relationship with Yeji. You had it as your phone wallpaper, and you always gushed about how the picture captured Yeji’s subtle beauty in the best way; you even said this was the night that you knew you truly and wholeheartedly loved Yeji.

Yeji turned to you, tears in her eyes as she looked back at the portrait, and then back at you. She rushed to you, pressing her lips to yours as she tried to convey all the love that she held for you. You kissed back, your own way of letting her know that you loved her too, and that this picture was just one way of how you showed that.

When she pulled away, she was giggling happily, a single tear streaking down her skin. You brushed it away with your thumb, smiling at her fondly.

“It’s me. You painted me,” Yeji said, her voice trembling as she smiled that smile that made her look just like a little kitten. You kissed her nose, nodding as you pulled back.

“Of course I did. You’re a work of art. I’m glad you think I captured your essence. I was worried you’d think I didn’t do you justice.” Yeji scoffed at your statement, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Didn’t do me justice? Y/N, you’ve painted me like an angel. You’ve done me the most justice than anyone could ever do,” she rambled, which caused you to laugh. She turned back to look it over again, before pulling out her phone to take a picture. Soon, she was typing away furiously, a mischievous smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow as she tucked her phone back into her purse, a satisfied grin replacing the smirk as she took your hand again.

“What did you do?”

“I sent it to the Itzy groupchat. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t rub it in their faces that my partner made a masterpiece of me?” You laughed at her statement as she chuckled along with you.

“Now come on, I want to see the other art. Though, I doubt anything is gonna top yours.” You rolled your eyes softly, but couldn’t help but smile as she pulled you along gently, her hand in yours.

Just the way it was meant to be.

#hwang yeji #itzy yeji #yeji imagines #hwang yeji x reader #yeji x reader #itzy #itzy imagines #itzy x reader #iitzy scenarios #itzy oneshot #itzy fluff #yeji fluff #hwang yeji fluff #hwang yeji imagines #itzy yeji imagines #itzy yeji fluff

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simp4fictionalguys · 4 years

Note

Hey, could I request a oneshot with Gojo x reader where the reader gets seriously hurt. (I watched the first episode today and it was awesome!)

Hey! I would say that you guys ask too much for Gojo but how could I not love writing for him 🥰 he’s real husband material 👀 Also, I had been watching Hunter X (is my third time watching it 🤪) and Killua’s abilities came up when I wrote this so yeah, the MC techniques are based in him. And one las point! I mixed two ask here since they were quite similar!

Y/n knew that something was up. She knows that Gojo wouldn’t let First year students go to this kind of missions, it was far to dangerous for them. Her being a First Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer decided to go with them. She hadn’t been assigned to any mission and Gojo wasn’t in town for a while, being assigned to another mission. She smiled at the memory of her boyfriend pouting at her because he had to leave (again!) and clinging to her.

However, her current worries were put on her students (and Gojo’s).

“Ijichi.” Y/n referred to them man with authority in her voice that the young shamans didn’t miss. “I want you to wait for us in a place close by. You’re going to wait and transport any injured we might had.”

Ijichi nodded his head stiffly. Gojo always messed with him but Y/n had an air of authority in her that made him respect anything she says.

The woman turned to look at the students with a hard look on her face. She had become attached to them in such short time, it could be a bad thing in this line of work but she couldn’t help it. Fushiguro was already close to her. She liked to baby him, he acts like he doesn’t like it but that’s just his shy side showing up. Kugisaki got attached to her really quickly, being a respected woman in her line of work caught her attention, wanting to learn more from Y/n than Gojo’s. And Itadori was just so respectful to her and always with a smile on his face, his presence was refreshing for her.

That’s why she didn’t want them to go alone to this mission. It was weird, Gojo didn’t mention anything about sending them to this place. He would be against it. So, why did they send them?

“You three.” The students straightened their bodies at her call. “You WON’T engage in combat. The moment we encounter a Special Grade, you three will run away. Understood?”

They didn’t answer her immediately, sharing looks between them. However, Y/n sent them a glare making them nodd their heads rapidly.

She let out a sigh, she just has to trust that they’ll be honest to their words.

Her little peep talk was interrupted by a woman walking towards them. Ijichi stopped her but the four of them heard her asking for her son.

Y/n gazed to Itadori, his face was contorted in pity for the woman. She could sense that this information would cause problems later on.

“We have to save him.”

“Of course!”

She choose to ignore their little chat. ‘Looks like Kugisaki agrees with Itadori, huh... I hope it doesn’t get on our way...’

“I’m gonna lower the curtain.” Ijichi made the hand gesture for the technique. “Be careful and good luck.”

The sky began to turn black with the curtain. Itadori was amazed at the change. She smiled at his naivety.

“It’s turning into night!”

“It’s because of the curtain. So people from outside doesn’t see us.”

She heard Fushiguro explain to Itadori behind her. Kugisaki just called him an idiot. She was walking ahead of them by instinct.

“Fushiguro.” Her call made the three shut up. “Call one of your divine dogs so we know when the curse is close by.”

Fushiguro did as told. His dog was out rapidly. It wasn’t long before their vision was met with a bigger place than expected.

“Isn’t this suppose to be a two story dorm building?!”

She saw Kugisaki and Itadori beginning to freak out about the situation. The door was gone.

“How are we gonna get out of here?!”

“Fushiguro, your dog can track the scent of the exit, right?”

Fushiguro nodded at her. Itadori and Kugisaki calmed down. Sparkles around them while petting the white dog.

After their little held back, they kept walking. Y/n knew that this was a incomplete domain expansion. If they weren’t careful enough... They could easily die.

She choose to ignore what the kids behind them talked about, putting all her senses in alert for any curse nearby.

Maybe that was her mistake that lead them to a immense disadvantage later on.

Their steps where cautious. However, it wasn’t a long walk. In front of them were the bodies of the personal who they were supposed to evacuate. One was cut in half while other two were in forms of ball, unrecognizable.

She could feel Itadori’s frustration. His face showed it. He took the clothes from the man cut in half. It was the son of them woman outside.

“Itadori.”

“We have to take this body with us...”

“We can’t.”

“Y/n-sensei! That woman won’t be satisfied with us just telling her that her son is dead! Please!”

“Itadori, we can’t... I’m sorry.” She turned her gaze somewhere else. His stare was too strong for her to handle. Fushiguro began scolding him about how the man didn’t deserve saving. However, Y/n began to feel something. Her attention focused in her surroundings while the boys argue. Something caught her eyes, she walked towards the object but nothing was there. Her thinking was interrupted by the two boys calling for Kugisaki. Y/n turned around only to see the young girl being absorbed by a black hole.

“YOU TWO!” Y/n hurried towards them. They had to get out of here! “SEARCH FOR KUGISAKI AND GET OUT OF HERE IMMEDIATELY!”

The two boys weren’t registering anything at the moment. Fushiguro just realized that his divine dog was killed when Y/n had already told them what to do.

It was like in slow motion for Itadori and Fushiguro. They felt Y/n pushing them away from something. When they realized what it was, Y/n had already lost her hand.

“GO NOW!”

With that last order, the two boys sprinted out of the place in search for their classmate.

Y/n could finally relax seeing her students out of the place. She tie the belt she wear in her wrist to prevent the bleeding.

This were the times where she was glad to be left handed. Her right hand had been cut off, however she could still use her dominant hand easily.

“So there was an Special Grade in here...” She finished her work on her wrist, now focusing in the curse in front of her.

“You know... While I was here I didn’t know why they sent the first years in such a dangerous mission... However I think I get it now...”

She took a fighting stance. She was one of the best at hand to hand combat, mixed with her electric cursed techniques, she could paralyze the curse and exorcise it.

She saw the curse take a big breath. It took her a while to realize what the objective was. The enemy sent a powerful attack in her way. The same air it had took had been sent to her like a blow.

‘So it didn’t used a cursed technique, it just spat the curse energy in my way... Is this thing even hable to use curse techniques...?’

She tried to get closer to the curse but it moved too fast for her to hit it clean. The fight turned into a chasing game. None of the fighters could land a hit in each other, however, Y/n was in advantage with her cursed techniques. Her opponent had just been sending her blows of cursed energy, easy for her to dodge.

“Ah, dammit... I hate using this thing...”

Her body was covered in blue lightings. She began to move faster, surpassing the curse. This gave her the opportunity to land some kicks. They didn’t make that much of damage but it was something, right?

Meanwhile, Itadori and Fushiguro had already found Kugisaki. The three of them were running to the exit.

“Are we just gonna leave Y/n-sensei behind?!”

“She told us to run away Itadori! We can’t fight agains that thing!”

“You guys! Knock it off! We have to get to Ijichi and call a Special Grade Sorcerer!”

They little argument didn’t last long. The three of them going faster towards the man outside to get help.

Ijichi saw the frantic students running in his direction. Y/n nowhere to be found. He got out of the car instantly.

“Ijichi! Call Gojo-sensei!”

The man didn’t hesitate to call the sorcerer.

“You sure are strong huh...”

Y/n was panting. She had manage to wear down the curse and deal some damage with her kicks and left fist. “This is were the fun starts...” Despite her bad state, her body covered in blood and her lack of breath, she used her cursed technique one last time. Her opponent was already tired, it would be more effective this way.

She transported in front of it and began kicking him with curse energy. Each blow was covered in electricity. Her curse technique allowed her to conduct the energy to her fist and legs, giving her faster attacks with a strong force, her electricity allowing her to slow down the opponent at the same time.

It didn’t take long for the curse to be defeated. Sadly, Y/n’s state wasn’t the best, leaving her unconscious just when the Special Grade died.

The three students prayed that Gojo answered Ijichi’s calls but they were disappointed when Ijichi had shake his head in a defeating way.

“He was in a mission too... The only person he pays attention when they call him is Y/n and since I’m calling from my phone, he won’t pick up...”

Fushiguro tsked at this. None of them were able to contact Gojo. However, he could no longer feel the presence of the strong curse.

“Let’s go search for her...”

Fushiguro turned to look at Itadori. ‘Did he felt that the curse was gone too...?’

“Come on Fushiguro! Are you gonna left Y/n-sensei to die?!”

‘No... He didn’t feel anything...’ He deadpanned.

“I can’t feel the curse anymore. Sensei must have exorcise it...”

“For real?!” Fushiguro huffed at his classmates exclamation.

“Did you think Y/n-sensei was weak?”

“I mean, she handles Gojo-sensei, that’s enough to make her a strong woman...”

The three of them kept walking in silence after Kugisaki’s comment. It didn’t take long for them to find their teacher with the help of the divine dogs from Fushiguro. The three of them rushed to her unconscious body.

“She won...”

“Yeah but she got a lot of damage. We have to take her to the school so they can give her treatment!”

They got out of there and Ijichi took them to the school in a hurry. Y/n wasn’t about to die but they didn’t want to take any risks.

Gojo had finished his mission quickly. Indeed he ignored Ijichi’s calls earlier. He saw Ijichi’s car pull out in front of the school. He saw Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki got out of it. Then, they got a body out of the car. It was familiar to him but he couldn’t see who exactly was. However, Itadori had stumbled making the body moved a little, this action had allow Gojo to identify who it was. It took him least that a second to take Y/n’s body from his students hands. For the first time the three of them saw Gojo really serious but he didn’t let his emotions out for too long. He tried to act normal but the three young shamans caught the act.

Gojo kept walking to find Shoko. She was on of the few able to use Reverse Curse Techniques. She was the medic of the school, it was the only place where they could heal Y/n.

Shoko jumped at the loud bang from the door. She turned around to see Gojo with Y/n’s body in his arms. She moved quickly to heal her friend. Gojo left the room in silence, he waited with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki on the other side of the room where Y/n was being healed.

“Gojo-sensei...”

He let out a ‘hum’ letting Itadori know that he was listening.

“Y/n-sensei tried to protect us... She told us to run away...”

“I know! Don’t worry kid!” The three just look at Gojo with wide eyes while he laughed. He stopped laughing, entering in teacher mode.

“It’s not you guys fault. The enemy was strong and you would have died if Y/n had not been there.”

Itadori let his head hung low. Gojo smiled at the kid. He ruffled his hair trying to reassure him.

“Y/n’s going to be fine! You don’t have to look so down kid.”

It had been a few hours. The three had fallen asleep by each other sides. Fushiguro was in the middle while Itadori and Kugisaki rested by his sides. Gojo smiled at his students. Shoko got out of the room after a while. He stood up fast and entered the room. Y/n was sleeping still. Shoko told him that she would wake up in the morning, at least he saw her, now breathing normally and with her injuries healed. His eyes landed on her right hand, or where it was suppose to be her right hand.

“What about her hand?”

Shoko shrugged.

“I can’t do much about it. She’s gonna need something to replace it.”

Gojo nodded at her and exited the room. He took his students and left them in their respective rooms.

The next day, Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki woke up in their rooms. They paid no mind to it, rushing to see if Y/n had wake up.

Y/n jumped a little in her bed at the loud bang from the door. She turned to see her three students in the floor after breaking into the room.

“Y/N-SENSEI!” Itadori and Kugisaki made an attempt to throw themself to Y/n but Gojo had caught them in the air before they could. He had just arrived. Fushiguro chose to walk towards Y/n and ask her how she was.

Gojo let go of the chaotic duo who went besides Y/n asking her how she was doing.

Gojo stayed by the side just looking. It didn’t take long for the kids to go away, leaving the two adults alone.

Y/n knew that he was mad. Not with her but the higher ups. She had realize the goal of sending the first years to this mission.

To kill Itadori Yuji.

“I don’t even get a hug?” She tried to take Gojo out of his anger. Her voice got him out of his thoughts.

He moved close to her bed just looking at her. In one fast movement he was clinging to her in the little bed. Y/n laughed at her boyfriend childish attitude.

“You’re too big Satoru, you’re squeezing me...” Gojo moved a little to settle in the bed. The two of them were cuddling, him being the big spoon. Her back pressed agains his front body.

“I-...”

“The kids told me what happen.”

They feel in silence again. Y/n had close her eyes, letting herself relax in his embrace.

“If you had answered Ijichi you could have helped me before...” She joked a little trying to light up the mood.

She felt Gojo’s embrace tighter after her joke. His gesture let her know that he was blaming himself for this.

“Is not your fault Satoru...”

“If just...”

“No no, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know about the mission! How could you have know about what was going to happen?” She turned around to face him. “You’re the strongest sorcerer but you can’t predict the future.”

His eyes meet her (he was without his blindfold) smiling at her words. The sweet moment didn’t last too long with the following comments from Gojo.

“I bet you looked hot while fighting.”

He smirked at how fast her face blushed at his comments.

“Satoru!” Y/n hit him in his chest lightly. He laughed at her actions.

“But it’s true! I always get turned on wh-“

“Oh my god, Satoru! Shut up!”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #itadori yuji #kugisaki nobara #fushiguro megumi

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wallgirl · 3 years

Text

The Little Nereid Part 17

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 1,800

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. Graphic violence parts 15 and 16.

Updated regularly; will have about 20 parts total.

Warning for this chapter: references to injury and blood, largely at the end of the chapter. Avoid if squeamish.

—

Am I dead?

It was the first thought to arise as she woke out of a thick haze. Tiny motes of dust drifted before her, but when her eyes tried to focus on them, they seemingly disappeared. Had they been there at all?

She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Before her was an endless expanse of black, completely impenetrable and all encompassing. She instinctively knew that it went on forever, despite not being able to see anything besides her own pale body. She felt some sort of tepid liquid beneath her feet - was it water? - but couldn't bring herself to look down past her shoulders. She remembered in horrific blurs what had happened to bring her to this place, and feared what she might see there.

But I don't feel any pain. Could it be...? Dynamene looked hesitantly down at herself. Her white peplos stretched clean and untorn across her intact chest. She pressed her skin hesitantly, but felt no pain. It was as if the wound had never existed.

Now that she had gotten her bearings, she turned about in hopes of spotting something, anything, in the endlessness. Is this purgatory? Dynamene knew that when deities perished, so did their souls. Their consciousness ceased to exist along with their body. I think, therefore I am. I must not be dead. So what's going on? A neutral silence did nothing to sate her curiosity. Is this it?

Seconds ticked by with no change. A feeling of dread sunk in her chest. No, this can't be it. I still had so much I wanted to do.

I was such a fool.

She thought of her family, and her final argument with Ianeira. I'm sorry. I should have listened. She pursed her lips as she fought back tears. If this is the end, I apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you all. I wish I could change it. I wish I could see you again.

Then, suddenly, there was something bright that stood out against the void before her, a long, long ways away. It seemed to call to her in the distance with its brilliant white light. With nothing else to do and no answers to her questions, Dynamene ran toward it. Her feet splashed through the black water, droplets lit by the faint glow emanating from her being.

She stopped, breathless, after what might have been a few seconds or a few hours. The something had taken on the shape of a person, a bit taller than her, and with their back largely turned to her. Dynamene stepped forward cautiously, allowing their features to come into focus.

It was him, standing there before her in the black. His body emitted an eerie white glow, just like hers. She stood in bewilderment for several moments. She could only see the edge of his cheek with the way he was turned, no other part of his face. Dynamene was at a loss. "Why are you here?"

There was no answer. He didn't even move. Was he really there? Was it just a figment of her wounded body's imagination? She curled her fingers uncertainly as she considered reaching out to see if she was merely hallucinating.

Then his face tilted slightly towards her, making it clear he had heard her. Still, he refused to show himself to her entirely, and Dynamene's eyes widened. There was something in the bowed angle of his head...

Are you ashamed?

As if trying to dispel the notion, he finally stepped to face her completely. His colors looked washed out in the white glow, while the faint shadows traced the edges of his face. It seemed he was at last in a place every bit as fittingly ethereal as he was. But he continued to remain silent, and Dynamene's gaze shifted away in frustration.

"You're the one who brought me here. So why have you come now?" She couldn't veil the accusation in her voice. "I tried to tell you. But you didn't stop. You killed me."

Here in this endless vacuum of existence, Poseidon held no power over her. She was already on death's door, that much seemed certain. He couldn't harm her now. Dynamene was free to speak her mind completely. "Why didn't you believe me? Did you call me to your room just to kill me?" There was more bite to her tone now. "Was my love only a burden to you?" Her accusations echoed across the space.

His gaze finally flickered to meet hers. She felt no joy from it, only a strange sensation of tired defeat. Her shoulders slumped. "I suppose I'm going to disappear forever now, aren't I?" She twisted her peplos with guilty hands. "And I... I brought it on myself. I didn't listen to my family. I didn't see... I didn't understand. They'd warned me."

Nothing in his somber expression changed, but the shadows had deepened across his face. He took a single step closer to her, and she looked up at him with a miserable expression. Then he lifted one hand to clasp over hers, stilling her worried fidgeting. "I didn't mean to bring you here, Dynamene."

Her lower lip trembled, and she had to look away as he continued. "I thought you were a fake sent to replace the real you. I thought someone might've abducted you. I couldn't hear your heartbeat; your appearance had changed; I sensed strange magic about you."

So you didn't mean to hurt me, yet... "So your first response was to maim?" Dynamene pulled her hands away. "You would've lost the only chance to find me if your theory had been true."

"I-" Poseidon's words came to a stop mid-breath. It was the first time she'd ever heard him halt in the midst of a sentence. She turned her eyes back to him in confusion. He looked at war with himself; what was it that he'd meant to say? He took a moment to settle on a fitting response as his expression smoothed back out into stoicism. "I allowed my rage to get the better of me."

Her mouth nearly fell open. Poseidon was admitting fault. He had just, before a mere Nereid, confessed that his emotions had got the better of him.

Emotions spurred on by the thought that she might've been harmed.

She looked away as she absorbed this. The little motes of dust had returned, flickering gently in their light. They danced in little waves, fading in and out of sight. Poseidon had gone against the appearance he fought so hard to maintain for her. He cared about her. His heart had thawed at last, just as she'd wanted.

But there was no change within her heart except something bittersweet that ached. Her bleak expression remained as she looked up at him.

"Do you not forgive me?" He asked in a hushed voice. A vulnerability she didn't recognize had crept into his words.

Dynamene pursed her lips, thinking desperately about how to respond. Do I forgive you?

I... I think I do.

I do forgive you, but it doesn't change the way I feel right now.

That terror I experienced, that agonizing pain... You say you didn't mean to inflict it on me.

But how many countless others have you taken in the same way, with no regret? Your own brother, the Titans... People who have wronged you. People who would do you harm. And people who you perceived to have slighted you. Now I finally understand it all.

You did them the same harm, and you didn't feel anything.

"I forgive you," she whispered, but the words were meaningless. This wasn't about forgiveness. Something nameless had changed beneath the current.

He lifted his hand to gently smooth back her unruly bangs. His dark eyes drank in her face, even as she remained largely unaffected by his gesture. The girlish infatuation of before was completely extinguished. Now disappointment prevailed in her eyes.

But regardless, his feelings were unchanged. Now, for the very first time, they were truly alone. He finally admitted his desire for her to himself, even though he still didn't understand it. And as he leaned down closer to her, his eyes closed for the first time as he allowed himself to become immersed in his emotions.

And despite her disillusionment and sorrow, she loved him yet. A man of ice who had thawed only for her. Allowing him to enfold her in his embrace, her lips met his.

Two beings of light, entwined in the dark.

---

Dynamene gasped, a ragged, excruciating sound. Poseidon drew back in shock, staring down at her with sharp eyes. She coughed violently, wracking her thin body with the effort. Poseidon quickly lifted her shoulders to help clear her airway. Lifewater dripped from her lips, tainted red with his own blood. It was then that he understood what had happened. Before, when he had bit his lips in anger...

His blood was reviving her. Poseidon immediately bit his lip again and kissed her once more, pushing his blood into her. He forced several breaths of air into her, desperately willing her to keep breathing, before moving back to monitor the effect.

The flesh around her wounds had stopped disintegrating, though they were not healing. She gave another gasp for air, then fell silent.

He wasn't going to give up. He removed one glove and tore through the skin of his finger with his teeth. The gash began to drip blood, and he held it above her open mouth. As drop by drop ran down her throat, she began to move once more. He squeezed his hand, willing the blood to run faster, to hurry her revival.

After many agonizing seconds, Dynamene's eyelids twitched. Her bleary eyes opened slowly and focused on him. The sound of dripping lifewater stopped.

Poseidon exhaled. He rebandaged her chest, pulled her back into his arms, and stood. She was healing. She would live. Now to get out of this forsaken place and back to the palace. She would need more medical care as soon as possible.

Dynamene's eyes remained open, but she said nothing. Even if she had wanted to, her body wouldn't have been able. Her drowsy gaze didn't leave his face once. Something was ending now, but for however long as they had, she just wanted to drink him in. Poseidon... Her Poseidon. Just hours ago, this would have been a dream come true. Now, where had that exhilarated part of her gone? Had it remained behind in the blackness of that silent space? Had their conversation even taken place, or was it just a feverish dream?

What's changed?

No, I don't need to ask. I know.

Just let me enjoy this while it lasts. While I can still see you so close like this, and be in your arms, without any regrets.

She allowed her sore body to rest limply against his, and despite the speed at which he moved through the water to bring them home, her gaze never wavered.

---

We're going to the end now. I can't believe it. This is my longest fanfiction ever. I've gotten to know Dynamene so well. I don't think she'll leave my mind, even after the fic is finished.

I spent the most time on this chapter because I had a very specific mood for it in mind that required a lot of editing and re-writing. I let it sit for a few days before going back and putting more meat into the gaps. That's how I prefer to write - get the important stuff out first, and garnish with detail later.

There was this song by Kaskade that I thought about a lot with this chapter. It's called Borrowed Theme. Maybe I should've titled this chapter that, but that feels a little childish. The title kind of references a different song, anyway lol

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x oc #fanfiction

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rosesisupposes · 3 years

Text

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor."

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself. That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes.

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences.

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup.

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on.

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?"

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted.

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly.

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around.

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely.

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point.

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling.

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued.

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing.

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait. Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up.

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later.

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked.

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.”

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.”

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest.

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses.

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them.

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded.

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.”

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion.

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ‘continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island.

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent.

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked.

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked.

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose.

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing.

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island.

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly.

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words.

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark.

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred.

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

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starlightervarda · 3 years

Note

listen, i really really like you, but arguing "he's a 40 year old man he can take whatever roles he wants" misses the entire point. as a MENA actor hollywood only allows marwan access to a limited TYPE of role... and THAT is the issue. he SHOULD be able to choose whatever role he wants, but he *can't*. this is real and systemic and to pretend otherwise is ignoring an issue within the industry. the fact that they couldn't see him as an "academic type" is a the problem here.

Hi,

Look, I know you mean well, but ignoring literally everything I said before, including me explaining why American complaints about this are tone-deaf and ignorant, and how insisting that Marwan willingly took an offensive/racist role, and fixating on that idea so much that you ignored everything I said about the improvements in MENA representation the past 5-8 yrs, is frustrating and upsetting.

I’m so tired of people talking to me like I’m a moron who needs an Anglo to explain to me how I should feel. I’m so tired of people not actually reading what I say, misinterpreting it and getting angry at me like they’re the ones being affected by this, like they understand the first thing about being from my part of the world. It’s worse when they silence and ignore us telling them that they’re wrong, to stop using us in their arguments with other Anglos, and that their objections and complaints are in themselves racist rather than the opposite.

This is environment is making me leave The Old Guard fandom. I’m sick to death of being patient and nice to the people on this website who have said and done abhorrent things to me and other MENA users all because we disagree or debunk their complaints, who always seem to do more harm than good for us.

I really need you to read what I wrote again and try to understand them from my perspective as MENA girl, who is very invested in the career moves of every MENA person in international media, down to the Latinos of Lebanese/Syrian descent who doesn’t even speak Arabic. Because I am that starved for representation.

Telling me I’m ‘ignoring an issue’ and that him entering a superhero franchise is ‘systematic’ like he’s playing a terrorist in that godawful Jack Ryan TV show, is like a punch in the throat for me.

I remember hearing Anglos complain about Rami Malek’s role in Mr. Robot and then his Bond villain role, while the rest of us were excited for him. This ‘concern’ is shitting over our excitement over one of our own reaching international success in a story that has nothing to do with our political/social/religious turmoil.

Please stop associating ‘Brown person not playing a hero’ with ‘racist propaganda’. Please stop making that comparison I’m begging you.

This role has nothing to do with his background, it is a role that would have gone to a White man. Him getting a role over a British man is what I’m celebrating here, him starring alongside the Rock/Dwayne Johnson and getting exposure, access to a large fanbase and connections in Hollywood to give him better roles that vary his portfolio and career and say that he and men like him are not a risk to cast in big-budget movies but gives executives an incentive to take more chances on men with Arabic names, is the thing I’m excited about.

Entering the comic book-movie world is not limited, it is going to give him a career boost that will allow him to take whatever role he wants in the future. If this movie is successful he will be cast in other things, in bigger roles, and I emphasized before that he is getting more roles than Mena Massoud was because he got attention for playing Jafar, the villain, because people who play antagonists usually get more viewer-interest.

Black Adam is a passion-project movie by the Rock/Dwayne Johnson - a Samoan man who is also race-bending the character of Black Adam, and is himself an antagonist to Shazam/Captain Marvel - who announced that he was excited to have Marwan join the cast is NOTHING like Amr Waked’s role in Wonder Woman 1989.

Do you get what I’m trying to say here?

Think of Sofia Boutella playing the henchwoman in Kingsmen: The Secret Service, that role had nothing to do with her being a MENA woman, but her being a dancer. She got so much attention for it that it led to her getting more roles. She was in Star Trek Beyond, Atomic Blonde and got the title role in The Mummy reboot (yes it was bad, but still).

Try to understand why I’m excited for Marwan entering the DC Universe. I need something to look forward to. Before this change in MENA visibility the past 5 yrs all I had was Rami Malek in Night at the Museum and Emeraude Toubia in Shadowhunters, which got cancelled.

Just please let me be excited for this, please stop twisting what I need to be good news into something that makes me want to cry because I really am on the verge of tears right now.

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todourouki · 4 years

Note

congrats on 1k+!! can i request for sfw #14 (domestic life w/ them 🥺) with aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, and shinsou? thank you sm!! i love your works :>

AHHH! thank you so much for this, it means a lot! and ugh this is so cuteeee!

Want to celebrate prompt night with me? Click Here.

SFW PROMPT #14: What would living with them be like?

including aizawa, todoroki, bakugou, & shinsou

living with aizawa would be so nice

he’s not a high-maintenance guy

he’s more of a “as long as nothing looks like a piece of shit, we’re good”

matching sleeping bags

the man adores his sleep, i’m sure we all see that

so there’s soft blankets spread over every single couch/lounge-chair incase the two of you decide to nap

every day off, you guys have a tradition on waking up the latest time you possibly could, cooking breakfast together and eating it in bed with a show the two of you are currently binge watching on the tv

aizawa isn’t a bathroom hogger honestly he probably doesn’t even look in the mirror as much as he should

he’s pretty tidy when it comes to leaving his shit where it’s supposed to be

mostly because if he loses it, he knows he’ll be too lazy to look for it and he probably doesn’t have time

the furniture is all monochromatic

i don’t see him as a guy having brightly covered couches in his living room

everything is neutral, black, or white

minimalistic king

due to pure exhaustion all the time, color is out of the question, it reminds him of his students and he hates it but secretly loves it so all of his plates are multicolored

honestly living with aizawa sounds amazing

“Shouta,” you groan, eyes snapped harshly shut die to the light tracing into the room from the now open shades, “close the freaking things.”

Aizawa mumbles right after you, leg kicking the shade he once accidentally lifted with his foot back to where it once was. With the harsh tugs done by his feet, the light in the room finally fleeted away and allowed the comfortable dimness takeover once again.

The Pro-Hero’s arms gripped onto you tighter, nose nuzzled into your neck and bringing your body the kind of warmth necessary within the cold room. “S’go back to sleep, kitten.”

You mustered a smile, eyes still closed and hands running through the silky black hair resting underneath your neck. Mornings with Shouta were always the same— waking up once because of his leg obnoxiously releasing the shades, and both of you falling asleep once again in each other’s embrace.

You felt Aizawa begin to rub your back, fingers twinkling against your bare back soothing you beyond explanation. Within minutes, you felt yourself losing conscience, and you finally drifted back to sleep with the man you loved cradling you with unconscious admiration.

living with todoroki is exactly what you’d think it would be

i don’t mean to say it

but ima say it

this rich bitch has a ton of antique and expensive furniture lying around

mostly because he loves using his dad’s money

you and todoroki are a weird match

because you both love the exact same things

so all the furniture in your home

whether the living room be one color and bedroom be another

it all weirdly goes together because you’re both so good and coordinating shit

like your couch could be fucking orange

and the blue throw-pillows and decorations you cover your living room with just make sense

just like the two of you

living with todoroki means you figure out just how funny he actually is

also just how dense the boy could be

like he’s so sweet but also a little ✨dumb✨

he doesn’t know how to use the laundry machine and he never will don’t change my mind about this

todoroki loved cold soba we all know that

so there is a specific cabinet underneath the sink filled with all the ingredients for making it

that cabinet has to be restocked a lot

usually on days off, shouto would like to sleep in but he knows he just can’t

so if you like to sleep in, he already went out for a run, took a shower, and made you breakfast by the time you wake up

if you like to wake up early/with him, you find yourself either joining his workout or making him a hearty breakfast by the time he gets back

living with todoroki is really sweet bye i’m gonna go cry

“I just don’t understand why I’d have to press so many obnoxious buttons to get it to wash clothes,” he began, his stoic voice staring harshly at the machine infront of him as you stared at him in disbelief, “it isn’t my fault.”

“Shou, you froze the entire machine..” You repeated, a deadpanned expression on your face as you tried your hardest not to laugh.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t the best at figuring things like this out, he hated to admit it but his family had done a lot for him back home. And sure, he wasn’t a little boy anymore and should probably know how to work a laundry machine, but he was convinced it acted up with him and him only.

“It was giving me a hard time, I didn’t even realize I froze it until I realized the clothes weren’t spinning anymore..” The frown on his face was one you couldn’t help but smile at, the grin taking over your face as you chortled a laugh.

With your empty hand, you gave the boy a kiss on the forehead, his calculating expression trying to decipher the reason certain clothes needed a certain temperature of water. Moments like this made you realize just why you loved Todoroki so much.

bakugou

is a handful

that’s clear to everyone

but living with him, oddly enough, is not

you both have a specific cleaning day

every single sunday morning

and that same night included the two of you watching a movie and having loud in-depth character analysis debate every single time

you both have special cooking days (he has more but it’s ok bc he won’t say it but he absolutely loves cooking for you)

bakugou has been through a lot, my baby

so consistency is something he depends on

he nearly breathes for it

routine is everything in your household, being something you grew accustomed to as well even if it’s not what you’re used to

every day you’d wait for him to get back home on the plush couch in the living room

so that way you’re the first thing he sees when he gets home, as well as a platter of his favorite food for the night and his fav tv show on the tv

he feels like he’s walking into heaven every single day

and depending on your schedules, you get the same thing when you get home if he beats you to it

a show/anime you’re trying to finish, the food you’ve begged him to make, and your loving boyfriend/husband lounged against the couch waiting for your arrival

you both wake up early— sorry, even if you don’t want to

bakugou doesn’t give a single fuck, he will wake you up and force you to either workout with him or start your day with him

on his days off though, you both sleep in until the afternoon

there’s literally no inbetween with your schedules

you’re both either up and ready to go by 8am or finally getting up to brush your teeth at 3pm

“How many times do I have to tell you— the real villain was not Sharpay, but Gabriella!” Your voice boomed, staring at your boyfriend who looked at you as if you had four heads.

“Babe, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot!” He retaliated just as aggressive and firm as you. “How can you say that when she’s such a bitch?!”

The credits of the movie you just watched played in the background, popcorn kernels pushing into the skin you had sprawled against your boyfriend. The pink reflected across your shirtless boyfriend, his ears beginning to redden due to the volume of his voice.

“Gabriella walked into that high school and literally stole everything Sharpay worked for,” you retorted, the straw you were drinking from entering your lips as you took a quick sip of the soda, “that’s being a bitch!”

He opened his mouth, signaling you to throw one of the Swedish Fish candies into his mouth and you did. With a laugh, you continued to throw food into one another’s mouth over and over throughout the argument.

“Maybe you resonate with Sharpay so much because you’re both bitches.” He snickered, dodging a pillow that fleeted your side of the couch and into his side by your right hand.

A gasp slipped your lips, narrowing your eyes at his tall figure and shoving a candy down your throat after his words, “maybe that’s why you love me, cause you’re a bitch too.”

living with shinsou >>>> breathing

shinsou is a gamer idc

there’s a playstation in both your room and your living room for game nights

yes

you guys had a game night

every single friday you guys would sit in nothing but (shinsou’s) t-shirt, and underwear and play nothing but video games all day

you usually end up falling asleep when the sun begins to come up, always taking saturday’s off no matter what for the occasion

you both are clean

being too lazy just like aizawa to have to find it if it’s misplaced

the bedroom look the best bc shinsou gets tired of monochromatic things and you hate living in a boring setting

so the two of you’s aesthetic shines through the room

if you cook, then please know food us up to you

if you can’t cook

money is spent 90% of the time on take out

because shinsou can’t cook for shit i don’t care

sometimes people wonder how it is you both manage to go to work and have a coherent sleeping schedule

and the reason is

aside from shinsou’s clinical insomnia )-:

that the two of you are absolute dumbasses

you spend all day doing homework if one of you is in college

or doing the work that needs to be done if you have just a job

and after that?

it’s just cuddling, gaming, struggling to cook, ordering take out, and eventual sleeping when you both realize you’re both past a point of ni return

most of the time though, you both manage to sleep

it’s more surprising for shinsou though bc he could never sleep properly if he’s alone

the two of you live together in GTA

also, I canon that Shinsou loves watching The Office so you guys binge watch the fuck out of that

living with shinsou is living with a bestfriend that is a civilized adult at certain times that you can cuddle and make out with

a girl can only dream <3

The sound of the console played through the room, your focused face watching the screen in front of you intently. The feeling of the bed moving along side every tap of the controller in your boyfriend’s hands trembled your limbs, your eyes being too locked on the screen to even maintain a balance.

“Go to the left, the left!” You pointed out, your legs sprawled across your boyfriend’s chest as he rested his body horizontally underneath yours.

“I know..” His voice was enough to show you he was focused, his eyes barely blinking as he followed your command and moved the character closer towards the left.

As gun shots erupted through the room, all you could see were flashes of red across the screen and players who had been attacked in Shinsou’s frenzy dead against the floor.

Exhilaration ran through your veins as finally killed the last person, the feeling of his body tending under you making you smile in happiness. You had both been trying to beat this level for weeks and you finally did it, exciting you to no limit.

The phrase “victory” strobed against the screen, making the two of you cheer in happiness at the time being well spent. He landed a big fat kiss on your cheek, pulling you in by the string in your hoodie and pressing you against him.

“Let’s beat some more ass in this next round, huh doll?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, pretty boy.”

#headcanons #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #aizawa x reafer #aizawa x reader #todoroki x reader #aizawa #shinsou #todoroki #1kfollowersnight #heillysreqs

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite.

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 3 years

Text

if you have a question about aussie slang, for a fic or whatevs, please just ask i don't know all of it, but we do have some fun words and sayings that are day to day statements

esp. the more rural you go

not everyone has the full accent though, because you do get a lot of pressure at work to come across... professional or whatever.

the only one i've never been sure of being an Actual Phrase, or if it Became A Phrase after popularisation on a tv show, is "Stone the Flaming Crows" bc a dude from Neighbours used to say it frequently.

examples of day to day stuff i can think of right now

mad as a frog in a sock (angry about something, went off, off the shits)

mad as a cut snake (usually means 'they're nuts', but can also mean they exploded with anger, usually contextual)

she'll be right (it's fine - can be a flippant statement, can be reassurance, etc)

drongo / galah - (idiot, not very smart, wanker, etc)

dunny = toilet

thunderbox/outhouse / long-drop - usually outdoor toilet

dry as a nun's nasty / dry as a dead dingo's donger (I am thirsty, or It Is Hot AF/we need rain so bad)

chuck a u-ey (do a u-turn)

Oi! (Hey I want your attention/i was surprised, general exclamation, stop that, you are in a lot of fucking trouble mate - depends on the tone of voice and volume) like "OI!" says aunty ruth has just found her dentures in jello and she knows you did it, etc

Bugger off (go away, or sometimes a statement of disbelief)

Yeah nah /Nah yeah (can mean yes, no or maybe depending on what was said directly before the statement)

you cant pull the wool over my eyes - you can't lie to me like that / i can see you are not telling the truth

shut your gob / put a sock in it / put a cork in it - (shut up / shut the FUCK up / close your mouth or i will shut it for you) depends on tone

Ya wally (you idiot)

Roo = kangaroo

o = can be affixed to anything to shorten it at the servo - gone to the service station, arvo - afternoon, smoko - morning tea, bottlo - where the grog is

goon/goonsack - wine in a box

grog - alcohol

stubbie - beer, ususally

boardies - board shorts

rashie - swimming shirt,

slip, slop, slap - ancient proverb for avoiding sunburn. singing pelican.

thongs - footwear

sheila = female / woman, don't hear this a lot at the moment tbh except in certain contexts or from specific people

'Getting rowdy' = things are heating up, people are riled up, a fight is about to/has just broken out, etc.

DJ's like a mad cunt = one very specific meme about a bad PM we had like 10 years ago. i can't tell you how many PM's ago, it's been game of thrones here lmao

Beyond the black stump / Out whoop-whoop / references to timbuktu (quite a distance away)

strewth!/crickey!/bloody hell - (exclamation of surprise, expletive replacement, etc)

flat out like a lizard drinking (tired / drunk / exhausted / sleeping)

pull a harry holt - (I've heard a dozens variations of this one, it means Go Missing / Disappear, often used as a joke. PM Holt went swimming one day and disappeared)

have a stickybeak (to poke your nose in/investigate/look around)

chuck a wobbly/throw a tanty/chuck a tanty/throw a wobbly (throw a tantrum, i have legit never seen anyone successfully deescalate a situation by telling someone not to chuck a wobbly or throw a tanty, go figure lmao)

bogan - (very specific kind of low-income, generally white, people. sort of like rednecks, but with more stereotypical aussie features like a mullet, singlet tops, sunnies, stubbies, etc. tend to fall under the liberal party ideology - who are our republicans... )

ankle-biters / rugrats / little takkers / gremlins / nippers - (kids, usually the littler ones)

tiff - argument, small fight (had a tiff, had a row)

pav = pavlova

piss/whizz/take a piss = going to pee

vegemite - delicious

Kiwi = New Zealander

Banana benders - the disrespectful bs that apparently other states call anyone living in Queensland, the wankers

station - farming areas that have sheep or livestock usually, have farmhands etc.

dole bludger(s) - (anyone on Centrelink, whether they want to be or not, with no other employment. but like, a lot of people on centrelink have a job that does not cover enough and need additional financial supports to meet a minimum wage, or are students or apprentices, etc. there are people who go on centrelink on and off to avoid engaging in the jobseeking stuff, they are the real dole bludgers, but a lot of richer people tend to call anyone on 'welfare' bludgers)

don't you come the raw prawn with me - (do not lie to me / don't try that shit with me, mate / I wasn't born yesterday /etc)

dak/dack - to dack someone is to come up behind them and yank their pants down (or skirts). Often taking out your boxers, too.)

budgie smugglers - (speedoes, male swimwear)

togs/toggs or cozzie (swimwear, any kind. cozzie = costume)

mozzie - (mosquito)

better than a kick up the backside /better than a kick in the arse - (pretty self explanatory, one of those phrases parents use to get slightly hurt kids to start laughing and/or coworkers to commisserate about new work rules, etc)

I wouldn't piss on (name) if they were on fire - (self-explanatory, you hate them, or they're a useless tit or an insufferable person /a suckup etc, and you would gladly hand them a match)

one for the road = getting a drink for the road, usually. can also make a joke of it like, "one last piss for the road" = I'm going to the bathroom before I leave

here's your handbag, what's your hurry - probs not an aussie phrase but a common joke in my family

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

So like, there's some words and items from Australian Indigenous culture that often get used wrong in stereotypical characters, like saying 'gone walkabout', using 'cooee', making digeridoo jokes, and making some really uncomfy 'savages' statements can be very disrespectful. You might want to go looking into Australia's fucked up policies and historical (and only recent) situations before starting any arguments about this stuff... in many ways it mirrors the cruelty of american colonisers to native american peoples, etc.

Avoid some phrases. Your character gone to cool their head? He's gone off on to soak his head, or he's on his bike (gone away) but he'll be back... You can use 'Oi, dickhead!'

Please don't mock the names of towns or places, they are often the names from the traditional custodians and inhabitants.

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

Random things:

We drive on the left side of the road, driver's side reversed.

More of our cars are automatic than manual. Utes aren't atypical, but bigger vehicles are out in rural areas because more than a few of the rural roads are poorly maintained or dirt, with potholes that yoyo your soul into your body.

If you have a character on a long drive on a non-highway, or rural road: +if you are on a one-lane road and someone is comingthe other way, you both move half-on, half-off; for big vehicles or trucks, you can choose to pull off completely and stop. Just for safety, esp. in rain, fog, mist or late at night. +at one-lane bridges, you have a give way sign on one side. if you want your characters to have a moment of 'pause to look at each other while driving' or 'a quiet moment of reflection', have them wait for another car or truck to pass from the other side. These can be a few metres long, to like, a really long bridge. +They may pass markers that say 'flood level marker' with numbers of 2, 3 or 5 metres. Could be useful to remark on if your fic needs a reason for them to have a crisis. +Bushfire warning signs (from Low to Catastrophic) are frequent +Animal Crossing signs are very frequent, and often have a wildlife rescue number on them +Water restriction signs are in most small towns, they range from levels 1 to 6. This can change what the characters are allowed to do with water in little towns, etc. +You may occasionally find a small servo and one or two houses. +pubs don't open/won't serve alcohol until after 10am. the joke has always been, 'beer on your cornflakes' but you will never be able to actually get that unless you preplanned the night before in your hotel room. +Around dawn and dusk, a lot of animals like hares, kangaroos, wallabies, sometimes echidnas and koalas and little numbat things, and snakes and bushmice will be close to the road. Sometimes dashing across. They do not react logically to cars approaching, and will leap out at random. Hares do this zigzag nonsense. If you need the character to hit the brakes frantically, or swerve, this is a good reason. If you are ever driving here and see an animal on the side of the road, flip lights to low beam, slow down and watch to see how they react. If you can. If there's a truck blaring down on you, you may not be able to.

+Emus are in more rural areas. Echidnas sometimes appear on fringes of towns though.

+Kookaburras are a lovely creature, I have rescued a few and they are nice... but their laugh is very grating when it goes off super early in the morning. They eat snakes (good) and baby birds (not so good).

+Lots of snakes round here. LOTS. Carpet Snakes are pretty common, red-belly black snakes, eastern brown (big danger!!!), whip snakes have declined in my region, keelback snakes, this one black and white banded one we found deceased, etc. Snakes can climb, snakes can SWIM. Putting something that stinks around a campsite MAY help, but not always.

+Never go swimming in a dam you don't own, and that hasn't been checked, and if no one knows where you are. How deep is it? What's on the bottom? How stirred is the water? etc.

+Kangaroos CAN drown you. They have perfected this attack, and will do it to humans, dogs and other pursuers alike. They can also eviscerate you with their hind paws or shatter your ribs with a kick. The 'boxing' they do is exceptionally violent. This seems to surprise people, but like, giraffes can kill each other by slamming their heads into each other, you think a 7 ft swole motherfucking cryptid can't do harm? They can be lovely tho, if they trust you. But DO NOT GO PETTING WILDLIFE.

+Dropbears, austrilanicus vericanthus bitus, are real. We do make jokes about them, but they are a Problem. The pee on yourself thing won't ward them off, that's more about working out which tourists are the most gullible (and if they run with it, the moistest) lmao. Akubras and other thicker-layered headwear,

+We have wild dogs and feral pigs. Do not fuck with the feral pigs, some are HUGE, and no... they're not just pigs who escaped farms, these are MASSIVE motherfuckers who will Get You if they See You. Rustling in the night outside the tent? Good Luck.

+Koalas should not be picked up directly. They have claws, and a lot of them have chamydia. I mean if a character saves one in a fic that's fine I guess, but like... someone's getting antibiotics after that lmao. They are bigger than you think, dumber than you think, and sometimes they have to be chased across a highway with a windscreen cover bc they're not very bright and keep failing to climb metal fences, lmaoooo

+Towns of about 20-30k will have more shops (some franchise, some local owned), servos, fast food places and usually at least two to three shopping centres. Usually small level entertainments like a cinema, or local groups. +Towns with 10-20k, may have one or two major shopping centres, servos (tracks and RVs catered to), possibly a maccas, and the majority of stores will be local-owned. May have a cinema, but not one that has the newest releases. Local council may have more festivals, or 'that one thing they're known for'. +0-10k towns have a small local store, prices usually a bit higher. A servo, often with capacity for trucks. Local festivals. Characters can cop a bit of side-eye in these places, esp. if they don't fit the traditional ideas or are loud/violently american. +Grey nomads are a thing. Old people with fancy caravans who drive So Slow, and move all around aus. Several refused to stop during covid and it was like, WHO DO YOU THNK WE'RE TRYING TO KEEP ALIVE BY STOPPING YOU MOVING THROUGH MULTIPLE TOWNS???

+Some rural areas have legit red dirt, its always super cool to look at. Some places have light brown to dark brown, some have more chalky colours or yellowish dirt. Depends.

+Reminder: Australia has very specific gun laws, if your character/s have weapons then they may need to be sneaky or store them specifically in the vehicle. Although if you're talking about like, mad max type rules, then who cares. But if you have them get into a gun fight in a town, the police will come, etc.

Dunno, just ask if you have a question... just trying to think of random things to paint a picture if you have a character over here for a roadtrip or mission or whatever.

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

Text

On Your Six, Chapter 7

Only one chapter left after this one! It may not get posted tomorrow though as I’m still working on it.

Day 7: Homesick for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 3.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Feet

When Qrow was twenty, he made the biggest mistake of his life.

“You’re leaving?”

He turned away. Couldn’t stand looking at Tai, hurt and confused, knowing he was to blame for it.

Scowled, because why should he care anymore when the other hardly spared him the time?

“’Course I am.” He finally snipped, shoving more socks into a duffel. “Have you seen my face?”

He had to resist the self-conscious urge to touch the cotton bandage on the right side of his forehead, hiding the stitches holding the three-inch gash together.

The beer bottle had shattered on impact. It was a wonder he didn’t get fractures. Small miracles. Though he was pretty sure some memories had been knocked askew because most of the night was a haze. He was only certain of the things that had become routine at that point: coming home to crack open a few with his old man while they watched prime time television and bitched about the state of things. An argument started, over what he couldn’t say, and Qrow never saw the swing coming before he was out cold on the floor.

When he woke up, it was with the hard realization it was time to get out.

Too bad his best friend didn’t get the memo. Tai perched on the edge of his bed as he had a thousand times before, pressing on, “But to the capital city? You don’t have to go so far.”

“Tch. You got any better ideas?” The hangers rattled against one another as he yanked down more shirts.

“Why not stay with me and Rae? We can make room.”

That made him pause, looking over. “Why?”

“Why not?” Was the simple counter as if it were as simple as that. Then, Tai rose his hand to his stomach, fondness smoothing his features, “Besides, then you’ll be close when the baby comes along.”

Fucking, of course. The rush of fury that flooded his system was white-hot, jealousy snapping at the end of every nerve. “So you get yourself knocked up and suddenly it’s my problem?”

“W-What?”

An alarm went off in the back of his head, trying to tell him to pull back – but the words were already leaving his mouth, spiteful and petty and mean, “I’m not sticking around to be your damn nanny. If you can’t handle it, then maybe you shoulda kept your damn legs shut.”

The reaction was instantaneous, Tai immediately on his feet, both taken aback and furious, “Qrow, what the hell?! I brought it up because I figured you’d want to be involved in your niece or nephew’s life! Not-” He threw his hands up. “Whatever the hell you’re implying.”

He knew he was way out of line, but any guilt he had was being held down by a vitriolic sludge of grief and regret that had been leaking, unchecked, out of his broken heart the day he learned Tai and Raven had bonded. An ache that had chipped away at his stability until there was nothing left but a hurricane of outrage and wrath inside him. Thing about hurricanes was, when they blew in, their only purpose was to destroy everything in their path.

That’s how Qrow felt now as he stalked towards the omega, venom spitting out of his throat, “Oh cut the virtuous bullshit already. I was in the hospital for two days. Sure didn’t bother to visit me then. But now that you need something, you come knocking?”

“I came here because I was worried about you!” Tai’s voice rose. “Raven didn’t tell me-”

“Oh-ho-ho there it is. Raven didn’t tell you. Far be it for you to check in on your own best friend once and awhile, huh?” He spat. “Or maybe I’m just the idiot here. Are we even friends anymore?”

This close, he could smell the souring in the other’s scent, his distress palpable. “Of course we are. The only one not acting like one right now is you. Look, I’m sorry about what happened and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. And I get that your mad but you don’t get to take it out on me, alright?”

“You don’t get it! That’s not what this is about!”

“Then what is it about?!”

Qrow opened and shut his mouth nothing coming out. A coward, even when he’d already lost his chance. He spun away with a snarl so Tai couldn’t see the well of emotion in his eyes, storming to the other the side of the room and kicking his desk hard enough the back of it hit the wall. “Fuck!”

He was so tired of this. Of being unhappy and angry all the time. Of having any and every little thing set him off because it seemed like everything nowadays just made him irritated or sad. When was the last time he’d gone out just for fun? When was the last time he’d laughed?

Qrow buried his head in his hands, disgusted with himself over how close he was to tears. “I hate this.”

“Qrow…”

He heard footfalls behind him, then Tai’s scent was all around him. It was a natural omega response, the cloying sweetness surrounding the air meant to comfort and soothe when emotions were running too high, much like a purr.

It only made him feel worse.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m here for you, okay?” Tai’s hand rested onto his shoulder. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

Qrow couldn’t take this anymore. “You want to help? Then get out.”

“But-”

He knocked the other’s hand away and whirled, his tone shifting into a growl as he pushed his own alpha influence outwards, “I said Leave!”

It was almost disturbing, seeing the way the omega stumbled back, eyes wide, a bit of a tremor in his knees. Usually, the reaction wasn’t so extreme, especially when they were already in the middle of a fight, but he’d never growled at Tai before. Around him, sure – especially if he and Raven were having one of their sibling moments, then the dominance display tended to be a given.

But never at him. It was like he’d broken some sort of unspoken rule.

Try as he might, Tai’s voice shook when he spoke, clearly rattled, “Is that really what you want?”

Some of the guilt finally started to puncture through but it was too little, too late.

“Yes. I can’t deal with this right now.” He looked away. “Just, go. Please.”

A tense, silent few moments passed. Then finally, resigned, Tai said, “Alright then.”

Yet as he headed for the door, he hesitated in the threshold. Stopped to look back, hoping to convey something more than just words.

Years later, Qrow still regretted never meeting his eyes.

“Just, remember I’m here when you need me Qrow. Call when you’re ready, okay?”

He never did.

They were sitting at the table, mugs in either hand. It felt like a mirror image of that very first day six months ago, except this time it was Qrow who couldn’t look up.

“That’s why you were so distant back then.” Tai finally said, an undercurrent of something in his voice that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Qrow swallowed hard. “Yeah.” His fingers clutched his cup harder. “I know I should have said this back then but… I’m so sorry.”

“Oh Qrow. I forgave you a long time ago.”

He head jerked up, mouth agape. “What?”

Tai’s smile was gentle. “I knew something was going on with you. You’d been weird ever since we graduated. And when I found out you were moving away, I figured it was because you’d been feeling lost. I was so frustrated because I didn’t know how to help you.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Now Qrow could see what he hadn’t before: regret. “I just never put the pieces together that I was the problem.”

“You weren’t-! I mean…” He grimaced. It was time to stop lying. “Yeah. Being around you was killing me. I needed to get away, from everything. It wasn’t until I was entirely alone, I started to get my head back together. Took even longer to admit to myself that it was my fault things fell apart because I was too busy wallowing in self-pity to see anyone else. By that point, it had been so long, I didn’t feel like I could go back.” He sighed. “I’m a real moron. If I had just been honest with you, maybe things wouldn’t have ended the way they had. No matter what though, it doesn’t excuse the things I said.”

“Oh yeah, you were a total dick.” His friend laughed. “But take it from a guy who’s had his heart broken twice now: sometimes when you’re hurting that much, you’ll often be left with the ugliest side of yourself.”

Qrow arched a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s ugly Tai look like?”

“I think the way my dad put it was ‘robotic’.” Tai rubbed at a sharpie mark on the table as if he was trying to erase the black marks on his own life. “If it wasn’t sorrow or anger, then I didn’t really feel anything at all. It was all just numb to me and it made everything else feel like a chore. Even the littlest things, like showering or eating, were just too much. Some days, I even struggled to get out of bed. Heh.” His shoulders slumped. “It was pathetic.”

He supposed there was something to be said about being the person watching the show instead of being the one playing the part. “Hey, if I’m allowed to skip off to an entirely different continent, then you can stay in bed for a few extra hours.”

“Okay, you got me there.” He conceded. “Still, I can’t imagine how long I would have been stuck like that if it weren’t for my girls giving me the strength to move forward.”

“Well I’m glad you have them.” Qrow said, and for the first time, he knew he was saying it with full sincerity. A sense of calm had fallen over him, one he’d never felt before.

After his rut had happened a few weeks ago, he’d thought things would have grown awkward between them. Unbearable, even, now that the truth was out in the open.

As always, Tai surprised him as Qrow had started to stumble over himself to make amends.

(“I don’t even know where to start. There’s a lot you probably want to know.”

“There is. But that doesn’t mean you have to tell me.”

“W-What? But you said…”

“I was wrong. Especially when I… accidentally forced that confession out of you.”

“…”

“Look, just because these are your feelings for me, doesn’t suddenly mean I have ownership of them. Whatever you want to tell me, you do it in your own time. And if you never want to speak of this again, then we won’t.”

“Then, we’re… okay?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.”)

True to his word, Tai never pushed after that day. Qrow waited for the tension to grow, for something to give. But it never did – and he started to think maybe those over-dramatics only happened in sitcoms and romantic dramas.

Whatever it was, the blissful return to normalcy gave Qrow the breathing space he needed to come to terms with his secret being out. Eventually, the stories came next. Not everything, of course. Some things were just too locked into his heart to give away. Still, the more he did share, the better he felt. No longer did he have to hold in his feelings, never giving them a chance to resolve and leaving turmoil in his heart. Now, he could finally look forward without a ‘what if’ hanging over him.

Maybe he’d never have the life he always dreamed about with Tai. No house with a gaggle of pups running around the yard. No coming home to the omega’s smile being his and his only. But at least he’d always have this. A friendship that had lasted through the ages and against the odds. That had weathered the worst storms and built up stronger after they’d passed. That’s foundation remained strong with the support and care they both gave to one another.

He’d always love Tai. On that, he had little doubt. But it was these past few months that really taught him what it meant to truly love someone. It wasn’t a trade-off. To give something so precious with only the expectation of an exchange for the same in return cheapened the value.

Love was a gift. An offering freely handed over with no intent beyond the desire to see the happiness it provided.

After bearing witness to one of Tai’s lowest points, he’d discovered just how integral that latter part was. He would move mountains and rearrange the stars if it meant bringing that smile back onto Tai’s face.

Even if those mountains being moved were just pictures on a phone and the stars were being moved by a needle-tipped pen that spread an aurora of color over the dark sky.

Qrow finished his tea, getting to his feet. “Alright, story time’s over. Let’s get the last one finished up.”

The buzzing that had permeated the space between them for months on end stopped for the final time.

Qrow set the needle aside, giving the tattoo its finally look over. Made sure every line was in place, every color perfect, every shade drawn.

It was with a heavy heart he realized there was nothing left to do, nothing left to add, nothing left to say except, “It’s done.”

“Really?” Tai turned his head, still trying to mimic an owl after all this time.

“Yep.” He snapped a shot with his scroll. “Take a look.”

The device was handed over, Tai sitting up as he gave it a critical scan. “It’s perfect.” He decided, but his smile was weak.

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“It’s not that. It really is everything I wanted.” He assured, stronger than before. He thumbed at the edge of the scroll, shoulders falling some. “I’m just sad. I’m going to miss this.”

Qrow rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the anchor in his own chest. Before things could get too gloom and doom though, he insisted, “Well hey, don’t go sobbing into my pillow yet until you see what I brought for a celebration.”

“Qrow you know you shouldn’t be buying frivolous things-” Tai cut himself off as Qrow whipped open the nightstand drawer, pulling out two perfectly round, prepackaged cupcakes. “Except those.”

He laughed, tossing Tai one and sliding from the recliner onto the bed beside him. It felt just like old times, tearing into the plastic and taking that first, overly sugary bite of chocolate and frosting. It reminded him of grand adventures on the playground and binge fests during movie marathons and sleepovers.

Qrow chanced a glance over. “So, Friday’s the day?”

“Yeah.” He replied, nibbling a ring around the cupcake like the weirdo he was, saving the vanilla crème filling for last. “I’m… pretty nervous.”

He pressed his shoulder against Tai’s. “Hey. It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine. And just think, once you pass those bastards final eval, you’re going to be getting your kids back.”

That brought his smile back in full. “Yeah. You’re right. Besides,” He nudged him back, “You’ll finally get to meet them.”

Qrow’s lungs shriveled up in his chest, leaving only enough air for a quiet, “Guess so.”

“I know the girls are just gonna love you.”

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, snapping, “And will you finish eating already? You’re getting crumbs all over my bed!”

“Sorry!”

They finished up their treats – but any sweetness left in Qrow’s was gone.

It was rather remarkable, how much two men could stall against the inevitable. It was pushing nearly one in the morning by the time they were shuffling towards the door, both of them trying to hide yawns.

“Maybe I should just stay over again?” Tai suggested.

Qrow rolled his eyes. “And have you trigger another rut? No thanks.”

“Oh, it’s my fault. I see how it is.” All things considered it probably had been. Between the unintentional courting with homemade dinners and the two of them sharing the bed, it really was just a recipe for disaster.

Still, it was nice to joke about it. “Glad to see you’re taking responsibility. More seriously though, no need to risk things when you’re so close to the finish line.”

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.” He mimed a phone to his ear. “I’ll keep you in the loop. And hey, when me and the girls head back to Patch, maybe you can come with us. Start working out of there for a while.”

There it was. The conversation he’d been trying to avoid all night. He shifted on his feet, trying to remain ambivalent, “I mean, maybe. I still have a lot of clients here I’m finishing up with.”

But Tai hadn’t been his best friend for two decades not to see through his bullshit. Most of it, at least. “Qrow. Don’t you dare.”

“I-”

Before he could even try, Tai was clutching onto his forearms, tone frantic, “You were gonna disappear, just like before, weren’t you?”

“That’s not exac-”

Just as quickly, he was hopping back, holding up his hands placatingly. “Wait, it’s me again, right? Whatever it is, we can talk it out. Right now, if you want.”

“Tai-”

“I know that’s not really fair, but, look. I’ll do whatever you want in return for it. Just please. Don’t do this to me again. I can’t lose you too.”

Qrow watched as Tai struggled and lost the fight against tears, a prevalent reek of fear becoming known. It only occurred to him right then that after so many losses, maybe his friend was starting to develop a serious issue with separation anxiety. He ran a hand over his face, grumbling, “I’m such an ass.” Before walking forward and catching the other in a tight hug.

Those powerful arms hugged back so hard, it nearly broke his sternum. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry.” He buried his fingers into blond hair. “I should have talked to you about this before.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, pulling back enough to look up at him. He reached around, thumbing away some tears. “I’m not trying to run off again, I swear. But this isn’t exactly a ‘day until I retire’ job. It’s a ‘only a matter of time’ one. If I stay close to home, then you’d probably be tagged as an accomplice.” He met his gaze, resigned and resolute. “I’m not going to put you through losing your children a second time.”

Somehow, that only seemed to make Tai cry more. “Why are you so fair to everyone but yourself?”

“Heh. Guess the privileged lifestyle never suited well.” He joked weakly. “Look, I ain’t dropping off the face of the planet. I’ll keep in touch, promise. And visit, when I can. So can you cut it with the waterworks? You know I’m awful with ‘em.”

Tai sniffed, stepping back so he could dab at his eyes with his sleeve. “Only ‘cause you don’t want to cry too.”

“Semantics.” Qrow waved off.

“And you better keep that promise, or I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll but I’ll do it!”

He crossed an X over his heart. “I will. Even if they threaten to scratch out my eyes.”

“Good.” Tai nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I… guess I better get going.”

“Probably want some sleep to handle that tromp of monsters tomorrow.”

The omega gave him a light jab. “Rude. I’ll talk to you soon, eh?”

“You’ve got my number.” Qrow replied, as the other opened the door, only to hesitate. His fingers started to nervously tap along the doorknob’s surface. “Tai?”

“Qrow I-” He spun around, another sharp spike to his scent. “I want you to know that I… I…”

Qrow breathed in a bit, confused as he recognized the hint of anxiety. Was he still that worried? “Youuu?” He urged gently.

The tapping increased, as did the scent. Then Tai shook his head, smiling brightly, “Just that I’m… really proud of you.”

“E-Eh?” Okay, now he was really lost.

“What you’re doing, you have no idea the impact you’re having. It’s changing lives.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “It certainly changed mine.”

Qrow felt his face flame up, flustered as he tried to duck his head. “Dude, I can’t do this at one in the morning.”

“You need me to tell you again at noon?”

“No!”

Tai burst into chuckles. “I just wanted you to know that.” The hand squeezed gently. “And how glad I am you’re part of my life.”

“Okay, okay. I get the point.” He pat his wrist placatingly. “I love you too, now please stop trying to cause an aneurysm.”

That caused another puzzling spike, Tai’s second laugh more jittery. “Ah what’s the fun in that?” Nevertheless, he did pull back, stepping out. “I’ll see you ‘round.” With a final wave, he started off down the hall.

“See ya.” He called after.

As Qrow shut the door, he couldn’t shake the lingering sense that he had missed something.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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atmilliways · 3 years

Text

On the 2nd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 14 - Kissing under the mistletoe (or office party shenanigans)

Charles gets roped into the role of Santa Clause at the holiday office party.

Charles/Pickles

The dreaded Dethklok Inc. office Christmas party was coming up—dreaded not by the band or most of the employees, who typically had a blast, but by the CFO who had to arrange and organize everything before and after, up to and including the inevitable handful of resulting funeral arrangements.

Charles was looking forward to it even less than usual, because the band had thrown an absolute shitfit to get him to agree to play Santa this year. He didn’t know why they wanted him to do this. The party didn’t even normally have a Santa. His first thought was that it was Toki’s idea, but on second thought Toki tended to lack the charisma to get the rest of the guys to throw in with him on niche interests like that.

But fine. Whatever. He’d agreed to do it once, and next year he could simply point to whatever came of it this year as an argument against repeating the experience.

He kept telling himself that right up until donning the red and white Santa suit, the iconic hat, and the fake beard. (The damn thing was so big that practically all he could see of his own face in the mirror were his eyes. At least they were letting him keep his glasses.) Then he took his seat in a throne-like chair that had been special ordered for the occasion, specially decorated with carvings of presents, the most unsettling depictions of Christmas elves that he’d ever seen, and skulls with real candles balanced on them, lit and already beginning to dribble red and black wax . . . and immediately felt that somewhere in life he must have made a grave, grave mistake to have ended up here.

The band took the stage in the center of the hall, half the room away from where Charles sat, and went into a jumbled “Merry Christmas, go fuck yourselves!” sort of speech. He mostly tuned it out until—

“And hey, errybody,” Pickles slurred into his mic, “don’t ferget ta sit on Santa’s lap and tell ‘im what you want fer Christmas!”

That had not been part of the discussion, let alone the agreement, but at this point what was he going to do about it? Besides hope that grown men and women hired for their professional abilities would have no interest in sitting on the lap of the man who signed their paychecks.

“You can’t have a pony,” Charles said flatly. “There isn’t space for one in the employee barracks, and even if there were it would be both impractical and unsanitary.”

The Klokateer perched on his lap, crushing the feeling out of his legs, tittered and took another sip of his holiday punch through a straw poked up under his mask. “Oo-kay Mr. Grinchy-claus, no pony for me then. Aren’tcha going to say ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’?”

“Ho ho ho. Now go away.”

Laughing drunkenly, the man lurched up and made his way off the Santa podium to get a refill of punch. The next Klokateer in line had an Online Division pin on one shoulder and a spiked eggnog in her hand. Charles braced himself for yet another request for fewer blocks on searching for porn using company computers.

“Hey look, it’sch Schanty Clausche!”

Charles grimaced behind his beard. “Hello, Murderface.”

The first of the boys to visit him, Murderface seemed to be in unusually high spirits. His ass landed on Charles’ knees like a ton of bricks. “Wow,” he crooned with exaggerated delight, “Schanta really does know all the namesch of the good little boysch and girlsch!”

“Very funny. Would you mind telling me whose idea this was?”

The bassist shook his head. “Hey man, I’m not here to narc on my bandmatesch, I’m here to tell Schanta what I want for Chrischtmasch. ”

“Alright. Fine. What would you like for Christmas.”

Murderface looked around furtively, then leaned in and whispered, “A dischguische kit.”

“A . . . disguise kit.”

“Yeah! I’m tired of being mobbed whenever I go out in public, scho I need it. For camouflasche. ”

Charles couldn’t remember a single incident of a fan mob forming for just Murderface; it only ever seemed to happen when one or more of the other band members were with him, though there were probably a few people who did wander up and ask for an autograph. There had been one unfortunately memorable band meeting a few months ago where Murderface had bragged about someone wanting to touch his penis for good luck, pleased at the recognition but at the same time calling said fan an ‘incredibly fucking gay regular jackoff.’

“I’ll, ah, make sure that’s added to the list,” Charles assured him, and breathed a sigh of relief when Murderface nodded in satisfaction and stood to leave.

“Hey, knock knock.”

Charles sighed from the depths of his soul at this second Dethklok visitation. “Who’s there.”

“Nathan Explosion,” said Nathan Explosion, dropping unceremoniously onto his lap.

Luckily, the beard hid Charles’ wince at the impact. He was probably going to have a lot of weird leg bruises tomorrow. “Nathan Explosion who.”

“Nathan Explosion, here to tell you you’re the party ho ho ho! ” Nathan broke into riotous laughter and clapped Charles good-naturedly on the back, causing him to accidentally inhale a mouthful of fake beard.

After a moment to catch his breath, Charles nodded along. “Very amusing. What would you, ah, like for Christmas, Nathan?”

“I need new pants.”

Well, that was unexpectedly straightforward. “New pants. You got it.”

“One hundred pairs. Exactly one hundred.”

“Okay.”

“Just, uh. A couple inches bigger in the waist. For the holiday weight that I am definitely going to lose in January.”

He couldn’t feel his legs; this was not the time to point out that Nathan wouldn’t have time to wear all one hundred pairs of new pants between December 25th and the start of January, nor that January as a deadline for such a drastic fitness undertaking was probably an unrealistic deadline.

“That’s fine, Nathan. One hundred pairs of pants. I’ll make sure, the, ah, elves get the message.” Maybe he would throw in some math flash cards while he was at it.

Toki weighed less than the first two, but was unfortunately so excited that he landed on Charles’ lap hard . Definitely, definitely going to have bruises.

“God Jul, Charles —I means Santa!” the guitarist chirped, bright-eyed and swaying slightly. Charles fervently hoped he wasn’t about to throw up; he didn’t even think being covered in vomit would do much to get him out of this holiday circle of hell. “Merries Christmas!!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Toki. What do you, ah, want to ask Santa for this year?”

He didn’t have a watch, but he estimated that Toki’s list, plus miscellaneous excited chatter, took at least half an hour and mentioned many things he knew for a fact that Toki already owned.

“Eeuyghh, looks, it ams everys-ones favorites butler,” Skwisgaar said, then folded himself gracefully into a sitting position. After an hour or two of being sat on like this and having plenty to compare it to, Charles wondered if the man was eating enough.

This was in spite of the fact that Skwisgaar was toting around a small plate loaded with various cheeses, fruit, and greasy finger sausages skewered on toothpicks. Party food. To Charles, who hadn’t realized that this gig would take so long and therefore hadn’t eaten in advance, it smelled wonderful.

The Swede must have noticed him eyeing it, or perhaps heard the growl of his stomach over the noise of the surrounding party somehow, because he smirked and held it out in offering. “Pickle says for you to haves this. Gots to keep yous strengths up, you knows.”

Pickles, Charles noted as he balanced the plate off to one side on one of the less obvious and candle-less Christmas skulls. He also pulled one of the sausages free of its toothpick and reached under the beard to jam it in his mouth. Still warm.

“Thank you, Skwisgaar,” he said once he’d finished chewing. “Now, what can I get for you? Ah, as Santa. Ho ho.”

“Everyones know it ams three ‘ho’s, dildo.” Skwisgaar steepled his fingers. “But I woulds like five ins mine room to enjoy ons the Christmas morning. You know the kinds I likes?”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected. “It’s my job to know, so . . . yes.”

“Greats.” The guitarist patted him on the shoulder of his Santa suit. “Glads that ams sorted outs. Keeps up that good works, yous.”

Then he got up and wandered away, leaving Charles to realize that he hadn’t had a chance to ask him who was behind this whole Santa idea.

Charles finished the plate of food before Pickles made an appearance. He also realized that he could persuade his increasingly inebriated employees to bring him more food, and also drinks, by threatening them with cleanup duty after the party. (He was not in a generous mood; the ones that tried to weasel out of it at first would get cleanup duty regardless of whether they eventually caved or not.) There was no way to escape the alcohol content in the drinks—even when he asked for water it came spiked with vodka or peppermint schnapps, because everyone wanted to see the company’s CFO hammered.

At least they knew better than to roofie him, because Charles would have them killed.

He saw Pickles coming from a mile away. Maybe it was because Charles knew that once all of Dethklok had a chance to visit with “Santa Clause” he would be allowed to escape this torment; maybe it was because he really wanted to know if Pickles was, indeed, the mastermind behind this whole thing; and maybe it was just a tiny bit because he was annoyed the drummer had forgotten to wander over earlier.

But being annoyed at any of the guys was a nonstarter. Putting up with their antics was just part of the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey,” Pickles greeted him as he swayed his way over and plopped onto Charles’ lap. Unlike everyone else who had visited Santa this evening, he didn’t stick to perching closer to Charles’ knees but scooted in as close as he could until they were practically nose to nose. Mingled notes of every kind of booze available at the party wafted the short distance from the drummer’s mouth (and shirt, and hands, and dreads), until all Charles could smell was Pickles. “Lookin’ hot in that suit, dood. Is the temp in here okay? Gettin’ a little warm in there?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles said, trying not to be too aware that Pickles seemed incapable of sitting still and his ass was rubbing against . . . things. “Ah. Merry Christmas.”

Pickles snickered. “Did Nat’en make that ho joke?”

No one could see for the beard that Charles’ lips twitched toward a smile at that. “Yes, he did.”

“‘M glad yer not a ho, Charlie,” Pickles slurred affectionately. “A'least, not no much'a one. That’d be a bummer.”

“Ah . . . okay.” He didn’t know what to make of that, or the continuing subtle lap dance, so he said, “What would you like for Christmas this year, Pickles?”

“Weeeeell. . . .” Grinning, Pickles waggles his double-pierced eyebrows. It seems like he’s trying to be suggestive, but Charles has no idea what that’s supposed to suggest. The drummer leaned even closer, lips brushing against Charles’ ear as he murmurs, “I kinda already got my present right in front’a me, chief. Just gotta unwrap it.”

All of this was sending shivers and goosebumps down Charles’ spine under the (admittedly warm) Santa suit, but for heaven’s sake, it was just Pickles. When wasted, which he was more often than not, man oscillated between being a destructive drunk and clingy one. Apparently tonight it was . . . very much so the latter. Not a good time to ask about the Santa plot, really.

He had dealt with this before, just not with Pickles literally draped over and inconspicuously grinding on him. Come on, Offdensen, pull it together . Do not get a boner at the holiday office party. No matter how long it’s been!

“Well, ah, sounds like you’re all taken care of then,” Charles hazarded. “All that’s left to do is, ah, enjoy the party. Why don’t you go do that.”

Pickles chuckled, a low, sultry sound that just made the situation even more difficult. “Workin’ on it dood, I’m workin’ on it.” He shifted thoughtfully again, then bit his lip through a grin. “And it feels like we’re gettin’ there, huh chief?”

“I. Ah, what?” At least the big fake beard was concealing his blush better than he’d been able to contain his body’s mounting interest in the increasingly distracting ass squirming around on top of him. This is a public place , he wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk pointing out something that might be completely unintentional. After all, it was Pickles , who did this sort of thing fairly regularly.

But the next murmured words out of Pickles’ mouth stopped every single one of Charles’ thoughts in their tracks.

“Fuck, even in this stupid suit yer sexy. How d’you do that?” A brief nip, teeth closing and tugging on Charles’ earlobe before releasing with a soft wet pop .

Nothing but overwhelmed static on the other side of that ear; the quiet gasp was completely involuntary.

“C’mon Charlie,” Pickles all but whined, “you don’t have to do this anymore. Jest call it a night and meet me in the bathroom or somethin’, okie?”

The amazing thing, Charles thought distantly, was that from a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything was happening. Just a grown man, swaying drunk off his ass, sitting on Santa’s lap to whisper what he wanted for Christmas. Regular office holiday party shenanigans for a laugh. But under the surface, Charles was starting to feel like a shaken champagne bottle.

“You, ah,” he managed. “You do realize that you, ah, seem to be prepositioning me for, ah. Sex?”

Pickles leaned into him with a laugh. “Like I said, dood, that’s what I’m tryin’ ta do. Fer like, fuckin’ forever. For a smart guy you can be pretty stupid, y’know that?”

“Ah.” Charles shifted awkwardly and nearly choked when Pickles very pointedly pushed into it at the exact right moment. “There’s . . . a chance I’ve been told that before,” he hedged, already vowing to himself that he would never admit how many times. This isn’t something he ever would have looked for, but mistaking Pickles hitting on him for god only knew how long for just being an affectionate drunk? That was pretty fucking funny if you thought about it, and he'd consumed just enough alcohol so far to really give it some very serious thought.

And . . . his job was to keep everyone in the band happy.

“So, ah. There are several bathrooms off this hall. . . . Which one did you have in mind?”

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #chuckles #12 days of dethmas

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

I present u with a challenge: write a geralt x reader one-shot based on Black Moon Lovers' "A White Demon Love Song".

A/N: I accept your challenge. And I’m sorry, did you say angst? Also this is like the only time I will write Geralt being a personal heater. If you’ve read my shit before, you know I love the idea of Geralt being an ice cube and clinging to heat the same way a reptile does :) And I didn’t use the entire song because this thing got so far away from me sorry not sorry this is what I’ve been working on for the last three days

Warnings: pure angst, no happy ending :)

Word Count: 3.9k

Note: I’m not trying to shit on Yennefer. I love her with all my heart. She’s just a bitch by nature and that’s okay so am I

***

Your heart raced furiously within your chest. Your eyes were open, glued to the ceiling. Your fingers clenched the linens beneath you in some sort of feeble attempt to pull yourself from the nightmare plaguing your dreams.

It was the same nightmare you’d had over and over again, off and on for weeks now. You always dreamed of the White Wolf. It started out happily. You both were content, sitting side by side at a table. Beneath the table, his hand would rest upon your knee. He’d be whispering something in your ear, something you couldn’t remember when you woke up. But you remembered the very real feeling of happiness, pure, unadulterated happiness.

It was just after you would giggle at something he said when things went downhill. A woman you could never see the face of sat down on the other side of him, taking his attention away from you. Then his hand would leave you and he’d turn his back on you.

You’d wake up in a cold sweat, your stomach churning like you were ready to vomit. Rejection was something you were used to, but with him, it was foreign and excruciating.

The nightmare had long since become a reality.

You’d known Geralt of Rivia and his travel companion, Jaskier, for six months before the mage came into the picture. You’d saved Geralt’s life on a hunt and when the fighting was over, you found yourself staring into heavenly golden eyes. He offered to pay for a meal at the tavern he was staying at. Jaskier was quick to suggest that you join them. He secretly wanted someone to be able to watch over Geralt’s back should he need it.

It had been just a short three months since Yennefer came into the picture, since Geralt wished that she be forever tied to him. You weren’t certain of the details but you didn’t want to know either.

White demon love song down the hallWhite demon shadow on the road

Two Months Later

Even while you slept, you couldn’t stop thinking of the witcher. He was everywhere. In every reflective surface you passed, in every tired smile you saw. Hell, sometimes you’d hear his voice. It seemed like you always found something that reminded you of him.

Snow falling from the sky made you think of how his pale white skin was cold to the touch. But just like a snowflake, when you’d touch his arm or his shoulder with a soft hand, he’d melt. Though he wouldn’t allow anyone else to know it, he was a sucker for gentle gestures.

Anytime you’d pass someone with a cloak shielding their face from the outside world, you thought of the same way Geralt wore the hood to his cloak. He often used it to cover his head. His hair was a tell-tale sign of who he was, what he was. If he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, he’d just wear his hood.

“Y/N, are you even listening?”

You turned your head to Jaskier, raising your brows.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

You’d been too busy watching the door, awaiting for the witcher himself to show. You sat at a table towards the back of the inn’s tavern with the bard. Geralt had gone to put Roach in a boarding stable and said he’d be back briefly. Surely that meant any time soon.

Jaskier sighed gently as he watched you look back to the door. Every time it opened, he could see the brief flicker of excitement cross your features. You always lit up whenever Geralt was around.

Deep down, you knew he wasn’t going to come join you and Jaskier. There was a brothel you’d passed coming in to town. His relationship with Yennefer was-at best-undefined, but it was there. They felt for each other and at any chance, they’d reconvene and fuck until they’d had their fill of each other. But lately, Geralt had been visiting brothels between his visits with the violet eyed mage. He was an insatiable man. Whether it be because of the need he had to be with Yennefer, or just because that’s who he was, he often used wenches and whores from brothels to pass the time.

“You and I both know he isn’t coming, Y/N.” Jaskier spoke softly. His words, though not meant to be hurtful, stung.

You dropped your gaze to your hands, your fingers tightening around your mug of ale. Your chest squeezed and you felt sick. You nodded your head, pressing your lips together in a tight line. You sniffled and took a shaky deep breath.

“Love, I hate to see you like this.”

“I’m fine, Jask.” You lifted your head, forcing a smile on to your lips. “Just thought…. I just thought it’d be nice for us to hang out. You know, like we used to. Just the three of us.”

You shrugged your shoulders softly, dropping your gaze back to your drink.

“Guess he doesn’t have time for us anymore.”

Jaskier moved out of his seat and slid into the seat next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in for a hug.

“That isn’t true, Y/N, and you know it. He’s just…. he’s adjusting to having Yennefer around.”

“It’s been three months, Jaskier.”

“I can assure you, he doesn’t get attached to people easily.”

“Oh, I know.” You muttered under your breath. The ache in your chest hurt, but at least you felt something, right?

Back up your mind, there is a callHe isn’t coming after allLove this time

One Week Later

It was a chilling night spent between villages. You all had decided to settle down and make a camp just before the sun disappeared behind the trees. As the sun disappeared, a bitter cold took its place.

You sat around the campfire Geralt had built. He sat across the fire from you with Yennefer by his side, as always. Jaskier was just a few feet off to your left. You rubbed your hands along your forearms, your eyes studying the flames while your ears listened to Geralt tell a story to Yennefer. It was of one of his first Selkiemore hunts.

You weren’t really taking in any of what he was saying. You were listening to the sound of his husky, low voice. His voice was the first thing you fell in love with. He had a way of making everything that fell from his lips intoxicating. The deep hum from within his chest when he grunted was something you never wanted to forget.

You remembered feeling it for the first time. It was during a bitter snow storm that plowed through the village you had stopped in. Jaskier made his usual rounds at the tavern down the street from the inn. You and Geralt retired to a room and settled into bed. The fire in the hearth did little to keep you warm and Geralt noticed this. You were shivering in the bed next to him beneath your own set of blankets.

Without saying a word, he moved closer to you and wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you into his chest. Younstiffened up at first, unsure of what he was doing. But as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, you melted against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked you quietly.

“Yes. Thank you.” You smiled to yourself. “You’re nice and warm.”

He hummed softly, the vibration carrying through the shirt you wore. It was oddly comforting to feel it, to know he was so close to you, protecting you from the cold.

You used to share a room with him before Yennefer arrived in his life like a hurricane personified. Jaskier often had company of his own, so you and Geralt became accustomed to sharing a room.

She likes the way he singsWhite demon love song’s in her dreams

Two Weeks Later

You walked with Jaskier through the corridor of the inn. He laughed at something you said, a joke made about the rude old man running the place. As you both turned down the last hall that would take you to the rooms you’d be staying in for the night, you came to a stop.

Just down at the other end of the hallway, Yennefer and Geralt were embraced in a passionate kiss. He had one arm wrapped around her and the opposite hand holding her cheek.

You chest tightened unbearably. You couldn’t stand to watch them.

Your arm slipped from the bard’s and you turned, fleeing the inn. You ran and ran, unable to stop your legs. They took you as far away from Geralt as they could.

It was nightfall before he found you. You were sitting on a large rock next to a creek, your legs folded beneath you as you stared at the running water.

Surely what he felt for Yennefer wasn’t true. He made a wish. Their connection was through a magic tie. It was fake, a knockoff for love at best.

You knew the feelings you held for him were honest. You cared about him, hated seeing him hurt when Yennefer did something like spit mean and hurtful things during an argument–which they frequently had. You hated seeing the way his eyes would glaze over with a hardness when villagers said anything regarding him being a monster. It made you furious. Why couldn’t they treat him like the hero he was?

But he felt nothing for you.

White demon, where’s your selfish kiss?White demon sorrow will arrange

When he found you sitting on that rock, he could smell the salty tinge of your tears in the air. He could hear the way your heart beat in your chest, steadily and quicker than usual.

“Y/N?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and forced the tears away.

“Y/N, I’m sorry–,”

“No.” You cut him off sternly, shaking your head. “I-I don’t want to hear it, Geralt. I just-I don’t.”

He stopped a few yards away from you.

“It’s getting late. You should come back with me.”

Anger grew within you like gasoline being added to a fire. You stood to your feet and stepped away from the rock.

“I know you feel something for me, Geralt. There was a connection, a strong connection between us before she came along-,”

“Don’t bring Yennefer into this.” He warned.

“She is the reason I can’t stand to be around anymore, Geralt!” You shouted at him. “You are so blinded by magic, by a spell that made you fall in love with her-,”

“What do you want from me, Y/N?” His voice, usually warm and kind, was hard and stern. He was growing agitated with you.

Your fingers curled into fists by your sides and tears of anger pooled in your eyes.

“I want you to admit that you feel something for me.” You spoke through clenched teeth in an attempt to hold back the tears. “I know I’m not the only one-,”

“What do you want me to do, Y/N? How the fuck am I suppose to know if I feel anything for you?” He growled, taking a step closer to you. “I know that I care for you. I would never wish harm to come to you. I-I enjoy having you by my side, but how am I suppose to know if those feelings run as deep as you think?”

“Kiss me.” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. You paused for a moment to gauge his reaction but he said nothing. “Kiss me, and you will have your answer.”

He was close enough that one more step put him toe to toe with you.

Your heart raced so loudly in your chest, you were sure anyone within a ten miler radius could hear its frantic and wild beating within your ribs. Your stomach twisted with butterflies as he placed one of his hands, massive and calloused, upon your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling and you unintentionally leaned into him.

His lips pressed to yours with such a softness that you could feel yourself melting into him. Your hand came up to hold his bicep and then the other went to his shoulder.

There was an underlying bitter taste to the kiss. This would either make or break your relationship with Geralt. This was your defining moment.

You were confused when he pulled away, your brows drawing together. When you opened his eyes, you saw the look in his amber eyes of disappointment.

He wanted to feel something for you, but it wasn’t there.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” You quietly asked, hope tainting your weak voice. You squeezed his arm to encourage him. The wrinkle between his brows that came when he was unhappy with something told you all you need to know. You just needed to hear him say it. “Tell me you felt it. Please.”

He softly shook his head.

“No.” The gentle word was uttered quietly. He retracted his hands from you and took a few steps away, almost like he couldn’t stand to be close to you anymore.

It was funny how one word, one small word, could crush you.

“I still want you by my side, Y/N.”

His words took too long to process. You were trying to focus on not vomiting or crying out. You wanted desperately to beg him to forget about Yennefer. You wanted things to go back to the way they were, when he didn’t choose her over you.

You blinked and nodded, biting your bottom lip.

“Okay.” You agreed in a hoarse whisper. You couldn’t just leave him be. Often times, locals were more willing to talk to you than the brooding Witcher. You were useful to him.

“It’s late.” He glanced around, needing to look at something other than your heartbroken eyes. “I’ll walk you back to the inn.”

You shook your head, still biting your bottom lip as you struggled to contain yourself. The dam within you was flooding and you were drowning, unable to save yourself and without anyone to save you.

“I-I want to walk-to walk back alone.”

He watched you for a few moments but you couldn’t look at him. Your eyes were fixated on the ground beneath his boots. He turned and headed back in the direction of the village.

You waited for a while, wanting him to be out of earshot when you broke down.

Your hand came up to your lips, brushing gently over where he’d kissed you. A mournful cry fell from tour lips. It was gut-wrenching and heartbreaking.

Your knees buckled and you collapsed to your knees. One hand covered your mouth while the other held your upper half up. Your nails curled into the dirt, fingers fisting around tufts of green grace.

Let’s not forget about the fearBlack invitation to this place that cannot change

Two Days Later

You sat alone at a table in the corner of the tavern. Your hands were loosely wrapped around the mug of ale you’d been nursing for the better half of an hour.

You could hear the boisterous crowd of patrons enjoying the night drinking, sharing stories, and laughing, but it was all muffled. It was as if you were miles away and could only hear the little noise.

Your eyes focused on hour cup of ale while your thoughts ran wild.

It had been just a short two days since you and Geralt kissed, and you hadn’t spoken to him since. You wondered if he was staying away because of how foolish you’d acted, how you let your emotions get the best of you. You should’ve just shut up and forced everything down like you always did.

Jaskier approached your table, taking note of the way your fingers slowly constricted around your drink. Your eyes were empty, void of any emotion. But there was a glossy tint to them, one that had been there for a few days now. It was like you were constantly on the verge of breaking down into tears.

“Hi, love.” The bard greeted you gently, turning the chair next to you around so he could face you. You looked at him very briefly, offering him a forced smile. “I’m worried about you. So is Geralt.”

“No he isn’t.” Your voice was hoarse and quiet. Your gaze flickered over to where he stood at the counter with Yennefer. His head was turned to face her, giving you a perfect view of the gentle smile on his lips as he looked down at her. “He has her.”

Jaskier followed your gaze.

“But he still needs you.”

You stood from your seat and finished off the rest of your drink.

“I’m leaving, Jaskier.” You sighed out gently.

“I’ll go with you.” He pushed himself out of his chair.

“No, Jaskier. I mean I’m leaving leaving.”

He furrowed his brows as he gazed at you.

“Like forever?” He murmured gently. “Love, you can’t do that.”

“Sure I can.” You nodded your head, trying to sound as excited as you were upset. “I’ve stayed far longer than I should’ve. I never meant to stay this long.”

“But you did, Y/N!” Jaskier followed you as you left the building and stepped out into the rain. It was coming down softly, slowly. There was almost a melodic tune to it. “You stayed! And because of what? Because-,”

“Because I thought I’d gain something from staying.” You snapped, turning to face him.

“You gained me, love.” He smiled but it wasn’t real. He was hurt from what you said. You were never harsh to him.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Jaskier.” You put your hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “I treasure your friendship, Jask, more than I could ever tell you.” You moved in to hug him, feeling the overwhelming need to be embraced by someone, anyone really.

He hugged you tight, afraid to let the woman he viewed as a sister go. He wasn’t prepared for you to leave.

“I can assure you that none of us want you to leave.”

In his arms, your facade crumbled and the tears left your eyes. You fisted his shirt, burying your face in his chest.

“It isn’t fair.” You cried quietly.

“I know, love.” He hushed you gently, brushing his hand over your back.

While strangely holy, come for a rainWhite demon, widen your heart’s scopeWhite demon, who let your friends go?

One Month Later

Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline coursed through your veins the same way the rapids in a river moved.

You’d just finished slaying the werewolf after Geralt nearly killed himself. The beast left deep wound on the witcher’s chest, ones that were bleeding heavily. Why hadn’t he worn his armor?

He was on his knees when you reached him, his head hanging and eyes closed.

“Geralt!” You called his name, kneeling down in front of him. You tentatively reached out to move the shredded cloth of his shirt. He inhaled sharply and lifted his head. You retracted your hand, looking up at him. Amber eyes were focused on you.

“Why do you have to be so damned stupid?” You thought out loud, pulling off the cloak you wore to use the material to stop the bleeding. The blood could always be washed out later.

He said nothing to you.

Knowing you couldn’t do much until you were at the inn, you stood to your feet.

“Come on. We should be getting back.” You turned to walk away from him.

He could hear the anger in your voice. You were upset with him.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered out. You turned back to him.

“Don’t apologize to me. You chose to come out here without your gods damned armor. You are choosing to let your emotions guide you, Geralt. You’re going to end up dead.” You told him.

When he stayed silent, you started to leave.

“She left this morning.”

You stopped in your tracks. Sighing heavily, you turned to face him.

“I know.”

You’d heard the argument the witcher and the mage had at dawn. Geralt didn’t like that Yennefer was still endangering herself in an attempt to find a way to have children. They argued frequently, but never enough that Yennefer would leave.

“Come on. If you’d like to talk, we can talk once we get to the inn.” You didn’t want to talk about his issues with the mage. You didn’t even want to talk to him. You just wanted to make sure he would be fine before retiring to your own room for a sleepless night.

Jaskier talked you into staying when you told him that you wanted to leave. You stayed for him, doing your best to avoid Geralt. Yennefer never really spoke to you so avoiding her was easy. Geralt, however, still asked you to join him on hunts. You had learned to push your emotions down, to fight anything and everything you felt.

“I don’t deserve your kindness.” He whispered.

“You did nothing wrong. You can’t help that you don’t feel anything for me.” You murmured, shrugging your shoulders softly.

“I’ve pushed you away, haven’t I?” He met your gaze. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

“No. I chose to stay away.”

He nodded softly, his eyes falling to the ground just ahead of him. A few silent moments passed between you before he spoke.

“I care about you, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened but not from happiness. It was painful and made you feel as though he had just shoved his hand through your rib cage and tore yourself heart out. A surge of anger flew through your body.

“You don’t get to say that.” You spoke through tour teeth. “You don’t get to say that, Geralt. Just because Yennefer left doesn’t mean I should come crawling back to you-,”

“I didn’t say that because she’s gone.” He cut you off, rising to his feet. “I just need you to know that.

You shook your head and started to stomp through the woods.

“I never wanted it to be like this, Y/N.” He followed behind you. “There was a point in time where I wanted you.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” You spun around to face him.

He didn’t know an answer to your question. All he could do was gaze down at you.

“I have suffered an unbearable pain because of what you did, Geralt. The wish you made-,”

“I didn’t want her to die!”

You nodded understandingly. You hated that you understood him. You were angry that he had admitted what he did, that he cared for you. You’d been doing so well in healing, in recovering from the wounds brought on by such a heartbroking rejection. You had just recently started to fall asleep without crying. You were moving on. And here he was, opening old wounds.

“Tend to yourself when you get back to the inn. I need a drink.” You muttered under your breath, knowing he’d be able to hear you.

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#geralt #the witcher #henry cavill #geralt the witcher #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #the witcher netflix #request #requests #queenxxxsupreme

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