#since he's actually an anxious angsty teen

[tiny-tort]

thinking about teen regressor Ford (~16-18 age range)

I feel like usually he'd be like his typical major league nerdy self, just a little more anxious and soft spoken, like how he seemed to be as an actual teen.

Two of his biggest tells are being quite a bit less boisterous than he is when big, and sticking to Stan like the two got super glue stuck to them.

I imagine he'd opt to do that or just read alone somewhere. He wouldn't like being around that many people when regressed other than Stan, Dipper, and Mabel. Even then he's worried about being around the kids because, being an anxious teen, he's worried he'll mess something up and they'll think he's lame or something (which could never happen but that doesn't stop his brain from being a butt).

He doesn't really need to be looked after since he's capable of doing that himself when regressed, but that doesn't stop Stan from coddling his brother despite this. He'll make tons of jokes about having a "little brother," poke fun at him and ruffle his hair and stuff. Half the time, before either of them even realize it, Stan's probably regressed too, and they get up to some 16-18 year old boy shenanigans (probably pulling pranks on each other and vandalizing abandoned buildings and stuff. Stan tends to be the instigator of both of these but Ford has fun with it too).

And that's how he'd usually be. However, I'd also like to imagine he's sometimes an edgy teen regressor, too >:] (headcanons for that under the cut)

He'd learn what being emo is from like Mabel or Wendy and subconsciously act like that when regressed at times. He didn't really realize he did it at first, but when he does he just kinda rolls with it.

It doesn't happen often, but sometimes he just feels the need to be angsty and upset, so he expresses that by being an emo teen.

Y'know the black turtleneck he has when he first comes through the portal? He just HAS to wear it when regressed and edgy, without fail, it's like the only tell anyone gets to know for sure that he's an angsty teen for the time being.

He also has a pair of jeans that had gotten ripped from previous explorations/hikes/creature hunts/etc. that he wears because it just feels Right. He'll wear those when not regressed too, though, so it's hard to tell if he's regressed from the pants alone.

If Stan's regressed with him then edgy Ford is much more likely to join in on being troublesome and a menace.

Mabel makes a playlist of like emo, alt, indie songs with him that he listens to. Maybe she's just starting to enter her own edgy teen phase, and they're just kinda angsty together. They make kandi and stuff together and have a fun time jamming out to MCR and Set It Off and it's just a fun time for both of them.

Ford usually uses these edgy regressor moments to be angry though, so he likes to be alone more often than not. He'll listen to angry music and scream into his pillow and kick his bed and just generally be upset about various parts of his past. Sometimes he'll accidentally ram his hand against the wall or break something sharp, and that's usually a sign to himself to start calming down. Stan tends to give him space, but at times like these he's sure to check in on him to make sure he hasn't hurt himself. If he has, he'll help bandage him up or clean off his hand or whatever he needs, and comfort him as best he can. Sometimes Ford and Stan will just hug and let each other cry for a while.

They're always there for each other, regressed or not. :]

[liam-cadmus]

Sasuke’s eyes steadily widen, breaths leaving out of him as Itachi chokes him, the man seemingly staring at him, eyes dazed and mind cloudy. His hand weakly closes over the wrist, as he screams under the force of Tsukuyomi. 

Itachi didn’t notice his hand getting far more tighter than he anticipated, was unable to see the force of his hand as it restricts Sasuke’s breathing, and the assault of his younger brother’s already fragile mind with the Tsukuyomi. Tears fall down Sasuke’s eyes as he helplessly latches on Itachi’s wrist, wanting to be free, croaking as he tries to talk, even if the hand covering his throat is crushing.

“Ni-i san..” his voice trails off, as the air cuts off from his lungs, eyes rolling back to his head, snapping Itachi to attention, plunging his brother accidentally deeper to the effects of Tsukuyomi. 

Naruto screams for his pseudo brother’s name, as Itachi and Kisame flees, the battered young Uchiha splayed motionless and pale on the floor. 

Tsunade’s shoulders are hunched, after she finished the surgery for Sasuke’s injuries, rage filling her body, on the thought of how Itachi fucking Uchiha thought it was a good idea to let his otōto, as if his previous genjutsu and massacre of the clan isn’t enough. Thankfully, he didn’t manage to fracture the larynx too much that the air is entering to his brother’s chest. 

Sasuke’s vocal cords weakened drastically, making him careful in talking, until he heals enough to full voice use. Not that it’s such a huge change, since he’s already normally quiet because of his selective mutism. 

Leading him to now, where he walks with Konoha 11, knowing that he’s unable to talk for the first week, two weeks at most. Seeing the nosy shinobi and civilians peering at him, he shuffles closer to be hidden behind their senseis, not wanting to be approached without the ability to answer. 

Kakashi’s protective side is fully flaring out, after the Forest of Death. He silently thanks Gai for being there to take Sasuke when he was unable to, and the times his rival suggested the teams to train together. He’s relieved and grateful to his rebellious student for reaching out, happy to know that his student trusts him. 

Not to mention the eleven teens that have been closer was present when Sasuke woke up, solidifying their bond and making Sasuke reluctantly see that they’re there for him. Regardless, he still took time to talk with him privately, explaining how Itachi was wrong for making him to be the one to take revenge.

“I don’t care why Itachi is doing this to you, but you don’t deserve it, never had, never will.” He utters, letting his emotions bleed into his voice. “You’re still so young, Sasuke, you don’t need to be burdened with so much responsibilities.” 

He always have seen the tired expression that his student keeps on hiding behind layers of indifference and mock anger, and the downcast, bottomless black eyes of his. “You can kill him eventually, on your own time. Trust me, trust us. We’ll be with you, we’ll do this together, step by step. No one’s rushing you.” 

Kakashi could feel the floodgates teetering the edge as relief courses his whole being, when he finally sees his student sagging, when said student finally cries after keeping it to himself since the massacre. He thanks the Sage that Sasuke was able to override what Itachi implanted on his mind. 

Kakashi wraps his arms around the trembling teen, as he shallowly breathes out on the inky bluish strands. I’ve saved one of them, I fucking managed to save an Uchiha, and I won’t let him down. He repeats in his head, before he promises, “And I will continue to protect him, and my two other students, even if it costs my life. History will not repeat itself.” 

Sasuke frowns, cursing his stoic and aloof expressions for once, his mask making it difficult to show his emotions, far too used to feigning indifference. Neji takes a glance of him, before tapping Hinata’s shoulders to get her attention. He gives him a hopefully grateful half-smile, as the heiress finally reads his question that was written on the paper. 

Kakashi saw it, knowing that he couldn’t stop the expectations that the elders are giving the sole survivor of the clan, but it didn’t make sense because he’s already doing enough for the village. He’s staying. He’s trying. Why isn’t that seen? Sasuke is physically and emotionally exhausted, and he’s only thirteen or fuck’s sake, and he grew far too early like him.

People often say that Sasuke's cold, arrogant and so full of himself. Konoha 11 beg to differ, after spending time with the other teen, they just noticed he's reclusive, a bit detached and anti-social. He can manage to talk, but he's not too fond of talking to people he doesn't know, especially ones who trigger his anxiety, making him uncomfortable and high strung.

Kakashi could see his student getting restless and trying to act nonchalant while Naruto and Sakura respectively gets busier being apprentices while Sasuke was left alone. Kakashi tries his best to steer Sasuke away from getting dragged to ANBU, while his student raises to chūnin and eventually jōnin . 

Sasuke would occasionally go back to the Uchiha compound, either to visit their huge library filled with scrolls, adding terrifying clan jutsus to his arsenal. While training himself and training with the other members of Konoha 12, Kakashi provides some time to train him, steadily making him advanced in ninjutsu, especially kenjustu. 

Sasuke instead focused his time on making his chakra reserves larger, honing his time to create variations of Lightning Release: Chidori, upgrading the renowned Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation, Fire Release: Great Fire Destruction and their clan’s signature move, Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique to reach higher temperatures. Kakashi mentioned to him that he can reverse summon, after seeing the ninken that followed his sensei around. Sasuke was able to sign a summoning contract with the Hawks. 

He’s extremely proficient in completing missions in various places outside of the village, which has taken the attention of Danzo. Tsunade although takes him as her personal ANBU guard before Danzo manages to take hold of him, which he excelled in, masked as he protects from behind the shadows whenever she goes for diplomatic meetings. He was deemed as Sasuke of the Sharingan, and the Silent Lightning, often seen with a blue-tinted chokutō.

[spencers-renaissance]

Moreid Drabble

Prompt: something angsty with embarrassed!spencer, for @casparwrites

Word Count: 1.2k

Masterlist

Spencer knows this isn't going to go well for him the minute Emily opens her mouth.

She'd invited them round to hers for dinner and drinks after work, and although Hotch and Rossi had been invited, they'd both declined the invitation, likely in anticipation of exactly what had happened: wine turning to shots, and pleasant conversation devolving quickly into gossip.

Spencer hadn't minded at all at first. She'd ordered in from a Thai restaurant he happened to love, and sitting round in a comfortable, spacious living room chatting with his best friends is hardly a regrettable situation to find yourself in. So he allowed himself to relax, drinking almost as much as everyone else and joining in with all the conversation around him.

Besides, the red flush on his cheeks from the wine meant he could stare at Derek a little more overtly and not risk having his blush immediately clue everyone into the crippling crush he has on his colleague.

But then Emily suggests playing Never Have I Ever. In Spencer's experience, both drinking games and party games never go well for him, and he has no reason to believe this will be any different.

That's not true, he tells himself sternly as Emily and Penelope start mixing the cocktails. Parties at Caltech and MIT were a world away from a small gathering of five people who love and accept him for exactly who he is. This will be fine. Everything will be absolutely fine.

And for a couple rounds, it is. They laugh at the drunken escapades the game allows them to relive — they all know far too much about one another for the game to really reveal any new information in that regard — and Spencer learns far too much about his coworkers' sex lives.

(He also learns that Derek has slept with a man. Interesting.)

No one's really surprised when Spencer doesn't put his finger down for any of the wild sex-related Never Have I Ever statements that the others come up with, because everyone knows that while they may have had their late teens and early twenties to let loose and party at college, Spencer certainly didn't. Nobody says anything, but he can feel Derek's eyes on him, and he's trying really hard not to blush.

They play happily for quite a while before it happens, and Spencer's settled into a certain kind of comfort, he's been lulled into a false sense of security, because it hits him like a truck when it happens.

"Never have I ever kissed someone," Derek says boldly; loudly, shutting down the quiet chatter and giggles from around the circle until all that's left is the 90s Hits CD they'd put in playing in the background.

The thing is, he's looking right at Spencer. In fact, everybody's looking right at Spencer, and all of a sudden there's blood pounding in his ears and his face is burning a red so fierce he knows there's no way to play this one off, because Derek's suspicion is right, dammit.

He's dizzy with the humiliation, sick with the fact that even this — this family he's found, these friendships he's built — even this isn't safe, and is he ever going to actually be able to feel that safety and allow himself to enjoy it? Will he always be waiting for the other shoe to drop? Is he simply destined for these soul-sucking moments of utter embarrassment and humiliation and anger and sadness to happen wherever he goes? Is he that unlikeable, that unloveable, that everybody, even kind and compassionate people like Derek Morgan, has the urge to humiliate him?

Before he knows what he's doing, he's stumbling to his feet and running down the hall to the bathroom barricading himself inside before he can have a panic attack in front of his friends team. The wine that just moments ago felt pleasant in its gentle buzz in his bloodstream suddenly feels sick and heavy at the bottom of his stomach and he breathes in deeply to calm himself down.

His head is spinning and he's trying not to cry, and all he wants is to disappear because he's gonna have to face them again, there's no way to get out of the house without them seeing, oh God, they're gonna—

Before his thoughts can spiral any deeper, there's a heavy knock at the door, and Derek's deep voice is pleading with him through the painted wood.

"Pretty boy? Can you open the door for me?" he asks, and Spencer can hear the desperation and urgency in his voice. "I'm so sorry, kid, I'm so sorry. Listen, I know you're in there, just let me in, okay? I just wanna apologise."

Spencer takes another couple of deep breaths, trying to still the spinning bathroom in his vision before facing Derek again. Eventually, after a couple of minutes of deep breathing and Derek's intermittent pleas, he manages to bring himself to open the door, revealing his pitiful friend in front of him.

"Pretty boy, listen, I really am so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, and I shouldn't have said what I said," Derek says, gazing imploringly into Spencer's eyes. "I was just curious but I went about it in the wrong way and ended up embarrassing you, and that's the last thing I meant to do, you have to believe me—"

Spencer isn't sure what compels him to do it, but Derek is rambling and Spencer is staring at his mouth and the pretty shapes it makes when he talks, and before he knows it, he's surging forward and pressing his lips against Derek's mid-sentence.

It's so brief and chaste he doesn't give Derek any time to react, because he's quickly pulling away as horror fills him, his blood turning cold. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I did that! I don't know—"

He doesn't get any further in his apology, because Derek's leaning back in, slower this time, more deliberately, and kissing him again, taking his jaw in one hand and his waist in the other as Spencer's hands come up to rest on Derek's strong chest. He's being kissed like this is the last time Derek will ever get the chance, like the sun won't rise in the morning and this is the only time their lips will ever be pressed together like this, and it's dizzying, this time in a good way.

When they finally pull apart, Derek looks desperate and serious as his eyes flick between meeting each of Spencer's, and he can't stand him looking or feeling like that any longer, so he says it. He admits the feelings he's had for Derek since he first met him.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

Derek melts in relief as a big smile works its way onto the lips Spencer just kissed. "Thank God, pretty boy, because I reckon I've been waiting even longer."

Somehow, Spencer doubts that, but he smiles anyway and leans in for another kiss because right now all he wants to think about is how the first person to ever kiss him was Derek Morgan, and how he never wants anybody else to ever do the same.

There'll be time for playful bickering in the morning. There'll be time for a lot of things come morning, and Spencer just can't wait to see what it'll hold.

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[papirouge]

I'm a 28 year old woman and I'm also a celibate who's a virgin. I haven't kissed anyone or even held a mans hand. I'm celibate out of choice - first it was because I realized that most men are misogynistic, but then because I wanted to dedícate my life to God.

I feel like the reason why I've never had any problem or insecurities about being a celibate it's because I actually now other women who basically are the same. One of my neighbours is a celibate woman; she saw her mother and other women on her family being mistreated by their sexist husbands or boyfriends and decided when she was a young teen that she would never be in a romantic or sexual relationship. And she's now on her 40s and is one of the happiest women I know.

When I told my mom about my choice about celibacy, she told me about this woman she used to work with that was a virgin in her 50s because she felt God put her on this Earth to dedicate her life to help others, so she decided not to marry or have children.

I also know this couple of a woman and a trans man (so a female) that for spiritual reasons decided to also remain celibate even if they have a romantic relationship.

So yeah, most women won't even refer to themselves as celibates even if they basically fit the definition (the first two women I mentioned don't refer to themselves this way). Thinking about it, my mom hasn't had a romantic relationship since she had me (so 28 years), my sister has had only one boyfriend in her whole life (at 21) and while she would want to have a romantic relationship now at her late 30s, she says that a lot of men don't meet her standards and she's not willing to lower them.

I really hope you find a good Christian man that loves you very much and you love too, but if for whatever reason you remain a celibate that you find peace with it and realize that there are others like you.

Just by reading the first paragraph, I just know you are super based, anon. There's nothing cooler (and ironically attractive) than an unbothered celibate who doesn't care about romance and relationships. Paul knew what was up when he said you were "better" lol You're truly the superior breed lol #celibatesupremacy

You're right: acknowledging there are actually other women like us, and better, being unapologetic about being forever celibate or virgin, would help so many people in this lifestyle. Realizing I was not the only one like that helped me overcome this "shame"(?) of being an everlasting celibate. We are many more than people think, it's only we don't shout if off the rooftops lol I have 2 friends around my age (early 30s) who never dated anyone. We are rare, but we exist. 🤍

I wish women had more space to share their experiences - especially intergenerational spaces. Older women giving younger ones advice about marriage, relationship, sexuality.... Ngl, I get so depressed at how relationship models for women are either degenerate oversexualized shows, or....corny romance novels written centuries ago that don't reflect the actual reality of men/women relationships... It's like there's no between. We either have to look at the gutter, or project onto on some cheesy fantasy fictional world that does not exist - and never did. Trruly depressing :/

Your mom sounds awesome. I said in another of my post that I get angsty and anxious at the idea of being single for the rest of my life at times....but my fear of embarrassing myself with a bum is bigger LOL As an introvert, I bear loneliness better than shame or resentment.

I really hope you find a good Christian man that loves you very much and you love too, but if for whatever reason you remain a celibate that you find peace with it and realize that there are others like you.

Amen🥺💗

[juliaswickcrs]

jo + 🛏

OOOOH okay I’m gonna do her room at Liz’s and her room at Luke’s cause they’re very different. 

Liz’s Apartment:

She does, in fact, have her own bedroom regardless of what Uncle Luke believes, and it’s a weird mesh of little girl nursery vibes and angsty teen vibes. The walls have peeling pink ballerina wallpaper on them and a broken lightbulb with no windows. It’s very stuffy and she has a desk/vanity opposite her bed which is always cluttered with makeup, scrunchies, and other various accessories like jewelry in addition to her books and stuff with a small mirror. 

Her bed is smack dab in the middle of the room and is a small twin that Liz never replaced even though she’s seventeen and outgrew it a while ago. A purple blanket decorated with rainbows covers the bed and she hates it. The rest of her bedroom is covered in dirty laundry and shoes she can’t be bothered to pick up or put in her closet, which is a regular slide closet right by her dresser. Above her dresser is a collage of her favorite photos she’s taken and sketches she’s done and her dresser itself almost acts like a mini art studio, with tiny easels and open watercolors and pastels. 

Beside her bed is an endtable with multiple drawers which she uses to store her books, and a lamp she’s had since she was a kid.

Luke’s Apartment:

She had to clean up really fast if she wanted to live with Luke, so most of her clutter is hidden away from everyone else. Luke obviously opens the room up a little further to accommodate both Jess AND Jo, so she’s just across from Jess. She uses the closet while Jess uses the dresser and her bed is still a twin but it’s much bigger than the one at home. Her comforter is grey along with her sheets and pillowcases and above her bed lies her aforementioned collage. Luke built her and Jess matching desks, so hers is littered with sketches and other art related things like her dresser at home.

She and Jess also share a bookshelf, which is a host of other problems, but she admits it is nice to have a space for her books and an actual window to read under. There’s also a beanbag chair near the closet that she uses to read.

Everything else is pretty standard, wooden walls and bright light and basically just look up Luke’s apartment and you’ll see what I mean. The only difference is that Luke allows Jo to paint on her wall when she gets anxious and nervous, so there’s a bunch of doodles and painted scenes that he can’t bear to get rid of when she leaves.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

We are married now! ( 2019! Slaxl)

A/N: Here’s the sequel to this oneshot about Slash proposing to Axl. Because let’s be honest, current Slaxl deserves love too!

1992

Slash was smoking a cigarette, absently looking in the distance. They finally had a break from shooting, so he sat on the stairs of the church, frustration and tiredness rising in his chest.

He was so annoyed by Axl’s perfectionism, and by the whole storyline of that freaking music video. They were a rock band, they came from the streets, they were supposed to represent that, not filming about a love story and a wedding in a church in the middle of a desert!

But what irritated Slash the most was that he had to marry her!  He had to stand to watch Axl and that girl kissing over and over, watching her walking down the aisle and seeing the smile on his singer’s face. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was supposed to be the one looking at the redhead like that, he should have felt Axl’s lips on his, held his hand or call him his husband.

Slash was the one to deal with the other man’s mood swing, he was the one taking care of him when he couldn’t get out of the bed, he comforted him after a nightmare, or made him feel safe whenever they were in Indiana.

Usually he wasn’t bother by things, but all of that really was testing his calm. Because deep down, he knew he was in love with Axl.

He was in love with Axl fucking Rose!

“Can I have one?” His singer’s deep voice said, sitting next to him.

Slash handing him one, not even looking him in the eyes.

“Are you angry Slash?” The redhead asked.

“No, I’m not.” The guitarist answered with a neutral tone.

“Oh fuck you Saul, I know you! I can see when you’re angry.”

“Yes, I’m fucking annoyed, okay?! You know how I feel about music videos. Plus we are a rock band, born from the streets and we are shooting a video in a stupid church in the desert.” Slash didn’t sound pissed, just tired and indifferent, or at least he tried to look like that.

Axl took a drag from his cigarette, then he looked the curly man into the eyes.

“It’s not just about that. I know that you hate music videos but you never behaved like an angsty teen!”

Saul laughed dryly, moving his hair out of his face, so Axl could see him better.

“I hate her. I freaking hate that backstabber witch so much. But most of all I hate the fact that she has to be the bride, that she is the one to kiss you!” He admitted, biting his lip.

The redhead seemed surprised by his confession,  but happy at the same time.

“It is about you, do you know that? November Rain is about you, I wrote it thinking about you. Not about Stephanie or Erin or any other girl.”

Now it was Slash’s turn to look surprised and confused.

“Bullshit! Then why is she here? Why you look like a freaking puppy around her?” He replied, bitterly.

Axl took a big breath, clenching his fists. Slash thought he was about to hit him or scream, but the other talked in a quiet tone, surprisingly.

“If I could I’d let you be the one. Fuck… if I could I’d marry you! You know what? I’m going to marry you, one day I’m going to fucking take you to the aisle, Saul Hudson! You’ll be my husband.

Slash felt a warm sensation in his heart, however his thoughts quickly water it down. He knew that Axl was still scared, still ashamed of liking him, he knew how he was still tormented by his religious past. He would have never

his hand in public or kissed him, and certainly he would have never married him.

He didn’t matter how many times he could have said “I love you” after sex, it was not possible for them to be together. Did he even really love him? So he just laughed.

“Well I hope you can manage to do that before 2020!” He said sarcastically, stomping on his cigarette, then walking away.

But before he could, Axl grabbed his wrist.

“I know it’s not a real one, but that’s my promise!” He stated firmly, he took a ring from his pocket and put it on Slash’s finger, the one he used in the wedding scene.

The guitarist gave in and brushed his lips against Axl’s, but then he walked away with a sad smile.

A part of him really hoped, that the other keep his promise.

2019

Slash was playing with the same ring Axl gave him years ago. He kept it with him after all this time, even when they hated each other or so they have thought.

Usually he was hardly nervous, but today he felt on the edge, probably the fact that he was about to marry the man of his life didn’t help.  But it was so useless to get worried : Axl loved him, most of the fans were supportive and even his two kids, London and Cash, were more than happy to have also “Papa Axl” with them!

Duff was his best man, and like the old times, he seemed to know the exact moment he needed to comfort somebody. He got in the room, and put his hands on Slash’s shoulder, feeling the other man tension.

“What’s wrong buddy? And don’t lie to me, I know you too well!”

“What if everything will go wrong, after we get married? Slash answered, still playing with his ring.

“Why should that happen? You both wanted to get married, and even your kids agree!” Duff said, calmly.

“Maybe I can’t be in a marriage? I’ve been in two and everything went to shit!”

“Yeah but your last one lasted 20 years! The point is that you two always loved each other, you probably wanted to do this since the early days! I know your brain is making you think shit but that’s not the truth!” Duff said firmly. “ Now just breathe and think about all the sappy things you two can do, as soon as you become husbands.” He added with a smile.

“We both want that and he loves me, everything will be okay. God, I bet Axl is so chill about this, while I’m the one freaking out this time!” Saul said with a laugh, ready to drive to their wedding location.

---

Axl was totally not chill. He was pacing the room, he felt anxious and worried, biting his lips.

“C’mon Ax, you’re being unreasonable right now. He proposed you! How couldn’t he want to be your husband?!” Izzy stated, sounding a bit annoyed.

Yes, Axl asked Izzy Stradlin to be his best man. Time passed and they were on good terms, at least enough to make Izzy accept to do this.

“What if it doesn’t work out? Fuck we haven’t spoken to each other for decades! We’ve been together for only three and a half years, what if it is too early?” The redhead shoot back.

Izzy sighed, rubbing his temples. Axl may have changed but some things about him didn’t.

“Look at me! You love him and he loves you, he proposed to you because he wanted you as his husband. He talked about you all the time, he was such a pain in the ass and we both know how your man is, if he doesn’t want to do something he won’t do it first!” The black haired man said, holding Axl’s shoulders steadily.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck, yes Axl I’m sure! He came all the time in my hotel rooms, drunk as fuck, talking about how you were an asshole but also perfect and how we wanted you so bad! Now stop freaking out or I’ll call Beta.” He smiled and the redhead relaxed a bit.

“ It’s better if we go, because I don’t want to show up late this time too! And also because if I show up late, Slash I’ll say I’m the bride!” Axl said with a laugh.

---

Axl didn’t arrive late, however Slash was already there.

He stopped a moment to look at the beautiful  garden where they choose to marry, surrounded by red roses bushes, who made everything cheesy as fuck, but Axl loved it nonetheless. It was simply but also eccentric, just like him and Slash.

Then his eyes were fixed on his soon-to-be husband talking to Duff :he looked so good with his wild curls and his half open shirt, a little smile on his face and the ring he gave him years ago around his neck. They decided to use a replica of that as their wedding rings, because the redhead was that sentimental!

Somebody had to say something about the groom being there, because Slash turned around and he spotted Axl, his mouth slightly open and his eyes full of joy.

“You look stunning, my love. I really dig this suit!” He said smiling widely, eyes full of love.

“ I was very tempted to put on the same suit I had on during “November Rain” but unfortunately it doesn’t fit me anymore.” The other man replied, blushing and with a sad smile.

He was very self-conscious about his appearance, considering that Slash was still so fit and sexy to him. However his boyfriend wouldn’t never let Axl’s insecurities eat the man he loved.

“I like you better this way and if I wasn’t about to get married, I’d ask your number!” He joked with a smirk.

“You’re the same idiot I fell in love with. And your ass is still as great as it was in the 80s!” Axl whispered the last part, making Slash hiding behind his hair for a split second.

“Maybe we should go, or post marriage sex will become pre marriage sex!” The curly man grabbed his hand and led his almost husband  to the justice of the peace.

There were not many people, just their closest friends ( including Steven you was more than happy to join) and families. It was strange for two rock stars to save such a modest wedding, but they didn’t care, they just wanted it to celebrate their love with the people who accepted them.

“We are here today to celebrate the union of Axl and Saul, two men who decided to consolidate their love through marriage. Now you shall say your votes.” The judge said.

Axl stared it, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t think many of you know this but I promise to Slash that we would be married. It was 1992 and we were filming November Rain, and he was upset because he loved me too much to see him with another person. Little did he know that I was also totally in love with him, and if I could I was ready  to marry him right on the spot, and actually I said it to him but he was very stubborn that day, so he left me standing in the desert. Now almost 30 years later, he asked me to get married, with the same song I dedicated to him. Saul Hudson, you’re the love of my life. I’ve never been so happy until we got reunited and you decided to stay, you show me what a happy life was, you loved me with all my flaws, you never judged me but you were always there to help me. Sure we did some very stupid things back then, but I’d want nothing more than just be your husband and be at your side, in health and sickness and all that bullshit! Because me and you can’t be apart even if we want to!”

The redhead was trying his best to not cry, and honestly Slash started to have some difficulties with that too. He looked at Axl’s beautiful eyes and smiled softly.

“I thought that I wanted to marry you when I saw your smile during our concert in Austin, but that’s not the truth. Maybe I’ve always wanted it, or maybe when I saw you in that pirate style jacket, my heart went “marry him” while my head was “ he kind of looks like a douche bag”, but still I’ve dreamt this day for a while. People always think that I’m the one who saved you, that I tamed the angry and crazy beast named Axl Rose, but that’s not true. Axl Rose saved me too, he showed me how it was wonderful to be loved, because I didn’t know what love or happiness really was, until I met him, and not a single drug in the world can give me what my boyfriend gives me! So yeah, I will love you too in health and sickness, even if you don’t like much my snakes!”

Slash tried to laugh but he really felt the emotions taking the best of him, especially when he laid his eyes on the crying redhead in front of him.

“You can exchange your rings!”

Saul took Axl’s hand in his, and gently he put the ring on, a simple one but full of meaning for them. The other man did the same, kissing his future partner in life.

“By the authority vested in me by the State of California, I pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss!” The judge said with a smile.

Slash’s lips softly smashed on Axl’s one, as all the crowd erupted in a round of applause. But for the both of them time seemed to stop, what mattered was only the feeling of their lips linked and their hearts joined.

“You’re my husband, you are really my husband!” The curly guitarist said smiling.

“Told you I’d make it before 2020. You didn’t believe me, but I could never let you go away from me. Maybe for 20 years you did, but now we are tied!” Axl joked, but then he got serious again. “ Thank you so much for being the love of my life, Saul Hudson.”

“Thank you for have let me be the one, Axl Rose.”

---

In the big ballroom where they would eat, cut the cake and do their first dance, friends and family were already sitting down, talking happily to each other.

The married couple finally arrived, and they find Steven, Izzy and Duff talking at their table. Beta and part of his family was there too, along with Slash’s kids, while the rest of the current band sat at a near table.

“Yeah man, he was a pain in the ass. He was constantly talking about him when he was drunk, always saying that he hated him but he couldn’t stop loving him!” Izzy explained to Duff.

“Yeah, well also Slash was like that. He would complain that he didn’t understand him, that  he was a fucking psycho but he loved him and he would make him go crazy, one day!” Duff replied, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, fuck you Duff, that was supposed to be a secret!” Slash shoot back, annoyed.

“No no, I want to know. I was always so oblivious until 91!” Steven said, very excited.

Axl laughed, then he felt somebody getting closer to him.

“You know at first I wanted to punch him in the face, but now I can see how much you love each other. But if he breaks your heart, I’m going to really hurt him!” Beta said firmly, and Axl couldn’t help but smile at her over the protectiveness of his adoptive mom.

---

The light were turned a bit down, and the familiar notes of “Love of my life” by Queen started playing.

Slash took Axl’s hand in his and led him in the center of the dance floor.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Saul asked, surprised.

“I think this is the first ever slow dance we two had together” He answered nervously.

“Wrong. ’88 in that weird hotel in Florida, we danced in your room listening to the radio.”

“ I was drunk and you were high and we fell on the floor before we could finish the song!”

Slash laughed and brought his husband closer to him, so that the redhead could rest his head on his shoulder.

“I know you love Queen and we like this song, but why you have chosen this one?” The guitarist was curious, he knew that November Rain was not their song to dance, it was for the more intimate and important moment, when they needed to tell the other how much they loved them, like he did during his proposal.

“Sweet Child O’Mine was not an option, one because you hate the riff and two because it was not about you. Like well maybe it was a bit about you, but still it was not our song, while this one used to be the one that would make me think about you all the time!” The singer confessed, playing with the other man’s curls.

Slash led him, even made him spin a bit, then he gulped and looked him into the eyes.

“When I thought I had four weeks left of living, I left you a letter at the bottom of your door. I begged Izzy to tell me where you lived and I left it there, I thought that I was dying and I wanted you to read the letter where I explained everything, but then the next morning I took it away.” Slash blurted out nervously, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“I read it, I read it and I thought it was a joke, that it was not true. I cried and almost smashed something and put it outside. Then the next morning I read the news and I understand it was true, you were dying and that letter was yours, but it was already gone. Fuck we are such two idiots!” Axl laughed but he also started crying.

Slash quickly wiped his tears, hugging him tightly.

“Shhh don’t cry baby. It’s okay, it’s a happy day!” He soothed him.

“You could have been gone, and I was suck a prick. You could have died and I was too resentful to give you a proper goodbye! You loved me even if I was broken and I did that!” He cried.

“Shhh babe, I’m here and I’m not gone. And it’s okay, I was a prick too, but what matters is that we are together and married. You were not broken baby and you deserve my love!” Saul kissed him, feeling his eyes tearing up a bit, too.

It was a slow and passionate kiss, all their love, passion and insecurities were in it. They held it for a while, before they started noticing people coming to the dance floor.

“You two are so in love, it is almost sickening!” Duff stated with a laugh.

“Leave them alone Duffy, they are so cute!” Steven chimed in.

“Thank you so much for coming here guys, this mean a lot to me, to us.” Axl said, squeezing Slash’s hand.

“Don’t get all sappy on us, Rosie. But yeah we love you too, and I think you guys should cut the cake now.” Izzy observed, pushing them lightly.

---

When they finally arrived at their home, they were tired as hell much so much happy.

“Well, this is our wedding night…” Slash started, laying on the bed.

“And?” Axl knew exactly where his husband was going, but he wanted to tease him a bit. Also, he was trying to feel less insecure about his body.

“Oh c’mon Rosie, you know what happens on the first wedding night! And before you even think about it, you’re so fucking hot in that suit, that I feel almost bad to want to take it off. Almost.

The redhead smiled, and got on top of the guitarist.

“Let’s do something before you fall asleep, Mr.Rose!” Axl teased, taking off his shirt.

“But you have to promise that you’ll be quiet, Mr. Hudson!” Slash shoot back with a laugh.

Married life never felt better for both men.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Eight

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Racism, Yoongi and Jimin are angels, Graphic depictions of sex, really angsty

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.9k

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Reader x Yoongi

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                         ______________________

“I’m gonna cum, I’m close!” Yoongi’s entire body shakes and shudders underneath you as you voraciously fuck him with all your strength. You aren’t going easy on him at all, using the lube and your hands to simultaneously jerk him off as well. The sounds he makes are delicious, absolutely delightful as your mouth waters at his small, high-pitched whines. Thank God you have pillows, but unfortunately you still had to keep the noise level to a minimum.

As Yoongi cries under you and shudders once more, you lower yourself slowly, spreading his cheeks with your hands. You both were sweaty, horny, and so very exhausted. Yet with the feeling of your strap applying pressure to Yoongi’s boy-pussy, he knows that he doesn’t want it to end so soon. Him and Jimin had spent hours together, playing in bed. Why couldn’t you have the same? Even if you had sex in the cabin and you spent a lot of time together anyways.

There was always something lacking, and that was the sexual intimacy between you and Yoongi. You knew it was a matter of time before you found a dynamic that worked for you.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum on my fingers, I want you to feel good too.” You start acting like you have a dick too, as Yoongi moans loudly into the pillow once more, his release building up as you shift again, your pussy drenched completely from seeing him all vulnerable like this.

“I want you to cum too,” He’s puddy in your hands, as you stroke his arms and press the softest kisses to his shoulders. “Cum with me kit-AH Y/N!” He’s writhing in pleasure as you pump his cock between your hands, and with him hunched over on the bed it makes it even easier for you to lean forward and brush your dildo across his throbbing hole. Despite removing it earlier, his puckered hole is still wide, and so ready for penetration.

You tested him first with a finger before taking your vibrator and bringing it down to the base of his cock.

“Damn, I think you’d cum right now if you saw your ass. So fucking perfect, round and squishy. No wonder Jimin moans so much with you.” You both groan as you decide to stop playing around and actually fuck him again, this time, tightening your belt before rolling your hips against his soft cheeks.

“You’re so sexy, and wonderful. I love you, Y/N.” You softly kiss his lips before pulling out and surrendering to sleep. You need a lot of rest, after that intense workout.

“Love you too, Yoongles. Also, Jimmy’s gonna kill us tomorrow but that’s fine because you looked so hot submissive like that and I had fun. I never thought a fake cock could make me feel so powerful.” His giggles are like music to your ears. You were starting to get used to the sound.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I play dom most of the time. It’s a hell of a lot more fun when I get to play with you two and I get to use my cock as death.” It’s your turn to laugh, as he makes it sound like a weapon or power move of some sort.

“I hope you aren’t in too much pain, I got a little carried away.” You sigh, rubbing your thighs together anxiously.

“What? Nah, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll be a little sore tomorrow, but I think I’ll be able to sit. Let’s just say, if I can’t sit, it’ll be considered a win for you.” Your blond boyfriend gives you a wink as you reply with an, “Okay, I’ll take that. As long as we get to do this again, and maybe I can even fuck you in the tub!” Yoongi cringes at your words.

“Let’s not get too ambitious. On three let’s say it together, 1,2,3: Let’s not get too ambitious.” You both giggle the rest of the night away, concentrating more on each other than cleaning up your mess made of dildos, lube, and straps. You were too lazy to get out of bed, and Yoongi was keeping you busy, so you didn’t really have a reason to, other than cleaning up.

“Oh, aren’t you guys going back to work tomorrow?” You ask, as Yoongi pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Sweetie, we used up pretty much all of our vacation days with you. It doesn’t mean we won’t ever get time off from work again, but officially, we’re back on full-time duty.” You had forgotten how much older your boyfriends had been than you. You were so close with them that the age difference slipped your mind.

It wasn’t like they were in their mid-thirties, you could understand their problems, since they had no other way of making money. Plus, they were dating their landlord’s daughter, they didn’t want to feel indebted because of you.

As easy as they make the relationship seem, you still feel uncertain at times. Actions speak louder than words, you were thinking of doing a large gesture for them. Something to let your boyfriends know you appreciate them.

“I know you like working at the café, but wouldn’t you like to be a music producer, Yoongi?” Your boyfriend wraps a towel around you before throwing his boxers back on and checking if the hallway is clear first before pulling you towards the bathroom.

“I already sold one of my songs. It gave me quite a bit of money, so I think I’ll keep doing it.” Your heart fell at that statement. You were really hoping your boyfriend was making his own profits from releasing his own albums on spotify, but it seems that he did the opposite, not even getting credit for his own tracks.

“That’s not right. Those people won’t even credit you, now that you sold the rights of that song to some heavily produced company. It’s like some crappy teen drama, where everything is forced instead of being introduced and built on. You can’t just sell your music and expect it to resonate with them.”

“Slow down, I don’t recall telling you who I sold the music to. Don’t jump to conclusions without learning all the facts first.” Yoongi snaps at you before folding his arms together, as you check the water in the shower to make sure it’s warm enough for you to step in.

This wasn’t your first time showering together, you already had that experience back in the mountains, during your first and only romantic getaway with your boyfriends. You felt comfortable being naked in his presence now, enough to trust him to retain a little bit of self-control when he’s in the same position.

“Fine, I see your point. Who did you sell your music to?” You turn around, making sure your hair gets wet too. Yoongi had some shower gel in his hands so he was currently lathering your arms and shoulders. He was saving your more sensitive areas for last, since he saw your nipples harden when you stepped into the water.

“J-Hope. I actually made the beats for Outro: Ego.” Your eyes widened at this new bit of information. Yoongi never bragged about it, or bought it up. Even that time you were actually at that concert, listening to that same song. How did he fail to let you in on something so important? Did he think that telling you was a waste of time?

“Yoongi, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have supported you regardless.” He sighs, looking elsewhere to take his mind off his thoughts of work. Music was a hobby of his, one that he was good at. He just wanted to make a profit without worrying you. 

He knew if he told you about the side projects he was working on, you would get very worried and then go way over your head before having the entire thing explode in your face. You weren’t the most graceful girl in the world, you were clumsy and that’s why Yoongi fell for you.

Your “I can do it,” attitude had its setbacks, as you often got too serious about simple things and overcomplicated in your head, he knew you were currently doing just that. Your perseverance was admirable, though.

“I’m gonna tell you this just once, kitten. You might have not noticed it but you have a bad habit of meddling, and when you do that, it makes trouble for others. Please understand that I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stick your head in it. It’s my music, and I know what I want to do with it.”

You weren’t offended. Your first thoughts were, ‘Oh, he’s telling me to drop the subject. I can do that,’ but as time progressed, you found yourself growing anxious. You knew Yoongi deeply cared for his songs, and the little free time he spent with you was taking away from his hobby. You wanted him to focus on his career, and become a better artist.

So, you decided to get Yoongi a whole setup using your birthday money. You were saving up to buy something big, but it seems that Yoongi needs your help more than ever.

You go to amazon, adding foam panels and lots of tech equipment to your cart. You spent exactly $228 after everything and you still had about $300 remaining in your birthday cash. You got $500 from your Grandma.

You yawn before crawling into bed for some sleep. Since you spent your day focused on Yoongi, you failed to remember that you hadn’t seen one of your boyfriends the entire day.

                ༻• Thursday, At School •༺

School took a toll on your mental health. You needed a break, even though you just started. The public education system was seriously messed up, making you work double of what you had to do over break. The only thing that made it bearable was your group chat with your boyfriends.

You lock your phone, uneasiness washing over you like an ocean wave. You wish you could go to the beach. Spring seemed neverending and all you could think of was fucking your boyfriends like a bunny in heat.

School passes by slowly, and just as you’re on your way to the café, Jaehyun stops you.

“Jae, hey what’s up?” He looks bruised and battered. You can tell something is horribly wrong.

“The cops arrested my buddies, it was horrible. If you know me, you know I’m not a bad kid. Those guys weren’t either, they were just chilling in my living room, vaping, when a cop busted my door down and arrested like six of my friends. They were all 14, 15, and 16. Not even legal adults, what the fuck is wrong with the justice system?”

“Do you know where they are?” You don’t ask many questions, immediately getting your phone out to text your boyfriends and mom about the situation, since they all knew your daily schedule. Jaehyun was an old friend of yours, too, you couldn’t just leave him.

“They were taken down to the local police station on 95th street. Oh, it was terrible Y/N. They beat me up and I was actually just asking them what my friends did wrong. After that, my parents kicked me out for good. So now I’m homeless.”

“I thought you said you moved out a long time ago?” You help lower him to sit on a bench so he can calm down.

“I-I did, but then those guys were dealing drugs. I didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. So I moved back home.” He starts crying, tears flowing down his cheeks. You had never seen Jaehyun so sensitive in such a long time, that was probably because you made the wrong assumptions about him. 

“Alright, I’ve texted my mom and two other roommates of mine to let them know the situation. Yoongi and Jimin should be here any minute.” You continue comforting your crying friend as your boyfriends pull up to you and Jaehyun. You help him into the car as Jaehyun looks at Jimin with confusion written all over his face.

“Hey, aren’t you the pervert who tried coming onto my girlfriend?” Yoongi mistakes him for Jungkook, as he gets a bad view of him from the front seat.

“No...and what do you mean your girlfriend? You’re dating that guy, right?” He points at Jimin, confusion apparent on his face.

“We’ll explain later. For now, just tell them what you told me. Jimin, full speed ahead to the police station on 95th street.” 

You arrive at the local police station in ten minutes, despite the traffic being horrid. Jimin stepped on the pedal and managed to reach where you needed to go.

“Officer, where are the three young men you arrested from his house?” Yoongi asks, as soon as you reach the police station.

“Oh, those thugs? Yeah, they vandalized private property so we had to jail em. Bail is $200. You can go see ‘em over there.” Jaehyun runs ahead of you to the temporary holding cell in the back of the room.

“Oh my god, guys. Thank goodness you’re okay. I hope they didn’t beat you up too bad?” A tall dark male with some visible tattoos and jet black hair stands up, putting his hand through the cell to hold his friend’s fingers through the bars. You could tell from the grim expression in his eyes that he was used to this. The horrible treatment from the authorities because they assume they’re bad guys. It’s no coincidence that they’re targets because of their dark skin color. Fuck racists, these guys deserve better.

“Nah, we’re fine. We’ve been through worse, right boys?” 

“But still, this is wrong. It’s illegal! They can’t just-”

“Move aside. We’re setting you free, since your brother who’s a district attorney has connections. Just don’t repeat it, okay?” The boys don’t even make a sound as the police officer lets them out of their holding cell and they walk out with their hands behind their heads.

“Are you really used to it? Getting arrested just because some cop thinks you’re dealing drugs or something?” Yoongi’s curiosity gets the best of him, as he asks the boy who spoke to Jaehyun earlier.

“Yep. It happens all the time. Like Marc here was playing basketball out in the driveway once when he was 10 and before we knew it this cop had him pinned down on the ground with his hands over his head. He said the ball looked like a weapon and gave a half-assed apology to us after our neighbor who saw the commotion came outside and told the cop to let go of him. It was really awful, but he got tougher from the experience.” 

You couldn’t imagine a young boy at the age of ten going through something so dramatic and traumatizing in a quaint little town. Even now, the boy standing before you was just a teenager. He had torn jeans and a stylish leather jacket, but you could tell he was a little younger than the rest of the boys in the group.

“That shit ain’t right.” Jimin shakes his head as another boy smacks his arm in agreement.

“You can say that again. We’ve been through some things but it’s not mentally scarring or anything. You can’t beat those racists, huh?!” You bite your lip. You hated bringing up the topic of racism because it is the root of all evil. You hated how parents taught it to their children and it became engraved in humans. Skin color doesn’t determine a person’s worth.

“I guess you’re right. I was the only asian kid in my class in the fifth grade. No one else in that town had a fleck of gold on their skin, they were all pasty white kids. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently their parents fed them lies and I was never invited to pool parties because they thought my skin was “dirty.” Racism starts at home, man. It doesn’t just appear out of thin air.”

That was the first time you’ve ever heard your boyfriend recite a story from his past so passionately. You had no idea Jimin experienced such shit, especially after going through everything with Jaehyun and his buddies. You’ve never seen high school students look so calm even in the presence of police officers. It’s obviously because they knew they were innocent from the get-go.

“Well, this is where we part ways. I gotta take this uber to my house, catch you later!” You wave as the guy named Marc hops into a taxi and disappears off into the freeway.

“What about you?” Jaehyun gives his friend a puppy-eyed stare as you can tell he wants him to go with him. 

“I’ve gotta go too, bud. It was nice seeing all of you, thanks again for driving down to the station even though we didn’t need your help.”

“Wait!” You stop him before he can get in the waiting taxi. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jaehyun’s.” He gives you a small smile before winking at you.

“I’m Duval. Nice to meet you.” 

                                   ༻• Thursday, At Home •༺

You were back to freaking about your graduation again. Your entire life in school was a waste since you were single, you never hung out with friends, and you spent all your free time doing homework. You wish you could go back and rewind time but you would gladly go through it all again if it means you could meet Jimin and Yoongi again.

You’re so in love with them that you might just marry them. You were at least hoping you could have a commitment ceremony so that you didn’t have to worry about being legally bound to one man when you could be equally committed to both. The problem is, your wallet is more empty than your belly when you aren’t shoving food down your throat.

You dedicated all your time to school that you forgot about the outside world. And now you want to spend it on your boyfriends. Ah, when will the pain end? You needed to start working fast before anything else. There was only two weeks left till your graduation, and your anniversary with the boys was coming up as well.

The very much less anticipated arrival of your father was approaching as well, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell him that you were in love with two boys who you also thought of so fondly that you were ready to give your life to them in exchange of a future of happiness and the fact that you weren’t keen on dating or marrying any of the men your father picked out with wealthy backgrounds.

“Babe, will you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy.” Jimin sinks in your swivel chair as you walk back and forth in the little space between your bed and the table. Thanks to Jimin’s comment, you were even more antsy, biting your nails out of habit until Yoongi bursts into your room with good news.

“Hoseok said he had a singer friend who heard one of my songs and he loved it!”

“That’s great news, now why don’t you come sit and talk to us so we can get our kitten’s mind off school?” You grimace at Jimin’s attempt to switch topics so nonchalantly as Yoongi excitedly makes his way towards you, cornering you into your own bed as he informs you of his day’s events.

“He said he wants me to go over and play a demo for another song since he’s gonna be in town for a couple more days. Hobi said he got lucky because the guy happened to be in town for his own concert and he was on tour so he would only be here until Sunday evening. It’s a three-day concert.” 

This was great! All the pieces were in place and now all that was left to do was wait for Yoongi’s little surprise to arrive. You were keeping an eye on the online package, since you ordered quite a few items.

“Great, so I’m guessing you’re gonna head on over there after work tomorrow?” You ask, unaware of their current situation.

“Actually, since we took all our time off during your spring break, Jin decided to be extra mean and make us work a double shift on Friday. There’s no way I’d be able to leave in between, even if Jimin covers for me. That’s the only day we can meet, since he planned this on such short notice too.” You stand up, banging the palm of your hand flat against the soft cushion on the swivel chair, Jimin’s head just inches away from your arm.

“I’ll do it!” Your boyfriends stare at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“No, are you crazy?”

“My grades are fine, plus this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. You should go, Yoongi. I’ll take your place in work. How long is a double shift anyways?” You want to so desperately express your love for your neglected boyfriend that you’re willing to go through such lengths. That, and you’d be killing two birds with one stone since you could also spend more time with Jimin. Work is work but mixing a little love won’t hurt anyone.

“If you’re sure. A double shift is 14 hours. You’d have to work 6 hours after school, you think you can handle that?” Right on cue, you get a text from your mom. She’s doing the night shift so she probably wouldn’t notice your absence. You’re a good daughter, though, so you text her to make sure she knows what your plan is. She knew about the little setup you were planning for Yoongi, and she supported you in virtually everything you did. Except for your sex life, she definitely had no clue that you had actually gone further than second base, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Plus, I’ll have you too.” Jimin gives you an endearing smile before pulling you down to his lap. You snuggle into his warm chest, breathing in his sweet scent. You loved your boyfriend with all your heart. The mochi hits differently.

“I’m just gonna...go back to my room.” Yoongi awkwardly makes an exit as Jimin continues nuzzling your neck affectionately. You couldn’t help but feeling a bit guilty, since your other boyfriend seemed a bit troubled and you were sitting here, fooling around with Jimin like some teenage slut.

“He’s more awkward than usual today, you wanna go ask him what’s wrong?” He seems to already know what you’re thinking, as you shift around in his lap and you stay silent for an abnormally long time.

“Normally, I would just give him space but he seems to have a lot on his mind. I hope he isn’t too stressed. The opportunity presented itself and I feel like I forced him to do it.”

“No, baby, what are you saying? Yoongi never does something because someone told him to. He really wanted that deal, you know how long he’s been producing as a hobby? So many people have taken advantage of him in the past but this is the real deal.” You didn’t want to ask Jimin to elaborate, as he shifts in his seat and you feel his body heat rising. He’s sweating as well, so you decide to climb off his lap and onto the bed once again, sitting with your legs and arms crossed when you do.

“I know, that’s why I told him I’d work his shift. He can go visit this producer guy on Saturday and blow the hats off those guys while I flaunt my temporary barista skills.” 

“Honey, if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a coffee machine, you’re dead wrong.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yours and Jimin’s playful banter carries throughout the walls and onto the next room, where Yoongi hears every little exchange between the two of you. To be honest, he’s never felt more insignificant in his life than he does now. With his partners laughing and having fun without him...he felt so self-conscious.

He loved you and Jimin dearly, but sometimes his self-doubts would get in the way of his love for you. He couldn’t trust you because he couldn't completely believe himself. He knew he was in love with Jimin fully, but was he really in love with you? He remembers that very first day when you walked into the coffee shop and openly flirted with his boyfriend. That “friendly” exchange led to something more, something unexpected. 

He never thought he would be the one to initiate the first sexual encounter, but it seemed his fingers had a mind of their own. He developed a little crush on you shortly after you became friends with Jimin, but then his body betrayed him once again when he found out you were living in the same house as him.

He jerked off to the thought of you every day after that, to be honest. He felt dirty, but it felt right. He started getting confused only after you all started dating. You and Jimin were closer than him and Jimin, and him and you. Out of all the combinations, yours was the weakest. 

Sure, you had music in common, but did that really mean anything? Physically, you were more compatible than a glove with a hand, but emotionally, you were distant. He wanted you to follow him out of the room and climb over his back, he truthfully wanted Jimin to kiss his worries away like he always does, and when you were finished, he wanted to be the one to wake you up in the morning just in time for school. He was bad at social interactions, so any dreams of affection were just imaginative unless you took the initiative, or if you were at the right place at the right time.

“Yoongz, I know you better than I know myself. What’s going on in that handsome brain of yours?” His boyfriend is always spot-on when it comes to his emotions. Unlike Yoongi, Jimin excelled at expressing himself and interacting with the world around him. He was like Yoongi’s mouth, at some point. Yoongi had gotten arguably better at expressing himself, though, after meeting you he always put himself out there, just talking to you about whatever was bothering him directly. Of course, Jimin knew this happened only 60% of the time. It’s still a huge improvement for him, Jimin was happy either way. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Yoongi opens up to you completely. A full 100%.

“What if my love for Y/N is just an illusion and my body is addicted to her but my mind is not attracted to her?”

What the fu-

“Think about what you just said. Think about it again, long and hard, imagine her body this time.” Yoongi does exactly as Jimin instructs, feeling his worry melt away instantaneously just by thinking of you. He feels more at ease and a little bit floaty as well.

When he opens his eyes, Jimin is staring at his crotch deep in thought, probably pondering what he just said. Yoongi honestly has no clue anymore. He’s gotta be in love with you, he just knows.

“Just as I thought. You’re craving her again. Go ahead and get her, you dog.” Jimin lets out a short howl before spanking his boyfriend’s ass. Yoongi tries to protest but Jimin simply shoves him towards the direction of your room.

“She’s not some food item, you know? You can’t just say I’m “craving” someone and just walk away.” Yoongi rolls his eyes before knocking on your door.

“Oh, hey Yoongi, you want me to suck you off?” Well, that was easy.

“Really?” You stare up at your boyfriend, looking up from your phone in a bored manner.

“I finished my homework early so I think I deserve a reward, plus I’ve been craving that dick ever since I fucked you. Oh gosh, did you even mention it to Jimin? I don’t think I told him yet.”

“Tell me what?” You and Yoongi both jump back in surprise. Your blue-haired boyfriend is directly behind Yoongi, smiling at you with those half-moon eyes. You love the way Jimin’s face looks when he smiles, it’s simply adorable.

“I threw on a strap and I fucked Yoongi. I’m not joking, I really did.” Jimin’s eyes darken with lust as he stares between the two of you.

“Can you do it again and let me watch this time?” 

[punksarahreese]

Separation | A Chance Meeting (Twice Over)

Nosdecember day 19 | @neworleansspecial

Teen!AU; Years after Sarah had to cut off contact with Ava

CW: brief narcissistic abuse mention

***

“So,” April started as Sarah came up to the nurse’s station. Sarah rolled her eyes playfully; she knew that look all too well. Nurses loved their gossip and her friends in the ED were no exception. If Sarah wanted to know about someone or something, April or Maggie would be the person to ask.

“So?”

“There’s a new CT fellow,” April nodded in the direction of the doors that led to the hallway, “And someone is pissed.”

Sarah followed her gaze, watching Connor speaking to Will with a rather annoyed look on his face. He was ranting, or so it seemed, and he looked even more disheveled than he had before. Of course, new competition would be a big hit to Doctor Rhodes’ ego, even Sarah knew that. Plus everything that was going on with Robin at the moment, she could imagine he was feeling overwhelmed to say the least.

“Poor Connor,” Sarah sighed, “He was Doctor Downey’s protégé. He’s used to being the only CT fellow, right?”

“Yeah. He’s mostly pissed because Latham doesn’t treat him like a prince, I think. Also this new fellow? She was his first choice so I think he feels threatened.”

“She?” Sarah smiled a little at that, it was nice to know there were more female doctors around. Surgery staff especially were lacking in gender equality at Gaffney, so it was always pleasing when new, talented female doctors stepped up in the ranks.

“Mhm,” April was typing away at the computer but still kept up the conversation, “She’s from somewhere pretty far apparently; really pretty accent.”

“Oh, interesting.”

Maybe April was going to say more but before she could, Natalie tapped on Sarah’s shoulder. She apologized lightly when that made the resident jump, forgetting how easily startled she could be.

“Hey, just wanted to check in. How is Robin doing?”

“I was just about to go check up on her,” Sarah replied once she regained her composure, “If you wanted to talk to her yourself.”

***

Sarah was just leaving Robin’s patient room in the CICU, thoughts focused on going home for some rest. The day had been long and hard for everyone, though she knew Doctor Charles and Connor had the worst of it. She wasn’t too close with Robin, obviously as her doctor that wouldn’t be recommended, but she cared about her. This whole situation was tough and scary, while she was glad to see a physical explanation for her psychosis she was still worried about her prognosis. The episodes could still come back and Sarah wasn’t sure how much more Robin could handle psychologically.

She mustn’t have been paying enough attention because one second she was walking down the hall and then next she was on her ass. She heard annoyed muttering before a hand was held out to her, tugging her to her feet before quickly letting go.

“What is it with residents in this hospital not watching what they’re doing?”

That made Sarah a bit peeved, smoothing down her coat before looking up at whoever this woman was. She was looking at Sarah with an unreadable expression and the psychiatrist couldn’t figure out if she was expecting an apology or a thank you. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back from her face and she was clad in the black scrubs indicative of a CT staff member. Paired with her low and admittedly beautiful accent, Sarah realized this must be the new fellow that April had told her about.

“Maybe we should both pay more attention, Doctor…”

“Bekker,” the hand was held out again, this time for a shake, “Ava Bekker.”

That had Sarah stopping in her tracks, not letting go of her hand but unable to properly shake it. It couldn’t be her; not here, not now. This had to be some kind of joke. How did she not recognize her? Staring at her now, Sarah realized how obvious it was. She still had that confident posture and unwavering smug smile. Her voice hadn’t changed, still alluring and music to Sarah’s ears. Not to mention she still wore the same perfume, a familiar lilac scent that Sarah hadn’t realized she missed so much.

“You are?” She was watching Sarah in confusion, trying to prompt her to reply. She didn’t recognize her; of course she didn’t, it had been ten years. Ava probably moved on and would want nothing to do with her. Not after Sarah cut off contact so suddenly.

“Um, Doctor Reese… Sarah.”

The realization must have hit Ava because she pulled her hand back, shock crossing her sharp features. She searched Sarah’s face silently for any indication of a lie but found nothing. The resident didn’t know how to reply, what could she even say in this situation?

Before she could even think of how to continue, Ava had grabbed her hand and dragged her across the hall to the CT lounge. She was confused and maybe a bit anxious; actually more anxious than she had been for years. The girl she used to love more than anyone was here and was holding her hand again, ten years later and in a whole new city.

“Ava, I-”

Once again Sarah didn’t get a chance to speak. This time it was because she was suddenly yanked into a hug, something she hadn’t properly had in ages. The way Ava wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the other hand came up to protectively cradle her head made Sarah want to sob. This was what she needed so badly a decade prior, the comforting promise that Ava wouldn’t let go of her. Even now, when they might as well be strangers, something felt so right about being in her arms.

“I thought…” The way her voice wavered surprised Sarah, “I thought I lost you.”

The simultaneous pain and relief in those words had Sarah almost crying for real; the last thing she had wanted was to hurt Ava. She couldn’t respond right away, instead just tightening her arms around her waist and holding her even closer. In that moment it didn’t even feel like months had even passed, let alone ten years. Everything felt right again, like the world had finally continued turning after it stopped back with her mother’s manipulation and abuse.

“I… I’m s-sorry,” Sarah’s words were muffled by Ava’s white coat but the older woman heard her just fine. She shushed her gently, promising it wasn’t her fault. She wanted to believe Ava, she really did, but Sarah had yet to be able to heal from the years of gaslighting. Everything was her fault, it had to be, her mother never let her believe otherwise.

“It was,” Sarah shook her head, “I was careless and mom found my letters. She burned them, I didn’t- I couldn’t read your last one.”

That answered the one question that had plagued Ava for ages and the amount of relief she felt was overwhelming. She had been terrified that she had scared Sarah off or upset her in some way. That last letter she sent had taken so much courage to even seal shut, much less send it. They had spoken about feelings before but that was the first time Ava officially asked Sarah to be her girlfriend. When no reply came after two weeks, she began to worry. When it reached two months of silence, Ava was convinced Sarah hated her. She never did get an answer and it left her distraught for years. She hated knowing Sarah was most likely punished for their letters but knowing she didn’t ghost her on purpose was the most reassuring thing Ava had ever heard.

“Sarah, it wasn’t your fault,” she promised, “I’m so sorry you had to live with her. I should have figured out how to get you back to me when I had the chance.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Sarah reasoned with her, “Besides, we were both young. It was a messy situation.”

“I couldn’t protect you. I should have, I hate that couldn’t be there.”

“I know, but I’m okay now,” Ava couldn’t help but melt into the hand that rested reassuringly on her cheek, “I’m out of there and it’s okay.”

Ava nodded, though Sarah could tell she wanted to apologize regardless. They fell into silence, still standing in a half hug in the middle of the cardio lounge. They both knew someone could walk in and be utterly confused at any moment but they didn’t care. This was what both women had wished for for over a decade, just one more hug and a promise that things would be okay.

“Has it really been ten years?”

“Yeah, too long.” Sarah sighed, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” the shyness that crept into Ava’s voice was unlike her and it brought a smile to the other woman’s face. Oh how Ava had missed that smile, so unlike the sad, angsty teen Sarah had been when they met that first day on the beach. She hoped Sarah was happy now, at least, safe from her mother and well on a path to a good life.

“You work here now?” Sarah knew she must be the new fellow but some part of her brain was insisting this was still a dream.

“Yes,” Ava nodded, “Doctor Latham invited me. I’m finishing my fellowship here.”

“This can’t be happening,” Sarah breathed, still shocked that any of this could be real. It felt like the universe had been against them since day one. They shouldn’t be together, Sarah had thought back then; she was only toxic for Ava. Yet here they were, grown adults in a new place, colleagues. This must be a chance to restart, to be close to each other again. Had the universe finally stopped working against Sarah? Did she have a chance at happiness again?

“It doesn’t feel real,” the blonde agreed, “But I promise I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

“Sarah, don’t be daft,” the words made her smile despite herself because they sounded so Ava, “None of this was your fault.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“I know.”

Sarah sighed again, feeling like her head was spinning with everything that had just happened. She let Ava pull her close again, knowing they both needed the quiet comfort and reassurance that the other was really there. She relaxed into the hug, hearing how rapidly Ava’s heart was beating when she leaned against her shoulder.

“Can we go somewhere to talk? Unless you’re still working but I just… We should talk, I think.”

“Yeah,” Ava’s hand smoothed down her unruly curls as she spoke, “That’s a good idea.”

“You could come over, if you wanted.”

Sarah wasn’t expecting the teasing look she received but the low laugh that accompanied it was enough to make her think she fell in love all over again. God how she had missed that laughter; the borderline giggle contrasting Doctor Bekker’s seemingly no-nonsense attitude.

Ava pulled back a little, nodding, “Well I certainly can’t turn down a pretty girl inviting me to spend the evening with her, now can I?”

[thetriggeredhappy]

angst&hurt/comfort, where scout is anxious and doubts his skills, so he tries to calm himself by holding/hugging/whatever his plushie (or something else, idk), whilst someone is trying to get to him, to make him confess what is bothering him? idk if you wanna make it a ship ir maybe dad spy, ily -🦂

oh dude you already KNOW dad!spy hours are 24/7 up in here. welcome to “projecting RSD onto Scout TF2 episode 85″

-

Stupid summer, stupid break, stupid losing streak. Stupid everything.

Usually Scout was excited about breaks. A week or so of getting to be off work, heading home to visit family or going on a road trip or whatever was happening. It was nice, he loved it. But this time they had explicit orders from their boss not to go anywhere or do anything. To stay on base or to go specifically exclusively to the store in the nearest town for food or whatever. He hated it. The base was too small to hang out in for more than a few days at a time. He hated it.

And not to mention that they’d finished off work on a bad note. A day of losses turning into a week of losses, half the team scrambling to try and pull together enough to get one last good push in before the break and the other half deciding to just accept the loss and do better once they got back.

And every day after battle Soldier would single out someone who wasn’t on top of their game and lecture them. And all week, instead of going for the people who were largely slacking off and not breaking their necks to try and get them some actual wins, he went after Scout, who was so frantic that he kept making stupid mistakes.

And he just... usually he argued about it, and got in a fight with Soldier, but he just... didn’t have the energy for it. The day was over. They’d lost. And Scout knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but it kind of felt like it. Maybe if he’d tried just a little bit harder, pushed himself just a little further, he could’ve gotten the rest of the team motivated. Maybe they all would’ve picked things back up and tried too. But he couldn’t do it.

It was frustrating. He knew his job, beyond what he did on the field, was trying to keep morale up. He kept music playing, he was always up for hanging out or playing a few hands of poker or headed into town with someone to get shitty fast food. And he tried really hard to be funny and to keep things lighthearted, tried so fucking hard to keep spirits up. And he knew if he said anything about it, pointed out how literally like all of his time was spent trying to make sure everyone was feeling okay, it would...

He didn’t know. Maybe they’d just tell him off for being whiny or whatever. Maybe it would stop working so well, if they knew he was always doing it so extremely on purpose, so intentionally. He didn’t know.

But at that moment, he was feeling so much like utter garbage that he knew he had to just avoid the team so he didn’t drag the mood down further. Usually they didn’t really miss him anyways, other than idly asking if he’d gotten into any trouble while he was off doing “whatever he did”. All he knew was that him feeling like shit around everyone else would just make them feel bad too. And it was break anyways—maybe they’d just end up feeling better on their own. Especially since he wasn’t around to interrupt them.

He had plenty of food in his room, mostly chips and candy bars and stuff like that, stuff he didn’t want the guys stealing. And he’d totally share if they asked, for sure, but for that moment he was mostly just digging through the hoard for himself and doing not much of anything else.

He felt like kind of an idiot, sitting alone and eating his feelings like some kind of angsty teen in a movie or the chick in the romcom who just got broken up with. But there was nobody there to ridicule him except himself. And he did, but... the point stood.

A few days passed like that. He had food, he had the little bathroom connected to his room, he had comics to entertain himself. He slept a lot, mostly. Felt like garbage. Read some comics. Ate chocolate about it. Slept some more. He left a few times to do a few assorted things—called home like he did every week, went into the common room late one night to grab some of his records back so he could listen to them.

At one point, he got a knock on his door. He didn’t answer, couldn’t seem to find the energy to. A second knock when the first was unanswered after about twenty seconds. He still didn’t move.

The next day, another knock. This one was accompanied by words. “Scout? I know you’re in there,” Spy called, sounding annoyed.

To be honest, Scout was pretty sure he didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever Spy was about to lecture him about. So he just rolled over.

“You’ve missed every team meal for almost four days. You’re being rude,” Spy declared.

Scout reached off the side of the bed and picked up a plushie that had fallen down. It was a big, chunky pig, and he’d won it when he and Pyro had gone out to a fair and he’d knocked the ball toss game out of the park. Pyro had taken three of the plushies he’d won, and insisted he keep the fourth for himself.

He felt like even more of a dumb baby, sitting there cradling a stuffed animal like he was scared to head off to his first day of kindergarten, but he was already too tired and filled with vague unrest for it to get to him much.

At some point he heard a heavy sigh and the clack of fancy shoes moving away down the hallway, and Scout relaxed.

Twenty minutes later, a knock.

“Scout, let me in,” Spy said firmly.

“Fuck off, Spy,” Scout snapped.

“Scout, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to,” Spy declared.

“Bullshit.”

A heavy sigh, and then a few moments later the door swung open.

“What the fuck?” Scout asked, lifting his head to glare towards the door as Spy stepped inside.

“I know how to pick locks, Scout. You know this.” Spy squinted to try to get used to the light, the blinds having been drawn. “I’m turning a light on.”

Scout just grumbled, dropping his head back into the plush pig. In his periphery, the light was indeed turned on. There was a beat of silence.

“I brought a plate from dinner. I was concerned you would get scurvy, since you now apparently have the diet of an eight year old child who was given a hundred dollars and left unsupervised at the grocery store,” Spy said dryly.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ handouts, Spy,” Scout muttered, muffled.

“It’s not a handout, it’s the fact that I refuse to have anyone on the team besides me whose teeth are falling out. Take the food.”

“Fuck off.”

Spy sighed again, and after a moment he moved to put the plate on the bedside table. Scout prickled at the proximity, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up.

“I noticed that while you haven’t been at dinner, you still took the time to leave a thumb tack on my chair. Usually when you do that it’s because you’re angry with me. What exactly have I done?”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just mad,” Scout grumbled.

“You know, it’s very childish to refuse to look at someone when they are trying to talk to you.”

“Guess I’ll just keep being the dumb idiot kid of the team then, huh?” Scout snapped.

Silence for a moment. “Scout. You’ve locked yourself away in your room and refused to come out again for several days. I know that something is wrong. The team does too—they’re starting to worry.”

“That might just be the most obvious lie you’ve ever fuckin’ told me, Spy,” Scout practically spat, and was glad to have his voice muffled, because suddenly it went a little tight.

“Is it that hard to believe that perhaps your teammates care about you?” Spy asked, a little sharply.

“It’s me, in case you haven’t noticed,” Scout said next, getting his voice back under control. “People don’t hang around me on purpose. They put up with me. And then they stop putting up with me at some point.”

“That’s not true,” Spy said, tone leaving no room for argument, but Scout elbowed some argument in anyways.

“All seven of my brothers, every fuckin’ date I’ve ever been on, the standing ban sayin’ I can’t go in Engie’s workshop or in Heavy’s workspace down by the boiler or the infirmary unless I’m actually seriously injured—“ Scout listed off, ticking off on his fingers, keeping his face hidden. “My own fucking dad decided he couldn’t fucking stand me and I was two years old, Spy, what the hell does that tell you? I’m an annoying little piece of shit and that’s all I’m ever gonna be and then one of these days I’m gonna die for real out in this hellhole desert and ain’t a single damn person out here will have ever even bothered to learn the name that’s supposed to go on my gravestone.”

Dead silence in the room. Scout’s arm fell back down by his side. His voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“Nobody’s ever even asked,” he managed. “Demo’s real name is Tavish, Heavy’s real name is Mikhal but his sisters call him Misha. And plenty of you guys get asked about it all the time but you don’t wanna say. And nobody’s ever even fuckin’ asked me.”

Silence for a few more seconds.

“I’m a whole person,” Scout said next. “I’m really into sci-fi. I’ve read every mainline issue comic book ever published after ‘35. I know how to cook and draw and I know the all the stats of every person on every major league baseball team. I was in theater in high school between track and baseball season in the winters and I and got a lead role on some Shakespearicles thing before it got cancelled because of budget cuts. I bet you didn’t even know that.”

“I didn’t,” Spy admitted.

“And why would you? Who the fuck cares? It’s just dumb scrawny idiot Scout, who the fuck cares what his deal is? He can barely do his job and read any word that’s over four syllables, who cares what he does? He ain’t nothin’ today, he must never have been somethin’ in the first place.”

“Scout—“

“Tell me I’m wrong, Spy,” he snapped, voice cracking down the middle.

“You’re wrong. Scout, what’s going on?” Spy asked, and his voice sounded closer, like he’d taken a knee. “What happened?”

He understood, logically, that telling Spy damn near anything was a bad idea. He sold information for a living. But logic hadn’t ever been much help to him, and anyways, he was pretty sure he was about to break down either way, and he could either cry like a dumb little baby and Spy could go to the rest of the team and tell them about stupid Scout and his crying for no reason, or he could at least sort of maybe a little bit sound justified and a little bit less completely unhinged.

“We lost all week because I fuckin’ suck at my job, and we don’t get to go off base for some goddamn reason, and I miss my family, and I—“ God damn it, he hoped to at least get to a second sentence before he broke, but here came the waterworks. “—and I know the team doesn’t give a shit, and if they even noticed they probably think I’m being some idiot baby, and I’m just so fuckin’ tired of all of this, alright? I’m just so goddamn exhausted, all the time, and no matter what I do I can’t make my own stupid, shitty, broken-ass brain shut up, and I...”

There was a hand on his shoulder, now. For some reason that’s what unstuck the sob in his throat.

“And I just miss my mom,” he managed, and sobbed again. “And I know that just makes me a stupid fucking baby—“

“Scout, it doesn’t,” Spy said firmly.

“Bullshit.”

A sigh, less exasperated than the others. “Scout, I miss my own parents. Often. Heavy writes to his mother, the Bushman calls home once a week and stays on the phone for an hour at a time. Do you think they would do that if they didn’t miss them?”

Scout couldn’t seem to find his voice, and just sniffled a little.

“If anything, it’s good that you miss your mother. You are appreciating her now, while she’s still part of your life, rather than later on when she’s gone. That’s a good thing.”

“Here I am cryin’ over dumb shit—“

“The fact that you’re even capable of tears shows that you haven’t completely sealed yourself off from your emotions like several of our testosterone-puppet teammates. I’m fairly certain that Medic surgically removed his own tear ducts. I think Soldier is so dehydrated that he’s incapable of it. And rather than sweat he needs to cover himself in liquid-like food products or else he’ll die of heat stroke.”

Despite everything, that made Scout laugh, just a little. More of a hiccup than anything else.

“Admittedly, you have greater social needs than several of our team, and they need to take breaks. Not just from you, but from everyone. It’s part of being human, everyone requires some amount of time alone or else they start losing their minds. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t care about you—value the things you do for this team, even. Every time someone would like company when going in to town for any reason, they always ask me where you are. And you’ve given good film recommendations to everyone except for the Sniper.”

“Guy hates movies,” Scout defended weakly.

“You keep recommending horror films. As it turns out, he is a fan of romantic comedies.”

“Fuckin’ what? Seriously?”

“I was shocked too. His complete lack of taste in all areas of his life continues to amaze me.”

Scout scoffed at that. A beat of silence.

“What I am saying is that the team doesn’t simply put up with you. You’re impossible to simply put up with, you take up too big a part of everyone’s life here. Instead, they must like and respect you.” A pause. “And your father must have truly been an idiot. Anyone with two eyes would be proud of the challenges you’ve faced and overcome with all of the disadvantages you’ve been dealt over your lifetime.”

Scout sniffled, wiped his eyes with his forearm, finally managed to look up at Spy. “Anyone with two eyes? You sayin’ you’re proud of me, then?” he asked, even if it was a little shaky.

“I feel no strong emotions,” Spy deadpanned.

“Alright, nevermind about earlier. That’s the most obvious lie you’ve ever told me.”

Spy rolled his eyes, standing, brushing off the knee of his suit.

Scout looked at the plate, made a face. “Aw man, what the fuck, is that asparagus? Is Medic back on trying to make us eat healthy again?”

“The Engineer cooked it, stop complaining and just eat it,” Spy said, quickly falling back into his role of naggy just on the near side of patronizing.

“C’mon, it couldn’t have been like, mashed potatoes or broccoli or somethin’?”

“You always douse those things in salt and butter. That combined with the energy drinks means you’re going to get a heart condition before I do.”

“Just get the fuck outta my room, Spy,” Scout huffed, putting the stuffed animal aside and moving to pick up the plate and utensils.

“Very well. And go talk to Demoman at some point, he’s been whining about nobody wanting to go get fast food with him for two days,” Spy said as he walked to the door. “And you can’t borrow my car to go.”

“Fuck you, Spy,” Scout said flippantly, waving him off.

“Fuck you too,” Spy said just as casually, and made sure to close the door behind him.

[meg-noel-art]

Luna, Ash, and Willow for that ask thing!

KDFHGLDHG RJ!!! Thank you for enabling me to talk about my fankids, this is gonna be a long ass post, let’s go!!!!!!!!

1.) 2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod:

Luna: I am definitely just taking songs from the playlist @athetos made for Luna, so “Ghost” “Numb” “Perfect” “Stuck in the Mud” Classic angsty teen anthems

Willow: She listens to a bunch of indie artists I can feel it. “Creature Fear” by Bon Iver, “Backwards Walk” Frightened Rabbit, “Skinny Love” the Birdy cover. A soft baby.

Ash: I feel like Ash isn’t actually a big music person. He maybe has a few tunes that catch his attention but doesn’t have ‘playlists’ per say. He likes instrumentals/scores more than lyrical music, pop ballads and what not

2.) the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to:

Luna: Probably the roof....mfhgksdhgkl I like to think she literally climbs Bright Moons towers to sulk on the rooftops and watch sunsets and sunrises and such. But she also definitely just falls asleep on the shingles--hundreds of feet above the ground. 

Willow: Not sure there’s anywhere she’d ever be forbidden from falling asleep? But perhaps on nights she’s anxious, she slips out of her house and falls asleep in Plumeria’s flower patches. Maybe a tree if she wants to see the stars better.

Ash: Not necessarily forbidden, again, but Luna’s room. Falls asleep in weird, cat like places like her closet or underneath the bed, or on top of the canvas. Beyond that, when traveling, I imagine he likes to also climb into a good tree--when he’s not curled up with Melog.

3.) the game they'd destroy everyone else at:

Luna: Chess (or the Etherian equivelant). Luna is smart and actually enjoys strategy games, and I think chess would be the one thing that would get her to slow down and process her choices before making them.

Willow: I get the vibes that Willow is very good at Monopoly. She’s so quiet that no one notices she’s taken over the entire board until there’s nowhere to run.

Ash: Black jack or hide-and-seek (if it’s a game other than like... a board game) Also Uno, he’s got card games on lock.

4.) the emoticon they’d use most often:

Luna: 💖 <--she stole this one from Glimmer

Willow: A combo pack of 🙏🏻😌

Ash: 🥵 because it freaks the other two out

5.) what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep:

Luna: Cranky, prone to tears and emotional break downs. But like Adora before her, refuses to sleep out of absolute stubborn pride that her body shouldn’t stop until she says it can.

Willow: More reserved than usual if she doesn’t get enough sleep (not that that ever happens) Less inclined to follow along with her friends antics. Also a mite grumpy.

Ash: Forget show to speak in anything other than hisses and growls. His sleeplessness is 100% visible in how he carries himself. Sluggish and grumpy.

6.) their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever:

Luna: Undoubtedly hot chocolate or something similar. Both her moms have a sweet tooth, she did not escape it.

Willow: Tea! Of probably many varieties, but because I’m biased, her favorite is Chamomile.

Ash: This is a hot cider kid, through and through.

7.) how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump:

Luna: Despite her angst, Luna definitely does better when with other people if she’s in a slump. If she was truly feeling down, she’d spend the day just doing something lazy with her friends. Watching movies, reading/telling stories, playing games--they never leave her room. Extended sleepover. As a younger kid/baby, hanging with the moms achieved the same effect ;;; particularly getting she-ra piggyback rides.

Willow: She goes all out with a nice bath, floral scents, candles, followed by meditation and relaxing stretches.

Ash: He takes walks--let’s himself absorb nature and the larger world. Melog always goes with him. A comforting presence, therapy pet style but---giant panther creature.

7.) what they wanted to be when they grew up:

Luna: The next She-Ra. The responsibility of the role has never really hit her, she just wants to be a super kickass magical warrior Princess. Queen is okay too...

Willow: She just wants to do/be whatever will most help her people/ the people of Etheria. She doesn’t actually like traveling much beyond Bright Moon and Plumeria. Her future is a little foggy, but she’s not too pressed about it, her moms are calm and gently guide her through any uncertainties anyway.

Ash: Mostly he just wants to travel and explore and adventure. Wherever that takes him, or whatever it leads him to become--he’s okay with!

8.) their favorite kind of weather:

Luna: Cold months, when snow falls and she can curl up in front of the fireplace. When the world goes still and quiet and the existential thoughts fully settle in.

Willow: Spring!! New life, not too hot! All the animals come out of hiding, the flowers bloom. the air is crisp, the sun is out longer... Peaceful vibes.

Ash: Summer time. The sun is always warm, meaning there are plenty of moments to catch a catnap. Beyond that, he likes not having to deal with snow or rain.

9.) thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?)

Luna: She’s a decent singer. but you’d never know it from the way she caterwauls in the shower.

Willow: Beautiful voice! Often too shy to show it though...She picked up playing ukulele to write songs and play for Luna (who is always wildly impressed)

Ash: This boy cannot sing.

10.) how/what they like to draw or doodle:

Luna: she drew so many pictures as a child. Wild stick figure scenes, self portraits, her friends and family, retraced the murals in Bright Moon. Stopped drawing once she hit her teens and has not since, but she can.

Willow: Doodles hearts and flowers in her diary, beyond that, she sometimes does like ‘life studies; of the flowers around Plumeria. She’s good! But doesn’t show off her talent.

Ash: Ash doesn’t really draw. But I imagine he crafts/carves, which is an artistic talent in and of itself. He might doodle the occasional rune or something into something he creates, but beyond that...

THANK YOU!!

[deity-of-calamity]

Rules

(Posting this for mobile users)

Mun is 33

Muse is Demisexual and Bi romantic (leans towards men)

Muse Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

NO INCEST (By this I mean don’t bring it into rps with me. As I will not rp it. Selfcest is fine however.)

NO POLITICS (I never have, nor ever will, care for political bullshit. So I’d appreciate it if you kept that away from me while we rp. I come on here to get AWAY from real life stress. It’s not easy since I’m American and I have to hear about this regardless of how hard I try not to. But I’d really like it if you could keep it away from rping. Thanks.)

DON’T CONTROL MY MUSE (unless we plot it for an rp)

DON’T GIVE MY MUSE HEADCANONS (Ex: How they like the temperature, what kind of food they like, etc. I’m the one who ultimately decides what they want. Discussing it is fine but don’t automatically give them something I haven’t agreed to.)

NO SMUT WITH MINORS ( I MEAN IT. You’ll be blocked if you lie about your age)

I will rp NSFW (Mostly violence. Smut isn’t common but will be tagged/put under a read more if it happens. And even if it does, I prefer it to be with muns I trust and for it be as clean as possible.)

I’m okay with romantic relationships (but there needs to be chemistry. Bill is not an easy person to love)

Reply length: I am not very good with writing long replies. Let alone super long like paragraphs. However sometimes I can write long ones if I’m in the mood and can actually think of a lot to write. Typically I just try to have more than one sentence written out. But when it comes to an ask, those tend to be short because I have no idea if anyone wants to turn that into an rp. So if you do, either tell me or move it to a separate text post.

I’m mostly a just wing it rper and I don’t always make starters. But feel free to message me if you’d like to plot. I also rp based on my mood. Some days I may not be feeling certain muses and I’m sorry. Also real life stuff can be stressful at times and I tend to play games or listen to music to relax. I’m also an artist so I may draw too.

Please don’t pressure me about replies. I am trying to get to them as best I can.

Sometimes I’ll drop threads without warning. However it’s not usually on purpose as most of the time I’m trying to come up with a good response. Not everything is going to be an instant reply. I like to think of something if it’s a more thought provoking thread. Sometimes the reply might be long. Sometimes not.

I enjoy Hazbin Hotel content. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but please don’t harass me about it. Just because I enjoy the characters and story, it does not make me a bad person and I am not going to waste my breath on people who only want to be jerks over it.

The way I portray Bill is a bit kinder than what most people may be used to. I am often anxious about how others will react to this but I felt the need to point out that mine is more of an angsty mess than just flat out heartless. He’ll also make a mention of Will here and there. This is mostly due to the close connection my Bill had with another person’s Will but I love the idea of the two being close. (Be it like brothers or even romantic)

This is just more of something I want to point out. I tend to rp Bill in a humanoid form, even if he’s in the mindscape and it’s more of a dream body. As I have no idea how to rp a triangle and I’ve been doing this type of form for a few years now.

Because I feel like it may not be very clear and I’m never sure of what to tag. The fact of the matter is, Bill is a dark character. So dark themes will be present. Especially psychological ones. I’ll still tag things like suicidal stuff and if it happens, smut, (though that’s not very likely unless I trust the mun and even then it’s got to be clean enough)

This one kind of falls in with the above. Bill is a villain and has abusive tendencies. Even if he forms a close relationship. He will try to restrain himself for a loved one but some aggression is to be expected. I guess a way to look at it is that Bill has Yandere habits with those he cares for. My version of Bill can be gentle but he has limits.

Shipping: I love ships. Can be platonic, romantic, etc.

UPDATE:

One: I have thought this over in the past. But now more than ever I’ve decided to add this into my rules.

I AM NOT A MEME RESOURCE. Please reblog memes/sentence starters from the original source. The only exception is if the source is deleted or can’t be found. If you reblog from me but don’t send me at least one thing in return, then don’t bother. The second exception is my friends. I don’t mind if they reblog from me. The third exception being that if you’re on mobile a lot or mobile only. I know it can be hard to find sources sometimes because of that. But I would PREFER if you sent me at least one thing instead of reblogging memes or sentence starters all the time.

Two: I am fine with Bill x older Dipper and Bill x older Mabel. But they MUST be 21 or older. I would say 18 like I have in the past but a lot of people seem to have issues with that as it’s still in the teens. Besides it makes rping drinking and possibly drug use (if your muse does either) easier to do since they’d be fully grown adults.

Three: This is more of just me wanting to speak on it. But I feel it needs to be said. Please don’t make your muse already know that Bill is bad or that he’s no good without much interaction. A bad feeling is fine but Bill is a master manipulator and I’d really like for people to remember that. Your muse can get bad feelings and feel suspicious but unless it’s someone from canon or a muse he’s been around for long enough, it’s not fair to throw him under the bus when they don’t actually know anything. The exceptions can be if your muse meets a Ford or one of the Pines and they talk about Bill. Or if they speak with some of the denizens from Gravity Falls. Other than that, they would only have information gathered from rumors.

Anything that would actually be on file would either be the Time Police or people from worlds affected by Bill. The most accurate stuff would be the Time Police though. And even then, top secret. So don’t just say your muse has something unless they have good connections. Even that has it’s limits but I also don’t want to just say the muses can’t have anything at all. Especially if they work for a government of some kind. That would be about the only way they could get something solid. Especially since Bill these days is presumed dead and gone.

Four: I work 5 days a week and even though it’s part time, sometimes I’m just too tired/sore to get to much during the week. I’ll try to get replies and stuff done but big stuff is usually best saved for the weekends. And Friday if I can manage that.

I understand if people have anxiety issues. So you can send me Just Gold or tell me you’ve read my rules. I’ll usually assume people who interact with me have but I like to be sure.

[lavendersoft]

My Soulmate’s Soulmate.

Part: 8

Soulmate! AU

Synopsis: Before you meet your soulmate your world is black and white, without color. When soulmates meet, their world glows with vibrancy. The reality, however, as harsh and uncommon as it is, is that you are not always your soulmate’s soulmate.

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung (poly!au)

Warnings: N/A.

Author’s Notes: Guys. I’m so sorry I’ve left yall hanging for so long. College life is so stressful and finals are right around the corner so I've spent most of my time doing nothing but school. Anyways, I’m gonna try to get back on my grind and update more for yall. ily.

--

It’s been two months since your initial date with Tae.

It’s been relaxing, almost. Any negative feelings toward the man have slowly but surely dissipated since getting to know him personally. You pride yourself in calling it progress.

He really is the sweetest man- besides Jungkook, of course- you’ve ever met. He‘s funny too, in the cute sort of way. He has the sense of humor of a sarcastic angsty teen with a hint of wholesomeness that he tries to hide.

He’s passionate about his art, a borderline workaholic. When either you or Jungkook call him, nine times out of ten he’s in his studio working on a piece that “piqued his interest for the minute.”

He‘s thoughtful. He’s taken Jungkook out on multiple dates as well as yourself. Every time Jungkook comes back from one of their dates, he’s star-struck. He’d be in the best of moods, humming to himself while he puts on a love song playlist and dances with you around the living room. You haven’t seen him so giggly since the two of you started dating, like a teenager in love.

You think there might be genuine feelings between the three of you, that’s what keeps you so relaxed about your (some would say) unfortunate situation.

There are quandaries, as there would be in such a unique relationship. Bouts of jealousy erupt during the most random times. You remember about a week ago you caught yourself from slapping Taehyung’s hand away from Jungkook’s thigh while you all sat together on the couch, watching some cheesy rom-com.  The instinct came over you like a flash when out of the corner of your eye you saw Tae make the move. Jungkook had welcomed the skinship, obviously, opting to place his own hand on top of Tae’s. Clenching your jaw, you wiggle your way in just a little bit further into Jungkook’s side. You wonder if the last of this petty jealousy will disappear after a while. You don’t think that these feelings are directed at Taehyung personally. They were just fleeting instincts, not something that irks you constantly, like in the very beginning.

Just petty jealousy... that's all.

-

Tonight’s the big night. Jungkook had asked you if you were ready to take the next step last night.

“More ready than I’ll ever be.” You told him.

He was ecstatic at your answer and had instantly pulled out his phone to invite Tae over for dinner the following night, which was tonight.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. His answer could only really be one thing. Yes. But that doesn’t stop your mind from brewing up things to worry about.

What if he says it’s too soon? What if he wants to keep it an open relationship? What if both you and Jungkook have been reading the signs all wrong?

What if he doesn’t feel anything romantic toward Jungkook? That was your biggest fear, as well as Jungkook’s probably.

“You're anxious,” Jungkook really could read you like a book. “You’re fidgeting.”

“I just want tonight to go perfectly. He has to be as comfortable as possible.” You reply as you toss the salad for the thirtieth time. 

“I agree. Maybe we should break out the alcohol?” He’s only joking but you actually think spiking your own drink might be the best option.

“The marinara sauce is burning.” He observes the red tomato sauce bubble over the pot.

“Shit.” You hiss, you’d totally forgotten while in your panic.

“It’s okay, Angel, I got it.” He chuckles, passing by you to the stove, stirring the pot, “Just relax. Everything will go fine.”

It has to. If it doesnt it might just be the end of your relationship, the one you’ve worked so hard to keep alive.

The light knock at the door pulls you out of your dark thoughts and back into reality. Jungkook gasps excitedly before pecking you on the cheek.

“I’ll get it!” He declares while padding over to the door. It swings open to reveal a tired but handsome Taehyung.

“Hey, Baby!”

A shiver runs down your spine when the word reaches your ears. Your movements freeze in pure shock.

“Hi, Babe.”

When did they start calling each other pet names?

You shake it off as quickly as it came. When you enter the hallway, Taehyung softly breaks the embrace between the two men to greet you.

“Sweetheart.”  He greets with a drowsy smile, pulling you into a tight squeeze.

“You hungry? I made spaghetti! Well, tried to.” You chuckle at your poor excuse for pasta.

“I’m starving. Haven't eaten since yesterday.” Taehyung admits, shyly.

“What?!” Both of your reactions were immediate.

“Since yesterday?!” Jungkook gapes.

“Well, it’s just I’ve been working on so many projects late-” His excuse falls short when Jungkook proceeds to guide Tae toward the dining room.

“That’s no excuse! No wonder you look so exhausted!” You begin to feel like a nagging mother but you just couldn't help it. You did care for the silver-haired artist and it pained you to know he wasn't properly taking care of himself. 

The ladle in your hand moves quicker than any kitchen utensil should, making Tae a plate first and foremost.

“Eat, please.” When the plate is set in front of him, he digs in.

“I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until about five minutes ago.” He beams with a mouthful of food. You can’t help but smile at how childlike he could be. He could be so cute when he wasn’t being a brooding sex god.

“Have you taken any breaks lately? When was the last time you slept?” Jungkook inquires. Tae purses his lips in thought, tapping his finger on his chin.

“Let’s see...I just left the studio about an hour ago, but I went straight to my house to shower so I could meet you guys. Before that, I was working for about thirteen hours and don’t think I took a significant break that entire time. So thirteen hours ago?” 

You could practically spot the exact moment Jungkook stops himself from banging his own head on the dining room table. 

“You’ve been working since six this morning?” You try to make your voice less accusatory this time.

“Yep. And I’ve finally finished that piece I’ve been working on for a week now! Jimin says we already have bids on it!” He’s glowing with pride, his smile lighting up the room so much you can’t even bring yourself to be angry at him.

“Well, congratulations. Now eat.” You joke as you shake your head.

When everyone’s done eating, the room seems a bit more heavy. The question in your head keeps growing until there’s no room for any other thoughts. Jungkook seems to be getting on fine though, as he reminisces on the last date they shared. Taehyung had taken him on one of his motorcycles. Jungkook couldn't stop talking about it for days, he had so much fun. You were genuinely happy for him.

You didn't realize you were biting your lip until Tae turned his attention to you,

“Got something you’d like to share with the class?” He jokes, gently nudging your calf with his foot.

Jungkook exchanges a quick look and a confident nod with you.

“Yeah, actually.”

“I’m all ears, Love.” His back straightens as if he’s giving you his full, undivided attention.

“So we- Jungkook and I- were thinking that since we all get along so nicely and, you know, we’re like soulmates and what not... um we were thinking-“

“Do you want to date us?” Jungkook blurts out. You deadpan at your impatient boyfriend.

“Uh, what he means is-“

“Absolutely.” You deadpan at your new impatient boyfriend, while Jungkook giggles beside you.

There’s a comfortable moment between the three of you as you all take in what this means. Blocking out all the needless worrying that you’re so good at, you concentrate on the warm feeling rising in your stomach.

"Finally,” Tae chuckles at himself, “It took you guys long enough! I was beginning to wonder if you guys were ever gonna ask me out. I was getting worried.”

“Hey. Being worried is my job.” You fake scold him, tapping him on the shoulder.

There was a silence that you couldn't ignore coming from your soulmate, Jungkook hadn’t even properly reacted when Tae said yes. But the nervousness ended when you saw what looked like tears gathering in his doe eyes.

“I'm so happy.” He says simply, voice slightly strained.

-

Taglist: @ourwhispersbecomeouranthems​ @fantasyjoon​ @ally22042000​ @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone​ @embrace-themagic​ @lexi-tries-art​ @ccmemoirs​ @just-call-me-trash-can​ @karlykim92​ @omg-sol-s-dreamland​ @ironically-indifferent96​ @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore​ @bumblekey93​ @teacuppeach​ @twilight-loveer​ @exochanyeoltao​ @pr1nc355y05h1​ @somiwin​ @ikinya-uwu​ @min-chimchim03

[hlupdate]

Here he comes, one of the planet’s most conspicuous young men, stepping out of the London drizzle and into a dusty suburban pub. If there was an old vinyl record player in the place it would scratch quiet. Instead, the two-dozen punters turn hushed and intent, as if a unicorn has just trotted in off the street, and nobody wants to scare it off. “That’s frickin’ Harry frickin’ Styles,” whispers a young man at the bar, “in this pub.” The pop star is asked what he wants to drink and in a voice already inclined to undertones, quietly orders a cup of tea.

A former teen star who is now 25, a happier and rockier solo artist since his boyband One Direction split a few years ago, Styles has hidden himself inside a large, swamp-green parka. He’s tall, around the 6ft mark, and carries himself with a slight stoop. If Styles could only do something about his appearance from the neck up (elfin brow, wide Joker smile, a face that’s recognisable across multiple continents) you sense he could drink in pubs like this anonymously enough. As it is, cover blown, he removes the parka. A woolly jumper beneath has a picture of the planet Saturn on it. Maybe they’ve heard of Styles there, too.

We take a seat in the corner. On nearby tables, conversations start to sputter as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot while straining to hear what Styles says. I ask him about the sheer strangeness of this and other aspects of fame. Full stadiums, swooning admirers, an excess of opportunity and cash. Why isn’t Styles an absolute ordeal of a human being by now? Keith Richards, at a comparable stage, imagined himself the pirate leader of a travelling nation-state, unbound by international law. Elton John was on vast amounts of cocaine. Meanwhile, here’s Harry, known in the music industry as a bit of a freak, medically, having maintained abnormally high levels of civility in his system. 

Styles tilts his head, flattered. There are others, he promises. “People who are successful, and still nice. It’s when you meet the people who are successful and aren’t nice, you think: What’s yer excuse? Cos I’ve met the other sort.”

Styles read Keith Richards’ autobiography a while back, and he recently finished Elton’s, too. (“Soooo much cocaine,” he marvels.) We talk for a bit about whether extreme dissolute behaviour and artistic greatness go hand in hand. Styles, who has just released his second solo album, Fine Line, the penultimate track of which is called Treat People With Kindness, has to hope not. “I just don’t think you need to be a dick to be a good artist. But, then, there are also a lot of good artists who are dicks. So. Hmm. Maybe I need to start scaring babies in supermarkets?” 

A couple of lads hustle over to offer drinks. A photo is requested; they say they’ll wait. I’m weirdly anxious about Styles’s phone, which is slung on the table in front of him. What must be the black-market value of that thing? If fans were to get hold of it, would they want to open Styles’s music app first, to listen to tracks from the new album, or rush to see his messages and calls, to find out who Styles has been flirting with late at night? The interest in his music has always run at a ratio of about 50/50 with the interest in who he is dating.

It’s a ratio Styles tries to adjust in favour of the music by being vague about his ex-partners, real and rumoured (Taylor Swift, Kendall Jenner, Parisian model Camille Rowe), diverting to discuss his songs about failed relationships. A year ago, when Styles was floating around near this pub in north London, where he lives, and California, where he tends to record, looking for inspiration for the new album, his close friend Tom Hull told him: “Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up… Let it affect you and write songs about it.” 

Styles, who writes in collaboration with Hull and producer Tyler Johnson, sounds as if he took the advice. The new album, Fine Line, is at its best when capturing late-hours moments, drunk calls, “wandering hands”, kitchen snogs. A golden-haired lover recurs. There are up tracks, down tracks, some with the trippy delirium of harpsichord-era Stones, others with the angsty Britpop swell of strings. While I listened, I couldn’t help scribbling down names, possible subjects. On the lyric “There’s a piece of you in how I dress” I wrote: maybe Kendall? In a song about a lover “way too bright for me”: surely Taylor.

Styles says he keeps to a general rule: write what comes and don’t think about it too much afterwards. The only time he worries about an individual lyric is if it risks putting an ex in a difficult position. “If a song’s about someone, is that fine? Or is that gonna get annoying for them, if people try to decipher it?” Has he ever got that judgment call wrong and taken a bollocking from an angry ex? Styles raises an eyebrow. “Maybe ask me in a month.” 

I quiz him on something I’ve often wondered about. Why are the very famous so inclined to hook up with the very famous? From the outside it looks twice the hassle, with twice the odds of ending badly. “Don’t we all do that, though?” Styles asks. “Go into things that feel relatively doomed from the start?” I ask him why he doesn’t date normals. He seems tickled: “Um. I mean, I do. I have a private life. You just don’t know about it.” 

Styles doesn’t particularly like being asked about his love life, but is amused all the same, as he is about most things. When I ask about the logistics of someone as well known as him dating someone anonymous (“Do you need to give them, like, some sort of primer?”), Styles snorts with laughter. 

“Uh-h-h. Like any conversation, I guess, it’s easier if you’re honest. But I try to let it come up when it comes up. Cos that’s a weird thing to talk about, y’know? If you’ve just started seeing someone, and you’re, like: [he adopts a throaty, mission-briefing voice] So! This is what’s gonna happen!” Styles holds out his hands: no, ta. “I don’t wanna have that conversation, man. It would be fucking weird.” 

And not very sexy, I say.

“Not sexy,” Styles says, “no.”

A quick aside about his accent, which is hard to capture in print. (“Nat sexy, no.”) After a workout in a hotel gym recently, Styles says he was taken aback (“taken abeck”) to be asked by a stranger whether he was speaking in a fake voice. He was appalled. But after so long crossing borders and time zones, living and working between England and the US, the accent has undergone a jazzy remix, and tends to get farthest from its Cheshire roots when he’s around strangers. Once Styles begins to get comfortable in the pub, the flatter, no-nonsense sounds of his youth return. Nowpe he says, for nope. Fook, for fuck.

“What the fook are they?” This was the response of his childhood pals, he remembers, back in the village of Holmes Chapel, when little Harry had the gumption to show up in the playground wearing Chelsea boots instead of the approved chunky trainers. Styles’s parents had separated when he was very young, but there is no origin-story trauma: he has always stayed close to both. His mother, Anne, would praise his singing voice in the car, and when Styles was 16 it was agreed he could audition for a singing contest on TV.

“The craziest part about the whole X Factor thing,” says Styles, who auditioned for the ITV reality show in 2010, “is that it’s so instant. The day before, you’ve never been on telly. Then suddenly…” Suddenly you’re a piece of national property. “You don’t think at the time, ‘Oh, maybe I should keep some of my personal stuff back for myself.’ Partly because, if you’re a 16-year-old who does that, you look like a jumped-up little shit. Can you imagine? ‘Sorry, actually, I’d rather not comment…’ You don’t know what to be protective of.”

By the winter of 2010, Styles was a fan favourite, a key member of One Direction, a five-piece that enjoyed enormous national exposure and gathered millions of fans before any music had been released. Cameras filmed every part of their rise. There wasn’t any time in the dark to practise, test things out, mentally brace. “We didn’t get to dip in a toe,” Styles says. “But, listen, I was a kid, all I knew was: I didn’t have to go to school any more. I thought it was fucking great.” He remembers having a lot of fun, and being well taken care of. He jokes: “Maybe it’s something I’ll have to deal with a bit later. When I wake up in my 40s and think: Arrrggh.”

In February 2012, One Direction were feted at the Brit Awards, hours before they were due to fly to the US for the first time. On TV that night they looked young, silly, chuffed – on the precipice of something huge, and with no clue at all. Their subsequent wonder-run (five platinum albums, four world tours) had its foundations in their ridiculous popularity in the States. Right away, Styles remembers, “We were fuelling a machine. Keeping the fire going.” He remembers it as a stimulating time; maybe overstimulating. “Coming out of it, when the band stopped, I realised that the thing I’d been missing, because it was all so fast paced, was human connection.”

I first met Styles in 2014, around the time the lack of human connection was starting to bite. One Direction were promoting their penultimate album and I’d been commissioned to write about themthe Guardian. Management felt the boys were so exhausted that my minutes in their presence had to be strictly counted. Inside a circle of cripplingly hot lights, while someone ran the stopwatch, we interacted as humanly as we could.

I remember how jaded the best singer in the group, Zayn Malik, seemed. (Malik was weeks away from quitting.) I also remember how flattered and bewildered the others were to be asked a few grownup questions – and not what Louis Tomlinson would later describe to me as “who’s-your-favourite-superhero… all that shit”. Styles was watchful and quiet that day. By total chance, a week later, we were in the same London cafe and he tapped my shoulder. He was having lunch with friends. “Will ya join us?” 

t struck me as a quietly classy move. I was fascinated to see him interact with mates he’d chosen for himself. Styles was dry and funny, older than his years. After lunch we said the usual things about keeping in touch, and followed each other on Twitter. I kept an eye on his updates, about leaving One Direction, releasing an impressive, self-titled debut album in 2017, playing for 36,000 people in Madison Square Garden in New York, acting in Christopher Nolan’s Oscar-nominated war movie Dunkirk. Meanwhile, I did my best to manage the mess that had been made of my own account after Styles’s Twitter follow ignited a small explosion of teenage longing in my mentions. For at least a year I received weekly, sometimes daily, pleas from people who wanted messages conveyed to “H”. Still now, every few days, fans in America, Asia and Europe follow me to “see what H sees” in their timeline. 

He has around 50 million social media followers, and with that comes the ability to ripple the internet like somebody airing a bedsheet. I’ve noticed, though, how rarely Styles directs people to support specific causes, last doing so in 2018, when he encouraged people to join a march against gun violence. Why don’t you use your influence more, I ask? “Because of dilution. Because I’d prefer, when I say something, for people to think I mean it.” He runs his fingertips across the table. “To be honest, I’m still searching for that one thing, y’know. Something I can really stand up for, and get behind, and be like: This Is My Life Fight. There’s a power to doing the one thing. You want your whole weight behind it.”

It’s one of the things that sets Styles apart, the way he puts his whole weight behind the different aspects of this strange job. If you watch footage of him as a guest host on Saturday Night Live last month, Styles plunges in, fully inhabiting the silliness of every sketch. He has good songs in his repertoire (2017’s ballad Sign Of The Times stands out), and would probably admit to some middling songs that attest to his relative inexperience as a writer. But whichever of his songs Styles performs, he goes all-in, trusting that his zest and energy will hold an audience’s attention. He approaches this interview in roughly the same spirit, not enjoying every question, fidgeting, pleading for clemency once or twice, but giving everything due consideration.

I bring up something Styles joked about earlier: the possibility of waking up in his 40s with deferred mental health problems.

“Mm,” he says

Have you thought about therapy, I ask, to get ahead of that?

“I go,” he says. “Not every week. But whenever I feel I need it. For a really long time I didn’t try therapy, because I wanted to be the guy who could say: ‘I don’t need it.’ Now I realise I was only getting in my own way.” He shrugs. “It helps.”

Lately he’s been reading a lot (Lisa Taddeo’s Three Women stood out). He’s watched a lot of Netflix (crime thrillers and music docs). He recently cried through Slave Play on Broadway. I sense in Styles, at 25, a pent-up undergraduate hunger, maybe a desire to make up for lost time. “I’ve definitely been wanting to learn stuff, try stuff,” he says. “Things I didn’t grow up around. Things I’d always been a little bit sceptical about. Like therapy, like meditation. All I need to hear is someone saying, ‘Apparently, it’s amazing’, and I’ll try it. When I was in Los Angeles once, I heard about juice cleanses. I thought, yeah, I’ll do a juice cleanse.”

How messy were the results?

“You mean…?” Styles raises an eyebrow, recalling the poos. “They were all right. I was just hungry. And bored.”

One notable feature of Styles’s solo career has been his headlong embrace of unconventional clothing. A 2017-18 tour could have been sponsored by the Dulux colour wheel: mustard tones in Sydney, shocking pink in Dallas. In a more serious sense, some of Styles’s choices have fed into an important political discussion about gendered fashion. In May, as a co-host at the Met Gala in New York, he stepped out in a sheer blouse and a pearl earring. One evening’s work challenged a lot of stubborn preconceptions about who gets to wear what.

He says: “What women wear. What men wear. For me it’s not a question of that. If I see a nice shirt and get told, ‘But it’s for ladies.’ I think: ‘Okaaaay? Doesn’t make me want to wear it less though.’ I think the moment you feel more comfortable with yourself, it all becomes a lot easier.”

What do you mean, I ask?

Styles is leaning forward, hands folded around his cup of tea. “A part of it was having, like, a big moment of self-reflection. And self-acceptance.” He has a habit, when he’s made a definitive statement, of raising his chin and nodding a little, as if to decide whether he still agrees with himself. “I think it’s a very free, and freeing, time. I think people are asking, ‘Why not?’ a lot more. Which excites me. It’s not just clothes where lines have been blurred, it’s going across so many things. I think you can relate it to music, and how genres are blurring…”

Sexuality, too, I say.

“Yep,” says Styles. “Yep.”

There’s a popular perception, I say, that you don’t define as straight. The lyrics to your songs, the clothes you choose to wear, even the sleeve of your new record – all of these things get picked apart for clues that you’re bisexual. Has anyone ever asked you though?

“Um. I guess I haaaaave been asked? But, I dunno. Why?”

You mean, why ask the question?

“Yeah, I think I do mean that. It’s not like I’m sitting on an answer, and protecting it, and holding it back. It’s not a case of: I’m not telling you cos I don’t want to tell you. It’s not: ooh this is mine and it’s not yours.”

What is it then?

“It’s: who cares? Does that make sense? It’s just: who cares?”

I suppose my only question, then, is about the stuff that looks like clue dropping. Because if you don’t want people to care, why hint? Take the album sleeve for Fine Line. With its horizontal pink and blue stripes, a splash of magenta, the design seems to gesture at the trans and bisexual pride flags. Which is great – unless the person behind it happens to be a straight dude, sprinkling LGBTQ crumbs that lead nowhere. Does that make sense?

Styles nods. “Am I sprinkling in nuggets of sexual ambiguity to try and be more interesting? No.” As for the rest, he says, “in terms of how I wanna dress, and what the album sleeve’s gonna be, I tend to make decisions in terms of collaborators I want to work with. I want things to look a certain way. Not because it makes me look gay, or it makes me look straight, or it makes me look bisexual, but because I think it looks cool. And more than that, I dunno, I just think sexuality’s something that’s fun. Honestly? I can’t say I’ve given it any more thought than that.”

In our musty corner of the pub we’ve somehow passed a couple of hours in intense discussion. We’ll lighten up, before Styles heads home, with some chat about clever films (Marriage Story), stupider viral videos (the little boy who’s just learned the word “apparently”), that favourite-superhero stuff that, after all, has its place. He talks about the curious double time scheme of a pop star’s life – those crammed 18-hour days and then the sudden empty off-time when Styles might find himself walking miles across London to buy a book, afterwards congratulating himself: “Well, that’s an hour filled.”

Before we stand up I ask if he’s minded any of my questions.

He pushes out his lips, possibly recalling them one by one, then shakes his head. “What I would say, about the whole being-asked-about-my-sexuality thing – this is a job where you might get asked. And to complain about it, to say you hate it, and still do the job, that’s just silly. You respect that someone’s gonna ask. And you hope that they respect they might not get an answer.”

I tell him I do.

“Cool.”

Styles has to find those lads who wanted a photo. He scoops his phone off the table and flicks his thumb around the screen. Lately, he says, when he messes around on his phone in an idle moment, it’s mostly to look at videos – clips that his friends have sent him, in which their kids sing along to music he’s made. “Never gets old,” Styles says, beaming.

A few years ago, when he emerged from the boyband, blinking, shattered, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Full stadiums, provocative outfits – Styles genuinely loves these things. “But I guess I’ve realised, as well,” he says, “that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Do you know what I mean?” He grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for home.

[that-70s-page]

Paper Rings

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: You are worried about not being enough for Roger now that Queen has become successful, so he shows you how much you mean to him. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, light language, brief mentions of alcohol

Words: ~4k

A/N: I wrote this in dedication to my younger sister, who absolutely loves Taylor Swift. She’s forced me to listen to Lover, so her new song paper rings inspired me to write some good hearty FLUFF.

p.s. this turned out waaay more angsty than I expected :p

You lay on your rug tapping your fingers against your thigh, eyes searching aimlessly about your room. You reach a hand up, disrupting the rays of dust that seem to float only in the sunbeams that streak the air in front of you.

You know that the dust fills your entire room, but in that moment you are a child again, and the dust is a living entity, floating down and swimming through the air in purposeful patterns. The small particles only exist where the sun paints beams through your room, disappearing along with the warm rays.

You are lost in thought when your eyes reach your desk, lingering on the small framed photo that balances crookedly on the edge next to the glass of wine that you had let grow stale.

You both look so happy and young in that picture. When had that changed?

Roger’s hair is longer and curlier, but he still has that cocky, rock star smile even when back then he was selling clothes with Freddie at a stall in Kensington market.

When had you gone from being broke and hungry all the time, but happy just to be alive and together, to being comfortable adults, but feeling like something was missing?

It wasn't that you were unhappy.

You loved Roger, and you knew that he loved you just as much, but lately things just felt different.

Queen had become very popular, and Roger was spending more and more time with the band, recording, touring, and partying. You loved to watch him perform, but it was difficult for you to understand the appeal of the rockstar life. He often came home late, drunk, or too exhausted to spend much time alone with you.

You knew that it was everything Roger had ever wanted; the fame, the fortune, it was what he had been craving since before you had even met him.

But when you two had met, he had not yet gotten a taste of having real money and being a popular musician, and you were enough for him.

Now it sometimes felt like you were drifting, waiting for the day that he realized he could do better; numbing yourself in anticipation. Distancing yourself to somehow cushion the fall.

Even if he loves me, it doesn't mean he won't leave me.

Those were the recurring words that floated through your head as you lay on your back staring at the photo your friend had taken when you had first started dating Roger.

You had met him at a college party that your friends had hosted in your building. You had gone outside to find some peace and quiet, but hadn't gotten very far. Someone had fallen into the pool in your yard, and his friends were drunkenly trying to help him get out. He was fully clothed and absolutely hammered, so his weak attempts at paddling himself to the stairs made it look as if he had never learned to swim. His companions weren't having much luck in aiding him either, and the soaking, drunk blond was trying so desperately to get out of the water that he pulled his tall, poodle-haired friend into the pool. You had first laughed at the inanity of the boys, but had soon noticed that while the tall brunette had successfully escaped the icy cold pool, the blond was struggling to keep his head above water, his sodden clothing pulling him down. Upon noticing, you had immediately rushed to the shallow part at the stairs to help him, the lifeguard training you had done in your teens at the local pool still drilled into your brain. His two friends watched you with a mixture of hilarity and concern, the soaking wet poodle of a man shivering beside the shorter brunette. The blond was wet and embarrassed, but surprisingly uninjured. Even more surprisingly, he was incredibly attractive and charming, even in his soaking, drunken state. You helped the boys dry off and invited them inside, and had quickly grown to be close friends.

And the rest is history, right?

Strangers to friends, friends to lovers, but what was left for you?

The only thing past marriage was kids, possibly grandkids, and then death.

You scold yourself for sounding so nonsensical, and remind yourself that there was plenty in between, that it was the little things in life that made it all worth it, like waking up in the middle of the night and just watching him breathe, or the way he would always confide in you about his songs before showing them to Brian or Freddie. Hell, you hadn't even gotten a steady job yet, and Queen had years of success ahead of it.

But what if he gets bored?

His new lifestyle will surely introduce him to new, better things. New music, new places, new people. 

Better people. 

Plus, there will be plenty of groupies and fans that will throw themselves at him, despite his relationship or marital status.

Maybe if you were engaged, things would feel more secure.

But you don't want to force it, and you can't tell if marriage is something Roger even wants.

Sure, the two of you had talked about it, and you had certainly hinted at wanting a proposal, but Roger had been oblivious, and was away on tour so much that a wedding just seemed impractical.

Maybe you should be the one to propose. Or the two of you could elope, like Deaky and Veronica.

But in your heart you knew you had always secretly wanted a cliche, romantic proposal, and a beautiful wedding with all of your friends and family.

But what does Roger want?

You know he is secretly a romantic, after having dated him for two years, but you also know that he is easily distracted and has a difficult time settling down. He may love you, but he also may not want to spend the rest of his life with you.

You feel something sting your eyes and slide down your cheek, and you blink at the realization that you had started crying. Your chest has become tight, and your throat aches with the effort of holding back the fat, salty tears that have finally breached from your eyes. 

You take a heavy breath, willing yourself to calm down, but thinking about Roger has worked your nerves up to feverish hysteria, and you can feel yourself being pulled into the suffocatingly tight grip of an anxiety attack.

Just as you begin to feel lightheaded from your unsteady breathing, you hear the front door open and footsteps trip into the kitchen.

Roger’s home early, you observe, trying to compose yourself with deep, even breaths before he notices and questions you about your tears.

Thinking about your future is scary, but actually voicing your fears aloud to the love of your life is bloody terrifying.

His rasping voice calls for you from the kitchen, hoarse from a long day of rehearsing the set. You try to call back, but his name is replaced with a desperate wheeze as you feel yourself being drawn back into your anxiety, tendrils of worry wrapping around your throat and choking you, stealing away your voice.

When he doesn't hear you answer, Roger goes to your bedroom and opens the door quietly, expecting to find you napping or engrossed in a book. Instead, he finds you sitting on the floor with tears streaking your face, puffy and red from your crying.

You gaze up at him tearfully, frustrated with yourself for allowing him to walk in on you like this. But when you see the look of worry and overwhelming love in his eyes as he rushes to sit beside you, you can’t hold back your sobs any longer.

He pulls you in closer to him as you bury your head in his neck, sprinkling his t-shirt with your tears. You take heaving breaths as he slowly rubs along your back, trying desperately to release the pressure on your lungs.

After a few moments of listening to your silent sobs, Roger pulls away to gaze at your face, all of his love and compassion for you eminent on his features. He cradles your cheek in one of his callused hands and blinks slowly at you, his mouth pursed slightly in worry. You gasp for air between each sob, leaning your face into his warm palm and closing your eyes against his skin. He gently traces his thumb over your eyelids and lips, and then moves his hand to wipe away your tears.

“What’s wrong, love?”

You open your eyes and shake your head slightly, sniffling and blinking rapidly to clear away your tears.

“Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?” he whispers, his eyes showing such tenderness and emotion that you feel your heart swell in your chest despite your overwhelming anxiety.

“N-nothing Rog, it’s nothing, I’m just feeling *hic* r-really anxious and shitty right now. I’m sorry you had to *hic* come home to this, I’m a right mess, please don't let me ruin your day,” you plead through your onslaught of tears, looking up at him through clumped, wet eyelashes.

His eyes widen slightly and he grabs for your hands, holding each tightly in his own and leaning in, lips parted in a half frown.

“Oh love, please don’t apologize, I wouldn't want to come home to anything else. I mean- besides a relaxed, happy Y/N of course, but you could never ruin my day, you're the reason I look forward to coming home from the studio, I love every bit of you, alright?”

You nod, but don't meet his eyes. His words just make you more anxious, feeding your fears that he doesn’t mean it anymore, as if he was trying to convince not only you but himself that he loves you.

“Now tell me what’s got you anxious, I don't fancy coming home to see my girlfriend crying on the floor and not knowing what’s wrong, ” he speaks softly but fervently, still holding your hands as if they are the only things keeping you there with him.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just feel like- sometimes it seems like you’re never here anymore, even when you are. I know that sounds awful, but I just can’t help but think that it has something to do with me,” you flit your glassy eyes from his face to the floor, feeling exposed and guilty.

“Oh darling, it has absolutely nothing to do with you, please don't get it into your head that anything is your fault. I’m sorry if I haven’t been around as much lately, the band takes up so much of my time,” he looks genuinely upset with himself, and you feel even more guilty for making your troubles seem like they are his fault.

“I know you’re busy with the band, and I’m so glad that you are finally achieving what you deserve, I’m just worried- I’m so scared that- that-” you break off, both from the fear that accompanies telling Roger that you’re scared he’ll leave you, and from the renewal of tears that burn your eyes at hearing yourself out loud.

“What is it, love? Please let me help, you’re scaring me darling,” he breathes, trying desperately to make you meet his eyes again. 

“I can’t, Rog, I can’t- you’ll hate me, you’ll wish you never came home. I can’t tell you, because I don’t want to ruin everything with my stupid insecurities!” you sob, disgusted with yourself for breaking down again and for making Roger feel responsible.

As he stares at your shaking, crying frame, he feels his heart break a little, cursing himself for being so completely helpless when it came to calming you.

“Love, look at me, please look at me- I don’t know what you’re talking about- Y/N, I could never hate you, no matter what you do or say. God, I love you so much, just- let me fix this, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you unless you tell me,” he stumbles on his words, the unfamiliar feeling of tears pricking his eyes as he watches you fall apart in front of him.

He stops his rambling when he feels your arms wrap tightly around his torso and pull yourself closer to him, tangling your shaky hands in the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much Rogie, God I love you, please don't ever leave me, I don't think I could bear it. I love you- so, so, so much,” you sob into him, feeling his heartbeat increase beneath your cheek that is pressed against the bare skin of his chest.

Roger’s entire body tenses around you and he stutters frantically, “I-I love you too darling, what on Earth would ever make you think I’d leave? I could never, not when my entire future depends on you. Please believe me when I tell you that I plan on spending the rest of my life with you... I love you so much, angel. Christ, sometimes it hurts, you know? You’re my everything, and right now my everything is worrying me. Please show me what I can do.”

You couldn’t answer him if you tried, your breath coming in short gasps, body stiff and tired from fighting to get air to your lungs for so long. All you can do is finally meet his gaze, and when you do you notice that there are tears in the corners of his eyes. You stop breathing altogether at the sight of Roger crying, and he notices with a frightened expression. 

“Y/N, you’ve got to breathe love. Come here, take deep breaths with me,” he shifts your trembling body in his lap and presses his chest against yours to show your lungs how to properly take in the air, counting to four in between each intake of breath, lungs exaggerating each pump.

You fight to stay focused on his steady heartbeat and the movement of his chest beneath yours, your mind running desperately to escape from the dark, fuzzy feeling of not getting enough oxygen. 

“That’s right, love, you’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, I’ve got you. You’re ok, I’ve got you.”

You feel Roger’s hand rubbing smooth circles into your back, and you divert your attention from his breathing for a moment to focus on the gentle massage, muscles relaxing underneath his warm palms. He pauses when he notices your breathing almost return to normal, and you lift your head from his shoulder to gaze into his shining blue eyes. He stares back, all the confusion and fear gone from his eyes and replaced with a look of admiration.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, darling. Just tell me when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you,” he whispers, brushing the hair from your eyes and tracing your cheekbones with long, delicate fingers.

“No, Rog, I want to say it, I was just so scared of how you might react. I didn’t- I didn’t trust myself to tell you without hurting you,” you manage to speak, voice cracking from the effort. 

He stares at you with large, understanding eyes, waiting patiently for you to continue. You take a deep breath, intertwining your fingers with his and playing with them nervously, trying to channel all of your anxiety into the motions. He gives them a gentle squeeze, as if to silently tell you that everything is ok, and you blink at him gratefully, squeezing back with trembling hands.

“Ever since you went on tour, I’ve started to think more about the future. Our future… Rog, I’m so scared that we won’t make it. I’m scared that you’ll get bored with me, and that once you become famous- because I know Queen is going places- you’ll realize that you can do better, and then I won’t be able to do anything about it, because no matter how much I love you, no matter how much I want you to stay forever, I could never force that on you,” you let out, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you finally told him about the fears that had been a crushing weight on your heart for so long.

You meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see in them. Would there be anger, or remorse? Or worst of all, confirmation that what you had said was true?

But when you make contact with those familiar blue eyes, you see a mixture of fear and desperation, his irises swimming in tears that make the blue turn into a bright crystalline sky. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out as he ceases the nervous twitching of his fingers around yours. After what seemed like eons, he finally speaks.

“Y/N…” his voice is soft, so quiet that you almost don't hear him.

“I- love, wait here. Just- give me one moment, I'll be right back, please don’t move,” he whispers, as if he is afraid of coming back to an empty room.

He stands up slowly, letting your hands fall limply to your sides as you stare back at him in confusion. He can see the hurt in your eyes, and he knows that you had expected a different response.

“I love you so much, ok? Just wait here.”

He says it with a shaking voice, and walks swiftly out of your bedroom. You hear him rummaging about in his desk drawer, until he makes a quiet exclamation of relief and slowly returns to your room, standing just inside the doorway. You stare at him, wondering what he could possibly have had to get at a time like this, until you see him slowly approach you.

Both of his hands are behind his back, as if to hide something, and he sits back down in front of you. A small smile plays on his lips, but the nervousness in his gaze overpowers it and you wonder anxiously what he is thinking about.

He brings one hand out from behind him to reach for yours, holding it tightly and caressing it with his thumb as he stares at you. You stare back, holding your breath in anticipation of what he was going to say. He keeps his eyes on you as he brings his other hand shakily out from behind his back, his face showing a mixture of affection and complete terror, a look you had only seen once before. The day he asked me to be his girlfriend, you remember bitter-sweetly, trying to read his eyes for any hints at what he was going to tell you.

You notice nothing in them that gives away what he is about to say, and glance down at his other hand that now hovers in front of his chest.

And then you see it.

Holy fuck.

In Roger’s right hand, he is holding a small, velvety orange box. His fingers wrap delicately around the satin fabric of the casing, and his knuckles had gone white from the effort of trying to stop his hands from trembling.

“R-Rog?”

“Y/N...I am so unbelievably in love with you,” he breathes, releasing your hand to slowly open the small box.

It’s as if this were the first time you were hearing him say it. It might as well have been, because you can feel your heart stop beating, and your whole body tingles with anticipation.

“I-I bought this months ago, but I couldn’t figure out the right time to give it to you. I know it’s unexpected, and I know these probably aren't the best circumstances, but maybe- maybe this will help you, you know? If you agree- if this is something you want, then you won’t ever have to worry about me leaving, you won’t ever have to think about our future and be unsure, because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

He pauses for a moment to observe your reaction, taking in the miniscule movement of your head and the twitch of your lips. You hold your breath, your wide eyed stare urging him silently to go on, to ask the question that was balanced precariously on the edge of his tongue, waiting to be tipped over and made tangible for you to answer.

“I want you, darling. Forever. I’ll never stop wanting you, despite what you may think. I can’t fathom a world where we aren’t together, I need you in my life,” he says softly as he slowly takes the ring out of the box to hold in front of you between two fingers.

“Fucking hell, I’d marry you here and now if I could, but I need an answer first. Will you- will you marry me?”

His voice wobbles as he finally lets the words tumble past the barrier of his lips, and he lifts your hand towards the ring slightly, as if the movement itself is the question.

Your heart feels as if it might leap out of your chest, and you have to remember to breathe, sucking in a deep inhale of air. You don’t know whether to smile or cry, so you settle on both, your eyes filling with fresh tears as your lips curl upwards into a trembling bow. But these tears feel different against your skin; they lack the hot, salty pain that you had felt moments before, and instead fall on your face like fresh raindrops, watering the flowers that bloom on your cheeks and cooling the heat of your blush.

For a moment, you forget to answer, and you notice fear flash in Roger’s eyes at your hesitation. You frantically nod your head, not trusting your voice to convey the answer.

The fear immediately leaves his gaze and is replaced with a look of relief and elation, and he brings your hand closer to the ring, eyes darting from your fingers to the shining silver band before he slowly slips it onto you. His mouth morphs into a wide grin when he sees the ring on your finger, fitted perfectly to your delicate hands and reflecting the light coming in from the window. 

You finally regain your ability to speak, and rush to confirm your answer with words.

“Y-Yes, yes Rog, God you have no idea how much I want to,” you continue whispering yes as he pulls you in for a deep kiss, his hands coming to your face so he can keep you there. His tongue darts against your lips and you sigh into his mouth, tangling your arms around his neck and in his hair.

You break apart for air but keep your faces as close as possible, your noses brushing against each other and your breath mingling. The feeling of the ring on your finger is a comforting weight that you have already become used to, the cool metal warming above your hot skin, and you smile at Roger as he looks at you through hooded, content eyes.

“M’so glad I get to marry you. Been meaning to for a while now, but I had to find the perfect ring, and there aren't many jewelry stores around here,” he smiles back at you, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks as he lets out a small laugh.

“It is perfect, Rog. It’s absolutely gorgeous, how on Earth did you afford something like this?” you speak, twisting the ring around your finger with your other hand.

“Pulled a few strings, made a few calls. It was nothing, love, the price doesn't matter, all that matters is that now you can’t get away. You’re all mine,” he smirks slightly, hands sliding down to rest on your waist.

“I’m all yours, Rogie,” you agree, leaning in for another kiss.

“Y’know, I would've married you with paper rings, but this is much better,” you whisper playfully into the kiss, and you feel him laugh against you.

Everything felt right in that moment; it was just you and him, and your surroundings had stilled and faded, washed away by the feeling of his lips on yours and the ring resting on your finger. The dust continued it’s leisurely path along the sunbeams, but you paid it no notice. The wine sat on your desk, stale and forgotten until the next day. The sun slowly sunk under the horizon, and the Earth slowly turned as night approached, and your world was perfect.

[multimetaverse]

We've been fed so much lately!! What do you think of Luke's interview with Lisa and Terri's with pastemagazine? And are you happy Josh told us what he meant by the endgame changing?

Indeed we have anon. I loved Luke’s interview with Shine on Media, Lisa has been a fan of the show from the start and her questions are always good ones. I’m very glad we got confirmation that TJ is gay and that’s canon so there should be no more TJ sexuality discourse. Also nice to know that Luke knew TJ was gay from before the muffin scene and that he and Josh were trying to play things as gay as possible the entire time. We really lucked out getting Josh and Luke to play the first two openly gay characters on Disney Channel; that they were so happy and supportive of these roles and always did their best to come through for the audience. And nice to know that they both wanted the Tyrus story line to go faster, as did we all. 

Another anon asked me why Terri wouldn’t have done a chemistry test with Josh and Luke when they were casting TJ which is a good question. Certainly the casting directors would have had that in mind since they cast someone Josh’s age and they obviously didn’t cast Luke for his basketball skills or skills at playing a villain. They did luck out that Josh and Luke ended up being such close friends and having such great on screen chemistry. I don’t think it’s a surprise that Luke’s acting got much better after 2x05 as TJ had an actual purpose and motivation. Terri really should have told him from the start but she would have had to if not by 2x08 then 2x11 for sure, as there’s no way to do the swingset scene if the actors and director and editors don’t all know that it’s a romantic scene. 

 It’s wild that Terri never took steps to make sure either Luke or his family weren’t homophobic or at least unwilling to play a gay character before bringing him on. That would have been a dark timeline, TJ either being written out early on and maybe some new character brought in to take his place or TJ still be used for the dyscalculia story line but then being dropped after S2 and likely no one replacing him as Cyrus’ love interest in S3 given how much more censored the gay story line was in S3.

I’m glad Josh came clean. That they were unsure that Tyrus would ever canon was my best guess and I’m working on another ask about it and laying out how the Tyrus story line in S3 has no real direction and with the exception of the gun plot is just fluffy or angsty filler. It’s sad to know that Tyrus came so close to never canoning and I can’t imagine how depressing it must have been for Josh and Luke to film the entire season not knowing if the Tyrus story line would ever have any pay off. I’m glad though that Terri was at least upfront with them that she wasn’t sure if she’d get canon Tyrus approved in the finale. A lot of Josh’s comments and actions come off much sadder now, like when he was so happy that Asher said Tyrus was real in their October press tour or when he commented on tumblr that the press tour was the first time Disney had let him speak openly about Tyrus. He must have been desperately seeking validation and any kind of hints he could that Disney would actually allow canon Tyrus. 

That being said, the cast should never have been allowed to talk about Tyrus so openly and so often when they had no guarantee it would ever happen. All those cast interviews they did back in October almost ended up being massive queerbait. I don’t blame the cast as they’re all teens but the adults in their lives should have stepped in and reined things in. 

Terri’s paste magazine interview comes off as extremely disingenuous especially in regards to the Tyrus kiss. I’m surprised so many people bought her spin but if she couldn’t even get permission for canon Tyrus until the very end of production which was well after the show had been cancelled then how on earth was she ever going to get a kiss or anything else approved? I could claim that I choose not to live in a mansion because it doesn’t fit my lifestyle but it’s not a real choice because I could never afford to buy a mansion just like Terri would never have been able to get a kiss approved or Cyrus saying aloud that he had a crush on TJ or Tyrus slow dancing or Cyrus founding a GSA club at school, or anything else she wants to pretend she could have done if only there had been one more season. And her ‘’queerbaiting and Disney censorship’’ instagram post back in November was wildly inappropriate when the gay story line was being obviously censored and when the entire Tyrus story line almost ended up being nothing more than queerbait. And for her to attempt an internalized homophobia story line in what she knew were the final eps of the series with a character she had no idea if she could ever confirm is gay is incredibly stupid. 

Still I do feel sorry for Terri as I truly don’t think she knew when she brought TJ in that it would take this long to get so little pay off. The Tyrus story line began in the 20th ep of the series and didn’t canon until the 57th aired ep, two-thirds of the entire series went by before their feelings were explicitly confirmed. The look back was a huge mistake and built up expectations too high even with it being edited but logically if Disney approved TJ looking back at Cyrus in 2x25 it would have been a positive sign that they were open to exploring Tyrus at the time as the unedited look back would have let the audience know TJ was gay which would have given Terri reason to hope she could get them together before 3x20. I think it’s interesting that Josh compared canon Tyrus in S3 to Cyrus coming out in what was originally 1x13 when he’s talked before about how Cyrus was always slated to come out to Andi in 2x13. It really does suggest that Disney more or less let Terri write what she wanted for Cyrus’ arc in S2 which also fits with the Tyrus story line flowing very well before cracking down hard in S3.

Personally, I think the most interesting thing we learned from Terri’s interview is that they learned they would be cancelled when they were going to write 3x10. Looking back, 3x10 does seem like a rough dividing line for a lot of stories. Jonah’s panic attacks are addressed in 3x11 then dropped, Jamber is resurrected in 3x12 along with the wish and Amber suddenly becomes much more prominent in the final half of the season, Walker and Wuffy are disposed of, Marty is brought back and Muffy quickly set up to be endgame. Now that we know that Terri didn’t want endgame Jandi and didn’t know if she would ever get endgame Tyrus we can see why it was so important for the show to bring back Marty so Buffy could get her originally planned endgame. Interestingly, Andi’s art isn’t brought up again until 3x16 which is also when the S1 party was brought back up again which suggests that they didn’t settle on the finale party until then. 

There’s one other big moment that happens right after 3x10 which is Cyrus using the word gay and coming out to Jonah in 3x11. I wrote this back in February after the Salt Lake Tribune spoiled that Cyrus would come out to Jonah:

‘’It’s nice that now all of Cyrus’ closest friends know about his sexuality but this does also read as a potential wrap up of Cyrus’ sexuality arc; Cyrus has come out to Buffy, Andi, and Jonah and is proud and confident in his identity and to label himself as gay, quite a far cry from the scared sad Cyrus we saw when he came out to Buffy. With Jonah now in on his secret there’s no more mystery left among his friend group and no need to talk about it again if that’s the path Disney chooses. I do think Terri got some stuff approved in the finale but this ep could very easily provide enough rep that Disney feels fine with having a quiet Korrasami style endgame instead. ‘’

It turns out that my sense of foreboding was correct as 3x11 was written as a potential series finale for the gay story line as they had no clue if Cyrus would ever be able to get together with TJ and indeed Cyrus never did discuss his sexuality ever again. 

I’m glad we have a lot of the missing pieces filled in now. I’m also glad I wasn’t a cast or crew member as it seems like S3 would have been an anxious nerve wracking experience, waiting to see if the story line that had been planned from the beginning of S2 would have any pay off. I’m eternally grateful to Terri and Josh and Luke for what they managed to do and the history they made. And thank god Gary Marsh, for whatever reason, decided at the last minute to let those final 40 seconds of the bench scene to make it to air.

[blankdblank]

If You See Him Pt 2

… Pt 1 ...  Brief mention of poisoning and miscarriage but otherwise angsty/fluffy

“Music of the night”

*.*

Two days. Two days you had been trudging along the now snow coated path and another deep sigh left a huge plume of mist from your lips and you grumbled remembering you still had to the next bend in the road before you could finish off your next lembas bar. One of your habits packing snacks just in case, well it certainly was in case territory now. “Half Vanyar, half bottomless pit.” You nodded, “Great genes. Immune to the cold but not the buffet table,” a groan left you at the growl your stomach let out. Again the wind kicked up and fidgeting your fingers around the strap on your shoulder as you tried to ignore the imaginary sound of a motor you had once again found yourself dreaming up in hopes of it whisking you off to food.

All of a sudden a hood came up on your left and you heard a voice calling out, “Car break down?”

Turning your head you blinked at the change of wind blowing your hood back nearly knocking you back a step, “Lotta wind,” you mumbled.

“Jaqi?” Instantly your eyes snapped up and your mouth fell open as the couple in the back leaned forward looking at the woman who had supposedly died centuries ago.

“Dew Drop?!” In more of a shout than a whisper you had imagined you took in the face of your long lost fiancé who had fled when the war shifted to Doriath leaving you lost to everyone you knew. “What the-,”

Your hand latched onto the frame of the window in another gust of wind as Gimli forced his door open saying, “Here, I got these.”

Collecting your bags while Legolas leaned over the passenger seat to let you inside, “Climb on in.” Carefully you kept hold of the door the wind swung it open and you climbed inside while Gimli carried your bags, closing your door behind you, he carried into the back seat to slide over it into the back before tugging his door shut.

Once inside Thranduil rolled the window up and watched as you reached up to fling the braid tangled around your neck over your back turning to look at Legolas as he asked, “Were you driving?”

You shook your head, “No. I,” you shrugged saying, “You know that ski resort?”

Thranduil, “Please tell me you drove! It’s at least a days drive from here!”

You nodded, “Managed it in two, would have been here by lunch if it wasn’t for that ice, and that, crazy, crazy looking goat.”

His dark brows were knitted together and you couldn’t help but smirk, “You got your dad’s forehead wrinkle.” As his eyes scanned over your face you asked, “He ok?”

Thranduil nodded, “Yes, Naneth too. How-,”

Finishing his sentence you said, “How’d I make it?” He nodded and you wet your lips, “Oddly enough, and, there was this pipe thing, they burst first, so I grabbed my bag, we all poured out in the halls then it just all flipped and tore apart as it rolled, when we tipped over I got sucked under a hard current. Then there was this school of turtles, that bit my bag after I hit my head and helped me out to the surface. Most of us actually made it, a lot of fish, and we washed up on Alqualonde. Mom and Dad made it to Tirion, but they got sick after from the fumes. I got sent to Lindon to the grottos with the other orphaned teens after I heard Doriath was gone.”

Thranduil wet his lips again and you looked to Legolas who said, “Ada, Gran and Gramps evacuated to Lindon too, then went off out here to Greenwood. Met mom out in Rivendell on a trip,” In Thranduil’s anxious nip at his lip Legolas added, “Didn’t last a year, she found an agent who said he could make her famous, just took off when I was two months.”

“Oh-,”

He shook his head to say it wasn’t troubling him anymore, then you looked to Gimli who glanced at Thranduil saying, “You look hungry.”

Thranduil nodded and forced himself forward Shifting gears, “Right, you’ve been out here for days you need to eat.”

Gimli again caught your eye as he said, “We got Jenga, you like Jenga?”

Weakly you chuckled, “Once I get the feeling back in my fingers sure.”

Gimli, “Thought Elves didn’t feel the cold.”

“I don’t, but that goat, sort of rammed my hand pretty good trying to take my bag, not broken just a bad bruise, but still,”

Gimli’s grin spread seeing Thranduil’s fingers tapping on the wheel anxiously making him ask, “So, ski resort?”

“Ya, the, well, that’s another lovely gem of a story. I’m on a fifth date with a guy and he answers a skype call from his mother, who in the twenty minute long call she kept calling me different names and insisted I come along to the family ski resort. Flew out, private jet and all, on which he said it’s fine to bring me they invite the help all the time.”

Gimli, “Ouch.”

Legolas, “Asshole.”

You nodded, “And not four hours after he took off to be shoved into his circle of pedigree exes I get called in to talk to mommy. Who says I lack pedigree and if he stayed with me they would cut him off. And I didn’t feel like staying for two weeks, so, I left my key to my closet of a room and started walking.” In your glance at Thranduil who was struggling not to stare at you, “How’d you get out here?”

He glanced at you quickly then back to the road again to steer through the growing waves of snow as the storm picked up, “Live just a couple miles up the road.”

Legolas, “You’d love it, 800 acres. Full Elk herd too.”

In a squeaking grin from you Thranduil felt himself grin and start to blush when you asked, “Seriously?”

He nodded and stole a glance your way, “Seriously. Got tired of the city. I manage the firm from out here, just spend a few months total at my parents place in the city when they can’t manage without me.”

“Oh, before I forget, I have your Grandad’s compass he used to loan me for trips back. It lost one of the opals on the cover in the mermaid tail, but I managed to get it repaired from the water damage at least.”

He nodded, “Ada will be pleased to hear that when he’s steadied breathing after hearing you’re safe.” Naneth might take a few days to calm.”

Legolas grinned, “Good thing we’ll be snowed in for a week with this storm.” His grin stirred yours out and you looked forward at the storm trying not to worry about all you’d missed in his life. On your lap your fingers folded together to keep from tapping them and Legolas asked cheerfully, “Any kids?”

You glanced back at him and shook your head, “Almost, once.”

Thranduil stole another glance at you and Gimli said, “Oh,”

Shaking your head you said, “Not in the plan for me back then. It’s alright.” Looking at Legolas you asked, “How bout you? You must be..? Four hundred?”

Legolas smirked saying, “No grandbabies for Ada just yet, and close, 385.”

You looked to Gimli and he shook his head, “Me? Nope. Adad barely found out Leg and I are going steady, if I showed up with a pebble Adad would never let me out of the house again.”

Peering down at your locked fingers Thranduil caught your free thumb stroking the top of your index finger making his heart pound even harder wondering in you had your ring he bought you under those gloves of yours. Inching up in your seat you spotted a cabin in the distance. Thranduil caught your gaze saying, “That’s it. One of the few in these mountains.”

Gimli, “You live far?”

“Honeycomb square in Lothlorien.”

Legolas, “Gran works near there! In the glass mural building across from the park.”

“I know that one, used to sketch it all the time when I first moved in.”

Gimli, “You work near there?”

“Um, my dark room is there, it’s my spare room in my loft. Not much, but it works for now and the guys next door keep an eye on the place when I’m traveling for jobs.”

Thranduil, “You know them well?”

“No, but they’re King Amroth’s nephews, they study hard and they prefer to give their guards some room to pace since our places split the East portion of the floor, and I can never finish a tin of cinnamon rolls even with my appetite so we split them and they don’t mind looking out for me in passing.” Down the driveway you turned and softly you whispered, “Wow.”

Easing out Thranduil’s grin and making Legolas say proudly, “Ada spent a good fifty years perfecting the place before we moved in.”

Parked inside the garage you opened the door and eased out feeling like you were ready to split in half but you remained calm and before you could turn around Legolas and Gimli had slid out with your bags saying, “We’ll unload, Ada you can give her the tour!”

Weakly you chuckled and turned seeing Thranduil strolling up to you looking like he was going to hug you, at least until your foot shifted like you were going to step back, in a minor crouch a few inches you said, “I really want a hug but can I use your bathroom?”

Thranduil chuckled in relief and pulled his knitted cap off pointing to the door he guided you to, “Absolutely.” Unlocking the door he watched you fumble your jacket open you shrugged out of leaving it by the second door on the left he pointed to, “Through there.” In your failed bump of the door with your heel he reached out closing it and stood along the wall as the couple carried everything in passing him in his spreading smirk hearing your muttered fumbling with your gloves and belt.

Biting each glove you dropped them to the floor and tugged your belt free and wiggled your pants and jeans down and sighed bending in half nearly as the flood gates burst free as soon as you sat down. With the flush you stood and inhaled deeply buckling your belt again over your secured jeans and walked to look at yourself in the mirror while the water ran. You didn’t look too awful and looking down your eyes snapped straight to your ring as you washed your hands, your right clearly bearing a telling dark bruise on the last two knuckles up over the back of your left hand. To yourself you mumbled, “Damn goat.”

Turning around after drying your hands you bent to pick up your gloves and hat feeling your sweater shifting around you as you stood, behind the door you opened Thranduil’s eyes fell on you in the turn of his head as his grin eased out again. “Thank you,” exiting the doorway you peered up at him and saw his lifting your coat he’d picked up.

“This way. I know Legolas said that it was perfected, but sadly I only have two beds.” He stole a glance at his son passing, “’Someone’ got sick when he was ten and decided to get sick on the guest bed instead of in his toilet. Never had a need to replace it.”

Legolas rolled his eyes, “I had a fever and the shower monkeys lit the toilet on fire. The guest room was the only safe room.” Giggling to yourself you followed him through the tour starting in the living room where he hung your coat up and shrugged out of his. An action luring his eyes to you taking in his much broader defined frame after years of working these lands and building this home making him turn his head to keep himself from ogling your slightly more matured and toned figure. Gimli took to feeding the fireplace as Legolas ensured the crystal lamps were glowing while you eyed the portrait of an Elk over the mantel.

The kitchen was next as it was just to your left and the laundry, pantry, main study along with the bare spare rooms around the music room, then he led you upstairs where his office and the double master bedrooms were located across from Legolas’ study. Guiding you from your inspection of the growing storm outside, “This’ll be your room.”

Smirking to his broad back you followed him inside asking, “You mean out of the two beds I get to bump you out of yours?”

“You’ve walked for two days!” Turning around he caught your brow raised stare at the massive bed he could lay across and still have over a foot to spare with your bags at the foot of it, “I don’t care how much you argue you are taking the bed.”

In your challenging smirk his way one split across his face and you said wiggling your fingers at your sides, “I bet if I hit just the right spot I could win that argument.”

“You are not tickling me out of this.” In his deep inhale looking you over fully he missed your hand lifting to pinch and tug on the sweater over his belly drawing him closer. Tightly you were latched around his torso and his arms folded around you in return pinning you to his chest with his head lowering to nuzzle against yours feeling your hands clutching at the sweater on his back. “I never should have let you go.”

In a whimper you mumbled into his chest, “Ow,” Opening is eyes as you retracted making his eyes scan over you falling to your badly bruised hand your other hand was cradling, “Sorry, damn goat.”

Tenderly his hands cradled yours turning it over in his hands then he said, “We need to coat this in creams and brace this.” You nodded and he said, “First aid kit’s in the laundry.” Smoothing his free hand across your back in guiding you back downstairs.

“You’re not giving up your bed if I have to tackle you onto it.”

Playfully he rumbled back keeping your hand level, “You know how that always ended.”

“You in my skirt?” In your giggle he rolled his eyes chuckling to himself, “Though your hips are a bit too broad to fit most of them now,” making him chuckle again.

Leaning in he rumbled by your ear seeing the couple readying supper, “Trust me, if I want to try them I will find a way.” Calling out he asked, “Little Leaf could you fetch the First Aid kit?” To which he hurried to fetch as you sat down on the couch he led you to. Sitting on the table across from you he thanked Legolas for the kit and let your hand settle on his knee while he found what he needed, when he looked again with bruise cream in hand his lips parted seeing the ring he’d given you on your index finger. Tenderly he swiped a finger of the cream over your bruise, “It doesn’t feel broken, that’s good, still binding would be wise. And preferably no more battling goats.”

“He started it, stubborn jerk.”

“And just what did you get out of it?”

“The satisfaction of scaring off a goat.” Making him chuckle, wetting your lips you said, “Would your landline work still?”

Thranduil nodded, “Yes, you need the phone?”

“I was going to call my neighbors, they like having my current locations in case they need me.”

He couldn’t help but smirk, “They must really love you.”

“I am an excellent neighbor and I’ve done a few family portraits.”

“Ah, there it is, Royal Photographer.” Making you roll your eyes in a weak giggle.

“Nowhere near that official.”

His gaze lowered to your legs as he set the support brace he wrapped around your bandage coated hand. “Do your feet hurt?” Catching your eye he asked, “Hopefully you didn’t kick the goat and break a toe or something.”

You shook your head, “No, they don’t really hurt..”

His brow inched up, “Not really?” Exhaling he said, “Alright, one thing to do,” once he was done with your hand he reached down to grab one of your feet to start unlacing your boots he set aside along with your socks. Tenderly he inspected the pair of them that he began to rub saying, “After dinner I’ll pour you a bath so you can relax,” His eyes darted to yours, “No arguments.”

All at once it washed over him and at your playful jab of, “Well you’ve got me by the foot, how could I possibly argue?” You were here in the home he had built for you, alive and healthy, in tact for the most part and hopefully after dumping your ex two days ago possibly willing to give the both of you another chance.

Legolas chuckled coming up to your side offering you a hot toddy, saying, “To help warm you up.”

Flashing him a grin you accepted it, “Thank you.”

His other hand passed you the phone, “For your neighbors. I’d say we’ve got half an hour maybe for reception.”

Thranduil hummed in, “More like ten, till those darker clouds close in when the wind shifts again.”

Gimli’s head popped in saying, “Let me know when you’re off the phone so I can close the storm shutters.”

You nodded and nipped at your lower lip dialing the number on the adorable phone receiver shaped like a sleeping Elk you raised to your ear. Three rings later and you heard, “Coltov cookies, how may I direct your call?”

Smirking to yourself you said, “Hey, it’s Miss Pear from next door,”

“Ah, how is the ski trip?”

“Didn’t go as planned, wanted to let you know I’m still up in the mountains.” Stealing a glance at Thranduil, who was staring at your foot pretending not to listen in smirked as you said, “That fiancé I told you about, ran into him and he’s letting me stay with him through a storm,”

Legolas tapped your leg, “You’re welcome as long as you want.”

You nodded and glanced at Thranduil, who peeked up at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes as you heard, “Might we have the address and record this number for his home?”

You mouthed for the address and Thranduil answered allowing you to relay it before well wishes were given and the call ended freeing you to hand the phone back to Legolas, who asked, “That’s it?”

You nodded, “That’s it. Really don’t need much. I’m not that special to them.”

Legolas stood, “I beg to differ. No doubt if your ex has said anything they are calling off a full scale search for you. You don’t need to make another call?”

You shook your head, “No, had an assistant few decades back, but we took different paths.”

Gimli hurried out to switch the key in the control box closing the metal shutters outside the house, “She stole from you?”

“In a matter of speaking.”

Legolas, “Why do I detect a matter of boy troubles wafting up?”

Weakly you chuckled saying, “I was in a relationship with her brother, but somehow along the way when I told her I thought I was late something snapped in her, she loved me more than she let on, or more than I cared to admit. Long story short I ended up in the hospital with poisoning, and he left me and took everything not bolted down when I had my miscarriage. Said I was barren and I broke his sister, who was committed to an institution for 200 years.”

Gimli sat on the arm of the couch next to you as the other two sat open mouthed looking at you for a moment as he asked, “So little?”

You looked at him, “They were from Bree, Men, not Elves. They died over three centuries ago.”

Thranduil lowly whispered, “Jaqi-,”

You shook your head, “It had to happen. He was nice, at first, and I was in a weak place after my parents and everything. But then I met Rumil, a friend of mine, he helped me move to Lothlorien, gave me a job in his gallery till I could buy my own camera, loaned me one of his till then too. I’ve grown since then and let it be.”

Gimli popped up at a ding, “Ooh, the roast.”

Trotting away making you smirk and look up at Legolas, “Good choice. I know a thing or two about Dwarves, he must be a stunner.” You looked at the now blushing blonde, “You better hold onto that one, bet he knows the best songs to lull you off to sleep.”

Thranduil chuckled as Legolas nodded and cleared his throat awkwardly before saying, “Ya Gimli, I’ll get some apples!” Darting out of the room making Gilmi glance through the doorway at your giggling self and Thranduil with his shoulders shaking in his struggle not to laugh.

Softly you asked, “Did I say something?”

Thranduil shook his head still chuckling then answered, “No, just still in his bashful phase. Only been together a few months but they’re Ones.” As his hands smoothed up onto your ankle he was rolling and massaging at the same time testing for sprains or weariness before moving up to your lower leg after rolling up your pant leg. A white jagged scar splitting up your left leg parted his lips in feeling it yet when he looked down he shifted your leg to see the side of it eyeing the pink cherry blossoms tattooed around the scar camouflaged to be a twisting cherry tree with a resting elk and his mate under it. “From the crash?”

You nodded, “Used to work kids parties a lot and festivals in the summer, didn’t like scaring the kids, wore tall socks till I could afford it.”

“It’s beautiful.” Slowly working his hands up your leg to massage up to your knee.

“Thank you. You have tattoos?”

Thranduil weakly chuckled saying giving your leg a tap, “I have this, on my right side, though I have a squirrel Legolas asked me to add on the Elk’s antlers. Still have the original you sketched up when we were kids, it’s framed in my office, if you missed it. You just have this one?”

“Just that one.”

Releasing your leg he left propped up on his lap he started to rub your other foot and caught your glance at his ring, “Is the ring pinching you?”

You shook your head, “No.”

Legolas again was back and had a refill for your drink you thanked him for, sharing more about his school goals and sharing more about his and Gimli’s plans before asking, “What are your plans for work now? I mean, any special jobs you want besides portraits for the King?”

Weakly you chuckled then answered, “I actually wanted to have a whole show on the mountains,” widening their grins, “King Amroth actually sounds rather interested in it. Encouraged me to try and get out of the city so he could see what I come up with. Even brought my camera on the trip, got a few pictures from the plane.”

Thranduil all but hummed, “Well there’s plenty to capture out here when the storm lifts. Take as long as you need we can show you the best spots.”

“Sounds like fun.” Grinning up at you he worked up over your second ankle and towards your knee until dinner was called when he shifted to lift you in his arms carrying you to the table. Flat against his chest your unwrapped hand rested feeling his heart pounding between steady breaths as you settled in his arms for the few moments it lasted. A joke from Gimli set it off and as if you were in a dusty old vacation homes the dust coated cloths covering the furniture flew off and somehow the centuries just blew away leaving you both at home. Right in front of the young couple footage from old tapes of who the man that shaped Legolas to adulthood once was, bright and vivacious with a near catty joking banter with you, the woman they understood to have been the one to unlock the true happiness in the sullen Elf. Pain had locked his joy away and barely an hour together and the whole house lit up with laughter and joy flooding from stories of his father and grandparents Legolas had never heard before.

Mid squeaking loud laughter while his father bent over shaking with loud laughter Legolas’ cheeks hurt from smiling so wide in anticipation for the rest of the amusing tale, “And then as always we get caught playing an old album and dancing to it, and of course Oropher come in and joins us learning the moves only to drop back into his signature dance.”

Legolas chuckled, “I never knew Gramps could dance.”

In a stunned crack of your voice from you making Legolas chuckle at your open mouthed stare at Thranduil who was wiping tears from his cheeks peering lovingly up at you, “You have robbed this young man.” Looking to Legolas you said, “Give me a minute,” Shaking your head you mumbled, “For shame.”

Popping up to your feet to trot upstairs only to come back down with a waterproof pack etched with maps parting Thranduil’s lips, “You still have that?”

Playfully smirking at him you replied, “Your Ada bought me this traveler’s pack. The only thing that kept my laptop and films safe in the crash.” Opening it you brought out an old laptop you turned on and played an old video out of thousands you had of you and Thranduil dancing as kids awkwardly to an upbeat song used for pairs dances usually for bumping feet or hands to certain patterns in one footed hops or sways to the tune. From a peek in through the door Oropher and Taule came into view trying to learn your unique dance, “Here it comes,” you said breaking Legolas and Gimli’s giggles. Randomly Oropher’s hip would jut out and throughout the dance he would throw one bump after another only making everyone laugh louder as the video flashed through the years showing more proof of his love of the bump to any beet possible.

A few more old videos were shared from Thranduil’s collection as well with you settled somehow between Thranduil’s legs in front of the couch smoothing your fingertips against his bare arms under his rolled up sleeves that were draped around your middle. Slowly his eyes had drooped shut resting his cheek against your head adoring you in his hold. A yawn from Legolas had the film paused and leaning over Thranduil pulled him closer to kiss his forehead saying, “Off to bed you two. See you at breakfast.” Sluggishly the couple stood and made their way upstairs to their room and your head leaned back to settle on his shoulder, “I’ll draw up your bath.” Shutting the lamps down to a low glow as the fire died out he carried you upstairs where he sat you on the edge of the bed to pick your clothes while he started the tub.

Lowly through the walls you could hear Gimli humming ‘Music of the Night’ making you smirk through hearing Thranduil lighting a series of calming candles in the bathroom meant to lull you into a peaceful state after two days of travel. When he entered the room again his loving smile in looking you over made you snap back to a defensive joke to hide your fear of his possibly being nostalgic and not open to another chance. “So I take it you often get to hear the Music of the Night?”

Rolling his eyes he turned and shut the door severing the music and you giggled at his hummed answer of, “I do not think about their ‘music making’. Up you get.” Scooping you up in his arms, right where he wanted you to stay where he could be certain he couldn’t lose you again. To the tubs edge he set you down then added some oils and herb salts to the bath as you carefully eased your arms through your sleeves to remove your sweater. Your fresh clothes were set on the sink and when you were stripped and helped to clip your hair up you lowered into the tub while he chose his own change of clothes then sat on the edge of the tub to relax with you.

“Feeling better?”

With a nod you replied shifting your wrapped hand on the edge of the tub to ensure it stayed dry, “You can kick me out when you want you know-,” his lips parted, “Sometimes it takes a while for me to find the right thing to capture on film.”

“I never want you to leave,” he said smoothing his hand over your arm keeping his eyes on yours. “You kept the ring?”

You shrugged saying, “Hoped I’d find you eventually. You wouldn’t happen to be single?” You asked timidly and wet your lips when he shook his head.

“I happen to be very much engaged,” the turn of your head was stopped at his looped fingers easing under your chin as he leaned in purring, “It sounds terrible, but I’ve always considered myself engaged to you, and if not for Leg I would hate having slept with another. In a few days, there’s a lovely spot for a picnic, we could make a day of it?”

“Sounds good to me.”

A finger on his neck had him squirm and you smirked asking, “Is that a freckle?”

Chuckling back a “Yes,” he grinned at you laying his hands over your injured arm.

“Since when do you have freckles?! Show me!” Again he chuckled and your other hand grabbed his sweater over his belly you pulled upwards, “Come on, strip.”

“Oh it’s an order now?” He joked back.

Slowly you began to chant, “Strip, strip, strip,” At the third one he rolled his eyes and reached down to tug his sweater off and gave a quick shiver at your fingertips ghosting across his shoulders and pecs. “I love your freckles.” Making him smirk in his lean in again to relax while you soaked, “Do you want to come in?”

Lowly he chuckled and slowly shook his head, “I would love to but I can’t trust myself naked with you in a tub right now.”

You nodded, “I’ll get out then.”

Thranduil smirked saying, “I’ll move the candles,” anything keep himself from ogling you as you dried and dressed. But a few minutes later he saw you seated on the end of the bed with legs tucked up close to you under his bunched up favorite school shirt he had given you to wear to bed until you could be together again.

He approached the bed and up you got onto your feet urging his eyes to shut at the hands sliding up to his shoulders. A tug of his neck brought him down and in your kiss his arms reacted how they used to, picking you up to wrap around him only the inhuman grumble he gave at the rubbering of his knees made you giggle in his fall above you onto the mattress.

No time at all could have blocked him from knowing just what and where to touch or kiss in a rapid descend through the centuries into your loving moments again in the awkward slide up to the pillows in a stripping tangled mess of love lasting through the night until you finally both gave out and held on for dear life until the morning. And every morning after it was more of the same until once the storm had cleared a grey sunrise found you torn from sleep by a loud shriek.

The source of the noise altogether innocent as Legolas approached the room saying, “Hey Gran, thought you should know Ada’s engaged.”

Her and Oropher both shouted out, “What?!” To which he added, “Not that I’m not glad to hear he’s so happy, however, to who?”

Smirking to himself he said, “Well about a week ago out before that storm we saw this woman just walking down the street, had been walking for days. Brought her home and now Ada says they’re engaged.” His smile spread, “Want to say good morning?”

He didn’t give them any chance and there under Thranduil’s shoulder with him half latched around you and slumped over to the side nuzzling into you a clear shot of your face was given after Legolas brushed your curls back. The phone for the video call was turned and both of your eyes jolted open at the shriek bubbling into a big rehashing of all that had been missed and plans to meat for dinner when Thranduil came back with you to Lothlorien for your work thing, but only to help you pack for a much longer stay with him out here on your land to learn the best spot for your small wedding in the spring.

All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25​, @tigereyesf​, @pastelhexmaniac