#the hesitation when he's actually under the spotlight preparing to go through with it

[immortalled]

Slammed with a lot of feelings about how Nathan tries SO hard to find love in any shape or form that he can get it. It doesn't even matter if it's hollow, he'll take anything he can get.

That's why the fame AU episode is such a good character study. We already knew Nathan was starved for affection and, for all his antics, to be liked, but it really shows how far he's willing to go to get it.

[captainsolare]

All Things Come to an End

A/N: This is my collab piece for @quirkyseastone 's milestone event!

Enemies to Lovers + Fairy Tale AU + Bakugo

Synopsis: When it is time for the heir to the throne to seek a spouse, one champion a month is chosen to go through a series of challenges. Bakugo is the first champion from his village to be chosen in several years and he will do anything to win. You, the heir to the throne, are terrified of change, and will do anything to keep it from happening.

Word Count: ~3.5k

The buzz of the hall came to an abrupt halt as he came onto the stage; Yagi Toshinori, the previous champion had at long last come to pick from their village.

“Hello, citizens of Eikka! As you know, the royal family is still looking for a worthy partner for the heir. Many of you are gathered here today for a chance to join the family, whether that be for social reasons, for wealth, or just to prove you can. Regardless, only one of you has been chosen.”

“This month’s champion, from the village of Eikka is…”

Amidst the anticipation of the announcement Bakugo balled his fists, hoping no one would take notice of the way his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms. His eyes darted from person to person, heart racing as they waited.

“Katsuki Bakugo!”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, had he heard right? Was it actually him? Arms shoved him towards the stage and he stumbled up the stairs. The lights were blinding, he’d waited for this moment for so long, and now it had finally arrived.

“Bakugo, what are you hoping to achieve this month? Not just for yourself but for your village?” Yagi asked, eyes fixated on the young man.

Bakugo blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright spotlights.

“Honestly, I just want to win. I will give this village the honor of having its champion become the first in its history to become a part of the royal family.”

Yagi smiled, nodding at his answer. He then grabbed Bakugo’s arm, thrusting it up towards the sky,

“Citizens, your champion!”

-

You sat leaned back in your chair, feet on the desk as you read the file you were given. You sighed, giving an incredulous look to your first knight, Keigo,

“This is this month’s champion? How boring.” You tossed the file onto the desk with the others from the previous months, “He’ll probably give up within the first week.”

Keigo tutted, “Now now Y/N, I would give him more credit than that. He is ranked number one in his village in all the important areas.”

You scoffed, “Except in diplomacy. How am I supposed to lead beside someone who can’t negotiate his way out of a paper bag without ripping it?”

The corners of Keigo’s mouth twitched, “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

-

Bakugo walked home, chest puffed out and heart soaring. Midoriya, his childhood friend and rival, walked with him, a much shyer figure compared to the newly chosen champion.

“I always knew you could do it.” Midoriya said, eyes sparkling.

Bakugo laughed, “Of course! I always knew I was worthy, now’s my chance to prove it.”

Midoriya paused, shoulders tense, “Aren’t you afraid you might die? The last champion didn’t come home.”

Bakugo stopped in his tracks, causing his friend to nearly stumble.

“Why would I be afraid of a silly thing like death? I’m way too good to die.”

Midoriya straightened, extending a finger and poking him in the chest, hard.

“You better not. I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

-

Bakugo stood at the edge of the forest, heart pounding as he prepared to set off on his journey. This would be it, the fruits of his labor, everything he had been working towards would be decided this month. Everyone in the village had come to see him off, but he had shooed them away, telling them he needed his concentration. Even though it appeared they had left, it still felt as though there were eyes watching him, studying his every move, waiting for him to fail.

He walked, careful to move as silently as possible; oftentimes champions were ambushed in the forests outside their towns, usually by a nameless jealous person who was afraid of their dreams of wealth and fortune being dashed. There was a large crack of wood, and Bakugo spun around, knife clutched tightly in his hand.

“There’s no need for all that, it’s only an old man.”

Bakugo studied the figure before him, it did appear to be an old man, harmless enough, but there was no telling if he had allies in the woods, waiting, watching.

The man laughed, a gravelly sound that grated in Bakugo’s ears. “I brought you an amulet.” As if sensing his inevitable protest, the man continued,

“You may not think you need it, but every little bit of protection helps doesn’t it?”

Bakugo frowned, head cocked to the side as he studied the situation, worst case, he could die, but then again he had a real possibility of doing so in the challenges, or best case, the amulet really would protect him.

He took the amulet from the man’s outstretched hand and put it in his pocket.

“I can’t promise that I’ll wear it, but thank you.”

Bakugo turned on his heel, knife still clutched tightly in his palm, and set off on his journey.

-

“Lame!” You threw a piece of popcorn at the crystal ball you were watching Bakugo through. “You can’t just take the amulet, you have to at least say no first.”

You looked at the papers on your desk, the final preparations for your challenges were made, all it needed was your signature and everything would be complete.

Stealing a glance at the crystal ball showing his progress you smiled, “Ah, I can’t wait to crush another one.”

-

The path to the castle was steep and winding and Bakugo’s legs were aching by the time he reached the gate. A pair of trumpets announced him and the gate opened to reveal you standing there, your first knight just behind your shoulder.

“Greetings champion, I am the royal heir, Y/N.”

Bakugo bowed his head and opened his mouth to introduce himself but you waved him off.

“I know who you are. Katsuki Bakugo, selfish man with an artificially inflated ego who thinks he is better than everyone else.”

His cheeks burned at your words but he held his tongue, there was no way for him to talk back here, you were royalty and despite appearances, Katsuki knew his place.

You smiled, “Congratulations, you just passed your first challenge.”

Katsuki’s head snapped up, “Really?”

Your smile immediately disappeared, “Of course not. You really think winning my hand would be that easy?”

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he had fallen for such a petty trick.

Waving your hand in the air, you turned to walk away.

“This will be hell, I’ll make sure of it. Keigo will take you around the grounds and show you to your quarters. I expect you to come to me at 7 sharp in the morning.”

Keigo bowed as you walked away and you were quickly accompanied by several other attendants.

Keigo took a moment to look over Katsuki with his keen eyes, narrowing them, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N is really something, don’t you think?” He said, an almost daring tone in his voice.

Bakugo’s brows furrowed as he studied the older man, “Yeah, something.”

Keigo turned and set a quick pace, enough that Bakugo had to jog to keep up.

“Here are the training grounds, you can use them at your leisure though I can’t say how much good it’ll do you; for most of the challenges you aren’t allowed to use weapons. The castle gardens are that way, the heir can often be found reading there. There is the castle, obviously.”

Bakugo tried to take in as much information as he could in the short span he was given. Keigo led him inside and the pair walked up a long staircase. A simple door lay in front of them, wooden and unimpressive looking.

“Your quarters are here through that door, try to get rest when you can, you’ll need it.”

Keigo pointed down a hallway, “Down there is the tower. You’ll go there to meet with the heir to get your challenges. This is where I leave you, there is a kitchen stocked with food in your quarters, I presume you can make your own meals, yes?”

Bakugo nodded and Keigo nodded in affirmation.

“You shall meet the heir in the morning to receive your first challenge. Get some sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

-

The door to the tower stood large and intimidating; he knocked once and the door opened, revealing a long winding staircase. When he reached the top, he hesitated, thumbing at the amulet that lay under his clothes. This is stupid, how is an amulet going to help me?

The door opened to reveal Keigo, and Bakugo strode in after a quick bow to the heir.

“Greetings Heir.”

You smiled but it lacked warmth, “Good morning Champion. Are you ready to receive your first challenge?”

“Yes I am.”

Your smile widened, “Glad to hear it. Just to refresh your memory, you have 5 challenges to complete, with varying degrees of difficulty.”

“Yes Heir.”

“Your first task will be to retrieve a pearl necklace from the bottom of the nearby lake.”

Bakugo stiffened, it was winter outside, the water would be ice cold.

“Yes Heir.”

-

Bakugo tried to hide how he was shivering, but the erratic fog of his breath gave him away. The knight accompanying him tried to reassure him with a smile.

“There are 85 pearls in a necklace.” The knight said quietly, as Bakugo stood at the edge of the lake.

Bakugo turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

The knight said nothing further.

-

He could feel the icy water in his veins, in his very soul. It was cold, so very cold, and he had only found 20 pearls so far. He swam to the surface once more, adding a singular pearl to his pile on a tree stump.

Before he dove again, he tapped the amulet, secretly hoping it would bring him strength through this trial. This time when he dove, the water felt warm and when he reached the sandy bottom he found a long strand of pearls.

When he emerged to count them, he was delighted to find that it was a string of 65 pearls, missing 20 to make an even 85.

-

You hissed as he pulled the long string of pearls from the water. How did he get that? I cut those off myself.

There was a knock on the door and it opened to reveal Bakugo, dripping icy water on your floor while holding a complete pearl necklace. He walked towards you and bowed at the desk you sat behind.

“May I put the necklace on you?”

You hummed an affirmative, and he came behind you, shaking hands dripping ice cold water down your back as he tried to clasp the necklace. You hissed from the cold, but the more overwhelming feeling was the heat that seemed to radiate from him. He was so close, for some reason it made your heart beat faster, and that made you seethe with anger.

“Congratulations, you have successfully completed the first task. Go rest and save your strength for the day ahead.”

As soon as he was out of earshot you stood, slamming your hands on the desk.

“Keigo!”

“Yes, my Heir.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, “Was that just a fluke? I cut that necklace myself, there should have been 85 individual pearls and one string with a clasp at the bottom of that lake.”

Keigo’s expression was unreadable, “I don’t know, but I shall endeavor to find out for you.”

He left you sitting at your desk, chewing on your lip in frustration.

-

“Your next task is translating a love poem into the ancient language.”

The paper given to him read as follows,

‘I have loved you since before my first breath and will love you long after my last

You are like the breeze on a hot summer's day, refreshing and just what I need

I will be by your side until the end and beyond it, we are bound by fate forever’

He had spent hours in the library, flipping between pages and pages of books that might give him an answer.

-

You smiled thoughtfully, “Look at him Keigo, so lost in thought. He should be stuck on this one for a while.”

-

As Bakugo pulled book after book off the shelf with no success he absentmindedly thumbed the amulet. He turned the corner to make a pass at a bookshelf he had cleared and there was a single book still left on it. A quick glance showed it was exactly what he needed and he had to restrain himself from running back to his work station.

-

You frowned as you watched him and it deepened as you realized which book he was reading.

“I don’t understand, I removed that book from the library myself.”

Your brows furrowed as you rewound the footage, it was subtle, but you saw Bakugo’s hand briefly go to his chest. There was a flash of silver and you gasped, “It’s that damned amulet, it must be.”

“Keigo!” You called, he appeared at your side at once, “I need you to do something about the amulet that boy is wearing.”

“I shall take care of it at once.”

-

Bakugo examined the manuscript. The poem was somehow more beautiful after you read the translation. He went to the tower with paper in hand, heart hammering at the prospect of reading it to you. The door opened for him immediately and he did the customary bow.

“You were able to translate it?” You asked, an almost imperceptible quiver in your voice.

“Yes, shall I read it to you?”

When you nodded, Bakugo held the paper before him and took a deep breath,

“I love you from my first breath and I love you after my last breath

You are like the wind on a hot summer day, refreshing and exactly what I want

I will be with you until the end, and we will be bound forever”

He hoped you couldn’t hear the shake in his voice as he read it.

You paused, cheeks hot with embarrassment,

“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your second task.”

-

You sat on your balcony watching the moon when Keigo appeared next to you.

“Is it done?” You asked, not bothering to hide the shake in your voice.

“Yes.”

Keigo sat next to you on the lounge chair as you patted for him to sit down. You leaned against him, a silent plea for support.

“Keigo?” You asked after a while.

He hummed in response and you took a shaky breath.

“Is it wrong to be scared? There’s a very real chance he could win.”

Keigo wrapped his arm around you, it’s weight was a welcome comfort.

“Not at all, if he wins, your life will change. But all things must change at some point or another.”

You grabbed his arm with your own, holding it tighter against you.

“But I’m not ready to leave you yet.” You said quietly.

Keigo smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head, “Oh little bird, all things must come to an end. But I will be here always, your faithful knight, nothing more, nothing less.” We were never anything more.

You let the tears flow down your cheeks, Keigo held you as you cried long into the night.

-

The next challenge was to move a pile of boulders to the top of a tall hill without them rolling back down. Bakugo carried boulder after boulder up the hill but no matter what he did they would roll back to the bottom.

One of the boulders split and he got an idea, a sudden spark of innovation.

“Am I allowed to use items for this one?”

The knight nodded and Bakugo jumped up, grabbing an axe and a flour sack. He hacked at the boulders until the sun sank low in the sky and his shoulders were on fire, but when he was finished he had a large sack of pebbles.

He took it easily to the top of the hill and laid it down flat, it wouldn’t roll down the hill.

-

You couldn’t help but marvel at his idea, it required adaptability and working with materials you had that weren’t necessarily suited to the job.

He entered the tower with a bow, and you smiled a genuine smile.

“Congratulations Champion, you have successfully completed your third challenge.”

-

Bakugo couldn’t get your smile out of his head, now that he had seen it for real he never wanted to let it go. He somehow wanted to be the reason you smiled, and he would do anything to see it again.

-

“Your fourth challenge is to save someone in distress. Go to town and see what you can do.”

When Bakugo made it to the town he was surprised to find it remarkably empty for a place that was usually bustling. He wandered the city, and only found a dog with a hurt paw.

He sat down and pulled the medicine kit from his bag, coaxing the dog towards him. He gently cleaned and wrapped the dog’s hurt paw and sent her on her way, with a bit of food first.

-

Bakugo was sent to the gardens instead of the tower to receive his judgement, he arrived a bit early though and stumbled across you tending to your plants as you hummed. His heart clenched, it was a little adorable, seeing the normally closed off you so open while by yourself. There was something remarkably authentic about it, seeing your slumped posture, your genuine smile.

Once you noticed him you straightened your posture and your clothes, expression returning to the neutral one of a ruler.

“That was an interesting loophole you found there. Congratulations Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fourth challenge.”

My name. The Heir said my name.

-

“I think I want him to win, Keigo.” You said softly, voice scarcely above a whisper.

Keigo smiled, “That’s wonderful Y/N, I’m so glad.”

You didn’t notice the sadness as he left, nor the tears brimming above his cheeks.

-

“Your fifth and final challenge is the most difficult. You must bring me back a ruby from a dragon’s horde without weapons.”

Bakugo nodded and went to gather the necessary provisions for the journey.

It took four days to reach the mountain where the dragon lived, now he stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to stifle the nervousness threatening to explode from his chest.

He entered the cave with his hands up to show he was not a threat, all weapons left at the entrance to the cave.

The dragon regarded him curiously, “Who are you mortal? Why have you come to this place?”

“I am no threat to you. I only wish to make the one I love happy.”

The dragon chuckled, pillars of smoke rising from its nostrils, “Oh? You’ve come here for someone else? How selfless of you.”

Bakugo shoved his frustration down in favor of taking a deep breath. “I only wish to make the one I want to be with happy.”

“And how can I help with that? Wouldn’t your lover be happier if you returned alive.”

Bakugo remained steadfast, stilling his rapid heart.

“I only wish for one ruby from your horde.”

The dragon laughed once more, this time emitting sparks, “And what shall I get in return?”

Bakugo somehow stood even taller, “An ally, who will make sure you remain unbothered on your mountain.”

The dragon considered his offer for a moment then nodded.

“Very well, you may have a ruby. Be warned though, if I find anything else missing our agreement will be void and I will attack your kingdom.”

He nodded. “Of course, thank you.”

Bakugo picked up his weapons and prepared for the journey back to the castle.

-

You couldn’t help but run to him as he knelt at the gate with the ruby in his hand. You waved him up with your hand and wrapped him in an embrace.

“Congratulations Katsuki Bakugo, you have successfully completed your fifth and final challenge.”

The king came out, announced by a fanfare of trumpets. “There will be a ball tonight in your honor.”

-

Bakugo took your hand in the empty hallway, wanting to pause before you went into the eyes of the public.

“Remember when you hated me?”

You snorted, “I never hated you Katsuki.”

He turned to you with a raised eyebrow, “Oh really? Then what was the artificially inflated ego comment about?”

You gave him a coy smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. “That was a test.”

You opened the door and stepped into the light, hand in hand, until forever.

-

All things must come to an end, but sometimes the good leaves to make room for something better.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Clone Wars) Rex x Reader: For a Good Cause

(Author’s Note: It’s been too long since I’ve written for Rex.  I still love this man...)

   As another lovely female left the spotlight with her date, the announcer bounced back to the center of the stage.  The room erupted with “aw”s and applause.  You leaned back in your seat, eyes sweeping over the crowd of well-dressed attendees.  Nothing seemed out of place.  Even your senses were giving you the “all clear.”  It made you wonder if there was some other reason you were dragged to this event.  Anakin, Ahsoka, and the soldiers from the 501st were more than capable of handling security, so why were you summoned by the General to be the only one attending undercover?  It was overkill.

   Still, you weren’t exactly complaining about having an opportunity to see Captain Rex.  You’d been on an assignment directly given to you by the Jedi Council and had only just returned a few days before.  You were anxious for an opportunity to work with the 501st again soon.

   A gentle nudge against your right shoulder drew your attention.  Senator Amidala had been the one to help you through the event.  from picking out the right outfit to how to blend in, she was your guide. You turned to see her blue eyes shining as she spoke, but her voice was drowned out in another round of applause.  You only caught the movement of her lips.

   “What was that?” you leaned in.

   “You’re up,” Padme said with another nudge to your shoulder, and you gave a humorless chuckle, reaching for your glass.

   “Ha, that’s a good one,” you said as you raised the water to your lips.

   “The announcer just called your name.”

   You swallowed the water.  Hard.  You stared back at her, hoping that it was some sort of morbid joke that she was playing.  That’s when you heard it, the man at the microphone repeating your name as a question.  He was looking at you expectantly.  Actually, several pairs of eyes from the tables surrounding yours were watching and waiting.

   “Padme, I am a jedi,” you said under your breath.  “I think this sort of thing falls under the ‘forbidden’ category.”

“You’re undercover,” she replied, eyes shining mischievously.  “You’re an eligible female.  You’ll stand out if you don’t participate.  Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

   “And what about you?”  

   She cleared her throat, smoothing out the skirt of her dress.  Her gaze suddenly wouldn’t meet yours as she replied.  “You know I would, _________, but...I have other engagements to attend to.”

   Suuuure.  More like she’d be on a date with her secret jedi husband.  You knew the drill.  If it weren’t for the room of people staring at you, you would’ve given her a hard time about it.  Fortunately for her, you were forced to rise from the comfort of your chair and walk up to the stage.

   Money was tight in the GAR.  There were several policies being worked through in the Senate, such as a bill that would mean the production of more clones.  The Republic seemed to be stretched thin as it was, so a few events were held to raise more credits to contribute to the war effort.  One of the activities of this particular gala was the bidding on dates.  It wasn’t anything to be taken too seriously, but the thought of standing on a stage while people put down credits for your time was rather embarrassing.  You didn’t want to know how much credits the audience thought your time was worth, whether it be many or not.

   You stole a look of indignance at Padme while she merely offered an apologetic smile, though there was no mistaking the mischief that still lingered.

   “Alright,” the announcer said, taking your hand.  “This here is __________.  Now, now, don’t be shy.  Let’s give this young lady a warm welcome, shall we?”

   The audience responded with a warm applause, and you tried your best to smile.  You caught Anakin’s amused glance to the side of the stage, and Ahsoka was standing there with arms folded, shaking her head.

   You’d get them back for this.  You knew you would.

   The announcer released your hand and stepped aside to leave you at the center of the stage.  “Would anyone like to start the bid?”

   “Three-hundred credits!” Anakin called, cupping his hand over his mouth to amplify the words.

   The announcer’s brows rose.  “My my, what a bid!  Do I hear three-fifty?”

   Multiple voices rose up at once, and you could barely pick out what voice belonged to which individual in the audience.  Your eyes darted throughout the crowd, brain registering the amount as it continued to rise

   “Seven-hundred-and-fifty credits!”  The announcer boomed.  “Would anyone like to top that?”  Suddenly, a young woman ran out from somewhere backstage and leaned in to whisper in the announcer’s ear.  His eyes were large pie plates as he gasped into the microphone.  “This is just in!  A very generous donor has just made a bid of one-thousand credits!”

   You jaw nearly dropped, and you stood frozen as the announcer pronounced you “sold.”  The young woman ushered you off the stage, and your alarm grew.  Who was this bidder?  Why had he spent so many credits?  And why did he choose to remain anonymous?

   You passed by Anakin and Ahsoka on your way backstage.  “What is going on?” you asked.  

   “Nice going, ________.  You raked in a lot of credits for the war effort.”  Though he was seemingly praising you, his tone carried an amusement that you weren’t sure how to read.  “Better get back there to the bidder.”

   “Why do I feel like you’ve had a hand in this whole thing?”

   “It was a group effort,” he admitted.

   “But it was his idea originally,” Ahsoka chimed in.  “So all blame goes to him accordingly.”

   “Thanks, Snips.”  Anakin rested a hand on each of your shoulders, turning you so he could effectively usher you the rest of the way backstage.

   “Blame for what?” You protested.  “Wait, Anakin, blame for what?”

   Suddenly, your eyes landed on familiar blue-and-white armor, and your mouth clamped shut in surprise.  A pair of kindly brown eyes met yours, though the man they belonged to stood there rigidly, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation at hand either.

   “She’s all yours, Rex.” Anakin said.  “Now, both of you have some time, but I’ll need you back at the barracks for the inspection later on.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   He paused, winking.  “Oh, and have fun.”  Once he and Ahsoka were gone, you turned to the captain.  Rex looked at you, the corners of his lips turning up in a hesitant smile.

   “Captain Rex,” you greeted.  “I didn’t take you for the type to do this sort of thing.”

   “Well, I-I…”  He stuttered, eyes dropping to the helmet tucked under his arm.  “It was Skywalker’s  idea.  He and a few of the men cooked up the plan so you wouldn’t end up with some stranger.  You don’t have to, um, stay if you don’t…”

   “It’s okay,” you smiled.  “I’d like to stick around for this date.  I just hope you know that you don’t need something like this to get a lady’s attention.”

   That seemed to put him at ease. His shoulders relaxed as he chuckled.  The sound of his laugh was so pleasant, it made your smile grow even more.  “That’s good to know.”

   The barracks inspection that Anakin spoke about wouldn’t be for a few hours.  A few hours without strategizing, preparing for battle, or participating in battle… And it was time you would get to spend with Rex.

   He extended an arm, and you looped your arm around it.  “Thank you for allowing me a few hours of your time, __________.  I’ve got a few places in mind I’d like to take you, if you are up for it.”

   “Lead the way, Rex.”

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were (pt2)

 harry acts like everything is good and dandy but reader sees Heather wearing the sweater

part 1 here

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST WORD COUNT - 1,892

A/N: hehe because it was december 3rd, I just had to get this chapter done to post even if it might be a little late but here ya go 

____________________________________________________________

      My guitar rested on my thigh as i brought my head down to lay on the fret, staring at the blank piece of lined paper in front of me. I sighed, turning my head away and just bathed in the silence of the separate room from the main studio. The weight on my chest might of suggested the frustration out of my creative block, unable to produce words or lyrics for the past weeks. Or that I was progressively losing the will to even pick up an instrument, as strumming the strings took a lot of energy for me to do. 

The oversized hoodie I brought kept me warm, but i knew that wasn't satisfying enough. However the idea of wearing one of his hoodies I've place in a closed box in the corner of my apartment hurt too much and that now I'm back in the studio after weeks of trying to avoid coming here at all costs. After the New Year's party, I've done nothing but wallow up in my apartment alone, trying to come up with songs as quickly as possible just so I could get this project done and over with. That proved to be difficult however, especially with Harry trying to call on a normal basis.

  "Helllooo bubs, why haven't you been showing up at the studio eh?" "You said at the beginning of this project that I could work at home whenever I want. I'm just taking you up on that offer." "Of course, you'd remember me sayin' that. How've you been love, haven't seen you in a while though." "Fine, just been doing my job." "Well yeah, can't write all these lovely songs without your talent, can I? You gonna come in tomorrow then?" 

I hesitated for a second, biting my tongue when I felt my eyes pool up again. "I'll just send a pdf of lyrics to you Harry." "O-oh. Well that would conventionally work... yes but you have to come in tomorrow though." "Why? Just text me what you like and don't like about the verses and I'll fix them." "Bubs you know how I feel about in person collaboration. Plus the deadlines are coming up and it'll be easier and faster to have you in the studio." "Okay." He hesitates this time and I could see his brows furrowed together as well as having a hand on his hip. Most likely wearing lose sweats and the knitted cardigan he's been falling in love with over the months. His hair a bit longer than it was last time I saw him and his pink lips quirked to the side in thought. Maybe the bags under his eyes are gone, has been looking more happier lately. More happier than I could of made him to be over the months. "Are you okay?" "I have to go Harry, I'll see you tomorrow." "Oh see yo-"

      He was the first one to greet me when I arrived, and I wanted nothing more than to burst out sobbing when I see his smile. It took everything not to do so, giving him a tight lip smile and quick side hug before sitting down farthest away from him. For the first hour and a half of discussion, I didn't say much and zoned off a lot, tuning in and out of the conversation Harry leaded about a song he had written recently. I felt his glances on me when I turned away, probably sensing my unwillingness to comment so he was considerate enough to not put me under the spotlight in the discussion. In the middle of it, Harry's phone started ringing and he didn't waste a second to excuse himself to answer it. "Hello? Oh hey darling, you almost here?" I froze when he grows a cheesy smile on his face as he walks further to the other side of the studio before telling us to continue without him. I took a deep breathe, not mentally prepared to be in the same room as her. Has she always been coming to the studio or did I just choose to worse day to finally come in? I try to focus doodling in my little notebook, but it grew harder and harder to focus on anything else but the way he crosses his arms and laughs while on the phone with her. From the corner of my eye, it was definite he's completely captivated just hearing her voice and I could just picture the angelic tone of it. I didn't realize I was tapping my pencil till I hear Sarah calling out my name, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay, haven't seen you in a while." I nodded, putting on a smile. "Yeah sorry, been getting a lot of work opportunities and just a bunch of family stuff that's exhausted me." Sarah gives me a look that resembles one of a mother who knows their child isn't telling the full truth, but she nods and pats my hand. "Completely understandable. But that's exciting, new artists been reaching out to you n' all that?" "Ha surprisingly, considering saying yes to all of them." my smile was growing genuine a little, thinking about how content I was with my career. Being a lyricist and songwriter was a definite risky path to take in terms of stability, but it made me happier knowing I was able to to do. "Oh of course, you can totally do it. Probably wanted to see what all the hype was about when Harry couldn't stop talking about you at every social gathering he's been at." Sarah chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. "Yeah?" I quickly looked down, feeling my eyes water as the pang in my chest came back. "Mhmm, acts like Thomas and Mitch don't even exist." I laugh lightly at that, fiddling with my fingers as I focused down on my notebook. I found myself in an awkward situation, not knowing how to continue the conversation but knowing I didn't want to try. I love Sarah, but I was close to break down right there if I tried and it was not the place to do so. Not when everyone is trying to meet deadlines and Harry was about to walk in with Heather at any moment. "Hey, I actually have a lot of emails to respond to so I'm gonna be in the other room." I stood up, taking a guitar and my notebook. "Might actually be better for me to focus in." "Sure, we'll let Harry know." I gave her a grateful smile, walking out into the hallway to a different room. I let out another shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed once I was finally alone. But before I could close the door, I hear her. I peak out to see both her and Harry standing at the entrance of the building, huddled close together. "Sorry I forget it gets this cold in LA sometimes." She says, looking up at him while he rubs the sleeves of his sweater that was wrapped perfectly around her. It was a simple orange stripped sweater. A vintage that Harry bought in Vienna and became one of his favorites. It was just a simple polyester sweater, but it became my favorite too. So it was hard to give it back after wearing it that night we kissed, but fuck was it harder to see her wearing it. Now as I sit alone with no sense of motivation to do anything else but wallow in my own pity I thought about a lot of things. I should be angry, be fuming and cursing at Harry for how he's been acting. I should confront him, make him feel as hurt as he made me for choosing her. Or maybe I should hate Heather, despise her for taking the chance I had with him. But deep down I know I couldn't hate Heather. She's such an angel, it wasn't her fault he's still hung up on her. And as much as the image of his arm wrapped around her kills me, I couldn't hate him either for the same reason. She looked prettier in his sweater than I did. "You okay in here bubs?" As if the tears welling up in my eyes and heavy weight on my chest wasn't enough, the sound of knuckles against the door and his voice calling out my name made me almost sob. "Yeah, I'm good. Door's open." I quickly try to compose myself when he enters the room, giving me that warming smile of his. "Just wanted to check up on ya, been quiet since you got here." Harry looks at me with concerning eyes as he places a hand on my shoulder before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in front of me. Keep your hand on my shoulder, the second it was there all the nerves went away. I wanted to say but instead I fake a smile again, waving it off and shrugging. "Oh no, just have a lot on my plate don't worry." He nods, feeling his eyes on me while I try to avoid his by opening my laptop and skimming through my inbox. "Sarah told me about different singers reaching out to you." He points at my laptop before taking a seat on the chair to the side. I nodded, humming while I typed out quick responses. "Yup, thanks by the way but now I gotta sort out a whole schedule for this year." I took a glance up to see him focused on my song journal on the table in front of us.

“So...you and Heather huh?” The sheepish smile he has tugs my heart strings but I tried to keep from fumbling with my fingers.

“Yeah uhh...” He scratches the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on his hands and looking like a young kid with a crush. “Started talking again and catching up, been working out stuff between us since the party.”

I tilt my head to the side, motioning him to continue. “She’s gorgeous...”

“She’s amazing.”

I finally looked away from him and onto my screen, letting out a little chuckle. 

“So you guys are back together?”

“No no, we’re just sort of figuring things out at the moment.” Though it was an answer I was hoping for, the look in his face was none the less comforting. 

“Well, hope everything goes great. You guys look perfect together.” I managed to say, going back to typing while he only responds with a nod and hum.

There was silence. Does he not feel it too? Uncomfortable silence was never a thing between us but it was prevalent here. "Not gonna leave early are you though?" He says out of no where and I stopped typing for a sec to give my attention to him. "Not going to ditch me for someone else of course." He says it with a laugh, playing it off like an obvious joke... but the way he looked at me. Part of me wanted to scream at how oblivious and selfish that statement sounded coming from him, as if he has no idea the drastic shift our relationship has taken. But I see the vulnerability in his eyes, sensing the subtext in his question that is practically asking me to stay. Stick by his side and help finish this passion project he's dedicated to put out, not only for his fans but for himself. Be with him to figure out what to do next, even if I would be in a different county or continent and working with someone else. Keep in touch throughout because I've become an important person in his life. Even if that person who used to fill that spot came back, he's still here and asking me to stay with him in a similar sense. It wasn't the kind of love I wanted, but never the less, it was still love from Harry. Did the smile I wear at that moment reach my eyes? When I placed my hand on top of his in reassurance, was the hesitance obvious? Maybe he did notice the little signs, but he took my hand in his anyways and placed it against his heart. 

"Of course, 'm always gonna here Harry."

____________________________________________________________

part 3

A/N: guys my heart hurts writing this lol. There’s gonna be one or two more parts of this series, but thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated :)

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficmas Day #9 “Rio rings, are you listening?”

[Rio x Reader]

Word Count: 1.4k

Across the street from the church, you grow more and more hesitant.  It has been a while since you stepped foot in one and even longer since you practiced any faith.  You take a minute to look up at the steeple, illuminated by the warm glow behind colored glass in the window.  Your breath creates quickly dissipating clouds in front of your face as the wind whips in your direction.  You push your hands deeper into our pockets, looking both ways before stepping out into the street.

Your boots crunch over the salt rocks scattered over the concrete steps as you make your way to the heavy wood doors.  Even through your mitt, you can feel how cold the brass handles our as you pull it open and step inside.

The atmosphere is instantly quieter once you pass the threshold and the door closes with a low tone thunk.  Looking around you see an effigy of Jesus on the cross with a spotlight on him.  Your eyes cast downward at the sight, feeling instantly judged and fearful that lightning might strike you down for presenting yourself this late in your life.  Walking down the pew lined aisle, you look around at the candles that line the windows, decorated with faux holly leaves.  You take a seat in the middle of the right side, squeaking under your weight.

Breathing in deeply, your nose catches a faint smell of frankincense in the air, bringing back memories of blessed oil and healing.

“Well, I’m here,” you say out loud, at first to know one in particular but looking up, you remember your audience.  “Or I guess you know that already.”

Looking down at your mittened hands, you have many thoughts but none of them fully prepared to come out.

“Good evening.”

You hop up out of your seat as you look to see a man in all black walking across the front of the church slowly, hands behind his back and looking down.  His voice did not match his stance as he sounds very strong and commanding.  

“Hi!  Uh, I just was looking for somewhere quiet to sit awhile,”  you explain.

He stops in front of you, rows of pews separating yourselves from each other.  

“Are the library’s closed?” he asks.

“Yes.  I mean, no?  I don’t know actually, I can leave though if-”

He raises a hand.  “No need.  Take a seat.”

“Yes, Reverend.  Or Priest?”  You struggle to get his proper titling down.

“You can just call me Rio.  For now.”  

The rasp in his voice seems calming and also violent, as if he just got through yelling at someone or is just about to at any moment because his vocal cords have been worked out.  Preachers do enjoy a stirring sermon to work a collection plate flow.

“Ok, sure.”  You sit down again, even more uncomfortable than before.  Rio looks over the altar, peering up at Jesus for a while.  You can’t help but to stare, curious if he’s going to remain here with you.

“Are you a member of this church?”  Rio asks with his back to you.

“No.  I was a while ago, but I don’t think it counts now.”

Rio looks back at you.  “I don’t think God has a re-registration process for His sheep, right?”

You shrug.  “I think that’s when it’s up to interpretation.”

Rio shakes his head with a small smirk.  He starts to slowly walk his way up the aisle, looking around the sanctuary.

“If it’s how you interpret it, then that is based on what you feel you deserve.  Your inner bias creates that narrative you think is true,”  Rio states.

Biting your lip, you take this in.  “Still, I think there is something to be said about not giving Him the time required to fully show one’s devotion.”

Rio sits in the pew on the other side of the aisle, right across from you.  He stretches his leg out, leaning on the end armrest and looks curiously at you.  For the first time you notice some marking on his neck.

“So you decide to spend your holiday having a religious debate instead of spending it with family?”

“Oh, yeah.  Anywhere is better than having to deal with the mess they bring into my life.”  You say this half heartedly, looking to Jesus at the front again.  

“Then why are you at your childhood church?”

You scoff.  “Do I look that young that you assume I was a child here?”

RIo smiles, looking away.  “Maybe.  Just a guess.”

“You’re right.  And I came here to try and resolve some things.  My family doesn’t know I am here yet.  They will be here tomorrow for Christmas service and I got curious what the place looks like now while...searching for some spiritual courage.”

Rio nods.  “You and your family separated on bad terms then?”

You nod.

“I see.  Then I give you credit for coming up in here even thinking about them.  You seem to be doing alright for yourself, you could just go on and work on yourself without them.”

You turn to him, stretching your face in confusion.  “I am really surprised you would say that.  First, thanks for thinking that.  Life is trash, but you can’t tell so yay!  And two, I thought you would be like I need to keep family close and repair and reach out.”

Rio shakes his head.  “Cuz I wouldn’t say that.  People think too much about how what they do affects others when you have to think is what you do better for them in the long run?  If they don’t respect you or try to, you showing up is going to be disrespectful.  But if the peace is kept between you while you’re gone, stay gone.”

“I can’t help but think that’s pessimistic.”

Rio shrugs.  “Maybe it is, but some pessimism gotta be healthy.  It’s looking at the world for what it is and accepting what you can’t change then adapting.  Just because you’re away doesn’t mean you can’t love them or they love you less.  But some people just can’t get along.  It’s water and oil.”

You sit there flabbergasted by this man of God’s advice.  Have you been looking at this completely wrong?  Has the spirit of Christmas made you think of an artificial means of reconciliation that you aren’t prepared for and may never will be?

“Hey, Rio…” you ask in mid-thought.

“What’s up?”

“Before I head out, I just gotta know, what are those markings on your neck there?”

Rio reaches for his collar, holding his neck with a smile on his face.  “I don’t think you need to see this in a church.  I’ll let you guess though.”

You squint your eyes at him.  “If I had to guess, I imagine it’s something from...a past life?  Maybe you used to be into somethings and you got a...tattoo?”

Rio puts a finger to his lips with a wink.  “Past lives never really are the past though.”

You sit back intrigued.  “Wow, I have never seen someone in church...like you.”  You laugh nervously, enjoying his smile back at you when a man from a back door comes out in a jean jacket, skinhead with more tattoos you can see.  Rio stands up, smoothing out his shirt.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of.  I have to help the preacher prep for tomorrow’s service.”

Your eyes widen with surprise.  “You’re not the preacher?  Oh man, I’m sorry!  I just assumed, being in all black and I thought you were here alone.”

“It’s ok.  Black is just more professional.  It’s my color.  It’s powerful.  You can consider me the preacher's assistant with...finances.  But I’m glad we got to have a talk while you were here.”

You stand up, reaching out a hand.  “Me too.  It’s nice talking to someone with their head on straight.  I’ll think about all you said.”

Rio takes your hands firmly, looking down from it to you.  You feel exposed under his gaze but unwilling to turn loose from it.

“I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.  Should be a good turn out.  Good message from the big man.”

He lets go of your hand and you’re only sad you didn’t take your mitt first to know how soft or rough they were.  He makes you want to know more about him but the night is getting later.

“Ok.  I’ll be here.  You have a good Christmas Eve.”

“You as well.”  Rio nods to you as he joins his counterpart in the backroom.  You walk toward the doors you came from, looking back at the empty sanctuary, leaving with a feeling you didn’t think you’d have but is as close to a holiday spirit than you ever had.

@chaneajoyyy​

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt.4

AN: YAY its finally here! Thank you so much to everyone for reading and for your patience! This is the final part of this series. enjoy <3

"Y/N?" a gentle tap on the wall outside your bunk. It was Liz. "We have an interview with Spin in like 5 minutes."

You groaned and pulled your wrinkled sheet over your face, turning away from the sound of her voice, soft and hesitant as though she were afraid the slightest noise would shatter you further.

"You guys go without me," was your muffled reply, "I've hogged the spotlight enough anyway."

" Are you sure? They'll probably be pissed the lead singer isn't there."

"Then let them be pissed."

Liz lingered in silence for a moment before deciding it was best to leave you be. It had been a couple of weeks since you'd found out about Alex's little foray into filmmaking, and a gush of old trauma had emerged new again. All the work you had put in to rebuild yourself and to forge a new life had all but crumbled away in a matter of minutes, and you isolated yourself in response.

You stopped leaving the bus because of the stares. Once rumors had gotten out that there was video footage of you doing the deed, people seemed to glance over at you before whispering insidious somethings among their companions. You didn't need to hear their conversations to know just how humiliating their words were. Things took a turn for the worse when reporters began to have the audacity to ask you about the video, probing into if you were in a relationship with Alex. It was then that you realized he had sabotaged your moment, your success, and made it all about him.

You began to miss a few shows, something you had never done before. But you just couldn't bring yourself to give a damn. Your bandmates kept their distance, realizing you needed your space; but their concern was permanently painted on their faces.

"Hey Y/N," Gavin spoke hesitantly one afternoon, "You know...Gerard's been asking about you."

The sound of his name made your heart beat quicker. You hadn't made an effort to see him since the video came out. "Oh?"

"Yeah he really wants to see you. He's worried about you...we all are."

"I'm fine." you said curtly. "I mean, tell him not to. I'm fine. I just need to be alone."

"You sure? I think some social interaction might do you some good--"

"Gavin, I want to be alone. Please."

He merely nodded before heading out the bus door, finally giving you what you asked for.

Out of respect for the fans, you managed to pick yourself for performances again, but it felt like you were merely going through the motions, your passion nearly extinguished. You became angry at yourself for feeling this way, like you were giving up on yourself and your goals. Between sadness and guilt, there was no bright side you could look to as an escape.

Then, you ran into Alex.

This was what you had really been dreading. You knew how smug he must be, knowing he must've gotten under your skin, his favorite place to be. You'd snuck out of the bus for some much needed fresh air, but you didn't need to go far before you heard your name being called.

"Y/N! wait up!" a chill shot down your spine. You didn't turn around. Instead, you began walking faster.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second--" He grasped your arm, but you pulled it back so quickly it seemed to surprise him.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"C'mon don't be mad."

You couldn't help but laugh at the nerve of his comment. "How could I not be? I didn't even know you had filmed me. I didn't get to agree to any of this! And then you decide to make it public? And you," you said, angry tears building up to a waterfall, pushing a fist into his chest, "you are a nightmare that won't go away! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Alex was calm-- So calm that it only angered you further. "You're thinking about this the wrong way. The publicity could be great--I mean people are already eating it up. They love us together. Honestly? I did us both a favor." He smirked, making your skin crawl. "But there's something else, Y/N. Something you should remember." He leaned forward, speaking into your ear in a low, serpentine voice, "This is what happens when you think you can go off and make something of yourself without me."

You were speechless, your stomach dropping as if it had been kicked. "You're disgusting. I'm leaving."

"Going to see your friend Gerard? Hey, ask him what he thinks of our movie for me. I'm making another one with some My Chem fans anyway." He spoke to you with your back turned, already walking away, but you could hear him smiling.

You halted in your steps, torn between slapping Alex across the face, crying, or simply walking away. After a deep breath and far more self control than you knew you possesed, you chose the latter, swiftly walking back towards your bus to isolate once more.

****

The sun was revolting.

That was the first thought when Gavin flung open the curtain that marked the border of your bunk, your own personal ecosystem that no one had dared enter for the past few weeks. He kneeled on your mattress and reached over you to open the blinds on your wall, and you winced as the sun struck your face like a laser.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N!"

"Gavin, its August."

"Well it might as well be Christmas when you hear what I have to tell you."

You groaned and rubbed your eyes. "What is it? I'm prepared to be underwhelmed."

"I didn't even need to open that window! There's that bright and sunny optimism we've come to know and love."

You hit him with a pillow. "Out with it."

"Alex got--"

"ALEX GOT KICKED OFF WARPED TOUR!" Liz shouted, bursting into your bunk from out of nowhere.

"What the hell Liz! I wanted to tell her!"

"Too slow!"she teased.

Your head was reeling. "Wait, wait, wait....what? How?"

"Don't know all the details but it definitley had to do with his...activities. Turns out he was asking underage fans to flash him and his band to get backstage and shit. Someone snitched I guess, thank god. The whole band's been kicked off and banned from Warped tour.

For the first time in forever, you laughed.

You practically cackled. You laughed so much that it felt like you couldn't stop.

"I think we broke her." Liz muttered to Gavin.

"That's fucking amazing." you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

"It is, and its good to hear you laugh again." Gavin said. "Come out with us later, to celebrate."

"I will sometime, but I'm still not quite ready. People are gonna try to ask me questions, I just know it. I'm still not up for it."

Liz and Gavin nodded. "We'll be here when you are."

***

Later that afternoon a few quick knocks sounded from the bus door. You debated getting up to answer it, but human interaction was the last thing you wanted right now. There were a few more small knocks; and you able to ignore the unwanted visitor until, after a moment of silence, something slid under the door. Once you heard their footsteps disappear into the distance, you peeled yourself from your nest on the couch to investigate.

It was a white envelope with your name scrawled across the front. You hesitated for moment, wondering if another piece of your past was about to jump out and bite you. But after steeling yourself you pressed on, your fingers swiftly retrieving the mysterious contents.

You immediately smiled. It was a card with a drawing of you on the front, in a style that was unmistakably Gerard's. You were on stage wailing into the mic, confidently waving your middle finger. You couldn't help but laugh.

Fuck em all. The world needs you out there. If you're feeling up to it, come to our set tonight.

Hope to see you there.

-G

You closed the card and reveled in the much needed buzz of happiness it gave you. Gerard. You thought he would've have been angry with you since you had all but ghosted him these past few weeks, but that clearly wasn't the case. Your legs wanted to run after him, but you as you were covered in dorito dust and sadness, you decided to stay put. You'd make yourself somewhat presentable and then see their performance tonight.

***

You stood just off stage,  just hidden enough in your oversized hoodie to feel comfortable. Right before they began their set, Gerard turned and saw you, eyes widening with a glad surprise as though he hadn't thought you'd actually come. His expression quickly melted into a welcoming smile, and you couldn't help but break out into soft grin of your own.

The band greeted the crowd, already energized and cheering them on. You'd expected them to launch into a song, but instead Gerard began speaking.

"This is a special set tonight guys, because someone very important to me is here. Someone so strong, so kickass that sometimes I wonder if she's even a real fucking human being." He glanced over at you, eyes electric and impassioned, immediately i heat rise to your shrouded cheeks. "Well some asshole tried to hurt her. Tried to make her feel small. But I want her to remember she's too fucking amazing to ever let someone make her feel that way."

You could feel the sting in your eyes as tears began to build.

"And that goes for all of you out there, cause these same assholes have been messing with fans too. So if you ever see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands asking you to show them your tits for backstage passes, I want you to spit right in their fucking faces and yell 'FUCK YOU!”

The crowd went crazy, and you couldn't help but let out a small cheer as well, despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N," Gerard breathed, "This is for you." and with that, the band launched into one of the most passionate sets you'd ever seen. You stayed for it all, loving every moment. As soon as it was finished, Gerard thanked the crowd and made a beeline off stage, directly where you had been stationed all evening.

His eyes were dancing with happiness at the sight of you, pumping with the adrenaline of performing, sweat still dripping from his dark hair. "Hi," he said,pausing for amoment as though he was holding back from so much more, "you came!"

"After the invitation I received? How could I not?"

"So you liked it?"He beamed, his cheeks, pink from exertion, reddened further. "I wanted to do like a mini comic but I ran out of time." As he grinned, fresh crimson gleamed from a small split in his lower lip. What you thought had been makeup turned out to be a genuine injury.

"You're bleeding." you observed softly.

His brows furrowed in confusion, a finger darting to his lip. He dabbed it, smearing blood onto his chin.

"Damn, again? Don't worry, it's nothing."

You didn't hesitate to grab a tissue from your pocket, step forward and gently press it against his cut. He looked down at you with affection, causing you to look away as your heartbeat picked up its pace. Instead you analyzed his face and noticed it was patterned with small bruises.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me. What happened?"

It had been just the two of you speaking intimately just off stage, but crew and media began pouring through and milling about the area. You realized just how close you were standing to Gerard, and pulled your hand back when you noticed people watching. A pew passerbys patted Gerard on the back, offering their compliments of the band's performance. He quickly thanked them, barely turning his attention from you, afraid you might run off. He grabbed your hand, leading you to a quiet area.

"I may have gotten into a fight."

"What!? You don't even leave your bus, how did you get into a fight?"

"I had to. Someone very important to me was being hurt."

You stared at him for a moment, putting the pieces together in your head. Gerard knowing about the video, Alex's sudden departure from the tour...

"Gerard, you didn't."

"I did, and I'd do it again, Y/N. Besides, you can't say he didn't have an ass-kicking coming to him."

You let out a soft laugh, but your vision began to blur as tears welled. A swirl of emotions welled inside of you, tumultuous and much more than you had anticipated feeling tonight. You were touched that Gerard was so concerned about you. Embarrassed that he had to get involved at all. Glad that he did, after all.

At the sight of your tears, he stepped closer. It was him now who tenderly wiped your face, brushing away stray tears with his thumb.

"Jesus, Y/N, I can stand a few punches to the face but I can't stand seeing you cry."

That was all you needed to hear to get oceans pouring from your eyes instead of streams. You embraced Gerard, burying your head into his shoulder. Gerard folded his arms around you in response.

"Y/N I want to tell you...I mean I hope you know...just how important you are to me and how I feel about you. You deserve to be happy."

"You're so nice to me that I almost don't know how to process it." you admitted beneath an awkard, tear-ridden laugh. "Thank you. You need to know you're important to me too. I..I just--" You planted an aggressive kiss on his cheek, unable to express your myriad of emotions in words.

"There, I think that expresses everything."

"Everything?"Gerard asked, brushing a strand oh hair behind your shoulder, "There's a few points I'd like to add."

His hand cupped the side of your face and your lips met, softly at first, a salty mixture of tears and coppery blood. The kiss quickly deepened, caught in your own world, unable to get enough of the taste of each other. That is until Gerard winced and pulled back, blood dripping from his lower lip. His cut had only deepened from your exertions.

"We'll have to postpone this until that's better." you said, handing him another tissue.

"Damn. Kinda regretting that fight now." He laughed.

"Don't regret it. Besides, its not an entirely bad look on you." you teased.

A bashful expression crossed his face as he brushed his hair back from his face.

"I hate to say it but I have a press thing to do in a few minutes with the guys. Meet me in my bus later?" He said, offering another peck on your cheek.

"I'd be crazy not to." you replied, ambushing him with one final hug before he walked off.

You realized something immediately. Despite everything, the heartache, the surprises--you regretted nothing. And as you lifted your fingers to your lips, still buzzing from impact, you knew this had been a tour that changed your life, after all.

Tomorrow, you'd be back onstage, ready to begin again.

Taglist: @pacifymebby​

[nightklok]

Title: 'Cause I've been hurt so many times, I need someone who will try to soothe me, and not use me Pairing: Abigail Remeltindtdrinc/Pickles the Drummer Rating: E (For one future smut scene but chapter one is T-rated) Tags: Fake dating, Additional tags on AO3 Summary: Abigail considers herself great at her job; she knows how to make a successful album and her track record shows it. Dethklok proved to be the biggest challenge yet but she learned to overcome any hurdle thrown her way. However, what she didn’t anticipate was Seth’s second wedding. Specifically, Pickles’ mother getting on his case about finding a date to the wedding. Logically, she decides to be his fake date for the wedding. Just fake a relationship for a few months until the wedding then 'mutually' break it off; should be easy enough. It’s just the most renowned music producer and most popular musician fake dating. Surely no feelings or trouble will rise out of this.

Chapter One on Ao3 Here! Chapter one is also under the cut

Abigail had learned quickly that working with Dethklok was oftentimes like walking through those Halloween hay mazes blindfolded. Years upon years of working with pretentious celebrities, tight deadlines, and challenges that were thrown her way would never prepare her for working with them. For a group of five who lived together and knew each other the best, it didn’t always mean that they thought the same way and one would think they finally learned what worked best for them after years of working. But for some reason, they continuously went with the same method that never worked out because it seemed like the best to them. And clearly, it wasn’t.

She was no stranger to challenges so when Dethklok proved to be one, she did her usual process of breaking through to them. And that was asking questions to the right people. Charles stated it was just how they were. Knubbler said they were a bunch of dumb jackoffs so she had to hold the least amount of expectations for them...and lower it. Melmord had offered her weed because it would be the only way she could ever handle working with them. Twinkletits had suggested unresolved trauma and perhaps banana stickers would solve it.

She would find soon enough that everyone was right in their own suggestions but it didn’t mean she followed through with any of them. It didn’t take long to figure out that scheduling private sessions with each individual band member was a lot better compared to them being together only to yell at each other. Within a few days of the focus being more on private sessions, the difference being made was incredible. They seemed to thrive better under one-on-one time and having the group meetings at the end of the day so they could go over their progress had helped incredibly.

The only problem that she couldn’t solve was their old habits. Most of the time the sessions were either forgotten or recordings had to take a week or longer just to make sure the sound was perfect. They were still five people with different ideas of how the album could be better; it would be hard to find common ground and even harder to get them to be responsible under her schedule.

It didn’t mean every member was a thorn in her side though. Pickles and Skwisgaar were some of the more responsible ones compared to the rest. They’d sometimes forget to show up but that was expected.

Skwisgaar did have a certain way of speaking about music she couldn’t quite understand but she found herself slowly understanding him the more they recorded his sessions. It became like learning a new language but less on the fun part. Luckily, he was never one to speak much regardless; music did the talking for him and that was a good enough language for them to understand.

And Pickles, despite his years of experience under the spotlight, wasn’t the pretentious celebrity she expected him to be when they recorded together. He did his work without much complaint, left when she was satisfied and his first-week recording for a song would be the last as there generally wasn’t much left for him to retake. He normally trusted her judgment and any criticisms offered were never given for the sake of belittling her. It came from a place of experience and knowledge and it became something she quickly respected him for. He still occasionally missed his recordings, however, but with how time felt so rapid in getting things in order, she didn’t notice he actually began showing up more often.

He couldn’t show up one day due to a last-minute scheduling conflict that day and since he had a valid excuse, she didn’t expect him to show up at all. Deciding to not let those hours go to waste, she spent it contacting Knubbler for a quick meeting. He sent her the tracks he finished for her to listen to and she offered her critique. They were tossing track after track at one another to see what sticks and eventually something did. After sending him the latest track to fix-up by the end of their meeting, she checked her email to go more into the boring parts of her job.

She loved her job without a doubt but it didn’t mean there were some parts she actually dreaded doing. Emails were one of them; business language, having to wait up to a day for a response, and everything else just to show she was a professional despite her name being tied to so many influential things. Maybe she was famous enough to sign off her emails with a ‘k thx’ but didn't quite know if it was even worth the impending backlash soon after. She was known for her professionalism, not lack of.

But the album wouldn’t be finished for quite a while so she simply had to make do with what she could. Regardless, the marketing director wanted to listen to one of the demo songs. The day was winding down, she just had to spend an extra hour or two in the recording studio, then she could grab food, take a long bath and watch a movie until she fell asleep.

The motivation of food and a chance to relax was enough to look through her emails once more as she played the finished track. She didn’t hear the knock on the door but she did hear the door opening but didn’t turn around. She had expected it to be a klokateer doing some late cleaning.

“Abigail?” A voice all too familiar filled the silence. As she turned around, Pickles closed the door behind him quietly as if to not disturb her (even though he already did). He seemed a bit sheepish as he put his hands in his pockets to play off a calm attitude, “I just wanted to know if you still needed me.”

“Well, it’s not the first time you didn’t show up to a session, Pickles.” She answered a little too bluntly. It came off harsher and she had almost expected him to be offended by it but he shrugged instead, “Charles told me you wouldn’t have been able to come today, anyway.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true I have bailed out on a few sessions, but I was planning on showing up to today’s session. I promise.”

She folded her arms, leaning back against the chair. It was new territory having Pickles actually show up when he wasn’t meant to. It didn’t seem like he was there for anything else too, “And you really mean that?”

He casually held up his right hand in a three-finger salute, “Scout’s honor...if I was a Boy Scout, that is.  But I’m here now. That should be enough proof, right?” He grinned at her before he walked to the recording booth, “I got this beat stuck in my head I wanna get out of my system. Won’t take too much of your time.”

She glanced at the clock; it was still early enough to record a few takes and he did seem excited to record. Might as well give some time to humor him, “Alright, you get one hour to impress me.”

“I’ll make it count,” He finished her sentence as he closed the door. Taking the drumsticks and headphones, he took a seat in front of the drum kit and quickly prepared, “This is for uhhh...what did we call 8?”

“ Uncensor My Songs On The Radio You Fucking Tool. ”

“Yeah, that’s it! Anyway, I think I figured out why it doesn’t fit on my end. Can you play from the beginning?”

“Sure, get ready in five seconds” It took just a few clicks to get to the song he wanted. She let the metronome play for just a few seconds for him to get the beat before hitting the record button as soon as the song played.

As soon as the song played, Pickles began without hesitation. The sound was much different compared to his other takes...and it fit perfectly as he had said. She waited though; listened to every hit and snare intensely for a mistake to come and screw his take over. But that moment never happened and before she knew it the song was over.

“How did I do?” He grinned at her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm, “Not bad for one take, right?”

Impressive. “Not bad at all. I think this might be just the parts we needed to get the song to be finally done,” She answered as she hit the record button to pause the recording. She made sure to save the file and backed up the file into her work email. (Charles had requested she make backup copies of each recording without the boys’ knowledge when she began working. Just in case).

She watched as Pickles removed his headphones but quickly stopped him, “It’s great but I think another take would be good to have, right?”

“Oh C’mon! Isn’t it great as it is?!” He pleaded. He was foolish to think he could impress her with just one take.

“I’m not denying that it’s great but I’m sure you would be able to do another take if you got it all memorized, right?” She answered. The tone of her voice just shifted slightly enough to indicate a challenge and that’s all that Pickles needed to hear from her.

“Don’t think I can do it, huh?” He smiled back at her as he put the headphones back on.  It was a challenge he could easily win, after all, but she was never one to even let him believe it would be easy. The rush of it and the feeling of adrenaline starting to kick in made it all the more tempting,  “Well get the song playing again. I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

“You’re gonna end up tiring yourself out, Pickles.”

“You can let me off the hook then if you’re so worried about me.” He answered with the signature lopsided grin he gave out as freely as sweets, “I think there are some restaurants around that we can go to if you still haven’t eaten yet.”

Bargaining and banter had become something that they learned to communicate with. If there was anyone else in the room, there was no way she would be talking so loosely with him. They were alone however and would be for a long time so it became easier to shake off the layer of professionalism she had to keep up with all day. However, the remaining part of her brain that was still in work mode rejected his offer despite the temptation being far too great, “Not a chance; you walked yourself into this one...But if you wow me just early enough, I might take you up on your offer.”

“Get the song playing again and tell me when to stop.”

The truth was she was already satisfied by the third take but she did let him keep going at least two more times for good measure. By the time she said he was finished, Pickles’ legs were sore but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. Five takes weren’t bad at all and he found himself confident in the progress.

“Not bad, Pickles. I think there’s something there I can take for the recording.” Abigail answered with a grin that he tiredly returned.

“Hm, not satisfied yet, or just wanna keep my ego down?”

“Maybe.” She watched him put the headphones and drumsticks away before exiting the recording studio.

“I wanna hear it though. Play the best track.” He went to the mini-fridge and offered her a beer which she declined.

“Just get me a coke. The drink, I mean. I’ll play the best track in a second,” She had already labeled the track files by a number scale and taken notes so she didn’t need to relisten. He set the can of coke beside her as he watched her take a few moments to look through the notes before finally deciding on the best track. She quickly spliced it in with the demo and hit play.

Pickles already flopped on the couch, on his second can of beer already somehow (She didn’t know if it was impressive or horrifying). He didn’t say anything while the song played, leaned back against the couch. When it ended he asked, “Is that the best one?”

“Well, I think it is. It’s the one that doesn’t even need much editing. The others are just as great too, in all honesty,” She answered as she checked her notes briefly. She could go into great detail over the tracks, maybe even explain why the tracks were a perfect fit for a song but she didn’t want to ramble. And besides, he seemed a little bit bothered, “But what do you think?”

“Hm. Not as good as I thought it would be,” He said a little sullenly, “Nate’s gonna wanna delete it. I just know it.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t think he’d want you to delete them especially when he knows you’re having a hard time with this song. They’re all pretty good but if you want to talk with Knubbler since he’ll be doing most of the editing, just give him a call tomorrow.”

“Do you even think it’s good?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t satisfied enough, I would’ve had you still record a few more takes.”

That was an answer that seemed to satisfy him at least as he didn’t say anything else in retaliation. He only asked to play the track again, and finished his second can of beer, “I guess if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it. It’s probably getting late isn’t it?”

“Come in tomorrow and you can listen to it again. If you really aren’t satisfied with it, you can try again,” She offered. She checked at her watch briefly; 10:45 PM. How has it been almost two hours already?

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan. We can put a stop to it for now. But uh, sorry for wasting your time.”

She shrugged, “You’re not, Pickles. Don’t worry about it. I would’ve left around this time anyway.”

“Okay, if you say so.” With a shrug, he shifted his mood and stood up. He didn’t seem to sulk longer than he usually did, probably because it was already late and they were both tired, “Did you still wanna eat?”

“Don’t you usually eat with your bandmates?” Usually, mealtimes were the quickest and easiest ways to find them if she needed to. Having memorized that schedule, she knew that dinner was about a few hours ago...or a few hours from now depending on what they did that day.

“Yeah but not today; Offdensen really had us doing interviews all fuckin’ day. I don’t think I’ve eaten lunch yet and I guess you didn’t get dinner either?”

“Nope. I was planning to, anyway.” A late dinner invitation was not rare to get but it was rarer to get one by someone she wouldn’t mind having dinner with. Their relationship with each other was always professional, and he also had years of experience in the music business outside Dethklok. It always felt refreshing to talk to someone who shared the same interests as her. She put her laptop away in her briefcase once she saved all her files; her night was officially done, “Is there someone even able to make dinner at this time?”

“There should be. If not, there are probably leftovers in the fridge. Or we can order pizza, it’s completely your call.”

She slung the briefcase over her shoulder, following him to the hallway. After shutting and locking the door to the recording studio (Charles gave the only keys to her and Knubbler), she walked with him to the kitchen where the conversation of dinner slowly shifted to music and almost anything they could cram in the next two hours.

And by the end of that night, the late dinner invitations became frequent and she had accepted every single one. He always hung around by her last hour of work, even if it meant staying up late. It only meant ordering food to be delivered to them as Pickles convinced her to watch a film she hadn’t seen in years or her convincing him to watch one of her favorite guilty pleasure sitcoms.

For the most part, it was assumed she was just working with him on the album. No one really needed to know about the breaks where they shared a beer and gossiped about the celebrities they had interacted with before. As far as Knubbler and everyone knew, she was using most of the two hours to perfect his recording.

But just a few months later, the hangouts and late-night dinner invitations stopped in their tracks with no warning whatsoever.

She wondered at first if it was something she had done. But then it began affecting his work and it was clear he was distracted about something. She knew and learned enough about him that he was a perfectionist when it came to the drums; he was always a person who wanted to do his job correctly when it came to something he really did care about at the end of the day. Music was his passion, after all. And if he didn’t have passion for the things he cared about the most, then something was going on.

“Do you want to take a break, Pickles?” She asked. It was currently her fifth time asking the same question that week alone.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s keep going.” He answered as he picked up his drums and waited for her to press record.

She didn’t say anything else after that and she let him leave after a few hours. He left before she could get a word out and she would be met with the rising feeling that something bad was about to happen and recordings that not even Knubbler could salvage.

A few days later, she figured out what happened. It took a text from the staff group chat and an email that contained a video to piece the puzzle together.

“Hey, Neon Genesis Evan gail ion. It’s me, your coworker, Seth.”

She did not watch the rest of the video (sober) and instead asked about the video in the group chat. Seth was never invited to the chat for the same reason Melmord was not invited to the second wedding of Seth and whatever poor woman he got roped up with.

Just by that video and conversation, she had connected why Pickles might be upset. It had something to do with the wedding, sure, but what specifically about it? Was it that he had known the girl Seth planned to marry? She wanted to ask so many questions but limited herself to three. But even those three questions were quickly narrowed down to one, then none at all when she realized it would be harder to pry anything out of him.

But, as advised by Knubbler, it was best to keep going. He’d probably breakthrough midway through a recording session. Being someone who knew to listen to others, she listened to his advice for at least a few more days.

She waited those few days and then two more. It was clear whatever was bothering him was still going to continue bothering him until the end of time probably. She had to talk to him against their better judgments; it felt like the only option available to her.

It was a session that lasted over seven hours and she was sure both of them were getting frustrated on their own ends. No amount of coffee or whiskey could even cure the boredom and annoyance that was of a session that would lead to nowhere. It was better to just cut things short and talk about it. If not even the drums could help him feel better, how serious was the situation?

She pressed the intercom button when the song finished and she immediately hit delete. There was no way to salvage the song, “Pickles, would you mind if we talk?”

His expression was perplexed for a moment before he resigned to his fate, not giving much of a protest, “Alright,” he answered with a sigh. He set his drumsticks down as he walked out of the booth, taking a seat by the couch.

She was never all that good at talking to people about feelings in all honesty. And he seemed like a rather emotional guy, to begin with. There were a few moments of awkward silence between them as she tried to find what a good way to start the conversation would be, “I think we know that you seem distracted lately. What’s been bothering you?”

And despite all her mental preparations that he would find it hard to pry open, he actually opened up quite honestly, “Well you know about the wedding right?”

“Yeah, he invited me too.” She answered as she thought back to the weird video message Seth had sent her. She wondered if she should even make a comment about that but decided against it, “You don’t want him to get married or something?”

“I don’t care about that. He could get married as many times as he wants; He’s still getting a fucking Vitamix.  But it’s not about that,” He answered, “It’s my mom. She’s been blowing up my phone all week asking about who I’m bringing with me to Seth’s wedding. Keeps talking about how I should settle down, find someone to marry, or whatever. But I don’t have the time to date!”

She stared at him and didn’t say a single word until he caved in.

“Okay, time’s not the problem but dating while you’re this famous is fucking hard. You must’ve seen that public divorce in ‘89 right?”

She definitely remembered. She was on college radio at the time and had taken over someone’s show. It was either some debate or public opinion show and that was probably one of the more shows she had ever experienced. Did it help that she was a fan of his music back in the day? No, but she would not admit that “I kind of knew about it. It sounded like it was an awful divorce for you. But you were only nineteen, weren’t you? You shouldn't stop yourself from dating for something that happened when you were just a teen.”

“Nineteen, thirty-five, ninety, does it matter? It was as awful behind the scenes as it was in public. I’m not gonna bore you with that but basically, I’m done with dating. And she won’t see that!”

“Well...maybe one of your bandmates can be your date?” She offered.

“Nah, been there, done that, it didn’t work out. And plus, would you even fake date any of them?”

She thought for a moment, “Yeah, smart choice.”

“It’s gotta be someone she has never met before to make it more believable.”

“I see,” Abigail paused. She had waited, expecting almost, for Pickles to look at her, drop the ‘except…’, and plead for her to be his fake date but he didn’t. He only reached into the mini-fridge to pull out a beer, offering one to Abigail who accepted. She didn’t like the beer and had to hide her disgusted look as she took a sip and tried to set it down casually.

The conversation had died out like that. She kept on sipping the beer and hoping he would say something. But he didn’t and it became clear that she had to be the one to speak up. There was only one possible solution to it and it felt like the most obvious., “If you can’t find anyone else, I can be your date.” She offered.

Pickles looked at her like she had asked him to play the drums with his mouth, “I respect you too much to get you involved with my family. They’re like...leeches that suck the fuckin’ life out of you! This is a me problem, you don’t need to fix that. ”

“Well...it’s affecting your drumming too.” she pointed out as she looked at him, “And trust me, I know what I’m getting into. I can handle it, Pickles. I work for Dethklok and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than just a wedding party. I appreciate your concern, but let me help.”

“Abigail...” He almost pleaded.

“I owe you, remember?”

He clearly did remember, “but-”

“He invited me anyway, Pickles. I’m still going out of work obligations; I promise this won’t bother me at all.”

“But you know it’s gonna have to be a lot more than just going to my brother’s wedding right? My mom will want to meet you and who knows what other folks are gonna try and meet you too.”

That was one thing more terrifying than the branding ceremony. Was it even worth it to complete the album?, “Then basically we’d just be faking a relationship until the ceremony?”

“I guess yeah...and that’s...three months from now? You really don’t-”

“As I said, I know what I’m getting into. I want to help you and if we have to do this for a week, months, or a year, it’s okay with me.”

Pickles said nothing for the longest time. He held the half-empty can of beer, nulling over his options that probably didn’t help with him being slightly intoxicated, “You won’t hate me right?”

It caught her off guard almost but she remained on track, “Of course not. I promise,” If she hated him, that would mean there would be no more all-nighters together but she wouldn’t admit that.

“Okay. Just so you know you can back out of this anytime, I won’t be offended if you do.” He said finally and that had sealed the deal, “But we need to keep this a secret which I know is probably obvious enough. If the guys find out, they’ll never stop teasing us about it.”

“But if all we really need to do is just please your parents, I don’t think that will be a problem. Don’t worry about me, Pickles; it’ll be fine. I promise that I will back out if I don’t want to do this anymore.”

It was clear he was unsure still and she didn’t know how much more convincing he would really need. But perhaps that was something to let sit and process; and hopefully, in time, he’d warm up to the idea enough to feel like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

There was nothing else she could really do at this point she knew. It was a quick resolution but a slow payoff and she had done what she could for the day, "How about you take the rest of the day off? If you wanna give recording the song a shot tomorrow, we can."

“Alright,” He threw out the half-finished beer can, beer spilled from the can, some of it splashing into the sides of the trash can and leaving a potent smell of beer. She made a reminder to herself to have a klokateer replace the trash can later. But it would be quickly forgotten when he spoke up again, “I uh, appreciate it, Abigail. I really do."

"It's not a problem at all. I hope you know that you can always turn to me if you need anything?"

"I do, yeah, and uh the same right back," He paused for a moment, "I'll take you out to dinner sometime if you want. It's the least I can do."

"That would be nice but I don't need a big fancy dinner. I'm fine eating here, and watching a movie." She answered. She wanted to speak more but her phone began ringing and she saw that it was from Charles, "I should probably take this."

"Oh yeah, go ahead. And uh, if you wanna grab some dinner again you know where to find me. I'm sorry I bailed out on you this week, I'll make it up to you." He quickly left before she could speak.

All alone in the studio, she took a moment to compose herself. Refusing to give herself even more time to let what she had gotten herself into sink in, she answered the phone.

It was only three months but somehow this new task felt like it would end up being the hardest task yet. But, she had an album to finish. It was just part of the job, right?

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (3)

      jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: some mild angst

words: 4.4k

        chapter three

A few more days passed before Jungkook was discharged from the hospital and returned to class. Although, to be honest, you probably wouldn’t have even realized that he was back – hell, you didn’t even know that you shared any classes on Wednesdays until today – if it weren’t for the excited shrieks that erupted all throughout the auditorium when the door opened minutes before class was supposed to start.

Confused and slightly alarmed, you turned to look as well, and saw Jungkook enter the room, smiling as soon as groups of concerned students poured towards him to express their worries. These were the same people that ran away from the party as soon as his accident happened, and then didn’t bother to check on him when he was at the hospital.

Disgusted, you turned away but not before noticing how much Jungkook seemed to enjoy the attention, even if it wasn’t genuine.

Perhaps you’d been wrong about his reasons for talking you at his party last week – he didn’t seem to be bored of constantly being in the spotlight. He cherished in it and, clearly, being loved and, well, worshiped was his preferred form of entertainment.

You sighed, your prediction coming true: the vulnerable Jungkook you’d seen at the hospital was now light-years away. He was back to his old unrecognizable self and the conversation you’d had last Saturday was probably erased from his mind already, including all the advice you’d given to him about his family.

However, when, despite yourself, you turned to glance at him again, he surprised you by catching your eyes. Not having expected him to notice you – because why would he need your pity when he had so many others, ready coo at him until he was sick of it – you looked away again. But Jungkook had seen the warning in your eyes and he remembered all that had happened in the hospital.

“Excuse me,” he found himself saying as he tried to walk past the small crowd that had gathered to greet him. Adamant to truly get his life together just like his father wanted, he took a seat in the middle row – just like you did – but across the room from you.

You felt him look at you from all the way over there – or maybe he was just looking in your general direction – but you didn’t meet his eyes again, focusing instead on the projector that the professor was struggling to turn on at the front of the room. Thankfully, within the next few moments, everyone that was so excited about Jungkook coming back, relocated to the area next to him and, soon enough, you couldn’t even see him in the crowd of students anymore.

The attendance was exceptional that day and even the professor took notice of that – choosing not to mention the fact that everyone had clustered to the left half of the auditorium for some odd reason – but the rest of the class carried on as usual. That is, until Jungkook felt his determination begin to fade.

It was hard to remain focused on being an exemplary student when so many people wanted to talk to him and make him laugh, and, before long, Jungkook gave in. Who was he to deprive the others of the joy of being noticed by him, right?

It was normal that the part of the room, where the majority of the people were, was going to be the loudest and yet, up until Jungkook joined in on the conversation his peers were having, the entire auditorium seemed to be fairly quiet. Now, however, sounds of laughter and obnoxious snickering started to overshadow whatever the professor was trying to say.

You rolled your eyes every time a soft chuckle from Jungkook forced the laughter to ripple through the crowd of students – they were blindly following whatever he was doing and he loved it.

If this was what he did with his time in class, then it didn’t really matter that he was here. Once again, it was just an act he put up for himself – and his parents – while, really, he was probably making plans to party later this same day.

You learned that your observation was completely on point as soon as the class ended and you gathered your things. Walking past Jungkook and his entourage, you overheard them tell him about a “small gathering” they were having tonight. Glancing over to check his reaction, you saw him nod and tell them he’ll try to come, like a true crowd-pleaser. Shaking your head, you turned away.

“Hey!” you heard suddenly and stopped in surprise, not really sure if it was you that was being addressed. But Jungkook had noticed you exiting the auditorium and was now making his way towards you.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly when he reached you. “You’re back.”

“I am,” he nodded and then hesitated, not having prepared his next words, “I, uh, I wanted to thank you for the chocolates you’d brought. They saved my life.”

“Oh,” you obviously hadn’t expected him to bring your hospital visit up ever again. “Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Jungkook smiled and, because neither of you had anything else to say, you gave him a weak nod, took a step out of the auditorium, and continued to walk down the hall, unaware that he was following right after you. But then he spoke again.

“Hey, so, you have Accounting tomorrow at nine, right?” he asked and, once again, surprised you by knowing your schedule.

“I do, yes,” you gave him a look. “Why?”

“Well, I heard that the professor’s a bit of a dick,” he said with a chuckle as the two of you walked down the hall towards the exit of the building, “and, apparently, he likes to throw in these surprise pop-quizzes in class sometimes, no?”

“Sure.”

“How hard are they?” he asked then. “Would you say that I’d pass them with ease if I read his slides before class or would I need to, you know, put some actual work into it?”

You stopped walking and raised your eyebrows. “Did you ever show up at his class this semester?”

“Uh,” Jungkook scratched his neck with a nervous chuckle, “yeah, I was at the introductory one. But, uh, after that, not really. No.”

“Then reading his slides should be enough,” you said, “since you’re probably going to fail the class anyway.”

You started to walk again but Jungkook – surprised by the ease in your voice as you said this – lingered behind and ended up having to jog to catch up with you.

“Whoa, wait, what do you mean? Why?” he asked.

“Well, if you fail his pop-quiz, he marks you as absent,” you explained, “and you didn’t even show up to class once anyway, so you don’t—”

“Yeah, but I mean—c-could you help me out here?” he grabbed your arm, stopping you as he found your tempo too difficult to keep up with. Perhaps you had unintentionally sped up in your attempt to exit the building quicker, so you could avoid people turning to watch the two of you.

“Help you out?” you asked with a sigh, trying to look at him and not at the group of girls that had been following you ever since you and Jungkook left the auditorium together. He was bound to get distracted by them sooner or later, though, and you hoped you could finally escape from their judgmental gazes then. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he said, not even noticing anyone else in the room. “Maybe send me some material I could read over the weekend?”

“Over the weekend?” you repeated. “His class is tomorrow.”

“No, yeah, I know, but I have plans tonight, and—”

“So, you’ll be skipping again?”

He took note of the disappointment in your voice and forgot the very plausible explanation for his lack of attendance that he’d come up with.

“I-I guess, yeah,” he said. “It’s just that some of my friends are getting together tonight, and I don’t want to miss that.”

“Right,” you nodded, sounding far more condemning than you’d meant to. “You’re choosing a party over your studies.”

“I’m—” Jungkook started to say but your words sounded so much like his father’s that he had to take a step back and reconsider, his hands naturally clenching into fists. “That’s not what I’m doing. I haven’t seen my friends since last Friday and I—”

“You haven’t seen them because they didn’t care about you enough to visit you at the hospital,” you said, the cold, hard truth spilling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “You shouldn’t sabotage yourself by skipping class for someone who doesn’t even—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he cut you off suddenly, his voice severe. Within seconds, he seemed to have gone a few shades paler, and his voice a few octaves deeper.

“You asked for my help,” you pointed out as calmly as you could under his burning gaze.

“Yeah! For school, not for my life!” he argued and even this fight reminded you of the old him – throwing a tantrum as soon as he didn’t get something he wanted – except this time the two of you were in a public space, surrounded by too many curious eyes to count. “I didn’t ask for your opinion about what I’m doing tonight.”

“I don’t care what you’re doing!” you defended yourself. “I just thought you wanted to get your life together and partying the night before a 9 AM class doesn’t seem like a—”

“I am getting my life together,” he snarled, not letting you finish, “but it’s not your business how I choose to do it.”

His aggressive stance reminded you of what Yoongi had said that night at the party – Jungkook was getting into fights so often, his own band members were starting to give up on him – and you took a second to calm yourself before you spoke again. There was no point to provoke him and have him walk around, punching people.

“Okay,” you said then but your calmness only seemed to aggravate Jungkook even more. “I was just trying to help you with your fam—”

“Why?” he demanded. “Why do you care? What’s in it for you?”

The venom in his words stabbed at your chest and you couldn’t conceal your wounded expression. Swallowing thickly, you tightened your lips as you looked for the right words.

“We were friends once upon a time,” you said. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you but it matters to me.”

Only sparing him one more second of your time – all because his gaze was that difficult to escape even when it was burning with irrational rage – you turned towards the door and finally left the building, exhaling as soon as you felt the sunshine on your skin.

He didn’t follow after you this time. Good.

The past five minutes had exhausted you much more than the whole hour and a half of class, so you needed extra time to recuperate when you got back to your dorm room. Normally, you’d grab a bite to eat and then prepare for tomorrow’s class but now, every time you considered picking your books up, you remembered the argument with Jungkook.

You couldn’t stay focused even after you had some food, so you texted your roommate and joined her at the campus café where she was pretending to be productive.

Almost as soon as you arrived, Inna wanted to know why your face was “all scrunched up” but you assured her that it was nothing, not wanting to recall the details of your and Jungkook’s unsuccessful attempt at bonding again.

Instead, you listened to her tell you about an event that seemed to be exactly the party Jungkook was planning on attending tonight.

“It’s at Brock’s house,” she said and didn’t bother to elaborate who this Brock person was. “He has a house right off campus and—”

“Aren’t his parents bothered that he’s throwing a party on a weekday?” you wondered.

“His parent—no, that’s his house,” Inna clarified, “he lives there alone.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Another rich kid?”

“Guess so, yeah,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, so he’s been talking about how he has a booze supplier – a cousin that works for Hennessy or something – and the others have been pressuring him into throwing a party for the longest time, but he kept saying no.”

“Why?” you asked even though you didn’t really care and found the reflection of you and your friend in the window of the café so much more interesting.

“Because the only optimal time for a party is on a Friday night,” Inna said, sounding very much like an expert on campus social life, “and everyone knows that Friday nights are for Parental Advisory gigs and their after-parties. But then Jungkook had an accident, and—”

“Wait,” now this got you curious, “so he’s using Jungkook’s accident to throw a party on a Friday night?”

“Well, not anymore. He was going to use it,” she said, “but then Jungkook was discharged earlier than he expected, so he had to move the party from Friday to tonight.”

“That’s… wow,” you leaned back in your chair, not having considered that some of Jungkook’s friends saw his accident as nothing else but an opportunity to take his place. “I really underestimated the lengths some people are willing to go in order to establish their social lives.”

“Yeah, so this party’s kind of a big deal,” Inna continued, “because now Brock has to live up to the hype.”

“And the party’s on a Wednesday night,” you added. “Making it seem worth it can’t be easy.”

“It wouldn’t be,” she agreed, “but, apparently, Brock convinced Jungkook to come.”

You scoffed. “I don’t think it took a lot of convincing. I saw how easily he agreed to come in class today.”

“Wait, Jungkook?” Inna was the one who was surprised now. “He actually showed up to class?”

“I know, right?” you nodded, having been surprised by this, too. “But that must have been a one-time-thing. Like his mind blacked-out from the accident or something. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”

“Hmm,” she considered this and took a sip of her caramel drink. “So, what actually happened that night at the party? You never told me.”

“What do you mean?” you picked up your own drink from the table and stirred it with a straw all so you wouldn’t have to look at your friend. “I told you he crashed his car and then I called an ambulance, and—”

“No, but I mean before that,” Inna said. “How did he even get into the car if he was drunk?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. He was angry.”

It was obvious that you didn’t want to talk about that part of the night – or else you’d have told Inna everything already – because a part of you felt guilty for not having stopped him. There was no one else to do it at the time – Yoongi had already left and the guy Jungkook was fighting with couldn’t have cared less – so you felt partially responsible for not doing enough to prevent him from getting into the car, even though, objectively, you knew there was nothing you could have done.

“Someone said he was in a fight with someone,” Inna  mentioned, not thinking much of it. She just wanted to understand what had gone down.

“He was,” you nodded slowly. “That’s why I went outside. But I don’t know why they were fighting or anything. They were already past using words by the time I got there.”

“Yeah, this girl told me that it’s pretty easy to irritate Jungkook,” she said. “He doesn’t have a lot of patience, does he?”

“No,” you confirmed. “He never did.”

“Did he get into fights when he was younger?” she asked. “I mean, when you knew him?”

Sitting up properly, you looked around. You’d never felt too comfortable discussing your friendship with Jungkook in great detail – let alone doing it in such a public place where anyone could have been listening – and perhaps that was because, in a way, you felt like you’d gotten dumped when he decided that you should stop being friends. No one wanted to talk about this type of things.

“Uh, no,” you said then. “His family, uh—they had a tight grip on him.”

“Huh, I guess that changed when he moved away for college,” Inna mused.

You looked down, remembering that Jungkook moved away two years before finishing school. You wondered if that was when things really changed. Maybe no longer having his father’s watchful eye on him at all times loosened him in the worst possible way. You were afraid to try to guess the number of fights he must have gotten into since junior year of high school.

“You know, another thing I learned at the party last week,” your roommate continued after you didn’t reply, “is that, apparently, Jungkook getting into fights has become sort of a running joke in their inner circle.”

You raised your eyes to meet hers. “I’ve never heard anyone joke about it before. I didn’t even know that he—”

“Yeah, I said inner circle,” Inna repeated. “Apparently, it’s a common occurrence at the Parental Advisory parties and yet, most of us who aren’t that close to the members, are usually left in the dark about it. But every time someone walks around the campus with a black eye the next day, people start talking. Wondering. And the only people who know what really happens at those parties are the people who see it happen. That’s why the Parental Advisory groupies always seem so… well, so above us. Above everyone else. They joke that it’s  because of Jungkook. They’re supposed to be covering for him but, by being secretive, they end up attracting even more attention to themselves.”

“Huh. And this attention is exactly what they want, isn’t it?,” you theorized, not having guessed that Jungkook’s so-called friends were that fake. “They must love all the rumors that surround those parties.”

“Of course they do,” she agreed. “It proves that they’re the crème de la crème of our campus.”

You considered this for a while. “Do you think that, uh, Brock is counting on Jungkook to start a fight at his party tonight?”

“Oh,” Inna took a sip of her drink as she thought about it. “That would make sense. It would stir some shit up and it’d definitely help Brock prove to everyone that his parties are worth waiting for.”

You didn’t want to think of what Brock might do in order to prove his worth to everyone else but you couldn’t help but worry about Jungkook since he was, clearly, very easily manipulated. Then again, his brutal “what’s in it for you?” when he spoke to you last, may have hinted at his suspicions about people using him for their own benefit.

All of your worrying was suddenly replaced by this last memory. You weren’t obligated to save Jungkook every time you learned that he was putting himself in danger and he made that very clear. It was none of your business.

“Whatever,” you said with a dismissive sigh. “I don’t really care about the campus parties thrown by kids who paid their way into the university.”

“So, you do care about the Parental Advisory parties then?” Inna asked and she was smirking because she obviously thought she’d found a loophole in your statement.

Granted, you weren’t sure that the members of the band all got into university because of their rich parents. All you knew was that Jungkook – even though he did come from a rich background – got wait-listed at first and only got in because someone else dropped out, which meant that his parents had little do to with his enrollment.

“Why?” you asked. “Don’t tell me those guys have actual heads with brains on their shoulders.”

“Don’t be so judgmental, you know nothing about them,” Inna told you in a good-natured manner and she was right. You were certainly prejudiced but, in your defense, there wasn’t a single instance that could have proven to you that the members of Parental Advisory weren’t brainless dumbasses. “I’ve heard that Hoseok is actually at the top of his class. He might be graduating cum laude.”

You weren’t expecting that and, for a moment, even found that hard to believe but, really, what use did an alt-rock band have of rumors about how good at studying their members were? So, this must have been true.

“Okay, my bad,” you admitted. “I misjudged them. Jungkook might be a huge idiot but I know he’s got brains. It’d make sense for the other members to be smart, too, I guess.”

“You can be smart and still have fun,” she said with a teasing smirk, “that’s something I’ve been trying to teach you ever since we started college.”

“Not very successfully, apparently,” you retorted and she laughed.

“I’ve tried my best,” she said and, unknowingly quoting the words Jungkook had told you repeatedly when you were growing up, added, “It’s not my fault you’re so stubborn.”

Inna and you hung out at the café for a couple of hours before splitting up – she headed home to finally stop chit-chatting and get some actual work done, and you went to the library to study for tomorrow. According to your mental plan, you were supposed to start studying at least an hour earlier, so you were anxious the entire walk there, feeling like you were already behind on everything.

You spent a few extra hours at the library because studying was something you were used to, something you were good at. And with all the unusual situations you’ve gotten into this past week, it felt good to fall back into the familiar routine.

Because of that, you only got back to the dorm when it was already dark outside – which was annoying since the lights in the hallway of your floor weren’t working and you always struggled to unlock the faulty door of your room in the dark.

This time, however, just as you pulled the keys out of your pocket, your phone rang. Surprised by the vibration in your pocket, you almost dropped your books and, with a groan, finally managed to fit the key into the lock, so you could get your phone out.

You didn’t recognize the number on your screen, so you chose to enter your dorm first, before answering.

“Hello?” you spoke warily. 9 PM was still fairly early but it was late enough to get alarmed when strange, unknown numbers called you.

“Hey,” a voice said. “It’s me.”

That was obviously a very poor introduction but, to be quite honest, you found that you didn’t really need one. Despite not knowing the number, you recognized the owner of the voice right away.

“Jungkook,” you said as you placed your books on the side-table by the door and entered the room where Inna was lounging on her bed. “How did you get my number?”

“I asked your roommate,” Jungkook explained slowly. He had expected you to ask why he called, not how.

“Ah,” you glared at Inna who – figuring out that Jungkook had just outed her – shrugged and got off her bed to head into the bathroom and give you more privacy.

“Don’t worry, she didn’t do it willingly,” Jungkook added quickly, “I had to harass her for fifteen minutes.”

You doubted that Inna would have seen that as harassment but you appreciated her loyalty nonetheless.

“I’m not sure I’m worth that effort,” you said, not meaning to make it sound like you didn’t want to talk to him but Jungkook still came to that conclusion.

“I, uh, sorry if I—well, I’m sorry it wasn’t you I asked for your number,” he said. “I was going to but…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence because there was only one chance for him to ask for your number today and the memory of how that encounter ended was still fresh in both of your memories.

“Anyway,” he continued after you didn’t find what to say quickly enough, “I just called to apologize about today. I acted like a real asshole.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips – it wasn’t often that he admitted to being in the wrong – as you sat down on your bed.

“Thanks,” you said. “I appreciate that. Sorry if it was something I said that—”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong,” he said. “It was all me. You were right about everything.”

“Still. I wasn’t very nice about it.”

“Yeah, well, neither are the people who pretend to be my friends,” he said and you didn’t really know how to reply to that. Thankfully, Jungkook wasn’t done just yet. “In any case, I ambushed you after class and then I didn’t listen to you. Sorry I never seem to do that.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should have said what you were about to say but, because of all those years that you’d been friends, you plowed ahead, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize to me.”

Much to your surprise, Jungkook laughed.

“As I was dialing your number, I just knew you were going to say this exact thing,” he revealed and you laughed, too. “Guess I still know you pretty well then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you were now full-on grinning – thank God Inna wasn’t here to see it or she would have never let you live it down, let alone forget that she was the one who gave him your number. “Oh, but why are you calling me now? Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?”

“I, uh–I’m actually home,” he admitted, “studying for tomorrow’s class.”

You fooled yourself into thinking you could ignore the clenching of your stomach when you talked to him at the hospital. But now you really couldn’t deny it – the twisting and churning of your insides was definitely caused by the butterflies, roaming free all over your body. 

You didn’t want to sound patronizing by telling Jungkook that this was precisely what you told him he should have done so, still smiling to yourself, you gave him an encouraging, “that’s good.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice far more self-assured now than it’d been when he first called you.

“Yeah,” you echoed and the conversation settled into a silence that – contrary to what one might expect from two people who fell out of touch with each other – was comfortable and, just like your routine of studying, familiar.

keep reading | masterlist

[felidaefighter]

Fears To Ease And Flesh To Mend

Ranboo and Tubbo find out that unzombifying a piglin is a bit different from unzombifying a villager, and they start off parenthood with quite a few complications and in a little over their heads. For the sake of their child, they may need to put awkwardness aside and ask for help.

[Sick fic, canon divergence, Phil and Techno meet Michael, lots and lots of piglin lore headcanons] ~20,000 words per chapter

Chapter Three of Four

     Ranboo knocked lightly on the door, and Tubbo opened it almost immediately, greeting him with a giant yawn. “Hi, Tubbo,” Ranboo said fondly. “Hi, Ranboo,” Tubbo replied through his yawn. Phil cleared his throat awkwardly from behind him. “Uh, hello, Tubbo. We haven’t… spoken in a while. Techno is here too.” Tubbo stared dead-eyed exhausted at him from inside, still holding the door open. “Yeah, been a while. Don’t think we’ve talked since you blew up L’Manberg.” Phil and Techno both made awkward grimacing noises, as Ranboo did the same. Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I’m letting all the cold air in. Might as well come inside. Michael’s room is upstairs.”

    As the three of them stepped in from the chill and shook off the frost from their coats and the snow from their boots, Ranboo looked at Tubbo, concerned. “You don’t look like you slept.” Tubbo shook his head. “Not really. I dozed off a few times in the armchair upstairs but I was too worried.” Ranboo nodded empathetically. He would’ve done the same. “Up the ladder,” Tubbo said, gesturing, clearly too tired for proper emphasis. Ooh boy. Looks like Ranboo was going to have to do most of the talking. Which was an issue, as Ranboo wasn’t too good at that.

    Ranboo was the second up the ladder, and could feel himself grow soft as soon as he laid eyes on his son. He greeted the little piglin, who, although still clearly not feeling great, acknowledged him in return. Phil, then Techno, stepped into the room, Phil treading ever-so-lightly with both his feet and his demeanor. Phil let out a sharp inhale and a wince when he saw Michael. “Ooohh. That’s a lot of bandages.” He inspected the situation as well as he could from across the room. “You did a good job of wrapping it. We’re gonna have to unwrap them all to make sure it’s been properly cleaned though unfortunately.” Tubbo swore under his breath at that, but he didn’t mean it harshly. It’d just taken them a long time to wrap.

    “Quite a lot of battle scars,” Techno remarked. If Ranboo was honest, their cautiousness wasn’t easing his worries as well as he’d have hoped it would. He moved subconsciously to Tubbo’s side; they were both feeling a little under scrutiny when faced with Phil and Techno, experts at this, and the worry they’d done something wrong. “May I?” Phil gestured to Michael as Techno leaned against a wall, and Tubbo nodded, Ranboo humming his approval. He stepped closer to the little piglin and crouched down beside the bed. Michael snorted at him. “Heyyy Michael,” Phil said softly, “I’m Philza. I’m gonna take off your bandages to look at your wounds now, okay?” 

    “I dunno why you’re tellin’ him in english. He probably only knows piglin right now,” Techno said, grinning when that earned him a harsh shush from Phil. “No comments from the peanut gallery unless you’re gonna help!” Phil very, very carefully unwrapped the bandage on Michael’s head, who was either too tired or too polite to try and stop him. He held a steadying hand on the other side of Michael’s head while he looked at the eyesocket, the edges of his flesh, and the place his ear used to be. Phil turned to Tubbo and Ranboo, who immediately squeezed eachother’s hands a bit nervously. Huh. Ranboo supposed they must’ve done that subconsciously. Definitely blaming the nerves for that one. 

    “You two did a pretty good job. He’s responsive and seems to have a general idea of where he is. I can’t say yet if there’s any internal damage, but he’s definitely been properly cured. I doubt there’s much you could’ve done to change the extent of his sores, too.” Ranboo and Tubo both exhaled in very obvious relief. Phil stood up with a bit of a stretching noise, and shot a pointed look at Techno. “You wanna make sure everything’s alright, mate?” Techno, very alarmed at having been put in the spotlight despite the audience in question being two socially awkward and exhausted teens, his best friend, and a half-dead toddler, immediately started to protest. 

    “You can’t test his cognitive skills without knowing where his language is at,” Phil prodded, teasing, “And you know my piglish sucks.” Techno hummed in thought, a little persuaded by the chance to brag/show off. “That is true.” Still, he seemed hesitant. “It’s ah-- it’s gonna be a little awkward since I’m not too great with kids and it’s been a while since I spoke piglish. Does this have to have an audience?” 

    “Yes.” Tubbo answered flatly. “Tubbo!” Chided Phil, but Ranboo didn’t exactly blame his husband. “I mean… you wouldn’t do anything to Michael, right?” Ranboo asked Techno, who looked rather offended at the question. “Of course not! Who do you take me for? I mean, Michael clearly isn’t an orphan anymore,” Techno joked to try to ease the tension, but while Ranboo nodded in acknowledgement and in an attempt at reassurance towards Tubbo, Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “Fine. But I’ve got my eye on you. You so much as move the wrong way and you’re going down.” 

    Phil muttered reassurances about Techno’s intentions at Tubbo while he gently placed his hands on Tubbo’s shoulders, leading him away and down the ladder. Ranboo sent one last, concerned glance towards Techno. “I won’t do anything,” Techno promised, “Except maybe ask him how he feels about government. But I doubt he’s gonna know what that is yet.” Ranboo nodded again and went down the ladder after Phil and Tubbo.

    Tubbo, as exhausted as he was, leaned on the wall by the ladder looking prepared to gain a second wind and scramble upstairs in a hurry if necessary. Ranboo was almost certain it wouldn’t be, but he felt a surge of love on seeing how dedicated and protective his husband could be. Phil hovered in the main area, not quite finding a seat, and spoke to the two more in-depth about Michael’s recovery.

    “Unfortunately, this isn’t the kind of thing that’s gonna heal overnight. Like I said before, he’s already been kinda oversaturated with magic just from his origin, so potions aren’t gonna seal up everything all nice and tidy.” Phil paced lightly while he spoke out of lack of something to fiddle with. Tubbo’s eyes watched him like a hawk, but his ears were most certainly more centered on making sure there was no commotion upstairs. 

    “The biggest concern is gonna be the parts of his skull that’re currently exposed,” Phil continued. “Keepin’ ‘em bandaged should be mostly fine, but you should disinfect it about three times daily with room temperature cloth. Not washed or anything, just pat him down. You’ll want to put a salve on there and the skin around the edge, too, so that when it heals the skin can grow back over. It’ll be scar tissue but it’ll keep him from coming down with anything. That’ll be best for the long run.” Ranboo scrambled to write all of what Phil was saying down, eager for the information.

    “Question, okay, uh, is there a certain type of each thing that we’ll need? And if so, where do I get it, or can I borrow it from you?” Phil chuckled lightly, and combined with the non-judgemental onslaught of information, both Ranboo and Tubbo both were starting to relax. “Of course you can mate,” Phil replied fondly, “You need it more than I do right now. I can go on an errand run for you both after Techno’s done here.” He turned sympathetically to Tubbo at that. “You look like you could use some rest.”

    Tubbo sighed, finally letting his guard down a little. “Honestly, I probably would’ve been asleep ages ago if I weren’t so damn worried about Michael. I reckon I could’ve fell asleep standing up a few times and wouldn’t’ve known.” Ranboo nodded in understanding. The only reason he hadn’t been stopped from sleeping is because he tended to run on anxiety almost all of the time anyways. It looked like he was going to be spending most of his time in the coming weeks running back and forth between his own house and Snowchester; he didn’t mind, though. 

    “Thank you, Phil. Honestly, thank you.” Ranboo paused before asking the one thing that had mainly been on his mind. “I’m just surprised that you and Techno aren’t--” Phil interrupted abruptly. “The health and safety of a child will always come first.” After realizing his tone was a little harsh, he sighed and continued more carefully. “Techno and I feel how we feel. We haven’t really had a chance to process anything yet. Give us a bit to do that first yeah?” 

    Ranboo nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense, actually. Of course.” Tubbo, having figured out what that was all about, spoke up. “I was wondering about that!” A second wave of realization hit him and he turned to Ranboo. “Wait, you told them???” He hissed in a lowered voice. “My son lives at your house! I think they woulda figured it out!” Ranboo replied in the same tone. “Our son!” Tubbo corrected, half-offended. In the background, Phil was covering his mouth, stifling a chuckle at the bickering couple. 

    They were interrupted when heavy footsteps came down the ladder, and instantly parted to make way for the large piglin. Techno turned to Ranboo. “He’s a toddler, so like, his words? Ain’t really that great to begin with. But uh cognitively I think he’s doin’ fine. He can understand and respond to most questions at least, even if his responses tend to be ninety percent gibberish. At any rate it probably won’t be tough to teach him english. Toddlers man. They’re fast learners.” It was very obvious the only thing stopping him from making a joke about drop-kicking toddlers was Tubbo’s death glare and how awkward he already felt about the whole business.

    Phil clapped his hands together. “Right! Well, Techno and I are gonna head back home, and I’ll run that delivery for you. Remember what I said about re-wrapping and applying the ointments and salve and stuff. Don’t worry too much about his ear canal yet, I’ll get some drops, and make sure he’s eating slowly and steadily throughout the day as opposed to regular mealtimes. I’ll be back later. You two have got this for now, yeah?” 

    Ranboo and Tubbo, rather startled at the abruptness of it all, hummed and muttered agreements and nodded while Ranboo double-checked he’d written that all down. “Goodbye Tubbo. Ranboo,” Techno said, following Phil out the door. As it shut behind them, Ranboo turned to the smaller man. “Should we follow them out?” Tubbo had almost immediately closed his eyes and went back to resting against the ladder. “I want to,” he said, and Ranboo understood. Knowing Tubbo’s house as well as his own, he retrieved a bedroll, blanket, and pillow from a chest, hauling them up to Michael’s room, and then went downstairs and retrieved his husband. 

    He kind of just dropped Tubbo on the pile, who stayed exactly where he’d landed. “Sleep,” Ranboo intoned, and Tubbo groaned in response. He was asleep almost moments later. Ranboo sighed fondly, and glanced at Michael. The little piglin was asleep as well. He paused. There was a serenity in the moment, his own little family all worn out from a day of healing. As silently as possible, he pulled the blankets over them both, then settled into the armchair to watch over them.

[igotanna]

Heyy bb!! I hope you're taking care of yourself and aren't too busy🥰 So I thought of this and I wanted to ask if you could this: GOT7 reaction to dating someone who is very polished and polite (elegant even) in public but is very adorable and rambly when they're alone together. Do it only if you're free and willing, no pressure love💜

Ah honey thank you so much for this request! I know it took me looong but I really enjoyed it (also appreciate the open hand date tysm)💚💚 it was refreshing ~ also I hope I maintained to stay on topic bc this was a bit tricky😅 if not then sorry for that🙏

Mark

“MaRk!” you cried out of your bedroom with the highest level of despair.

“Yeah!” sounded Mark from the other room, not shortly after looking at you, standing on the doorstep.

“I can’t find my purse,” you pouted and threw another pillow on the floor hoping your tonight purse is hidding between the sheets.

Mark chuckled and shrugged, sat down on the bed you were currently digging a hole into.

“What are you laughing at? This isn’t funny!” your voice got all lost between the blankets and pillows. Mark laughed and pointed down under your vanity table “Did you tried to look there?”

As soon as you endend another episode of Mark’s fav series - you searching for your lost things - you headed to the award night. In the car with two of other members you kept the conversation floating nicely and maintained all glossy, Mark had to laugh as he just remembered how you looked few minutes ago.

“What is so funny?” Bambam noticed his amusement. Mark shook his head and held your hand tighter “I remembered something.”

You felt he’s implying to you and you turned your head to face him, raising your eyebrow.

“Nevermind.”

Bambam and Youngjae wouldn’t leave him get off that easily but they had to get out of the car. Just before it was your turn you faced him again “What was that?”

“Oh nothing,” a soft apologetic kiss on your cheek “You just give so mature and even bossy vibe when we’re out, but when I shut the door at home, you-”

“I turn into a child??”

“You turn into the most adorable lost sweetheart I saw.”

JB

You knew JB sometimes doesn’t know what he wants himself. You got used to that sometimes he prefers you as elegant powerful woman, and sometimes he wanted to be the one seen and he wanted you to back a little. You had to learn when to do what.

After one night on public, just after you kicked of your high heels, high enough to see top of JB’s head, he leaned on the door and asked very random question “Where is this two sidedness coming from?”

You just put down your earrings from which your head was aching and turned to him “What do you mean?”

JB kept observing you like it’s the first time actually seeing you.

“What?!” you incited him with shaky voice. You felt like he was reading your mind. When he didn’t answer at once you sighed and turned back at him, starting to unzipp your dress as you made your way to the bathroom.

After a while he came in to lean on the doorframe and watch you getting ready to go shower.

“Can you just pretend we’re not alone?” his voice was at least disturbing.

You shook your head “I’m really tired - can you talk normally?”

“I wanna see your lady self.”

You blinked and got to the shower, giving him blank looks through the glass.

He changed position to see your face better and played with the hem of dress you left on the basin. A thought came on your mind that maybe he’s preparing to say something he’d never say out loud because he thinks you can’t hear him through the splashing water. His voice was low and he sighed a little like he was picking up courage. A nervousness poured you over with cold sweat.

“You...’ve got such a presence.. and power.... and beauty...I never told you... how proud I feel...when we’re on public and you’re so.. impressive.” and he gave you surprisingly long look “I just wish you’d sometimes be your lady-self before me as well so I know ‘m also worth your effort.” how he paused between the words and barely looked at you when he talked you knew he meant every line. And your heart dropped as you felt his emotions through his hesitating voice. He thought he’s not worth the effort!

You turned the water off and looked at him properly, this time with the softest look “Babe I thought you wanted me to be like that on public. I  did always what I thought you needed at that time.”

“Come here,” he pleaded with cracked voice so quiet and tender eyes. His hands were opening to you like a invitation for the warmest hug ever.

JACKSON

“...and so when I got there I drank all his coffee by mistake!”

“By mistake? Jacks how can you drink somebody’s coffee by mistake?!” you cried with laughter. Actually you were rolling on the sofa laughing your ass off because Jackson was just finnishing his story from the other day.

Jackson was maintaining his poker face, but corners of his lips were dancing zumba. He always got so happy when he saw you enjoying his stories and jokes. Ofc you were all about his stupid sense of humour.

That stands until you both are facing cameras, reporters or other celebs. Jackson was still the same, throwing jokes, unrequiered stories and weird looks to make someone laugh. But he gave up on making you laugh on public long ago.

“Why aren’t you laughing was it not funny?” he asked the first time you gave him bitch face on public. You shook your head and because knowing others can hear you shrugged “Maybe next time.”

He got used to that when he makes joke on public you are far from amused and he has to earn your attention. He called it your “jinyoung time” with the distinction you actually never cracked once you decided to be your sassy self.

Jinyoung himself sometimes even praised you for being so calm with Jackson on public (he didn’t know how you were really loosing your shit when you’re alone).

“Stop that Jinyoung crap now I really need a support tonight, please?” Jackson squeezed your hand while you got out of the car. You knew this time he has no friends around since it’s foreign music festival and he is insecure af. You pecked his cheek “Okay maybe you’ll make me laugh today.”

JINYOUNG

“Okayy soo.. I guess Bahamas??” your face went from nervous to quizzical. Planning holiday was on you and Jinyoung got specific reason for that. He loved how hesitant and insecure you were given that big task. It was funny watching you wandering finger on the map in front of you and not being able to make a firm decision.

“Oh I don’t knoooow,” you cried and rubbed your forhead.

“Do you want to go and have some sun or not?” he tried to help but held back laughter. He knew it’s not going to be any help.

You threw hands “I want both! I want to sunbathe and swim but I know I get fed up with heath after few days so unless you want to fly around the Earth with me for the whole 3 weeks I suggest you to YOU choose the destination.”

“Oh nono no you’re not making your way out of this. We agreed.” he gave his  uncompromising serious face and pointed at the map you were leaning away from “Go on.”

“Oh screw it.” you closed your eyes and randomly stick your index finger on the map “MADAGASCAR!”

Jinyoung held this memory before his eyes the whole family dinner you were currently having with his family.

As all of them were admiring his girlfriend’s determined spirit. His mum was asking you what are your plans for future after you finnish your post graduate. He held his breath as you gave her detailed plan you were obviously making up on place. He knew very well you have no plans bc the same question by him was unanswered the day before. Next his father praised you for being so sure of your steps in life and asked whether you’ve always been so sure and mature.

Jinyoung didn’t held it this time and burst out with laughter he quickly covered as cough. But after dessert time he catched you in the kitchen alone and took you by your hips to face him “What was that?? I didn’t know you are going to be a lecturer!” he laughed.

“Stop it you know I was obviously lying!” you tried to get out of his embrace but he had to get a kiss before he let you go with “And I was obviously enjoying that.”

YOUNGJAE

Youngjae had to move aside as you threw your high heels away “dAmn YoU!”

“Stop it - look Coco’s scared.” he warned you and picked his dog up. You threw the other shoe to through the hallway and cursed more.

“What’s wrong anyway?”

“I hate high heels!” you hissed and tried to get rid off those riddiculous dress as well “I hate walking in those I hate being in those! So unstable.. I’m all woblly and.. going to fall any minute. I’m just waiting to cause you some scandal like stumble over my own feet on the stairs and showing everyone my underwear! I feel so stupid when I wear those!” you practically cried the last words.

You burried your face in your hands with your dress halfway unzipped and your hair messy. Youngjae held his breath while you were talking.

You’re so stunning on high heels! He never knew you feel that way. He put down Coco and softly held your shoulders, fondling your naked skin.

“You never told me.”

When you didn’t reply he hugged you tightly “If you would I could tell you how elegant you look on high heels and how you seem like you were born to do it.” his words were half lost between your collarbone as he rested his chin there “I love it how you handle being in the spotlight.”

“Ohkay,” you sobbed and smiled a little “But I still prefer socks.”

He laughed “Oh, who doesn’t?”

BAMBAM

“Yes this is Dior’s fall 2020 season gown,” you nodded to the interviewer who just admired your dress “It’s actually the one’s that..” and you went into deep detailed story of the gown as Bambam proudly held your hand and smiled all around.

He had in mind the first moment he gave you these very dress.

“hoW mUcH?!” you freaked out when he showed you the most beautiful expensive looking dress you ever saw. He laughed and repeated the price he payed for those.

“whY?!” you were afraid to even touch them. He had to take your hand and let the fabric slipping through your fingers.

“Love that’s..” you gasped when you saw the bag in which it arrived “tHat’S FuCKinG DioR! BaM ThoSE Are FucKInG diOR’s DResS!”  and the whole evening went with you freaking over those, being shy, embarrassed, grateful and not being able to express wheter you’re glad he did something nice for you or angry he spend so much money on dress.

He just had to smile how serious and elegant you were now. No one could tell you know only what he tells you about the current fashion and that you were even scared to put the dress on. And exactly that’s why you were his queen.

“Oh tell me more when’s the new fashion week darling?” he pressed his cheek on yours and laughed to your ear.

“Shut up you.”

YUGYEOM

“I knooow honey it’s tough!” you nodded with your voice dripping with empathy as your friend was almost breaking down on a face time with you. She was sick to death of her busy life and you gave her almost hour of advices and support what to do when she’s stuck at home etc.

“Thank you y/n, I really appreciate that... see you soon.”

“Take care love, bye!”

You sighed at how desperate she looked. You knew Yugyeom is in the living room probably watching some series. But when you got up to go and do something his voice stopped you “Is she okay?” his head appearing in the door, peaking to see if you’re finnished.

“Yeah I hope she’s better now.”

You both agreed on what you’re going to cook for lunch and Yugyeom helped out a lot. But after he ate last bite he disappeared to his studio to do some work. You managed to kill time with tidying up after cooking, but what to do next? Feeling urge to do something productive you wandered around the flat. You had the “do nothing and everything” mood and it was exhausting.

Yugyeom came out of his room like three times to use bahtroom, get some water and so on and every time he saw you going from nothing to nothing. Everytime he smiled to himself and went back to work.

You hated this state of mind but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t start anything and you felt desperate for keep yourself busy. Finally a sleep came like a solution and you passed out on the couch.

“Babe sorry it took me longer.” Yugyeom woke you up with soft kiss on your cheek. He snuggled down almost at you and digged his head on your chest.

“What’s the time?” you mumbled looking around.

“About 5pm..”

“Oh shit haven’t done anything!” you started to move quickly trying to get up.

“Stay still.. it’s fine, let me rest a while and your duties are done for today.” he hugged you tight to stay down “also you were adorable today.”

“What do you mean?” fingers runnng through his hair.

“Just like an ad for cuteness. Wandering around not knowing what to do.. you were just adorable,...” he almost whispered his words as he was falling to sleep “you just gave a whole therapy session and there you are.. not knowing .. what to do with yourself.. so cute.”

[olivinesea]

Satellite

a/n: Ask and ye shall receive I suppose. Here’s some more college Hotchniss nonsense. Still no plot (I promise I’m trying to think of something) and less angsty (I’m sorry, I know we love it). Also, exactly no one cares about this but the title is a big RIP to one of my favorite venues ever. ~2.3k

Hotch’s first concert.

He was not happy. Everything about this situation was the opposite of what he would normally choose to do. He deeply regretted ever making the deal that had landed him lurking in an alley, waiting for “he’s actually a nice guy” Sal to open the side door. He did not like Sal. He did not like the hungry way he looked down at Emily as she flashed her sauciest grin. He did not like Sal’s frowning dismissal of him when Emily had grabbed his hand to indicate she’d need a plus one tonight. Sal had told her to meet him at the side door—the bosses were in tonight and they didn’t appreciate their bouncer letting underage kids waltz in the front door.

Now they had been waiting by the rusty metal door for well over fifteen minutes. Emily was trying to hide her shivers, unwilling to admit she would have been better off with a jacket like he’d suggested. He let her think she was doing a good job of it, reserving his moment of gloating for the inevitable crumbling of this plan. He looked pointedly at his watch, which she loved to make fun of him for wearing. She raised her chin stubbornly.

“He’ll be here soon.”

Hotch didn’t respond, only raised an eyebrow at her. Surely she must realize the reason Sal had been letting her sneak into shows in the past was compromised by his presence. She scowled at him and crossed her arms tighter. He would offer her his sweater. He wanted to offer it.  But he had learned quickly that Emily Prentiss was completely unwilling to admit being wrong. Goosebumps and frozen fingers be damned.

He was mentally preparing an argument that would let her save face while also getting them headed back to the dorms, which they never should have left on Wednesday night. There was a screech as the metal door finally wrenched open. He was glad she’d been staring hard at the entrance and therefore missed the shameful way he jumped at the unexpected sound.

Sal had decided it was still worth it to him to let them in. He subscribed to the numbers game philosophy and saw no reason to write off this number just because she turned up with an unwelcome attachment. Girls like that never stayed attached too long. He could be patient a little longer provided she didn't make a habit of wanting extra favors.

Emily turned to Hotch, her expression that of a cat smugly sitting on clean laundry. He almost laughed. He may not have wanted to be there but he was happy she was happy. It was a curiously simple emotion. One he never expected to feel for this girl who stumbled into his life only a few months ago. She grabbed his hand and excitedly dragged him to the open door. He pulled himself up as tall as he could and gave Sal a meaningful scowl as they passed by. They were almost the same height but the older man laughed at him. Hotch could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as his muscles tensed but Emily was already pulling him into the building. She was too eager to notice the exchange and he was happy enough to let it go. He just hoped there would be no more of Sal tonight.

They entered what appeared to be a small lobby with a bar and fair number of people moving about. He was confused because he didn’t see any kind of stage but didn’t have time to ask. Instead he had to speed up to follow Emily, who dropped his hand and was weaving through the crowd, intent on some unknown destination. He was a little uncomfortable about how narrow some of the gaps she led him through were. He even brushed against several strangers, quickly apologizing before realizing that no one seemed to notice.

They reached another doorway in the opposite corner. It was darker on the far side and as much as he disliked this room with all the disorganized people, he didn’t know if he wanted to find out what was waiting for him beyond it. At least in this room there was a reasonable amount of light. At least in this room he could see the exit. She didn’t give him a choice, her dark hair swinging as she disappeared around a corner. He kept moving after the briefest hesitation. He didn’t want to lose her.

It turned out, to his horror, that the doorway led to a set of stairs. It only got darker and louder as they descended. He could feel the air pressing close and warm, the air of enclosed spaces with not enough room and too many bodies. She led him deeper into the crowd, toward a small stage cluttered with cords and mic stands. The stage was home to a trio of scraggly looking people that may or may not have been moaning in pain. He gave up on trying to avoid contact and instead hunched his shoulders protectively inwards. He hated everything about this. He was about to put a stop to it, to bail on this misadventure whether or not she thought less of him for it. Without warning she stopped and spun to face him. The smile on her face melted his resolve. He wondered if he’d ever seen a person this happy. It was certainly his first time seeing her smile like that.  

She said something but he couldn't hear it. She pulled him down by his collar until she could yell in his ear.

“This is close enough for now.”

He wondered at the “for now” part of that statement but was satisfied to have stopped moving. Something knocked into him from behind and he felt something cold soaking into his shoulder. Alarmed he turned to see a man with a beer in his hand passing by. The man flashed a peace sign by way of apology before disappearing into the crowd. When he turned back to Emily his eyes were wide and indignant. She laughed mercilessly at the expression on his face. With the tips of his fingers, he pulled at the wet patch on his shoulder, his stomach turning in distaste. Abruptly her hands tugged at the hem of his sweater. She was trying to pull it up over his head. He struggled against the motion, everything about this place putting his nerves on high alert. She stepped back, eyeing his thrashing.

“It’s too hot in here!” She had to yell for him to hear.

His face remained blankly uncomprehending, blood busy rushing to his limbs to prepare for a quick escape. She mimed taking off a sweater and gestured at him. He felt foolish for not realizing and quickly shed the item. She wasn’t wrong. Though it was still too warm, he no longer felt like he might suffocate. He scanned the crowd around them and saw that they had a little more elbow room than before. People were mostly concentrated in groups of two or three, only half paying attention to whatever was happening on stage. She snatched the sweater out of his hands and wrapped it around his waist. He closed his eyes and for the hundredth time questioned the wisdom of becoming friends with someone with absolutely no boundaries. She tied the sleeves in place and laughed at him again when she appraised at her work. He made a face at her but appreciated that he wouldn’t have to hold something all night.

The questionable sounds from the stage stopped and things quieted down for a moment. Some house speakers turned on as the band started clearing the stage. The lighting got a little brighter, though it remained murky like pond water. He looked at her, perplexed.

“Is it over?” He tried not to hope too much.

She shook her head, a sly smile playing across her face. “That was just the opener. They’re not very good, are they?”

He looked at her, exasperated. It was already 11 o’clock. He could barely get her to their 8 am class under normal circumstances.

“Don’t worry, dad. Main act is next. I’m sure they’ll be out soon. Just relax.”

He scowled. He hated when she called him dad and he sincerely doubted he would ever feel relaxed trapped underground with a lunatic. He looked around again, mostly searching for the closest exit. He was coming to the unpleasant conclusion that the stairs they came down are also the only way out. She shoved a water bottle in his hand and without thinking about it, he took a swig. He almost choked on the vicious burn of warm vodka. He glared at her, eyebrows drawn together as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What the fuck Emily.”

The smell of it settled unpleasantly in his sinuses and he rubbed his nose, hoping it would dissipate. She shrugged and took the bottle back quickly.

“Try to be a little less obvious, nerd.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course she thought he was the one causing a problem here. She drank from the water bottle, her only reaction a small frown as she swallowed.

“Where did you even have that?” he hissed. Her short skirt and crop top didn’t provide a lot of hiding places.

“You don’t want to know.”

He shook his head when she tried to offer it to him again. So she finished off the liquor, whistling through her teeth after the last gulp. He was about to fuss at her—for the drinking, for the late night, for the literally unsafe conditions they were in, but she had turned all her attention up front. The lights had gone down—somehow darker than before, he thought—and the whole crowd had gone silent. He could just make out silhouettes of the musicians taking their places on stage.

A spotlight came up on the singer, center stage and the crowd cheered. Her eyes reflected the light menacingly and she had a smile like a dagger. He wondered if she inspired fear in everyone there, and, if so, why they seemed to enjoy it. She started singing and he was as entranced as the rest of them. A cappella at first, she drew the crowd into her. They swayed gently like a sea of charmed snakes. Just as he felt he might float away on her melody, the drums crashed in and the spell was released. Everyone was jumping and flailing to the driving guitar and percussion. The singer’s voice was still beautiful, but in the same way a broken window was beautiful, shattered glass sprayed across the ground.

The abrupt shift immobilized him until Emily grabbed both his hands and pulled him towards her. She was laughing and singing and showed no trace of the shadows that always seem to be weighing her down. Tonight she was completely without stress or guilt. She was free inside this confined space in a way he didn't think he had ever experienced himself. She wanted him to feel it too and folded him into a tight embrace, just for a moment, pressing her elation into his chest. She broke away and began dancing with the crowd, hoping to lead by example. It must have worked because he could feel the tension inside him uncurling.  

He caught her hand, initiating contact for the first time. With smooth, practiced movements he pulled her into a spin. She shrieked but he could hear her calling, “Again! Again!” He smiled, happy to oblige, barely sparing a thought for the contrast between the stiff, brightly lit auditorium where he learned this skill and this chaotic dance floor. He had never appreciated those awkward lessons, they required too much contact, too much presence. No one wanted to dance with the 15-year-old loner with the bad temper and holes in his shoes. Even if they had, high school bodies, still awkward and mismanaged, did not make for the best dance partners.

But Emily, she flew, directed by the smallest touch. He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly to counter-balance the speed at which she was spinning away. They might be the only people on earth and he was fine with that. The song ended and she collapsed into him, slightly out of breath and grinning. She started to ask him a question but the next song started and she yelped. It was a favorite. She turned back to the stage and he let her go, just enjoying the way she moved without inhibition. He would join her again in a moment but he needed a little time to hold this feeling close.

By the time it was over they were both sweaty and a little gritty. They were swept up and out with the rest of the crowd. He was mildly disturbed by the press of bodies in the stairwell but they quickly found themselves exiting the building. The night air was frigid after the sauna they’d been marinating in for the last few hours. He insisted that she wear his sweater on their walk home, refusing to acknowledge the way she grumbled. They walked quietly, both still in awe of the experience. His heart was so full but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. He settled on something simple.

“I had a good time.”

“Hmm?” She was deep in thought and didn’t catch his mumbled words.

He clears his throat. “I said I had a good time.”

“Of course you did. I told you you would.” She was flip as ever.

He exhales through his nose and shakes his head. He supposed it probably didn’t matter all that much but he’d still like her to know he was being sincere.

She linked her arm through his, pressing against his side.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She sounded serious, no longer teasing him.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

[themangledsans0508]

Is this Okay?

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline learned a lesson from her mother, the Vampire King, and Simon. Everything Stays. No matter what you try to do to change it.

Words: 1713, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Marceline Abadeer, Bonnibel Bubblegum, Peppermint Butler

Ships: Bubbline

Additional Tags: fluff, mild hurt/comfort

It had been two weeks since vampires returned to Ooo and Marceline had slain them all again, in the process getting turned again. She thought non-stop about the Vampire King’s words, how their cycle would continue forever if she didn’t try to change their outcomes.

But she did try, and nothing changed. She was still a vampire.

In all honesty, she didn’t care anymore. She forgot how nice it was to be mortal, but how horrible it was at the same time. The cons outweighed the pros, and she was resigned to accept it. She’d live forever, watch all the people she loved die, except for two.

Simon and Bonnibel.

Simon, she had mixed feelings about, because while he was immortal, he wasn’t himself. One day, she’d save him. Saving him might make him mortal, and then she’d lose him.

Against her better judgement, she reached for her phone. She tapped before she could change her mind and let the fish circle her ear. It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Bonnie,” Marceline said quietly.

“Marcy, what are you doing still up? It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Bonnie asked. Marceline felt under the spotlight, but there was no backing down now. She had called and now she had to ask.

“I haven’t slept. In a few days really. Do you remember a few weeks ago when you said that if I wanted, I could move into the castle?”

“Yeah?” Bonnie’s voice sounded hopeful, and Marceline felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, this is misleading. I wanted to ask if I could drop by sometimes. I like having my own space, but like I also want to be,” she hesitated and cautiously continued “I want to be living with my girlfriend. Sometimes, but just keep my house. In case or whatever.” Marceline heard the clicking of something being put down and the shifting of clothes and she figured she had called while Bonnie was doing an experiment.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind. Honestly, I miss you. Miss how we used to be. Like, domestically. Not everything else. That was bad. You’re welcome over whenever you want, I don’t know if you want your own room or-”

“Bon, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to share your room,” Marceline requested. She braced herself for dismissal or decline but she was met with silence.

“Colour stays in my clothes,” Bonnie ordered. Marceline’s ears perked up and she practically jumped off her bed. “No going in the lab while I’m experimenting, something could go wrong and someone could get hurt. It’s a safety issue, not because I don’t want you there. Unless you’re careful, then you can hang out there.”

“Those are some pretty easy rules to follow,” Marceline stated.

“They’re supposed to be, I’m not going to strap you down and tell you that you can’t do this or that.”

“Are you doing anything important right now?”

“Besides cleaning the last remaining remnants of the King of Ooo ruining my lab? No.”

“So I could come over right now?”

“Yes, except it's daylight.”

“I have an umbrella.” She heard Bonnie laugh on the other end.

“You are so stubborn. Be careful, okay? I don’t need a crisp staining my hallways.”

“Pff, it’ll be fine. See you in a bit, Peebles.”

Marceline may have been too hasty, and in her rush accidentally stuck her arm out of the shade and got burned, but that was fine because of her healing powers. She flashed Finn and Jake a wave when she came across them to raised eyebrows in the Candy Kingdom. She slipped into the castle without the Banana Guards noticing due to their own lack of attention and closed her umbrella, leaning against it.

An angry mint stalked towards her and pointed a gloved hand at her.

“If you are here to be turned mortal again, you’ll have to wait! The Princess has not even begun rebuilding the machine, and I hope you have prepared properly for the potential consequences of your actions after you were poisoned and almost perished! May I also request you refrain from placing the Princess in harm’s way?”

“Move over, candy man.” Marceline nudged him out of the way with the tip of her umbrella. “I’m a vampire for good. If I catch you trying to stake me I’ll drain all the red from your body. Where’s Bonnie?” Peppermint Butler huffed and adjusted his suit.

“She’s organising her lab. If you do her any harm I will make sure your fate is worse than death.” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Heard that before, Minty.” She walked across the floor, her heels clicking against the solid candy floor. She could hear Peppermint Butler mumbling things under his breath but she elected to leave well enough alone. She navigated by memory to the lower halls, pausing at the lab doors. She hesitated before knocking.

“Come in!” Marceline stepped through the doorway and quickly reacted when she saw a glass beaker falling. She dived down and caught it, rubbing her neck sheepishly when she handed it back.

“You gotta be careful Bonnie, that could’ve shattered.” Bonnie carefully put the contents of her arms into the sink and dusted her hands together, leaning against the counter.

“I have plenty more, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world,” Bonnie said calmly. Her body language was a different story, her hands fidgeted and her eyes looked everywhere but Marceline’s. She tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor. “How long do you think you’ll be staying?”

“Want me gone already?” Marceline joked. Bonnie frowned.

“No, I’d love to have you here full-time, I was just curious how much time I’ll have with you before you go back to your house.”

“I don’t know, I just want to be here with you for a while. Even if Mints wants me gone.”

“Peps just doesn’t trust you, he’s skeptical of everyone,” Bonnie explained.

“I’ve literally been around you longer than he’s been alive, if I was going to do anything I would’ve done it seven centuries ago,” Marceline deadpanned. Bonnie pushed herself away from the counter.

“I know you would’ve and I trust you completely.” She placed a tender hand on Marceline’s cheek. “I’d trust you with my life.”

“Same. And I have multiple times. But if the little dude comes for me I will shatter him into a million pieces and throw him out the window.”

“Please do be careful with him, it’s such a pain to have to put him back together piece by piece,” Marceline grumbled something under her breath and reluctantly nodded in agreement.

~

She was fidgeting.

That in and of itself wasn’t usual, Marceline was typically always moving in one way or another. This time, however, she was nervous.

Not because she was sleeping next to Bonnibel, on the contrary sleeping beside her was actually comforting. It was the fact that she had a question to ask that she wasn’t sure she had her own answer to.

“Bonnie?” she spoke quietly in case her partner was asleep. She felt shifting beside her and didn’t have to turn to know Bonnie was looking at her.

“Yeah?” She took a few deep breaths and felt a warm hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Bonnie, are you okay with me being a vampire?” The words hung in the air for a time, and Marceline could tell Bonnie was choosing her words carefully before saying them. The fingers on her shoulder tightened its grip.

“Marcy, look at me.” She did, her eyes meeting Bonnibel’s. Her face was unreadable, which was normal but did little to put Marceline at ease. She took Marceline’s hand and held it in between them. “When I first met you, you were a vampire. It didn’t bother me back then, why would it bother me now?”

“I don’t know, I just,” she sighed, leaning back slightly, “I’m a freak. I have to drink the colour red, I can’t go outside during the day, I can’t eat garlic, your butler was so worried I could go crazy he’s been getting things to stake me with! My heart doesn’t beat unless I make it, I’m basically permanently cold, I don’t need to breathe ever. I committed genocide on my entire species except for one other vampire!” She broke eye contact before whispering, “I’m a freak. You’re a princess. At least when I was human, I was able to be normal. Like we could be a normal couple.”

“Marceline, I’ve always loved you for you. I don’t care if my sleep schedule gets thrown off, I don’t care if my entire kingdom goes pale. We haven’t used garlic here in centuries I can barely remember what it tastes like. And us being a normal couple?” she laughed and smiled, “I’m a sentient piece of gum that rules a kingdom she made from scratch that is also a lesbian. You’re a half-demon half-vampire who’s a rockstar and a queen and also bisexual. The word ‘normal’ and ‘us’ go together like two electrons.” Her smile faltered.

“If I’m honest, I didn’t want you to turn human again. For entirely selfish reasons. I didn’t want to lose you one day. But that was unfair to you, and it’s your life. I hate to say it but I was happy when you got turned back. It saved me a lot of work. I was going to try and find some way to prevent ageing, just because of my own fears.”

“That kind of defeats the point of being mortal,” Marceline pointed out.

“I know. That’s why I said it was selfish. For my own reasons I never wanted you to die. Either way, you would be ageless either naturally or by my doing, so in the end, I didn’t mind. Vampire or human, you’re still Marceline. That’s all I care about.” Marceline smiled at her.

“Bonnibel Bubblegum showing emotions?” She leaned forward and pecked her lips.

“Don’t make me regret it.” She started to turn away before pausing, looking back at Marceline with a sly grin. “Actually, there’s one thing that being a vampire has over being a human?”

“What?”

“It’s kind of hot.” Even dead, some hue came to Marceline’s cheeks as she playfully shoved Bonnibel off the bed.

[hoodoo12]

Stiffed (3/3)

Beetlejuice on a stage with a pole, stripping.

OCs mentioned: @beetlebitchywitch​ ‘s Mal; @humanransome-note�� ‘s Niphera; @jeuchrit​ ‘s Ivan; @memedemonhours​ ‘s Lyra; @neitherworld​ ‘s Bambi; @clairjohnson​ ‘s Lamia; @vicunaburger​ ‘s Lollipop; @go-commander-kim​ ‘s Lorelai; @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice​ ‘s Zia; @turtlepated​ ‘s Evvie; @pennytrash​ ‘s Beatrix; @lazifyre​ ‘s Vivian; @strange-n-unbluusual​ ‘s Punkin; @texasblues​ ‘s Anais

Part 1 here, Part 2 here

Use the stage. That was easy, since the group with their eyes pinned to him was a literal circle around the edge of the elevated floor. Although at first unsure of himself and dismayed that he was put on display just for the measly excuse that he sometimes was a little short on cash, he did like attention and no one’s wandered. Not even Madame’s although she watched from a distance, allowing the girls to have the front row. This song was a long one, but he had been given no indication how long he was going to be required to stay up here. Slowly, he mapped out the breadth of the stage, learning where the spotlights hit more frequently and their patterns. They were multicolored and he marked which color was where. As he walked, his feet and hips moved of their own will to the music. Madame hadn’t been wrong; his ass was good for dancing. When he first swayed to the music, he earned a giggly round of praise. He saw a few of the girls elbow their neighbors, and more than one of them whispering to each other, even as their eyes were still locked on him. Grabbing the pole made the whispers stop temporarily, but he didn’t capitalize on it. He knew a tease was better than giving it all away at the beginning. The song was half over, and he hadn’t done anything but walk the stage. Casting a glance over to Madame Bouriseau and seeing her drop her chin like she was going to reprimand him, Beetlejuice took the hint and loosened his tie. That caught everyone’s attention. Quickly he thought back over what he’d seen strippers do and how they worked their audience . . . okay, so he’d never watched male strippers--much--but a slow reveal of skin was always more fun than an immediate disrobing. With that in mind, instead of taking it off completely, he left the knot loose and the tie hanging down his chest. His fingers working automatically, he undid the top buttons on his shirt as his lower half got more into the music. At least this song was explicit and almost like an instruction to guide his hips. He didn’t doubt it was a deliberate choice, maybe to make it slightly easier for him at the beginning. Each button pop lead to an increase in noise around him. Seeing that he had everyone’s rapt attention, Beetlejuice lost his reservations. He was being forced to dance for their enjoyment? Then he’d pay his tab in full. Maybe even put himself in the black. By the end of Nine Inch Nail’s telling everyone how he’d penetrate them, he’d found his groove. He hadn’t lost much of his clothing yet, just a teasing show of pale skin and suggestive thrusting that many watching him knew intimately. He was well warmed up for the next song to come up, “Horns” by Bryce Fox, and then to everyone’s delight, he did start dropping clothing. He tossed his jacket to Beatrix, who shook her head but smiled and wrapped it over her shoulders. There was no sexy way to get rid of his shoes or socks, so he called Vivian and Lyra closer. He actually sat down on the edge of the stage and paid them direct attention as they unlaced his shoes and stripped him of them and his socks themselves; he figured the rule of “no touching” was negated when he got a bouncer to be the one to do it. As a reward, he kissed them both lightly, teasingly, as he got back to his feet and resumed. A song sung in Russian--courtesy of Ivan? Beetlejuice wasn’t sure who was selecting the music--came up, and he used the rhythm of it to extract himself from his shirt. He may not have the build of a typical dancer, but this reveal made all them laugh and cheer. To his surprise, Lorelai whistled and held up a bill in her fist. Zia, who’d come out from behind the bar to join the crowd, laughed and held up her own money. Emboldened, Beetlejuice dropped to his hands and knees and took their money with his teeth. Back on his feet, he shoved the paper money into his pants, earning more cheers. Suddenly more people were offering him bills. “Poison” from Alice Cooper came on, and that was good enough to move sensually, making sure to make eye contact with each and every one of them, and start to get rid of the rest of this pesky clothing. His belt was gone, each jerk through the belt loops in his trousers emphasized with the beat of the music, and by the time he popped the button on his fly, the next song-- “Army of Me”, by Bjork--started, his hand was on his zipper. When he paused, he felt someone shove their hand into his back pocket. Running his hand over his own ass, he came away with more money. Evvie winked at him and he spun into a crouch, planting a kiss on her too. This song was slower, which helped with this big reveal. Unlike Madame’s prediction up in her office, he was wearing underwear tonight. Nothing fancy and more grimy than not, but he hadn’t had time to prepare. They were going to get what they got. Making sure they were all watching closely, Beetlejuice undid his zipper, and took an inordinate amount of time shimmying out of his pants, deliberately bending over and making eye contact with as many of his audience as he could. They all waited with bated breath, their hands still in the air but not vying for his attention at the moment. Then, with every eye in the place riveted to him, he dropped his pants and kicked them over the ring of girls around the stage. Anias had to duck but shrieked in laughter. The roar that went up was worth it. Beetlejuice continued his circuit, feeling pumped up, allowing his audience to run their hands over his legs and chest and ass. More random money was shoved into his briefs. Dancing was hardly a term for what he was doing, but that didn’t seem to matter. He just found whatever beat from whatever song was playing--”Hourglass” by Set it Off, “Girly” by the Refreshments--and let it guide him. When he slowed for a moment, letting his hips move in half time, someone shouted over the noise, “What about that pole?” It sounded like Lamia. “This pole?” he replied, grabbing his crotch, to everyone’s ultimate delight. He caught her eye, and with a cheeky grin went to the pole she actually meant, standing astride it and running his hands over it like it as a substitution for what was in his underwear. A much thicker, shinier substitution. The music from one song was blending to another and although he stroked the pole, he waited until he knew what he was working with before moving more than that. “You Spin Me”. But harder than the original. Perfect; he couldn’t have asked for better. He grinned and blew a kiss to Lamia, then mounted the pole. That earned him the wildest cheer and encouragement yet. Graceful, no, but enthusiasm played better for his crowd. He hadn’t realized what strength it took to use the prop, and before he knew it his arms were shaking. A thin silk cloth fluttered to the stage and he took a moment’s break to wipe his hands. Looking upward, he caught Xanthe’s eye and realized she’d been watching the show from a different vantage point. He tied the silk around his waist. Before going back to the pole, he walked the edge of the stage again, letting the colored lights play over him. The girls made rude suggestions and that made him laugh. More bills were slipped under the silk and into his underwear, and more than one hand fondled his junk or ass. In fact, he spun to the girls nearest him--Lollipop and Punkin--and offered them his hands. “Come up?” With quick shrugs and squeals, they did. Then he offered the same invitation to all of them, assisting them up if they weren’t close to the stairs. Anais he caught by the waist and lifted her up onto the stage; she shrieked in laughter and squeezed his upper arms as he moved her, He extended hands even to Zia, Niphera, and Ivan. Dante’s barkeeps hesitated, then joined the group on stage. The bouncer stayed on the floor with his arms crossed, although he looked amused. Beetlejuice waded through the group to the edge of the raised floor and gave Madame a saucy smirk and an eyebrow raise that invited plenty. She declined taking his outstretched hand and stepping up with a shake of her head, but smiled as well. By the time he’d frowned his disappointment the stage was full of laughing dancers he had been tasked to entertain. Hands roamed over him. Bodies pressed against him. He touched and squeezed and ground back. Maybe this was supposed to be some kind of lesson, but it was starting to feel more like a reward. A song about snakes came up and the used that to his advantage, moving sensually through the crowd of them, making contact with as many of them as possible. When it finally stopped, a single pair of hands clapped for the group. “I think he’s paid you back,” Madame Bouriseau announced to them. She was met with groans of dismay and that maybe he hadn’t quite yet. She smiled indulgently. “He’s danced for forty minutes,” she replied, because of course she’d kept track of something as mundane as that, “and that’s longer than a standard set for any of you.” There was nothing to do but agree. Slowly they exited off the stage. They all got a moment’s personal attention, and it was Mal who helped him off the stairs so she could return to the pole herself. 

Ivan had collected his discarded clothing and escorted him back to Madame. With one arm holding his balled up clothing, he picked bills out of his underwear with the other hand as he went. “You’ll return all that to the girls,” she informed him. Beetlejuice glanced up at her, about to argue. Then he shut his mouth with a snap. “Perhaps if you’d like to earn your own money, we can find a time for you to return and dance for real customers. That might go over very well! I’m sure we can design a costume that riffs on your favorite suit.” As if a concerned mother, she straightened his tie, which had never come off. “You did well up there, Lawrence,” she praised. “If you’d like, we can retire to my private quarters for the evening. You deserve a little pampering after all that, I believe.” She didn’t often extend an offer like that to him. He usually spent time behind closed doors with one of the girls, and that was fine. But tonight was unique-- “|Yeah. I’d like that,” he replied. With a smile, Madame led him by his tie through the club and back up the stairs. 

fin!

[breadcaaat]

part seven

jeongguk x hybrid!reader

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

words: 2.5k

Warnings: mentions of rape and revenge porn

“I wasn’t born in Seoul. I’ve actually only lived here for a couple of years.”

“Where were you born?”

“Busan.”

She nodded, as if she knew where that was. He bypassed explaining Korean geography and continued.

“Anyway, I came here for college three years ago with Da Eunae - my high school girlfriend. She was studying to become a teacher and I wanted to get into videography… ” He picked at his fingernails. Move on, he thought. It was a bittersweet subject. He had little to no possibility of pursuing that career now. “Anyway, about half-way through my freshman year - I’d just been meeting all sorts of new people, you know, and I realized that I didn’t really love my girlfriend anymore, so I broke up with her. I wanted to explore, and she was too possessive. Like - if I talked to anyone female she was immediately suspicious, but she wouldn’t outright accuse me, if that makes any sense. She’d just give me the cold shoulder, but also be super - super clingy at the same time. I mean - clingy isn’t bad, though! It was just the wrong type and so…” Move on, move on.

“Right, I explored. There was stuff I was curious about - different scenes and people and stuff - and I’d also been questioning my sexuality for a while at that point and decided to just kinda… put myself out there. Had a whole new friend group in two months and they were awesome. That’s actually when I met Hobi-hyung. There was a dance workshop second semester, and he was in his senior year so he introduced me to a lot of people. Everyone likes Hobi.”

“Is this the one you went out for drinks with?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded, and he felt himself relaxing a bit. Freshman year had honestly been great, even with the angst of letting his old girlfriend go. It’d been a relief, with time.

“During the summer after, I did a photography internship with a local journal and spent some time back in Busan - pretty uneventful. Fun, though. And at some point I decided to really,” he cleared his throat, and the tips of his ears dusted pink, “explore, and I started… sleeping around.”

Y/N nodded, chin propped on his shoulder. She seemed unperturbed.

“Boys and girls,” he clarified. If he was expecting a reaction he didn’t get one - besides a little cock to her eyebrow as if asking And?

He couldn’t help but prod. “That’s not weird?”

She shook her head. He seemed hesitant to let it go though, so she clarified. “My lover in the cages likes boys and girls, too. I’ve slept with other women. Thought it was normal. If you wanna have sex with someone then… you wanna have sex with them, and that’s it.” A small pause, and a little furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Is it weird?”

Jeongguk hadn’t stopped processing the first statement yet. “You had a lover?” 

She nodded, looking a little puzzled now. The spotlight was supposed to be on him, not her. “Yeah; an ex-stripper.We shared a cage and were pretty tight…” Then she shook her head, focusing back on the subject at hand, “I’ll tell you about him later, though. I still don’t know what - this was all about.”

He nodded and cleared his throat. Right, yeah. He’d pursue that line of questioning later.

But, honestly… he’s still not sure what happens next in the story. The effect on him, yeah. The result, sure. But the cause?

He still has no clue.

“And then, I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” She seemed thoroughly confused as to the connection between this history and his anguish about it.

He sighed, heavily. 

“I don’t know. I started sophomore year, and then suddenly there was this huge following online where people posted… videos and stuff. Of me having, um, sex. I didn’t even know videos had been taken. And most of the videos were with the men I’d slept with. They got posted to this porn website and a couple people from the college got ahold of them and they circulated - and then that was that.” 

He was silent for a second. The turbulence of his confusion then affected him even now. When he next spoke, it was quieter.

“The only people that stuck around were Hoseok and Eunae. I think my friends couldn’t look at me without seeing what they saw in the videos, you know? I don’t… blame them. It’s weird.”

She was silent for a minute.

Then she got huffy.

“I do. And fuck your ex, dude.”

Finally, he turned around. “What?”

“I know my hearing is better than yours but you can’t have that shitty a sense of - ”

“No, what do you mean by what you said?”

“I meant to say fuck your ex, she sucks.”

There was a long moment where she looked at him expectantly. Like whatever connection she’d made was obvious.

He gave her a look.

“… You really don’t see it, huh?”

He shook his head.

The deep inhale she took he could then feel against his back, and the two of them swayed with it. It was heavy. She was preparing to say something just as heavy.

The breath came out in a rush. Her head tipped forward and tapped his shoulder. Mutedly, he noticed how soft her hair had become. It cheered him up a little.

“When - when you get turned into - into… a hybrid. Like me, um…”

The stutter was something he hadn’t heard in a while. He watched in surprise as her ears folded back against her head, as she curled in on herself - almost hiding behind him. It was her turn to avoid eye contact now. It made him apprehensive, but he was focused on her more now than he had been all day.

“Go on,” he murmured. She nodded against his shoulder.

“The way it works is you get, um, commissioned. Somehow, before it all, you catch someone’s eye - someone with money - and they get in contact with Sheepdog, and then they commission you. They describe what animal they want you to be, and look like, and act like, and how they want you trained and… you lose everything.” 

Her voice was so quiet. He felt like the whole world was contained in just this flat. 

“They take your memory, and they keep taking it - I don’t know how; they don’t tell us. But the lab is where you feel like you’re born. I really don’t know how to describe what it’s like being - being born as an adult, but… that’s how it is, and you’re sensitive and vulnerable and everything hurts. You want someone to take care of you and coddle you and protect you and - and touch you, so badly it physically hurts. Right in your chest. It’s like a, a twist. But there’s no one, and every time you reach out for comfort it’s denied. It hurts every time. It never stops hurting.”

As tender as he could manage, his fingers wound into hers where they were still kneading at his hoodie strings. She relaxed a little.

“And then your owner comes. They throw open the door and sweep you away to a place where there’s food and luxury and nice clothes, and they act so nice and they - they touch you. They worm their way under your skin while you’re still like that - all, all innocent and scared - and they seem like saviors. You think that everything will be better and that it’s so good you’ve left that dark, scary place, but ultimately…” 

She scrounges up the courage to look him in the eyes then. 

And for the first time since they’ve met, it really hits him just how scary her life has been. He understood that it was dangerous, but not scary. Not like the dark is to a child.

“Ultimately, your owner put you there.”

She finishes, and seems to hold her breath. She’s looking for that click behind his eyes. He has to see the connection now. She hopes he does, and that he sees how he’s been wronged. That he spots the parallel.

And really, he doesn’t get it - until he very suddenly he does. 

The click she was looking for happens, and he feels sick. The few bites of ramen he had were craving a return to the open air. 

It was no secret Eunae wanted him back. And no secret that she was competitive - it was one of the things he thought was attractive about her in the beginning, because he is too, and also one of the qualities that eventually drove him away. After he dumped her, she must’ve felt like she’d lost somehow. And - lemon juice in the wound - to men. She’d always had a problem with that, too. Boys kissing boys and girls kissing girls. She’d always said it was gross. He never bothered to correct her.

So, it was plausible. 

It was plausible that she’d wanted him back so bad that she’d engineered a “dark place” - paid off or convinced or whatever’ed some of his partners into filming him when he wasn’t aware, and then got her hands on those videos and posted them. The result: he lost his friends. And she made a now obviously convenient return into his life, open-armed and honey-tongued.

Ultimately, she put you there.

A new flavor of bile.

It’s bitter. Tinged with some emotion he can’t quite place. Something primal and angry and feral. He’s lost so much because of some girl’s - what, pride? Jealousy? He lost basically everything because of an ex?

But take a step back. She may also… not have. He might still be the unlucky victim of some - admittedly - very coordinated bullies.

And when it came down to it, it never mattered who did this to him. The result would still be the same no matter where the blame lies. He still lost everything. He lost his friends, and his college, and his career… his family. They left him, too -

“You’re crying.”

A finger brushes his cheekbone, wicking the water away. He’d been so in his own head for the past few minutes he hadn’t realized.

“There’s more?” she guessed.

He sighed and scrubbed at his eyes with too-scratchy sleeves. “Yeah. Yeah, there - ” his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and went on, “ - there is.”

“Tell me.” Gentle. Firm.

Another long, too-long pause.

“One of my professors saw my videos.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, but - he didn’t, like…” Another sigh, this one frustrated. “It hadn’t reached my family yet, so he blackmailed me.”

He didn’t elaborate further. Whatever it was seemed more painful than the rest.

She prodded anyway. “Into?”

“Into letting him fuck me.”

She blinked.

“He just… really liked what he saw in those videos, I guess. And someone got a picture! And it got into the news and then the school ousted me and then - !“

“Breathe,” she reminded him. More tears were budding at his lash line, and she wiped them gently away. They spilled and rolled over his cheekbones.

He sucked in a breath, then continued. It was like he’d opened the floodgates. Now he had to get everything out or he felt like he’d die. “And then my family learned about it anyway. My parents were never rich. We were relying on my uncle - he’s got a lot more money - to help me out financially. I was already on thin ice before for my major. And then it came out that I was - I was fucking guys and getting fucked by guys and sleeping with my professors and coaches and whatever the fuck else and that support was yanked out from under my feet like a rug. And then I had no job, so I was completely broke, and then I broke the phone I had and… “

“And?”

“And I’d never memorized my parents’ numbers. And they don’t know how to use the internet well, even when they have access, which they usually don’t. So I haven’t talked to them in…” He used to keep count of the weeks; he used to remember. It hurt to, though. He’d stopped.

“… In a long time. And that’s all. That’s my fucking - sob story, so, uh, take it or leave it I guess.”

She doesn’t speak for another long, long minute.

“Does talking about this at least feel any better?” she whispers.

“I don’t know what to feel.”

So she grips him tight, leaning to the side so they both topple over into the pillows. 

He’s not usually the little spoon.

… It feels nice.

“How would you feel?” he asks after a minute. The cuddling is soothing, and he’s feeling braver now.

“Hm?”

“Like, if all this happened to you and you were me, how should you feel?”

“Well, is this a would or should scenario?”

He chews on that for a second, before answering, “Would.”

“Angry.”

“Should?”

“Angry.”

He scoffs. “Don’t you lose the moral high ground, then? Anger is all… evil and stuff.”

“Bullshit. Anger is perfectly moral.”

She doesn’t explain further, but he’s curious now. Perhaps he does feel a little better.

“… How so?”

“Here, roll over.”

“Huh?”

She loses her patience very quickly, gripping him by the waist and rolling him over herself. They’re face to face now. His nose is almost touching hers, and it makes his breath catch in his throat.

(Her face is really pretty.)

“Anger is perfectly righteous, and you wanna know why?”

Suddenly feeling very shy, he just nods. But that’s a bad idea because it makes their noses brush and he can’t help but imagine a different flavor of the sleepy mornings they share. Mornings where instead of blanket tug-of-war and nipped ears there’s just the gentle press and slide of soft lips and -

She must sense he’s not completely there, reaching up to pat at his face. He needs to hear what she has to say. He deserves anger. He blinks.

“You deserve anger.” Good start. “You deserve it because - because you’re worth it. You - you’re worth something, and because of that, you deserve to feel anger over how you’ve been mistreated and stepped on because everything that’s been done to you is wrong. Any moral standard that doesn’t allow you anger doesn’t allow you to defend yourself.”

Her hand’s stayed on his face. She lets her thumb brush the reddened rim of his eye, hoping that her fingers are cool enough to help with the swelling. She doesn’t like seeing him cry.

“And I understand that you gotta fight for the ability to feel angry for yourself but I - I just… that’s why I would and should be angry, if I were you. You deserve that anger.”

The urge to close his eyes and lose himself to the weight of her palm on his cheek and the gentle brushing of her palm is a strong one, but he forces himself to keep them open and look at her.

“I’d get angry,” she repeats. Her voice is a whisper. “And I’m angry for you.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees with her; at least not at first. But he tries to take it in the context of her life. Anger is what she’s learned it to be, not what society has said it is. So to her, anger is a different entity.

To her, anger must be justice. It’s her drive for justice. 

And he’s on board with that.

He’s angry.

A/N: of course, now that im seven chapters in, im starting to dislike the chapter style. im thinking of - when this is all finished - doing one last collective post with all the parts in one, so its just a ~40k beast

tag list: @feed-my-geek-soul​ @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01 @seokchella @dinorahrodriguez @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @studiojoonie

tag list glitches: @infiressnct @starryannaaa

[ivystjamess]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @julienschuester and ivy st.james WHERE: the choir room. WHEN: wednesday, march 10th. WHAT: following a long hiatus from one another, ivy says sorry in the best way she can think of how, and her and julien (finally) start dating again.

IVY: Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, it had been dragging Ivy down and enlightenment was a savior. Ivy St.James and Julien Schuester were tethered to two ends of the same rope, and as of late, there hadn't been much slack to give. Julien's hot and cold moods, tugging on the rope, and bringing it closer kept her up at night was rattling to say the least and it left Ivy tossing, turning, and thinking her brain away. While her actions showed she was sorry, and that she was obviously interested in Julien still, her lips hadn't uttered a formal, heartfelt, i'm sorry. With Spring Awakening rehearsals bringing them close, numbers for lessons, and just generally being back within the same school, Ivy knew something had to be done. What did her dad always say? Sing About It. Under the pretense of an emergency meeting, Ivy beckoned Julien to the choir room with a text. And although he looked surprised to find Ivy alone, she sat on her stool calm as ever and gestured to the red chairs in front of her, "Wanna like, sit? I have some stuff I want...need to say to you." Watching Julien cross to sit had Ivy furiously rubbing her lips as she prepared to place her heart on a platter for Julien. Rarely did she get nervous, but rarely did performance mean so much to her. "Julien, Jules, I just like..." Why couldn't she think? Why did her fingertips feel fuzzy? Ugh! "Sorry, I'm like, kinda nervous." she shamefully admitted, but this was all about honesty, wasn't it? "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for egging you, and for switching schools, and not listening to you, or trusting you. I was being selfish and guarded and whatever, and it wasn't cool." A breath, "But, I'm back now, and I'm like honestly going kinda crazy not being with you. I know who I am without you, and as hot and awesome, and mean as she is...I wanna be like hot and awesome and a little less mean with you." Still having more to say, she didn't want to waste anymore time, so Ivy began to speak rapidly, "But I think, as awful as it all was, I've really like, learned a ton from this! And I hope you have too and stuff. Even with like being sorry or whatever, I totally know the ball is in your court, so I guess I just wanted to like, give you my thoughts, and your space, so, yeah! I think this sums it up." Ivy flashed a nervous smile as she let out a breath and turned to the band. Softly, they began to play Duffy's Oh Boy. It was a simple performance with Ivy, Julien, and her heart speaking to him through song. Sure, she sounded polished, but there were no fabricated tears or elaborate choreography. Just her on a stool, trying to get a message across. And when that was done, and she knew she had tried her best, she clapped her hands down against her thighs, and looked at Julien with an anxious anticipation, "And that's all I have to say, I can totally let you go now, or like I can go, I don't want this to feel weird or whatever I just needed to do that."

JULIEN: When Julien received a text from Ivy about an 'emergency meeting' in the choir room, he sped through the halls of McKinley like his life depended on it. He paced through the hallways against the flow of traffic, narrowly dodging people with frantic 'excuse mes' and 'i'm sorrys' until finally, he busted through the door. "Hi! I'm here," he said breathlessly, fully expecting to find the choir room up in flames, only to find Ivy alone. He paused in the doorway for a moment when she spoke. "Uh oh," he responded as he hesitantly made his way to a chair across from her, "am I in trouble or something?" He was trying to be playful, but a tense energy hung thickly in the air and being around Ivy alone like this instantly made him nervous. Once he took off his backpack and set it down beside him, he sat down and relaxed. "Okay...I'm listening..." he drawled, waiting for her to continue. At her admission that she was nervous, Julien felt his cheeks starting to burn and his lips curving up into a slight smile. "It's okay, I'm nervous too and I don't even know why, so we can be nervous together," he encouraged with a nod, gently nudging her to keep going. It was no secret that things between them had been inconsistent and unpredictable as of late. It was obvious that they still had feelings for each other, however, it was also obvious that there was still a lot of hurt between them...and Finn had been right. Julien had been acting like all of the horrible Vocal Adrenaline stuff hadn't happened. Being with Ivy was just so easy and it felt so good and it was what he wanted...but if he just rolled over and decided to forgive her without her ever even really saying sorry, then what would all of his growth have been for? He had to stand up for himself. Even if it hurt. After Ivy had asked 'what changed' and Julien answered, the last thing he had expected was for her to summon him to the choir room for a genuine, earnest, and thoughtful apology. But here she was. And here he was—slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. "Ivy..." he said quietly, sitting up slightly as he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like his head was suddenly empty. Like she could sense his state of shock, Ivy kept talking and eventually that talking turned into singing. When the band started playing the opening chords to 'oh boy' by Duffy, Julien softened and relaxed back into his chair. As Ivy's crisp voice filled the choir room, he kept his eyes glued to hers and watched, in awe, as she sang directly to him. She chipped away at his hurt with each sweet lyric she sang until eventually, he was left with nothing for her but love and forgiveness. Julien was a soft and tender hearted person, so it was surprising to exactly no one that when the song came to an end, he was indisputably misty eyed. As she concluded her song with a finalizing statement, Julien rose to his feet and shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't go," was all he said before he placed his hands on either side of her face and crashed his lips into hers. He knew he would actually have to say something in response to everything she had said, but he needed to do that first. Once he pulled away, he smiled down at her and gently strummed her cheeks with his thumbs, "thank you. You know, like, for saying all that stuff and for the song." Before Julien could say more, he caught a glimpse of something sparkly dangling from around Ivy's neck. Looking down at it, his smile warmed and he shook his head. "You've been wearing this thing this whole time..." he stated,  moving his hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain, "how come?"

IVY: Although Ivy hadn't gone that long since meeting Julien's lips whether it be sneaking him into her room, or on stage for Spring Awakening, it had felt like a life time had passed since their lips connected like this. Both of them were absolved of tension and aiming their potential animosity at one another. Instead, it once again felt like they were just them, but better than ever. Like a tulip emerging after a long winter, Ivy felt like she was sprouting from the dark ground and up into Julien's sun. Changed, but the same. While there wasn't any verbal confirmation, Ivy knew that rejuvenated feeling was mutual. Julien need not say it. She could feel it in the pads of his fingertips brushing her cheeks, and in how tenderly he moved his lips against her own. Pulling away, in a post-kiss haze, Ivy blinked Julien into view and nodded, "I won't go. Ever." As one hand cascaded down his arm to lace their fingers, the other popped up as she extended her pinky, "Pinky Promise." Ivy said seriously, then shrugged. "Seriously like, don't mention it. I wanted to." There was still some response to be desired though. Did he hate it? Did he love it? Was he just being polite? Before she could push him into answer her, Ivy inhaled sharply as Julien roped the chain  she was wearing into his grasp, then eventually moved closer to her to unclasp it. It took some serious willpower not to kiss him again, but she found the strength to answer his question. Now moving her own hand to cup Julien's cheek, Ivy made sure to lock up and into his stare so he knew she was being serious. "Because we like....made a promise?" That was the obvious answer, and the deeper one-- "It wasn't like I stopped loving you just because I was being stupid or whatever."

JULIEN: Despite not being together, Ivy and Julien had still been making an awful lot of time to kiss each other. Whether it be in the dark of night or under the glow of a spotlight, the universe always carved out a path for them to get back to each other. This kiss though, in the fluorescent choir room in the middle of the day, felt different than the rest. It wasn't tainted with doubt or stage directions or alcohol. It was just them—albeit a little wiser and a little more mature—choosing each other. Hearing Ivy confirm that she wouldn't go and then watching her raise her pinky caused a warm sensation to bloom from Julien's chest and spread through his whole body. "Ever," he echoed, repeating the promise back to her and linking his pinky through hers without any hesitation. With a sigh, he dropped her hands and swiftly shifted his attention to her necklace. He made quick work of slipping the ring off the chain to hold it in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the ruby jewel, a million thoughts running through his head, until Ivy touched his cheek and brought him back down to Earth again. Hearing Ivy say she never stopped loving him sent his heart into overdrive. "We did make a promise, didn't we?" he asked rhetorically, tilting his head as he glanced back down at the ring and reached for her hand. "I never stopped either," he admitted as he began slipping the ring back on to her finger, where it belonged. He stared at it for a little while longer before turning his attention back to Ivy and closing some of the distance between them by stepping towards her. "I owe you an apology too," he started, holding her gaze and shrugging, "I should've like stood up for you more and stuff or just...I don't know...talked to you more. I know I haven't always been good at that. But I will be now," he playfully raised his eye brows, "getting punched in the face kinda changes you like that." A breathy laugh escaped him before he pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck as he hugged her tightly. "I missed you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to look at her, "I don't wanna waste more time not being together." A pause as a doting smile danced its way on to his lips and he bashfully added, "you really almost made me cry with that song! It was like 'run to you' but more intense but in a good way and stuff because it was just us. But I mean, jeez, you're..." a dreamy sigh, "you're like...perfect. The song was perfect." He playfully bumped his nose into her cheek and then into her nose before bringing his lips back to hers for another kiss—one to seal the deal. "I love you," he said as he pulled back, "let's never do the whole breaking up thing again."

IVY: In full agreement with Julien, Ivy couldn’t have felt happier. Her only regret? She had to go away for Cheerios Nationals this weekend, and she couldn’t spend it tucked into her bed with him. Lots about them had changed, they’d both garnered a deeper sense of clarity, learned their lessons the hard way, but one thing that wouldn’t ever change was Ivy’s constant need to feel close to him. Enough of the apologies and reminiscing on their worse times, Ivy was completely wrapped up in staring down at the Christmas Present on her finger, “Yknow, this looks like, way better on my hand than on a chain on my chest.” Ivy commented offhandedly before shifting her gaze back to Julien. “Well I’m glad we’re on the same page and stuff. I totally missed being in sync. And being with you.” she admitted, welcoming the warmth that his breath brought into the curve of her neck. “You can’t help that you almost cried, I’m like really good, and I love you a lot.” Ivy explained, as if anything about this whole months-long debacle had been simple. Her entire expression lifted into a smile as he called her perfect and Ivy was quick to cut in with a “Only the best for my guy.” Her arms made their way back to the familiar place around his neck as she pulled herself fully into him. “i love you.” Ivy repeated, tone filled with adoration. And as her way of agreeing with the final sentiment, she shook her head, and whispered, “Never.” Into Julien’s lips as she pressed her lips to her boyfriend’s for a final, affirming kiss. And just like that, once again, all was well.

THE END.

[pandawritesmanythings]

(A Medieval!AU Loki x Stark!Reader Story)

Chapter Summary: Where you meet you future groom. He doesn't seem too happy about you, though.

Word Count: 2,503

Warnings: Allutions to misogyny, an old man being sexist (Not Odin), Loki being Loki.

Masterlist

A/N: I am so excited about this story! Thank you guys again for your support, and please be patient with me, I'm still not super confident in my own writing but I'll keep trying my best!

"Absolutely lovely..." You sighed as you admired the room that would be your quarters in Asgard.

"I'm happy it accommodates you, Princess. Please, allow me to help to ready you for bed." The blonde girl asked as she moved to help you get out of your tight dress.

"Thank you, Sigyn." You smiled and raised your arms so she and Wanda could get to work.

They helped you out of the dress and Sigyn handed you a flowy nightgown that she explained was a gift from the queen herself to you.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly..." You hesitated as you touched the soft material of the dress.

"Please. It is a gift from the Queen. It is considered quite rude for someone to reject a gift from the nobility." She explained.

You looked into her brown eyes and nodded, accepting the gift. It was the softest fabric that you had ever touched and it made you feel weightless as it softly flowed with the salty wind that came from the open window.

"It's gorgeous." You said as you softly smiled down at the gift. "Please tell the queen that I am truly grateful for her gifts."

Sigyn nodded and after finishing helping you get ready she shuffled out of the room, head hung low.

"Sweet girl, isn't she?" Wanda asked as she brushed your hair.

"Shy, but very nice." You agreed.

"It is a beautiful garment, the one you've been gifted."

"I agree. Queen Frigga has impeccable taste."

Wanda also finished up and went to a side door that had a bed for her, a small closet, and a bathroom for herself. She bid you goodnight and disappeared.

Sleep hadn't come easy for you for almost a year now. Tossing and turning were oftentimes how you spent most nights, nightmares waking you when sleep finally overtook you. But for the first time in a very long time, sleep came fast and no nightmares were present. 

That of course meant that you were of very good humour when you presented yourself for breakfast that morning.

The king, Odin, was very pleasant if a little bit straightforward. But overall he did nothing to make you feel overly uncomfortable.

Frigga was a delight, words sweet as honeysuckle and ambrosia, smile kind, and open arms to receive you. 

Thor was as friendly as the night before and greeted you amiably.

But the other brother... To say that he wasn't exactly excited to see you was an understatement.

"My son, Loki." Odin presented you to him with a gruff voice.

You curtsied. "My prince, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Loki didn't respond, he gave his father a lopsided look. "Really? Her?"

Oh, lord no.

Odin paid him no mind and turned to you. "I hope you can forgive my son's indiscretion, it's truly a pleasure to have you here. If you'll follow me."

He led you away from the dark prince while he stared at you like he was plotting how to exactly make you disappear. So you shot him a look that told him that you reciprocated his feelings.

You paid him no mind the rest of the morning. He was awfully quiet, adding nothing to the conversation and you began to doubt this was the clever strategist that your father had talked to you about.

Well, he had called him some particular names that you kept out of your vocabulary, and slowly you saw the reason to use them.

"We're truly happy that you've decided to go through this alliance, my dear," Frigga commented at some point during the meal.

"I'm grateful that you even considered siding with us your majesties. It is truly an honor to have Asgard's favor."

"Speaking of. We'll finish our treaty after breakfast if that's alright with you." There was no room for discussion in Odin's tone.

"Of course, your majesty."

"And afterward, we shall feast!" Thor raised a glass in excitement.

"I would like nothing more, my prince." You smiled politely at his open display of joy.

"I must object in this alliance, of course."

"Loki," Frigga warned with her tone.

"I'm sorry, mother, but as a pawn, at play, I must get a say." He said, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

"Loki, please. Stop." Frigga warned him again.

"... No. I don't think I will." He said before pushing his chair and storming outside of the room.

It felt hard to breathe, it was definitely tense in the room, but Frigga tried to lighten it.

"Forgive him, please my dear. He hasn't taken the news very easily."

"I can see that." You looked after where he had left.

"He just needs some time to process it."

You smiled at her, calmly, trying to show her your understanding. "I believe you, your majesty. It's been something to assimilate for me too. So I don't fully fault him. I just hope that we can come past our differences someday."

This seemed to relax everyone in the room, even the servants who had tensed up when the prince left.

"Thank you, my dear."

-

The room was filled to the brim with unfamiliar faces. The only ones you recognized were Steve and Bucky who stood guard by your side, Odin who sat high on his throne, and his two sons who stood by their father.

Thor looked at you with a kind smile, Loki was basically sneering at you.

"We have gathered here today, to make an alliance with our brothers. An alliance with the people of Midgard. May their representative rise." Odin's voice boomed through the room and commanded everyone's attention.

You stood with your head held high, through your mind speeding all of your mother's lessons in etiquette and diplomacy.

"Great leaders of Asgard. I represent my people, so that we may yet achieve peace. We face a common enemy, and we know that together we may stand a chance if they ever were to strike upon any of us." You began your speech. "I recognize Asgardians' accomplishments. Your technology is without a doubt superior. Your armies are well prepared. And though it may seem unnecessary, something that Asgard lacks is something that Midgard thoroughly possesses.

"Our forefathers', those who rose from the ashes of the earth, gained something that the forefathers of Asgard lacked. You have never faced the enemy. We have managed to keep them at bay for a century. We understand how they think. What they do. Name something. Anything. I will be able to provide intel. And not only me. Ask two of my bravest soldiers and companions. Captain Steve Rogers and Lieutenant James Barnes." You pointed to the two men standing right behind you. 

"They have faced the enemy ever since they were young." You looked around the crowd, trying to find a face that looked incredulous, or bored. You expected Loki to not be paying attention, but you actually saw him fully invested in your speech. Eyebrow raised at your defiant look around the room.

You finally found an old man towards the front who looked unimpressed.

"Pardon me, sir. May I ask for your name?" You politely requested.

"Lord Finnean Kendrick" He answered with a bored look on his face.

"Lord Kendrick. Would you like to ask any of us a question?" You offered.

Everyone turned their attention to the man, now put in the spotlight. "O-Of course! After all, if it is knowledge you claim to have, you must prove that is trustworthy knowledge!"

"Go ahead then."

He took a second and readjusted in his seat. "Lieutenant Barnes. At what age do Jotun's begin training their children?"

Bucky stared at the man, that was obviously common knowledge. "As soon as they begin to walk."

He hummed in approval. But that was too easy. "Captain Rogers. Are women often found on the battlefield, or do they stay and raise the young?"

"They are commonly found in battle. Children are raised as a warring community."

That last bit wasn't exactly common knowledge, which raised whispers around the room.

The man gritted his teeth and then looked you right in the eyes. "Alright woman. Your turn."

Oh, how calling him colorful names would help me calm down right now.

"If there was one thing you could say will destroy a Jotun, what would it be?"

You glared at him. You didn't care if the whole Asgardian court was watching you. You were actively and shamelessly glaring at the old man.

"Well, Lord Kendrick. Besides obvious fatal wounds that come from stab wounds, internal bleeding, and getting their faces smashed in by our warriors wielding maces. The most devastating thing to a Jotun is their honor and loyalty."

The room was silent expecting you to elaborate, but you didn't.

"And of course I would say more, but I only could under the assumption that this alliance is still taking place."

Whispers began circling the room once more, and although pensive, Odin had a shadow of a smirk pulling at his lips.

"Spoken like a diplomat, princess. Very well. We look forward to hearing more information from you and your generals." He conceded.

"Thank you, your majesty. I will send for all of our records on Jotuns as soon as the treaty has been signed." You nodded.

"Good." Odin stood and approached you, standing towards the center of the room. "Now, I suspect that you would like to discuss the other side of the alliance?"

You braced yourself, this was the part you weren't prepared for. Looking over at Loki, any spark of curiosity towards you had been snuffed out. In its place, a look of disdain was all that remained. You weren't sure if it was directed at you, but it didn't really matter.

"Of course."

-

"Tell me Sigyn," You called to the maid who was fetching your dress. "What might I expect from tonight's... festivities?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking. "Well, first there will be a feast of traditional foods and drinks."

She passed the green layered dress over your head before continuing. "Then there will be dancing. That's why you can take layers off the dress." She pointed to a series of secret zippers. "Some dances are freestyle, so you can shed layers until you are comfortable."

You nodded quietly and allowed her to continue.

"Afterwards there will be more singing, dancing and drinking. The festivities are pretty loose since after a couple of pints everyone is too drunk to follow or establish any tradition." She lightly giggled.

You chuckled. "Are you sure that's all there will be?"

"I believe so." She tightened your corset. "But if there is anything I left out I'll make sure to let you know. But decorum is long forgotten in Asgard after the third and last waltz."

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you frowned. "Sigyn. Pardon my question but... Why green?"

She looked as if scandalized. "Well, you are engaged to Prince Loki, are you not?"

"Yes. But-" You looked back at your reflection at a loss for words.

"Then you must wear his colors to formal events. It is scandalous to wear another man's colors to any public event." She continued when your words couldn't come out.

"I see..."

"Is this not a tradition in Midgard?" She asked as she worked on your hair.

"Not really. We haven't found the time to establish many traditions when it comes to parties and formal events."

That was true, the few parties that you had ever partaken in everyone dress up however they wished (following the dress code, of course) and it mostly consisted of choreographed numbers and fine dining. You had yet to see what an Asgardian feast looked like, but by what Sigyn had described it wouldn't be incredibly similar to your feasts back home.

And Sigyn was, in fact, correct. After a hearty dinner, accompanied by not only the royal family but lords and dukes, you all followed to the dance ball where couples were pairing to dance in unison.

You didn't know the dance, the culture of each realm were well-kept secrets. They barely spread, only enough to be polite, but dances and literature never reached beyond frontiers, unless they were prohibited books.

But after the first waltz, you seemed to catch the drift. It was actually very similar to some of the Midgardian waltzes.

You were unsure if to ask anyone to dance with you. At this point, you were still so oblivious to Asgardian etiquette that you feared doing something that might upset the king. Even if the alliance had already been signed and Bucky had gone to deliver the news and to bring some of the sages and historians to begin the exchange of information.

But it wasn't necessary to worry much since as soon as the music of the second waltz was finalizing, you heard someone clear their throat beside you. Glancing to your right you found prince Loki, your betrothed, standing awkwardly by your side.

He didn't look at you, he just extended his hand for you to take, and when you did he pulled you softly towards the dancing floor.

Soft and careful weren't words you expected to use while describing your interactions with the dark prince. But life had a way of surprising you.

"I must admit that I don't know the Asgardian waltzes." You tried to ease into a conversation.

He seemed to smirk but he didn't meet your eyes. "Just follow my lead, princess."

He led you through the whole thing and didn't make a single teasing comment, which was nice.

"Thank you, my prince."

"What for?" He yet hadn't met your gaze.

"For giving me a chance."

"It's not like I have much of a choice. We both know it's in both of our nation's best interests." He reluctantly conceded.

"It is. And I know that this arrangement is probably not what you wanted, but if we are to spend our lives together, may I offer a truce to get to know each other?"

He was pensive as you glided through the ballroom. "I cannot offer you love."

"And I am not asking for it. I need an ally. And I think that as underestimated you are, you are the best choice in the room."

That cracked a smile on his face and finally made him look at you as if searching if you were being honest. "Better than the mighty Thor?"

"What are brawns without a brain to control them? Flesh can only get you so far." You grinned but kept your head raised in solemnity.

Loki searched in your eyes, yes there was a level of teasing, but he knew you weren't lying. It had been a while since anyone had been truthful to him.

The music ended and everyone applauded towards the musicians. The men and women with their instruments bowed, but instead of beginning to file out, they sat again and prepared.

"I hope you're ready for the next round princess," Loki whispered to you.

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