#WE BEAT THE WRITER'S BLOCK ACCUSATIONS

[adorethedistance]

First I Love You - Jamie Drysdale x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, sexual references.

Words: 1677

Summary: First I Love You - After a day that gets increasingly worse, Jamie plans a date night to indirectly celebrate your two-month anniversary.

A/n: Cherry is back with a fic after a month of radio silence in typical aodre the distance fashion lol. Anyway! This has been in my drafts forever and I hate it, I can't proof it due to writer's block, and I'm honestly just done staring at it so here ya go!

You can read part 1 of the series of firsts here. The next and final first on the list is first time which is of course gonna be a lil smutty. I might write some Trevor pieces in the interim just depending how I'm feeling.

Today is just one of those days. My class ran much longer than usual and I had to stay after to ask my professor questions before the midterm that night, then I didn’t have time to make myself lunch so I grabbed the pizza rolls from my freezer to heat up at work, then I burned the pizza rolls beyond consumption and did not have any back up food, then I was starving and stressed and unable to use my time at work to study for the exam. I was crying in a puddle of stress and tears. And Jamie didn’t miss a beat. 

Upon hearing how horrible my morning and afternoon had been, he ordered my usual meal from In-N-Out and brought it to me at work so I wouldn’t starve. Then, he offered to make me dinner after I finished my midterm and I tearfully and appreciatively accepted. These little actions of consideration are what have made me fall deeper and deeper in love with Jamie. 

We reached our two months anniversary today but I didn’t make a big deal about it. I feel weird about potentially being one of those couples that celebrates every tiny little milestone like it’s the biggest thing in the world. Still neither of us have said “I love you” yet. But if Jamie continues caring for and about me like this, I’m not sure much longer I can hold it in. That’s why I decided I would tell him tonight.

After cooking dinner for the two of us, and pouring a congratulatory glass of wine to celebrate the 95 I got on my midterm, we laid down on the couch together. Happy and fed, I rest my head on the expanse of his broad chest. Jamie presses a kiss into my hair, bringing his left arm to drape over my shoulders.

“God, 2 months already?!” Trevor asks Jamie incredulously, making me roll my eyes at the playful jab.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Zegras.”

“You’re just mad cause you can’t pull.” Jamie’s accusation makes me laugh at the offended look on Trevor’s face. 

“Don’t get it twisted, I can pull.”

“You just can’t get them to stay?” I ask innocently, absentmindedly messing with Jamie’s fingers. Jamie laughs heartily. He interlaces his with mine to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “But to answer your original question, yes, it’s been 2 months already.” 

The scruff of my boyfriend’s 5 o’clock shadow brushes the back of my hand as he kisses the flat part of my knuckle. Trevor, observing the entire action, leans over the kitchen trashcan and pretends to throw up. Jamie merely laughs and I roll my eyes once more, “Shut the fuck up! You are so dramatic.”

“And for what?” Jamie chimes in which makes me smile to see he’s been picking up some of my mannerisms and phrases as well. That’s been my favorite part of dating him so far. The way his music taste slowly infiltrates mine. The way he now keeps a trashbag in his car after realizing how useful the one in mine is. The way he’s wearing the soft blue hoodie he lent me, for the reason that it now smells like me, which is why I had stolen it from him in the first place.

“I’m happy for you guys, really,” Trevor grabs his car keys from off the granite kitchen counter, “Thank you for rubbing salt into the open wound.”

“Oh my god-” Jamie starts.

“Get out of here!” I finish for him, urging Trevor to leave. 

“I’m gone!” He obliges. Then, Jamie kisses my head again, prompting me to sit up. 

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Mmm… no, actually. If I had to guess, he’s probably going golfing with the guys.”

“No way, he was dressed way too nice for golf…” I trail off, racking my brain for where he could have possibly been headed. Shrugging off the idea, I straddle Jamie’s hips, and look down at him. I smile. Overcome with the warm sensation of staring at my boyfriend. Jamie nudges me with his hips, indicating he would like me to lay back down. Before I comply, I pull my hair back tying it out of the way so I’m free to kiss Jamie as much as I please. He watches my every move, eyes flooded with adoration.

“At practice this morning, McT said he…” Jamie trails off mid sentence. As he was talking, I finished tying my hair back and then leaned down as he had wanted me to. He’s looking at me with eyes slightly widened and lips parted in surprise. 

“What?” I ask, concerned as to why Jamie stopped talking. He simply says,

“You’re really pretty.” The seemingly arbitrary declaration makes me laugh but does nothing to aid my confusion.

“Okay?”

“You’re just so pretty I think I short-circuited.” The earnest confession makes me smile and giggle, so I press a soft kiss to Jamie’s lips.

“You’re cute. So what did Mason say?”

“Oh yeah, he said that he wants to meet you.”

“Really?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over Jamie’s cheekbone. He kisses my palm before responding,

“Despite how much you and Trevor bully each other, he’s told everyone on the team about how cool you are. He kinda took the liberty to do it himself since I do gush about you, but I get shy about it.” Jamie is uncharacteristically speaking out loud his stream of consciousness, and I take a back seat to admire how talkative he can be when he’s with me. A stark contrast to the shy, almost silent boy I’d had my first date with. Noticing how much he’s talking, Jamie ends his rambling but I smile softly, encouragingly,

“It’s unfortunate that the ‘cool girl’ is seemingly the only archetype that consistently receives approval from men, but it is true nonetheless.”

“Yeah, like, it’s not that I need his approval, but it is nice when your boys like your girlfriend… Well, it’s what you said, you just said it better. I’m mansplaining aren’t I?” He asks, bashfully. I roll my eyes and appreciatively kiss his lips once more.

“Get out of your head, Drysdale. Do you have anxiety?” 

“Shut up. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can always tell when I’m overthinking.”

“Maybe I’m just the only one with the audacity to comment on it,” I playfully propose, smiling when I succeed in making Jamie laugh. 

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. It’s unlikely, but not impossible.” Dropping the bit, Jamie and I smile at each other, melting into a comfortable silence. He looks at me with soft eyes, pink blush creeping across his cheeks the longer I continue to stare. I rest my left hand on the side of his face once more. I brush my thumb over his cheekbone again, and rub the top of my fingers repeatedly against the stubble adorning his jaw. Jamie lifts his eye brows before saying,

“What, do I need to shave?”

“No. I just like the way it feels.”

“Oh, hey, you said you’re done with school by mid december, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My mom asked if you were coming to Christmas this year.”

“Did she really?” Jamie hesitates a moment before his brows furrow in sincere disapproval.

“You’ve been my girlfriend for two months now. She will not shut up about meeting you.”

“What? Why?” He then blushes fiercely and cowers his head into the large hoodie he’s slouched on. Jamie doesn’t meet my gaze as he talks,

“I told her all about you the other day.” I bite back the giant smile that prods at my features before replying,

“What did you tell her?”

“Just stuff about you!”

“What stuff about me?!”

“I told her you’re a student and what you’re studying. I told her where you’re from and what your family is like. And I told her about how I stare at you between red lights when we’re going somewhere.” The last piece of information makes me laugh and I tilt my head in confusion.

“How did that last part come up?” It was a simple question, really. One that I hadn’t even bothered to put a lot of thought into; one that came from my basic stream of consciousness. And certainly not one that I imagined would ellicit such a reaction from Jamie. His eyes widened and softened all at once, his blush glowing brighter across his cheeks, and his lips parting to allow the irregular pace of breathing he had now adopted.

“I guess… I called her because I was unsure of what I was feeling…? I was kinda freaking out about it. As I told her about our first date, she said that just talking about you made me visibly happier. She noticed that, even though I wasn’t aware of how happy I’d gotten. Then she demanded to meet you as soon as possible…” Jamie sheepishly looks up at me after finishing his mini monologue. The traces of endeared happiness immediately vanish and Jamie looks at me horrified. In describing how happy I make this boy, I felt tears welling up on my lashes, relieved to be experiencing something so thoroughly mutual.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry I’m sorry!” I laugh through the tears and playfully smack his chest.

“Jamie…”

“You make me really happy, Y/n. Like, really really happy-”

“I love you,” I blurt out. I’m a bit stunned and honestly scared of how quickly this confession escaped me. But I know it’s true. And isn’t that the scariest part?

“I love you too.”

“Really?” I ask through unrelenting tears.

“Yes,” Jamie rests his hands on the tops of my hip bones, “I kind of lied by saying my mom said I looked happy… She said I looked very in love, but I didn’t want to be too forward and say that if you maybe didn’t feel the same way.”

“Bro, you worry so much, are you sure you don’t have anxiety?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

***

a/n: copy pasting tags is the best thing that has ever happened to fic writers I think.

[cuteskunkz]

╭──────────.★..─╮

One Night With You

~ Part Two ~

╰─..★.──────────╯

(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ After getting your number, Mike takes you out on a date to get to know you better. Read part one here.

Tags~ fluff, Mike is a gentleman aww, surprisingly no smut this time, reader is conflicted on their feelings, character building, Older Mike (Mike is 28 and reader is 20)

Note~ I've had a mean case of writers block lately, apologies for the well overdue update. Shorter fic tbh!!! My attention span is crying for help... This entire thing is pretty much me practicing my dialogue skills. Chapter 3 will definitely have smut, I just really want to build up before we get there ;)

⊱✿⊰

You drive home with Mike on your mind. It's been hard for you to connect with men lately due to your occupation, generalizing them to being horny and emotionally unavailable creatures. Something in you feels... different about Mike though.

As you reach your apartment you take a deep breath, feeling anxious. You walk in, dropping your bags at the door, and pop in the shower hoping to calm yourself down with a little pampering. After an hour of self care you get a call from Mike. You answer after a few rings, hoping to scope out his vibe a bit more before going out to drink with a random guy you just met.

After the 4th ring he speaks nervously, "H-hey! You got home safe?" He stares up at the ceiling, trying his hardest to speak confidently.

"Yeah! I have to say your bar suggestion sounds awfully tempting right now... you're not one of those dudes right? Yknow the 'I get girls drunk to make them more agreeable' type? Cause I swear to god I'll-"

He cuts you off, "I promise.... I just wanna take you out as a treat after the day you had... we don't even have to drink if you don't want to!" He hopes his words provide a bit of comfort to you. He couldn't imagine how tiring it must be to be a woman in the dating world, having to constantly stay vigilant about the dangers men can pose.

You sigh feeling embarrassed for accusing him of such a terrible thing. "I'm down to hang out now if you're not busy or anything! Which bar were you thinking?" You try to hide the excitement in your voice but the butterflies in your stomach are making it very challenging.

"There's this place not too far from me... I could scoop you and drive us down there, yeah?" He throws his head back and bites his lip to fight back the smile creeping up on his face. Mike can't get the mental image of your beauty off of his mind while talking.

You begin to blush from his raspy voice and reply, "Sounds good!! I'll see you soon then!!!"

"Text me your address and I'll be there asap, okay?"

"Yeah of course! I'm sending it now... lemme know when you get it." You text him your address with adrenaline running through body. Your heart feels like it's going to skip a beat from just talking to him.

"Yeah I got it...I'm on my way, I'll call when I'm outside... can't wait to see you..." Mike says, his voice dripping with elation. He hangs up and starts making his way to your house.

You run to your closet and begin picking outfit options, practically tearing it apart. After finally making your mind up, you apply some makeup and spray your most enticing perfume. You stare at yourself in the mirror, making note of the little details and suddenly feel a little confused on your giddiness. You don't know this guy, he could be some murderer on the prowl for a fresh kill for all you know.

The doorbell rings, you shake your mind of all of your anxious thoughts and make your way down to meet him. He greets you with a smile and presents you with a small bouquet of roses.

"I wasn't s-sure If you liked roses, but I wanted to bring you something as a thank you for even considering me" he mumbles, looking down at his feet. it was adorable seeing someone this shy because of you.

"They're very nice Mike... Thank you. I'm gonna go put these in a vase and then we can head out, hm?" After putting the flowers away you run back to the door, "Ready?"

"Extremely." Mike chuckles. He walks you out to his car, opening the passenger door for you. He gets it and connects his phone to play some music. "Hope you like Nirvana...it's like the only thing I listen to, not to sound like some rock elitist or something!"

You giggle and poke his arm, "Nirvana's fine, but I'm gonna have to put you on to something other than dad rock!" you tease. You watch his hands as he steers the car in the direction of the bar. They're callous and strong, his veins becoming more apparent as he gripped the wheel harder during turns. It's embarrassing to admit you got so turned on from staring his hands, Imagining what they would look like wrapped around your waist or better, your throat.

He pulls into a parking spot and pats your leg, "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and turn away from him to hide your rosy cheeks. "You mean it? Not just saying that to get into my pants Mike?"

"I would never... I definitely mean it, sweetheart"

He opens the door and guides you both into the bar. You hold onto him, arm locked around his bicep. It's a quaint little bar. Dimly lit and cozy, perfect for getting to know each other with the help of a couple shots.

"So... what's your drink of choice? I'm a tequila guy myself, especially with some salt and a lime"

You think for a second, "Hmmmm... I gotta go with Jager! Tastes like cough syrup a bit but the aftertaste isn't too bad"

"Bet." He walks up to the bar and orders the shots, bringing them back to the booth. "I got you a soda too y'know...in case you need a chaser"

"How thoughtful of you Mikey" you say sarcastically. What, does he think you can't take the shot like a big girl? 

He scoffs at the nickname. "I'm just looking out for you! I nearly died from fucking up a shot dude! It came out of my nose and everything." Mike laughs and rubs his nose as if he's having war flashbacks.

You laugh with him and pick up your glass and clink it on his. "Don't let it happen again!" You both tap your shot glasses on the table before knocking them back and sharing a drink of soda.

After a few minutes of small talk, asking the important questions like favorite colors and such, you start to feel the buzz. 

"Much better this time... my nose will live to see another day... or I guess... sniff another day? I don't fuckin' know anymore" He giggles and stares at you.

"S-something on my face?" you slur. A double shot wouldn't usually get you drunk this fast but you hadn't eaten all day, allowing the liquor to hit you harder than normal.

He shakes his head in defense, "Nah... you're just unbelievably hot." It's very clear the alcohol had made him lose his inhabitations.

"I could say the same about you y'know." you flirt back. "One more shot? Or are you scared it'll pour out of somewhere else?" You couldn't help but to snort and giggle at your own joke.

"Very funny little girl... One more won't hurt."

⊱✿⊰

*Read part 3 here*

Not gonna lie...self inserted twice here lmfao (I just turned 20 and JagerMeister is literally the best alcohol on earth).

@honey-eyed-munson this one's for you bbg, I wrote this today because your comment gave me so much inspiration :,)

[mythals-whore]

Oooooh for the writer thing, I wanted to ask like 80% of them, but let’s do 3 and 16 for now :)

Ooh thank you so much for asking about 3, I secretly wanted to answer this one the most. Because I get to show you my slightly unhinged notes.

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

So for me, the fics start with a few scattered scenes. For Hunting Days, it started with the premise of "Wardens learn to keep it casual" from right before Tearstone. So I wrote that scene, slightly adjusted for where I was headed. And then there were a few other small scenes like the conversation between Cyri and Davrin about her fear of fish, and then the two of them in the library where they exchange scar stories. And when I've collected a few scenes like that I start from the beginning and try to fill in the gaps. I wouldn't say I outline in the traditional sense but I'll jot down little notes that's like, the gist of what should go down in that chapter?

It's easier to give an example, so here's one from the prequel(?) I started that gives more insight into the Cyri/Ashur relationship.

Cyri pov, she figures out who he is and shows up in the chantry. She was suspicious of him bc she KNEW he was high born and didn’t trust it. Her flirts were a ploy to get closer and she figures out who he is and accuses him of being two faced essentially.  When he asks how she figured it out she says his hands were too soft. And then he looks like his brother/father. (This is why he starts with the mask)  It essentially ends with her being like “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” She’s dressed in a really gauzy dress like someone from a brothel would wear??? climbed in through the open window (she followed him across the rooftops) and she told someone she had a meeting with him

Chapter by chapter, I'll usually have a vague note as listed above, and then I find what makes writing easier on me is writing the dialogue first, because that's what I typically get stuck on/agonize over. Without giving too much away, here's an example from the next chapter I'm working on:

D: You can’t save everyone, Rook R: (bitter, sad laugh) I can’t save anyone. (looks at him meaningfully)  D: we’re saving the whole world, that’s not good enough?  R: (laughs again) I don’t know. (beat, doesn’t look at him when she says) I suppose it’s worth something.  (beat) D: (frowns) Rook— R: (kisses him, he’s a little reluctant at first but lets her. Finally pulls back but before he can say anything—) Can that be enough talking? (beat) For now?  D: (begrudgingly) For now. (But really he’s kind of proud of her even though he’s still worried.) 

I already have dialogue and a basic intent/inflection. So when I get there to actually write that, I already know what the conversation will be, and all I have to do is add action/block the scene.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Four and a half?

I have a modern-day crime AU for Cyri and Davrin that's been rattling around for a little while. So the basics I have is that Cyri is working with Varric who is an investigative journalist and she's his informant. Then she gets framed for his murder.

Neve, who is tentatively an FBI agent has also been investigating the same corporation that Varric was investigating so she knows Cyri didn't do it. Davrin is Neve's old partner who quit the FBI and started his own Private Investigator business. Neve (who isn't officially on the case) calls him for a favor and he takes Cyri into protective custody and together they all finish this investigation. And then ofc we have the two of them in close proximity so they will eventually kiss (duh).

I'm really excited for it, but I haven't started ~officially~ working on it because I am determined to finish my current work first lol.

thank you so much for asking((: I hope this was even a little coherent.

[crazylittlejester]

i'm not sure if you're still taking prompts for mini fics or something but i've been having heavy thoughts about warriors wearing the postman outfit just like he did in hw. it's one of my favorite joke outfits and i bet some members of the chain would get a real kick out of seeing him dressing up lmao

maybe just warriors showing off to the others or whatever?? idk i just love this whole idea it makes me giggle

I honestly think I’m gonna keep taking mini fic requests whenever because they seriously help me with my writers block. Sorry I didn’t get to this one until now, I know you sent it before I put that thing out askin for more prompts and ideas yesterday

I had like four different versions of this and the other three just didn’t work so I hope this one is okay even if it’s the one that was furthest from the prompt

Here you go!! (249 words):

“What’s the weirdest outfit you have?” Hyrule asked Wild, looking over the top of his slate as the champion scrolled through it.

“Uhhhh…” he stopped to think. “How are we defining weird?”

“I think I have him beat,” Warriors sighed, checking his nails. All heads except for Time’s shot to him, and the good captain just pretended not to notice.

“What makes you so sure?” Legend scoffed. “For all we know Wild could have a monster costume in there.”

The champions eyes widened and he mumbled, “Yeah, about that-” but everyone else’s attention was captivated by what the captain said next.

“Two words for you Ledge,” Warriors gave him a shit eating grin, holding up two finger. “‘Mail’, and ‘man’.”

Jaws dropped and screaming erupted, and Time laughed, covering his ears with his hands. Warriors just leaned back and refused to answer any questions about it, except for Legend’s accusation that the captain was lying.

“Prove it!” The vet huffed, and Warriors rolled his eyes.

“I don’t just keep it on me, you’ll have to wait until we go back to my era,” the captain told him.

“You’re pulling my leg,” Legend grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and plopping down on the ground.

“He is not,” Time supplied unhelpfully. “I’ve seen it.”

All that did was raise more questions and Warriors cackled, giving his brother a hard pat on the back as a way to thank him for helping him spread just a little bit of chaos.

[champselysees]

It has been brought to my attention that my name has apparently been dragged through the mud on this blog :<

Okay, first of all Erika Alpinology I am not a gax propaganda spreader I am a gax appreciator I am too busy getting my ass beat by writers block to be a gax propaganda spreader 😭

And second of all

Rae what sordid accusations are you bringing up here—

First off all you quite often talk about gax on pgr vc meaning that intentionally or otherwise, you are a gax propaganda spreader

Second of all; caught in 4K

Case closed

P.S.: you’re starting the beef, you’re not allowed to bo beef later me like this. Also who made you aware of these posts was it synth is he breaking out wonderful peace and harmony we have going on?

[purpleyoonn]

HATER ANON— ur such a lewser like oh brother this guy stinks🥱👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽COME OUT SO I CAN BEAT UR ASS😕,,, ppl are getting too comfortable disrespecting writers who are literally giving us free excellent content that saves some ppl’s lives u could not write at all or charge us but u share ur gift with us out of kindness of ur heart💜,, that anon needs to learn some respect, u take all the time u need, u go thru sm u don’t even have to tell us about for them to basically accuse u of lying is crazy like what why would u lie about these things???,, & u owe us nothing u can update whenever u want u can stop updating tomorrow who are they to order u around….idk Wut’s up with these entitled brats😕and then to do it on anonymous u can’t even have dignity to show ur true self how cowardly of them like if ur gonna be a hater at least show ur identity and be up front with it, like honestly that could be someone who says nice things non anonymously but when they’re feeling like a hater they turn to anon like a coward and take out their hating tendencies —cuz they kno they’re wrong and deep down are ashamed and they kno they will be blocked or receive backlash…the mysteries of anonymous messaging can be so scary like there could be a whole dark side to ppl we believe are the nicest in the world…. It’s insane because if they saw u irl they would not say anything of the sort such cowards😭😰

(im usually a silent reader but I had to say something cuz that anon just irked me like omg ur so sweet why are ppl so mean and entitled, you just ignore that hag and live ur life girlie‼️‼️💜) (I’m not rlly violent I just said that more as just a saying and out of frustration😭) (also sorry this was so long and very all over the place and ranty just,, u have my and other readers’ support💜)

yeah at this point like it just irks me, ya know? I mean I’ve gotten some comments about posting more chapters and stuff but this seems like such a backhanded way to go about it. anon just wanted some attention maybe? Idk.

the lying part is what bothers me the most. Like I know I share stuff on here but nowhere near as much as other writers. Like should I stop? Should I just not post anything about me from now on? Idk it just makes me second guess what I post on here now.

I’m not gonna stop posting but damn, that’s the kind of anon ask I was up to sometimes. It’s ridiculous.

And thank you! The anon seemed to think I was an attention seeker but their message seemed to do the opposite of what they wanted. I’ve gotten so many lovely messages from you guys that I feel so loved ❤️❤️

[highnoteds]

*    𝐔𝐏 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓  ;      a  recommendation  by   aaron !

hold  your  f***  horses !    aaron  kim  has  just  been  spotted  walking  into  revolution  headquarters.  they  are  best  known  for  being  the  label’s  residential  personal  assistant  and  have  been  working  with  the  label  for  three  months.  they  share  a  lot  of  interesting  things  about  life  in  the  music  industry  on  their  social  media,  so  make  sure  you  don’t  forget  to  follow  them  at  @glacierboy​.  the  office  knows  them  for  being  irresponsible  but  i  swear  they  have  an  emotional  side  as  well.  maybe  that  explains  why  they’re  always  associated  with  pouring  out  your  emotions  in  a  song  that  will  never  be  released,   chipped  black  nail  polish,  &&.  the  scent  of  marc  jacobs  with  a  hint  of  jack  daniels  lingering  on  a  suit  jacket.  their  coworkers  even  voted  them  as  the  most  likely  to  win  a  bar  fight.  we’ll  see  how  they  live  up  to  that  reputation.

*  𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 .           THE   BASICS

birthname :   aaron  kim  +  kim  youngmin  .

nickname(s) :   ron  (  close  friends  +  family  )  +  utp  .

birthdate  +  age :    september  25th  ;   twenty6  .

ethnicity :   korean .

gender  +  pronouns :   cis  male,   he  /  him  pronouns  .

orientation :    biromantic,   bisexual  .

birthplace :   los  angeles,  ca  .

current   residency :   new   york   city,   ny .

occupation :   personal  assistant  for  redacted  .

astrology :   libra   sun,   sagittarius   moon  .

language(s) :   korean,  english  .

height :   six  feet  [  6′0  ]  .

positive   traits :    flexible,  optimistic,  creative.

negative   traits :   irresponsible,  emotional,  conceited.

discography  inspo :   walk  the  moon,  dnce,  coin,  5  seconds  of  summer.

*  𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴 .           AARON  KIM,  SON  OF  FAMOUS  PRODUCER  /  SONGWRITER  K3,  GETS  KICKED  OUT  OF  NIGHTCLUB  AFTER  INITIATING  FIGHT  WITH   . . .

when  you’re  born  as  the  hidden  love  child  to  a  famous  90′s  singer  and  a  well-established  producer  /  songwriter,  you’re  bound  to  be  some  kind  of  star.  or  at  least  that’s  what  aaron  always  considered  himself  to  be,  anyway.

due  to  being  raised  by  his  father  since  his  mother  didn’t  want  to  “abandon”  her  career,  he  was  exposed  to  the  lifestyle  of  the  rich  &&.  famous  early  on  in  life.  celebrity  family  friends  gave  him  gifts,  he  sometimes  attended  award  shows,  he  got  thrown  extravagant  parties  and  had  the  best  toys!  he  couldn’t  have  asked  for  a  better  life.

growing  up,  aaron  always  knew  he  wanted  to  be  in  the  music  industry.  watching  his  father  work  rather  it  be  at  home  or  (  on  the  rare  occasion  )  at  the  studio  inspired  him  to  take  a  chance  down  the  same  path.  but  his  father  wasn’t  having  it,  instead  wanting  him  to  have  a  more  “stable”  career  while  music  sat  on  the  backburner.

he  reluctantly  agreed  --  not  left  with  much  of  a  choice  since  the  man  was  putting  him  through  college  debt  free.  now  a  sophomore  attending  berkeley  with  an  undeclared  major,  aaron  realized  he  only  had  one  life  and  was  going  to  make  the  most  of  it  no  matter  what.  so  he  put  together  a  band  with  some  college  friends  and  decided  to  test  the  water.

their  name  was  ON  THE  FLOOR,  and  had  a  dance  pop-punk  sound  that  was  meant  to  have  people  dancing  on  the  floor  and  letting  go  of  all  their  worries.  they  began  posting  videos  on  youtube  and  was  soon  playing  very  small  gigs  which  led  them  to  being  locally  known.

yet  his  ambition  of  proving  his  father  wrong  outweighed  his  education.  late  night  "promoting”  --  which  was  really  just  him  partying  with  other  up  and  coming  musicians  --  resulted  in  barely  showing  up  to  classes,  and  the  times  he  did  show,  he  wore  sunglasses  and  complained  before  leaving.  his  grades  dropped  drastically  and  soon  he  was  kicked  off  campus  whilst  the  other  members  were  still  enrolled.

aaron  thought  this  was  a  sacrifice  willing  to  be  made  for  the  group’s  future.  so  he  spent  his  free  time  trying  to  get  a  contract  deal  behind  his  father’s  back,  all  the  while  using  his  friends  as  a  coverup  for  school.  things  were  going  fine  up  until  they  booked  a  decent  gig  at  a  well  known  club.  the  whole  night  was  filled  with  small  mishaps :  their  mics  being  faulty,  some  of  the  sound  equipment  messing  up  but  overall  things  were  going  fine!  that  was  before  some  asshole  began  provoking  them  after  their  set  which  resulted  into  a  physical  altercation  and  them  getting  arrested.  

his  father  soon  learned  everything  and  man,  he  was  not  happy.  but  he  saw  the  ambition  aaron  held  and  gave  him  a  deadline.  he  had  a  year  to  make  things  work  or  else  he  has  to  give  the  group  up.  this  seemed  easy  to  do,  but  with  the  others  now  being  juniors  and  having  to  focus  on  their  own  studies,  it  wasn’t  long  before  everyone  just  said  screw  it  and  had  split  up.  (  also  aaron  did  fight  with  another  member  and  threatened  to  sue  in  case  they  ever  used  his  songs  without  him  soo ...  )

years  went  by,  and  aaron  had  nothing  left  to  his  name  outside  of  the  track  record  of  getting  kicked  out  of  clubs  and  the  many  partners  he  slept  with.  soon  this  led  his  father  into  getting  him  a  job  as  a  personal  assistant  to  a  friend  who  needed  one  at  revolution  records.  and  that’s  where  his  new  journey  began!

*  𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 .           HEADCANONS  +  FUN  FACTS

aaron  considered  himself  as  the  pillar  of  the  band.  he  supplied  the  name,  he  paid  for  the  studio  sessions,  he  made  quite  a  few  of  their  more  favorable  tracks.  he  felt  more  important  than  everyone  else  which  was  another  issue  discussed  during  the  messy  meeting  soon  turned  disbandment.

owns  three  cds  that  were  burned  that  hold  his  group’s  music.  all  are  labeled  with  black  sharpie  and  have  little  doodles  on  them  to  represent  the  theme  of  the  cd.  plays  them  on  the  anniversary  of  them  getting  together  and  occasionally  is  heard  singing  /  humming  his  old  music  absentmindedly.

kinda  envious  of  the  bands  signed  under  the  label  but  that  doesn’t  stop  him  from  peaking  into  their  sessions  and  watching  them  work.

is  definitely  almost  always  seen  with  his  legs  on  his  desk  and  hands  behind  his  head  trying  to  balance  a  pencil  on  his  upper  lip.

likes  to  keep  his  old  group  secret  so  unless  you  were  one  of  them  few  people  who  actually  knew  of  them,  there’s  no  way  you  know.

defender  of  pineapple  pizza.  he  does  not  care!!  

very  conceited  and  likes  flirting  but  really  it’s  harmless.  

*  𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 .           WANTED  CONNECTIONS  +  PLOTS

other  assistant  (  or  employee  in  general  )  friends  !!!    let  them  talk  shit  about  the  people  they  work  with,  rant  to  one  another,  have  lunch  dates.

out  of  work  friends ?   maybe  they  occasionally  meet  outside  of  revolution  to  just  de-tach  from  everything.  or  they  could  have  met  outside  of  it  first  and  then  found  out  they  were  working  in  the  same  building.  either  way,  could  be  fun!

aaron  could  be  a  third  opinion  person.  in  case  your  muse  is  working  on  something  and  feels  like  everyone  is  saying  something  biased  so  they’re  like  hey!  you  don’t  know  shit  about  music,  what  do  you  think  about  this ??

give  me  the  guy  who  started  the  club  fight  that  got  him  arrested.  i  want  beef!

he  definitely  hooked  up  with  a  revolution  artist.  he’s  utterly  embarrassed  by  being  an  assistant  instead  of  an  artist  so  he  tries  to  dodge  them  like  the  plague.

maybe  someone  who  does  know  of  his  band!  and  they  could  possibly  encourage  him  to  enter  back  into  the  industry!

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Something Familiar~Plus Sized! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Black! plus sized! reader

Pairing: Rhaenyra x reader

Genre: Modern AU, friends to lovers, College AU, Hurt and Comfort, Smut

Warnings: Smut, 18 + only.  Mentions of fatphobia, colorism and racism. 

Summary: After watching Rhaenyra go through a long string of lovers, you’re left with her on another winter weekend, a bi weekly girls night  that occurs throughout the semester. You find comfort and solace within her, confessions are made along with discovering things about each other.   

Word Count: 4, 124

Writer’s Note: I wished we got a more plus sized Rhaenyra from the books so here’s a bit of that here. I couldn’t get that damn SZA snl song out my head and thought what if Rhaenyra wanted a big girl herself and finding not just the perfect cuffing season partner, but an amazing partner in general. Hope you guys enjoy it!

“You sure you don’t want me to order in something for you?” Rhaenyra asked for the third time. 

You snuggled on the blue sofa with her large, golden stuffed dragon, Syrax and shook your head yet again. 

“I ate after class, like I said before, Rhae,” you said. “I’m fine.”

Rhaenyra frowned as she returned to her phone to type away at something, leaving you to her stuffed dragon and your thoughts. She looked quite cozy this evening: gray hoodie that pooled down to her knees, black sweat pants that brought out her curves and ass so well (a little too well but this was the first time in a long time you found yourself looking so hard). Her hair even looked effortless in a lazy updo of silver strands that always had you mesmerized. 

“Y/N, your last class ended at 3, it’s only 5 and we’ve got a long night of drinking and movie watching to get through,” she said. Her fingers still worked against her phone screen while she spoke. “And you need to eat again, so I’ve got a pizza ordered for us later. OK?”

You only shrugged, accepting your fate and held Syrax closer. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to eat, that asshole you went out on one date with still got to you. Rhaenyra must have caught on to your troubled demeanor, already stepping over to the couch and taking the spot next to you. 

“What’s wrong?” she said. Her purple eyes shined with concern, they were a bit light from this close, not that you were paying too much attention to them. “Did you want something else?”

“No, pizza is fine. It’s not about that,” you said. 

“Then what?” Rhaenyra whined. “Did finals go to shit? Did some asshole hit your bike again.” 

“No, but there was an asshole,” you said. You fidgeted with your fingers as you continued. “Remember that guy I met at the bar?”

Rhaenyra nodded and placed her hand on her temple. 

“Red Keep, yeah?” she said. “Was it that broody, handsome guy? Crispin?”

“Criston,” you said, correcting her. “Yeah, the first few dates went well. Charming as he was when I saw him but...”

You trailed off at the thought of him and his abhorred attitude. Rhaenyra laced her hands together with yours, a look of fierceness overtook her face. 

“What did that fucker do?” she said. “If he hurt or touched you--”

“He didn’t.” you said. “Well, not physically at least. He started pestering me about weight and losing it soon before he wanted to take me out to more fancy places and even accused me of giving it up too fast when I just wanted to kiss him. He mentioned how Black girls were easy and I just walked away from it. He looked unstable when I did so I blocked him on all socials”

Rhaenyra blinked. You thought she didn’t hear you, but her face told you all you needed to know: it was bunched up in fury. Her hands went to the pockets of her hoodie, yanking out her cell phone.

“Rhae, what are you doing?”

“Getting Harwin to beat his ass,” she said. “Maybe even Daemon, he still has a soft spot for you.”

You took her wrists, stopping her before she could finish a text to Harwin. Harwin Strong. Her ex-boyfriend and current on-again-off-again friend with extra benefits, benefits you heard of constantly through texts and phone calls. You didn’t’ hate Harwin (the opposite, he was cool), but you hated how much Rhaenyra harped on how good he was at the devils tango. Sure, it was nice to hear your friend so satisfied but you felt insecure about it. Not that you didn’t like Harwin like that (he was fine as hell, Rhaenyra had taste clearly) but you always craved her attention, well, more of it. 

“Don’t! I handled it,” you said. 

Rhaenyra nodded, fingers tapping he screen again to instead go to her contact list, thumb hovering over Daemon’s number. Your ex and an extremely hot headed man who might kill Criston.

“Daemon, then?” Rhaenyra asked, a little too calmly. “He might leave Criston with a broken leg, or worse.” 

“Rhaenyra! No,” you whined. “It’s OK.”

“It’s not, Y/N,” she said. “You’re too good for that. That bastard hurt my best friend, and I’d get him back for you. You know that, right?”

Rhaenyra’s purple eyes bore into yours, sucking you into their gorgeous pools. That was why you wanted more of her attention. She cared about you, more than Daemon did, more than anything Criston ever tried to do in the brief moments you both dated. You never been with women intimately before, yet you couldn’t help but fantasize of what it would be like with Rhaenyra; the one holding her, kissing her and the one she raves about to her friends. 

“I can get his ass if you don’t want Daemon to,”  she said. “Y/N? You all right? You’re sure he didn’t do anything else? You look distant.”

Damn, she caught you. Well at least she still thinks its about Criston, you didn’t know how to bring these feelings up to Rhaenyra. It wasn’t about her not being into women; Rhaenyra came out to you as bisexual a year of knowing you during freshman year, so you knew she was into women too. She also dated Black people too so that wasn’t an obstacle either. The main and only obstacle in the way was that of your friendship, you were never closed to to the friends you had growing up and Rhaenyra was different. She actually cared, like she did now by threatening a guy you dated for about a month--she understood it could have been much worse. 

“Y/N, talk to me,” Rhaenyra said. She took your hand and squeezed it. “I can hop in my car right now and key his car, give me the word.” 

You shook your head this time, yet you couldn’t help but giggle at the threat of it all. 

Rhaenyra smiled too. 

“I’m serious, that bastard fucked with the wrong bestie,” she said. “You sure he didn’t do anything else?”

“I am,” you said. “Y-You didn’t have to threaten him with Harwin and Daemon. You wanted him to disappear, didn’t you? ”

Rhaenyra shrugged, her smile widened as she rubbed down gently on your knuckles. 

“No,” she stated quickly. You gave her a good side eye, forcing her to continue. “Well, I just wanted Harwin rough him up a bit in case he’d try something like that again. Would a mild threat be OK?” 

You gave in, anything to stop discussing your almost-douchebag-of-an-ex. 

“Yes, but if Harwin goes too hard on him, I heard nothing,” you said as you retreated back against her stuffed dragon Syrax, cuddling against her golden belly. “What film are we starting with?”

***

You found yourself slotted on the sofa with Syrax between you and Rhaenyra, pizza boxes on the table before you, along with a package of cheap, Christmas-themed cookies from her refrigerator; the movie that played was a spicy, albeit, a little too spicy rom-com. 

Halfway through the movie and the characters are already heavy petting, making out and moaning like no one’s business, pushing it’s supposed PG-13 rating to it’s extreme. You felt the room get hot as the two female leads made out on the bed, one in the others lap, not giving the other a chance to breathe in the kiss. 

“Wow, they’re really going at it, aren’t they?” you said. You got up from the sofa, grabbing a few cookies. “These cookies are amazing.” 

Rhaenyra nodded. She pulled you by your wrist, then tugged you closer until you were nearly in her lap, sat on her thick, plush knee. The heat rose up in your chest, burning well enough for sweat to follow underneath your long sleeve. It wasn’t pulled down properly to cover the entirety of your bear back brushing her abdomen as she pulled you flush against her. 

“You’re tense,” she said. Her hands were warm against the skin of your back, foreign at how quick they flew there. It made you shiver. “Are you ok? Do you want to watch something else?”   

You shook your head and attempted to flee from the close contact, yet Rhaenyra pulled you further against her until your back hit her soft stomach; she had you trapped within her arms before your second attempt, chuckling near your ear. 

“Is there something wrong with cuddles?” she said. “We always cuddle. Are you still upset about Criston?” 

She wrapped her arms around your waist, laid her chin against your shoulder with those lilac eyes full of enough love and concern that always managed to make you feel safe. That was the issue though, it didn’t make you feel comfort, rather hot and bothered with how she touched your skin so easily. It could be familiar, like her and Harwin and the other string of exes and lovers she left in your wake during your friendship. With her so close now it was difficult not to notice how straight her white hair was, reflective of snow that fell and just as beautiful. Her lips full and rosy, perfect and kissable. Too perfect. 

Rhaenyra leaned closer, forehead on the edge of your jaw as she leaned her head up; you leaned your head down, lips meeting hers in a kiss. Her lips were soft, tasting sweet as the cookies you shared: like a sugar-filled concoction that emulated Christmas--something you craved throughout life, a nostalgia you couldn’t reach but always yearned. Her arms tightened around you, twisted you so that you were now straddling her. 

The feeling of her plush thighs under your ass broke you from your spell. You pulled back from her, breathless and embarrassed due to the heat that radiated so, you felt itchy. Suddenly Harwin and those lovers invaded your mind, what if she still had feelings for them? What if you fucked it up for yourself and your friendship?

Rhaenyra saw your internal panic and placed a hand on your cheek. 

“Y/N, breathe,” she instructed. 

You tried to do so, yet it grew ineffectual as words spilled from you fast.

“I’m so sorry! I-I know you’re probably getting back together with Harwin,” you blurted. “I-I shouldn’t have kissed you, I-I was in a moment!”

Rhaenyra tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. 

“What moment was it?” she said. “And last time I checked, I haven’t dated Harwin in a year, haven’t fucked him in six months.”

“Nyra, I’m being serious,” you groaned. “You don’t have anyone else? The kiss wasn’t weird, was it?”

She shook her head. 

“No one. And it wasn’t weird, different but a good different,” Rhaenyra said. She caressed your sides, then pushed at the plump middle. “But familiar at the same time. I always thought you were hot, Y/N, I just couldn’t find it  in me to act. But you did that for us. I should have done it before, I always wondered why you looked at me in certain ways.” 

As Rhaenyra spoke her eyes devoured you, traced every inch while her hand rested against your thigh. Her touch was warm now, inviting as you played with the strings of her hoodie. 

“What ways?” you said. 

She smiled again, bearing beautiful teeth while she snickered. 

“Like I was the ground you worshiped,” Rhaenyra said. “Not in the literal sense, that’s more of Harwin’s style but you would do anything for me. Which scared me, because I wanted to be that for you. I am that for you, that’s why I wanted to deal with Criston. I knew he wasn’t good for you.” 

Her lilac eyes flashed with anger at the mention of Criston. You watched her and contemplated getting off her lap, but  she kept you there as she took your hand.

“I’m willing to try whatever you want tonight,” Rhaenyra said. Her eyes softened again before she pressed a light kiss to your hand. “We can finish the frisky film, or get a little frisky ourselves. I like having you on my lap,pretty girl.”

Rhaenyra’s words made you warm. It was a good warm this time, no longer leading with an itch but something calmer, yet you were still weary with any sort of frisky fun she suggested. Sure, you made the first move, but she was still your best friend. 

“Y/N, are you still with me?” she said. Her hand traveled to your arm to trace it softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to--”

“But I do, Rhaenyra!” you blurted, cutting her off. “I-I love- l-like kissing you. It felt better than kissing Daemon, much better.”

Rhaenyra kneaded at your thighs to bring you closer till your chests pressed against one another, along with your foreheads, lips inches from one another. 

“Can I kiss you this time?”  she said. 

You nodded and leaned in to kiss her. 

“I need a yes, Y/N,” she whispered, her hands caressing your face. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” you said, “Kiss me.”

Rhaenyra’s lips met yours again with enough fire that you had to suppress a moan. Your lips moved together fervently as a dance that basked in the sweet tastes you both shared: of lust, cheap tasting cookies an enough passion. The both of you broke from each other after a few moments, eyes huge and never leaving each other to speak non-verbally. 

Her mouth went to your neck to lay soft kisses to the skin, all the while slight moving her hips, thighs slipping under you expertly, alleviating a nice, tight feeling at your core. 

“Nyra,” you groaned. Hands found themselves in her silver locks, you tugged slightly. “You’re moving too fast.”

Rhaenyra chuckled, sudden warm breath tickled you while her lips stopped just below your jaw at the base of your throat. 

“Oh? You want me to go slower?” she said. Her voice playful and low on your skin, kisses continued prolonged and deep to leave a few marks. “Does it feel good?”

She jerked her hips again, forcing you to tilt your head back and grasp at her arms for support. It felt wonderful. Her voice, the kisses, the movement of her hips: soft, big and strong for you. Careful for you. Was she ever this good for Harwin? 

“Y/N? Shit, am I really going to fast?” Rhaenyra said. 

She pulled back to give you space yet you chased; you kissed her and wrapped your arms around her neck to keep her close.

“N-No, it feels amazing,” you said against her lips. “I-I’m just overthinking is all. Can I be honest?”    

Rhaenyra nodded sharply, lilac eyes never left your face. It was safe. She solidified that feeling for you.

“You won’t compare me to Harwin? I-It’s not like I’m jealous of him or anything!” 

Of course she’d think you’re jealous of him. This is the third time you’e mentioned him while you’re on her lap during a make out session. 

“No, I won’t, Y/N,” she said. Her lilac danced with a bit of mischief as they waltzed the curves of your body. “But it’s ok if you are jealous. I know I was of Daemon.”

“Wait? You were?” you said.  

“Yeah, I see what you saw in him,” Rhaenyra said. “He’t hot, got an energy about me that makes people want to be with him but he’s not my type. He’s got too much fire, like someone you know?” 

“Yeah,” you giggled. “You both are very passionate. He was a decent boyfriend but didn’t pay attention to me as much as I want.”

Rhaenyra hummed against your neck and planted a few more kisses there. 

“You told me, I remember all of the complaints,” she said, engraving the words into the crook of your neck. “I wanted so much to tell you that you could do so much better, I could be so much better. But I was with Harwin and I thought you were completely happy. Did Daemon make you feel that way?”

You knew the answer as soon as she asked, even though the kisses she accumulated was a major distraction. 

“No, he was decent, sure and great on certain occasions but I wasn’t happy,” you explained. “But right now I feel content with you.”

Rhaenyra’s lips spread to a grin that tickled at your skin. You couldn’t help but smile too. 

“Was he good with his mouth?” she said. “Well, besides running it that is.”

The heat rose up in you again. The bad heat this time, yet it transformed into the good kind that struck your core as Rhaenyra’s hands traced down your belly to your inner thigh to pet the flesh there.

“Don’t get shy on me again, love,” she whispered. “Did Daemon eat you out like he should have? I don’t remember any stories of any mind-blowing orgasms about it. Matter of fact, maybe his dick was lacking in that department too.”

“Rhaenyra!” 

She giggled and kissed the corner of your lips. Her hand squeezed at your thigh, jolting you at the sensation. You cringed at the jiggly skin she felt. Criston popped back into your head and even Daemon who didn’t have a problem with your weight but did joke about at times you didn’t like. 

“Aw? I’ve eaten plenty of pussy and I think I’ll love yours the best, don’t you think?” Rhaenyra asked. She tilted her head, yet dropped some of the cockiness as she saw your panic again. “Was that too much? Want me to drop the dirty talk?”

You shook your head. You loved it. But will Rhaenyra love your body? Sure, she was plus sized too but you knew how people were. Some Black guys you liked and knew had issues with Black women, darker ones especially and the fat ones too. It was cruel and you couldn’t help but think Rhaenyra wouldn’t like what she saw underneath. Once the pants and panties came off and she saw how your legs looked. Would she still want you.

“Y/N? Talk to me?” Rhaenyra said. Her lilac eyes were still attentive as they were.

“Will the dirty talk stay once you see me?” you wondered. “Once you see me, I-I won’t be too big for you, will I? You’ll still want me?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened; her hands left your thighs, cupped your face before she leaned in to plant a deep kiss to your forehead then a few to your jaw and a tiny, but passionate one to your mouth. 

“Of course. I love all of you,” she cooed with more kisses to your face. “I’ll take care of you and go at your pace. I promise, what ever you want me to do, I’ll do it.” 

You laughed at the kisses,  a barrage of them that made you flush with enough love you could have combusted then and there. Rhaenyra was a safe space, safe enough that you wanted this, wanting fully to let her show you how much the love fueled her in whatever you both wanted to do. You didn’t know what this was. What you were both doing but it felt right. It felt amazing. 

“So, babygirl? Can I try my best to make you feel great?” Rhaenyra said, her voice deeper now and ready to put the skills she claimed Daemon lacked to good use. 

You nodded, whispered a yes and that’s all it took for the fire to drive Rhaenyra: her hands slid under your thighs as she picked you up and flipped you so that she straddled you now. Her lips worked more heat on you, attacking your neck and chest before she tugged at the end of your hoodie. 

“Can I take this off?”

A nod. She took it off, then attached her lips back to your own. Her tongue slipped in, eating a moan that drove from you while her hands cupped and played with your breasts. She hummed at the feeling as she pinched and played with the clothed nipple.

“No bra? What a naughty girl,” Rhaenyra purred. 

You spoke through pants as she moved down your neck and devolved a few more fresh hickies.

“I wore a big enough hood and it was--Nyra!”

Your hips bucked as she squeezed both breasts then twirled the nipples with delicate hands. 

“Mmmh, I could stay here all night but that won’t be much fun, would it?” she said. 

Rhaenyra lifted herself from her straddled position on your lap, lowered herself to the floor all while slotting a hand between your thighs and pulling against the elastic of your sweats. Your pussy throbbed at her new position: lilac eyes staring straight up at you with so much yearning you could have came then and there; her hair already seemed fucked out, strands wavy and sprawled all over her face.

She pulled your sweats down slow. The air that hit your bare legs and your core underneath your sweats made you squirm. Rhaenyra beamed. Her attention never left you as she kissed at your inner thighs, squeezing at the plush areas and ghosting fainting kisses near your core. You whined at how close she was. All she needed to do was pull the last piece of fabric away and there you would be. There she would be. 

“Fuck, you’re wet. There’s this little damp spot right, here,” she whispered. She leaned in to take a tiny kitten lick to the area, right at the spot you needed her most. 

“Rhaenyra, p-please just--fuck!”

She fingered you a bit through your pants with a smile deepening as her fingers worked. 

“If you want me to fuck you all you have to do is tell me,” Rhaenyra said. “Go on. I want my dessert, babygirl.” 

She growled. Her hands dug into your thighs as you tired to get your words together, your head grew misty. 

“Please, just eat me out already!”

Rhaenyra chuckled, pressed a kiss to your waist and gripped the waistband of your underwear with her index finger and thumb. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She peeled them off and groaned at the sight of you; your pussy was soaked thanks to the foreplay you both dabbled in. Rhaenyra felt a surge of pride rush through her, yet she restrained herself enough to gently push a finger against your center. She gauged your reactions: a few whimpers escaped you and your thighs couldn’t keep still as you added a second finger.

“Nyra, ah! Y-Your fingers feel so good!”

Rhaenyra smirked and placed a soft kiss to your clit. 

“Do they? I think you’re ready for my mouth, what about you?” 

You looked to answer but you were cut off with another moan as Rhaenyra curled both of her fingers. Your walls stretched around her, warm and tight to the touch. You didn’t know how long you would last. 

“Nyra, now. Please, I might come soon.” 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened but she nodded and finally dove into your succulent sweetness. She started off slow. Licks slow and gradual with a few quirks of her fingers. You bucked a little, hips rose a bit but Rhaenyra held them down as the kitten licks turned ravenous. Her lips popped and sucked at your precious pearl, forcing you to slam your head against the sofa cushions and take a tight grip to her silver locks. 

“Rhaenyra, shit!” you groaned. “I-I feel it!”

By it, you meant the tightness of your lower belly. The heat, the good kind that moved and jerked right above where Rhaenyra worked: where she sucked, prodded and fingered you. 

“Mmmh, go ahead, love!” she moaned around your heat. “I-I’ll be right behind you!” 

She pulled one of her hands away from your quivering thighs, dug it down her own sweats. You couldn’t see, but by how wild her hands moved and the jerk of her own hips, it was easy to know. Her actions and the moans that vibrated up to your pussy built up and up until your orgasm stumbled through. Both you and Rhaenyra came at the same time--your names coming from your lips like a prayer. 

You slumped against the couch to catch your breath; Rhaenyra climbed back up the sofa and next to you. She kissed your cheek and forehead, gasped once you brought her lips to your own. You didn’t care, you loved her and you tasted divine. 

“So?” she said as she pulled back from the kiss. “Was I better than Daemon?” 

Of course she was still conceited after giving you one of the best orgasms you ever had. You playfully slapped her chest and straddled her. 

“If you give me another orgasm like that, maybe I’ll admit it,” you teased back. 

[kitkatopinions]

I think a big difference between your average RWDE poster and your average RWBY defender/Toxic RWBY fan (not casual or even regular fans,) is that if someone asks a RWDE poster to name ten things they love about RWBY, they could probably do it in a heart beat. They could probably name twenty, or fifty. Heck, I could drop one hundred things that I really, really love about RWBY. But if someone were to ask a RWBY defender/toxic RWBY fan to name ten things they don’t like about RWBY... They might venomously refuse ("You’re trying to make me stoop to your level, HTDM, you’re trying to make me hate this show too!") Or they might be legitimately scared to post any criticism ("Okay guys, please please don’t hate me - and I might be totally wrong - but it’s possible that maybe MKEK didn’t think through just this one little moment, but I love it regardless!") Or they might post their ‘ten things they don’t like in RWBY,’ but make all their complaints incredibly small, exclusively personal things ("I just don’t really like slow songs, so despite the fact that I love the music in RWBY and this song is Fantastic, I just don’t really like it myself, but that’s just an opinion!") And I can imagine them getting comments anyway ‘explaining’ why they’re wrong even about some of the very small criticisms, and them replying about how they didn’t think about it and it’s totally true and it isn’t actually something bad.

RWBY defenders / megafans / toxic RWBY fans aren’t regular RWBY fans, they take all criticism personally and can’t let even small things or even personal, subjective opinions go by without getting angry (as evidenced by just how many people were furious about Nitpick November and many of the very small criticisms that fans were making.) Toxic RWBY fans will straight up deny the things that the writers say they do or have done and get furious when RWBY critics say the writers said it. They will invent headcanons in order to try to make everything in RWBY make perfect sense and then scream at and get angry at RWDE posters for not knowing about or believing in these headcanons - even if they directly go against canon (recently a RWBY defender said that James Ironwood ran away from the Battle of Beacon instead of staying to fight.)  They’ll accuse anyone who criticizes RWBY of being a hateful bigot trying to ruin the show even if said RWBY poster was extremely generous towards the show or go out of their way to try make sure they don't interact with the fndm. They insist that there’s nothing wrong with some critique and that they know RWBY isn’t perfect and has flaws, but if you so much as say that you personally don’t like Ruby’s new outfit, you have every chance of getting them in your comments to tell you that you’re stupid for not understanding that Ruby getting older meant she had to ditch her tulle skirt and that her wearing more red signifies that she’s brighter and better than ever and that her new hair represents her connection to Qrow.

Most RWBY critics at one point in time loved RWBY despite its many flaws. Most of us do actually at least have a couple things we really like about RWBY even in the newer seasons, even if we actively dislike the show now. Many of us have talked about liking songs, arcs, moments, dynamics, concepts, etc. Most of us love or loved so many of the characters in the show. We could name tons of stuff that we love about RWBY. I could name a hundred things I still love about it, maybe more. And there are some RWDE posters or RWBY critics who insist that the show never had anything good about it, but those people either don’t post very much at all or I blocked them forever ago, and most of the RWBY critics in the RWDE tag aren’t like that. But with these toxic RWBY stans, it’s like they’ll fight anyone on anything, because any criticism of the show is inherently wrong to them unless it’s peppered with compliments too and said in the softest, nicest, most ‘I could be wrong’ way possible.

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

--------

How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

--------

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[cotccotc]

🎧   heartbeats per minute ┆ scb

genre/s: producer!changbin x gn reader, angst, exes au

wc: 1.1k

warning/s: mentions of drug addiction (not within the context of the plot, but in a metaphor)

a/n: written for @districtninewriters​ writers’ room prompt !! the prompt this week was headphones so for some reason my mind said Producer!Changbin Angst :D kdsj enjoy !!!

headphones.

a beat-up pair of black leather headphones, worn from continual use. audio-technica. changbin hated them, but he refused to purchase a new pair. they were sentimental to him. special.

just like you.

when he moved in, he assembled his makeshift studio in the corner of your shared bedroom. it was a petite setup, equipped only with the essentials. a small desk he’d found at a garage sale, a twin set of speakers placed on either corner, an off-brand computer monitor connected to a macintosh harddrive, and a piano keyboard with eight drum pads. each pad had a sticker on it. he always used the same pads for certain sounds, and he kept track of each of them with a sticker so he wouldn’t forget. he never has. but they’re there just in case. he’d use the top left pad for hi-hats, the middle two for toms, the top right for snares, the bottom left for cymbals, the one beside it for sub basses, and the other two for miscellaneous sounds. you never had a clue as to what any of it meant. he’d tried to explain it to you a few times. but each time he did, you got distracted by the manner with which he spoke. he was always so passionate. he was one of those types of geeks who could go on about something for hours with the partial intention to teach, but sidetracked by the additive thrill of describing his passion. he knew you didn’t care about the technical things. he knew that all you cared about was him. he never did thank you for letting him talk too much.

figures.

he hated those headphones. the way they’d weathered on the outsides; the wire he’d have to snake around the desk in order to reach his speakers. it always seemed to be about an inch too short. it was all so unnerving for him. and yet, he wouldn’t budge. they simply worked too perfectly. you’d even offered to buy him a new, identical pair for your one year anniversary. but he insisted on keeping them. you understood why. but if something is broken, you always thought, why keep it? why let the sorry things get more cracked and torn when you could always get a new one? he believed that good headphones were hard to come by. he’d had a few other pairs in his life, but none of them seemed to work as well as these. hell, he even produced his first mixtape with them.

there was a song about you on there. he never told you. but you knew.

another key component of his studio setup was his microphone. he loved that thing. bought it off of a friend for half of its original cost. he always joked about how he’d “conned” the guy. but you just thought it was a friendly gesture. just like all the little things you’d do for him that went seemingly unnoticed. like when you cleared the dust off the tops of his speakers. sometimes, you left post-it notes on his desk after slipping out of bed to leave for work. he was always so tired. regardless of their physical condition and emotional implication, you owed it to those headphones for allowing you to get a good night’s sleep despite his owl-like rest schedule. “i’m proud of you,” the notes would often say. or “love you,” maybe. sometimes it was just a few hearts. and when you’d come home, they’d be gone. sometimes, so would he. you figured he simply read them, chuckled, and used them to write down spur-of-the-moment lyrics before crumpling them up and throwing them in the trash can he stored below his desk.

he collected them. every last one. but you never knew that.

other times, he’d be working when you came home. usually, that was a good thing. but not when he was having writer’s block. you could always tell. he’d be quieter at first… more somber. he wouldn’t turn around when you kissed him on the cheek, explaining the day you’d had and changing out of your work clothes. maybe he’d provide some commentary. it was unlikely, though. eventually, you’d become so fed up that you’d exit the room, slamming the door shut. and every single time, you cursed yourself for having such a small apartment. if only it was bigger, you thought, we could get along. it was a comforting ideology for a while. a placeholder for a much bigger, much more conclusive way of thinking. that would come later. too late, you realize now. whenever you finally decided on what to get delivered for dinner, he’d be grumpy. less quiet, more passive aggressive. from the other end of your small kitchen table, he’d scarf down his meal - chinese food, a burger and fries, microwavable ramen, what have you - with an occasional “could you pass the sauce” or “napkin?” and trudge back into the bedroom.

a few times, you’d wait until you knew he was situated before you sneakily turned the doorknob, peering in to watch him work. he couldn’t hear you. another subtle virtue of the headphones. every so often, he would groan to himself out of dissatisfaction. you hated seeing him like this. it’s as if the longer he stayed locked up in that room, the more suffocating it became on his creative spirit. and yet, if he ever felt your presence or had even an inkling of suspicion that he was being watched, he’d turn around, rip off the device, and accuse you of being nosy. 

you sold him the headphones. it was your first day working at the tech store downtown, as well as your first time meeting changbin. he was charming. sarcastic, almost. much less sullen and apathetic than he was when he left you. now, all you can do is stare at the set as it sits in its original packaging, collecting dust upon the bedside table. he left them here. neatly placed back in their original packaging. yours to keep. how generous of him.

it’s been a month. he’s got a new pair now. undoubtedly so. how else could he survive from day to day without a constant auditory stimulant pulsing through him? it’s as if he was a drug addict. you always came second to sonic substance. but you bet he’s got a new dealer now. you often wonder where he might’ve purchased them or what brand they might be. maybe the cashier who sold them to him was nice. or, better yet, maybe they were ugly.

you love these headphones. no matter how worn they’ve become. you understand them, and they understand you.

tattered, expendable, alone.

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @changnuggie, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @moonlit-lixie, @thatrandomoneinthecorner​ ( join my tag list !! )

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[rieson]

 ↱ COMPETITION !  ↲

pairing; gojo satoru ✗ gn!reader

genre; humor

content warning; strong languange, brief mention of violence.

word count; 1,123

authors note; ah, i hate how you can tell I only made this to get out of my writer's block ^^;; sorry it's a bit shit, trying to gain motivation lately </3 i also hereby apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, made this in minutes. prompt can be found here

─ you've been rivals with gojo for as long as you can remember, you can't help but feel ticked off whenever he disturbs your fights.

"when the hell did you get here!?"

“i got bored of waiting around for you to kill me so I wanted to see what you were doing.”

IT'S BEEN awhile since you’ve been feeling the very same adrenaline rush you always felt when fighting curses back in your highschool days ─ the thought of being reminded of your highschool days sent shivers down your spine; it wasn't like something bad happened to you back then, (besides the whole getou choosing another path, you merely chose to forget about it, although it is inevitable) it was just because a face of a gifted white haired sorcerer keeps appearing in your mind whenever you reminisce about your highschool days, and mind you, you hated every fiber of him; which he finds amusing, which just makes you feel more ticked off then ever whenever he tries to strike up a conversation with you.

“Oiii ! Are you even listening to me?!” The snow haired teenager accused a pointing finger at the stoic-faced [Name] ─ in which they only offered the white haired teenager an incredulous look before shoving his finger away harshly in return; imaginary tick marks appearing on the teenager’s forehead.

“Gojo, please just shut up. I’m trying to think of a plan here.” The [hair colour] haired teenager barked as they pinched the bridge of their nose, already feeling a headache coming.

The mentioned ‘Gojo’ let out an exaggerated gasp, “N─No way ! [Name]─ THE [Name] actually thinking for once!?” he lets both of his hands cups his face, as if to emphasize his shock more.

[Name] clenched their hands to fists, resisting the urge to just punch the white haired sorcerer right here and right now.

“Wow! I never thought i’d─”

“AS IF YOU’RE ANY BETTER WITH JUST HEADING HEAD FIRST TO PROBLEMS WITHOUT THINKING OF A PLAN YOU DICKHEA!─” You jumped at the so called ‘strongest sorcerer’ letting out your cursed technique unconsciously.

“Hey ! Atleast i manage to actually finish them ! Unlike yo- AAAH!!” The tall sorcerer screeched as [Name] managed to get by his limitless barrier.

You smirked at the memories, when you first fought with him and managed to land a critical hit on him one or two times; he really thought he was the best til you came in the picture; it didn't take long before he unofficially declared you as his ‘rival’, leading to a lot of childish and unnecessary competitions just to see who could do it best.

Your relationship with the sorcerer was questionable, one moment you both could be just chilling beside each other and then a second later the both of you could be going for each other’s throats.

(Un)fortunately, when you graduated, you got moved to the Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College to become a Teacher instead, as the higher-ups requested; you didn't want to agree to it but it did give you freedom from Gojo Satoru, so you grudgingly agreed.

You still competed with the now Strongest Sorcerer, just not as often; since you chose to focus on teaching your students on how to be stronger instead.

This leads on to him texting you on random occasions, asking bribing you to meet up with him and have a match or two; of course, you always agreed ─ You do need to stretch your muscles every once in awhile.

Today was one of those days, the days where he randomly messages you at 5 AM asking if you wanted to spar, like mentioned, you agreed and were on your way til a bunch of special grade curses decided to ambush you.

You muttered profanities under your breath as you stealthily dodged an incoming attack and crushed another curse’s head that tried to sneak up on you.

It seems like there was another curse popping out everytime you defeated one, it's a never-ending cycle.

‘Where the hell did they all come from!?’ Your train of thoughts was disrupted as you felt a familiar cursed energy ─ His cursed energy; you can tell it from miles away, somehow, Gojo’s cursed energy always stuck out like a sore thumb whenever he releases it.

And before you knew it, All the curses that had been surrounding you was gone and smoke filled your vision, you coughed, covering your mouth and nose so you dont inhale the smoke.

A familiar 6’3 figure appeared once the smoke started to disappear slowly, him walking towards you in a childish manner ─ skipping in his steps.

“When the hell did you get here?!” You questioned the blindfolded man, who merely gave a shrug in response before answering;

“I got bored of waiting around for you to kill me so i wanted to see what you were doing.” He sent you a smug grin, a grin that only you knew that translated to a ‘HA, Beat you!’

You huffed through your nose, patting your clothes to get rid of dusts, “I didnt need your help, i was doing fine.”

“Oh really? You looked like you were─” His words cut off abruptly as you sent him a glare, making him motion something that looks like he’s zipping his mouth before throwing the imaginary zipper away.

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyeing the keys he held on his left arm suspiciously as he fake coughed, “Hoora Horaa, you look and smell bad, i brought extra clothes for you to change into and then we can go to that one cafe thats been popular now adays! I heard they selled good─” You abruptly cut him off as soon as you saw sparkles and flowers float around him.

“I came here to spar─”

“Chocolate cakes.” He grinned at you cheekily as he held out his palms out for you, waving it in front of your face.

You stare at him, he stares back; his smile not faltering a tiny bit before you decide to give in.

“...I’m sold”

“Nice ! Its a date then, here, go change now!~” He threw a bag with your extra clothes inside, leaving you to clumsily catch it before it falls.

“HUH!? I NEVER AGREED TO THA─”

“Hurry up ! Dont stall me for any longer than you have!~ Or else I'm gonna drive away without youu!~" He sing-songed.

You quirk an eyebrow, "I thought you didn't know how to drive?─"

"Let's not talk about that, now Shoo shoo, go change!"

[vickyvicarious]

So having just finished watching The Bank Shot Job, I have realized another thing I adore about Hardison.

His confidence.

And not just in his computer skills. Those are obviously well-founded and given his reputation it makes total sense he'd be cocky and overconfident about them. Except it isn't overconfidence, is it, when he always backs it up.

No, what struck me here was his confidence with people. He isn't a grifter like Sophie, he isn't an especially great actor. He says ridiculous stuff like "we just got back from handling a chupacabra situation" and overacts his emotions to the point of comedy. His characters aren't necessarily very nuanced. But he gets away with it, every time, and why? Because he is so confident in himself, he railroads right over the logical part of people's brains going "....wait a minute."

One of my favorite early scenes from the Mile High Job is when Hardison enters the elevator as a janitor, blatantly blocks the other guy from coming in, changes clothes on the way up, and then accuses the guy of being racist so he doesn't catch on to Hardison being the same guy. He SAW his face, he KNEW it was the same person. Hardison raised a fuss, talked quickly and over top of him, then got out while he was still reeling.

And even that guy, by the end of the episode, didn't question that Hardison worked in the building for a while before this. He gets people so caught up in his pace that they just go along with him, and that is carried purely by his confidence.

We see it with the whole crew to some extent, of course. While Parker is the one most obviously worried about grifting, everyone has their own moments when they hesitate. Still they all have confidence and plow through to achieve their objective - but none with Hardison's flair. He never just takes up space, he owns it.

And part of it is simply the fact that he is such a genius. He knows it, and uses it, and his skill, intelligence, and creative mind help him through everything. But it would be so so easy to go the route of having the genius hacker be socially awkward or have confidence issues when compared to someone like Eliot. And Hardison just never does.

He proudly proclaims "age of the geek, baby," gets annoyed at Eliot mocking the geek stereotypes. He likes all the typical geeky stuff (scifi, WoW, Doctor Who have been specifically namedropped already) and isn't as comfortable in a physical altercation. There are other things that make him feel out of his depths too, on occasion. But that doesn't seem to bother him on any deep level, he doesn't feel lessened by it. Someone's gotta beat up the injured guy and he's fine with it being him, he says. And he isn't actually a skinny weakling, just not well versed in fighting.

Just as Eliot subverts the gruff manly tropes with his interest in cooking and his respect for the women he's slept with, or Sophie with the femme fatale being the mother figure, Hardison subverts the socially awkward genius and the hacker uncomfortable outside of their computers. He dislikes when the option to solve things with hacking is taken away from him, sure, but the same goes for everyone else on the team with their respective skills and they all face situations where they have to adapt.

The writers made a very deliberate choice to make Hardison, not just NOT awkward, but very comfortable with people. He has fun with his cons, throwing in silly and ridiculous details for his own amusement, grinning at people, befriending them easily. They write him being taught how to get along with people into his backstory, and it's not just to contrast with Parker or support her learning how to connect with others though that is a part of it. I'm sure meta on his emotional intelligence and his relationship with her has been written, most notably the "pretzels are waiting for you whenever you want them" scene, and that all holds true.

Hardison is a genius. He's pretty young, which could also play into this usually, the overconfidence of youth (except he never faces a harsh lesson and loses that confidence, not really - gets less brash maybe, more technique, but doesn't lose that base layer of confidence). He is skilled with computers, but he is also well-rounded. Not just in the 'exposition-dropping because I'm smart and I know a lot of stuff' way, though that too. He is an artist, a musician, he likes to learn and likes to create and likes to share his work with people. He is not at all a loner, and flashbacks show that even if he didn't always have close friends he wasn't an introvert.

He knows his talents (and they are many) and believes in himself so much, and it's so clearly not some act covering deep insecurities, that whenever he does hesitate or doubt himself the scene instantly gains so much more weight. It doesn't happen often; it doesn't need to. (Not in any major way, not more than the usual moments of uncertainty the entire crew has on occasion.) But when he does really doubt himself, we really do feel it - and then the others reassure him because he always comes through, and then he does just that. Because it isn't false confidence at all, just honest skill at the end of the day.

After he shows Sophie the edited footage of the bank robbery in this episode (done on the fly, out in the open, while ordering around the cops), she teasingly tells him, "You're still a geek."

Hardison just grins and says, "Power of the geek." He knows that is not an insult. Even if someone ever said it to him meaning it as one, he would know they were wrong and wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

Because he knows his own capabilities, trusts in himself, and walks confidently through life.

(And the whole team are so good about supporting one another and, teasing arguments aside, clearly respecting one another's skills. They all are wonderful with this but I especially want to thank Hardison's Nana because she clearly did so much right by him.)

[harrysweasleys]

a place for us // d.m

Summary: I’d like to request a Draco x reader please, she’s the plus one to the golden trio & Malfoy actually has a crush on her since 1st year but never tells her even though she comes from a pureblood family too. In the 6th year she’s the first one who noticed how drastically Malfoy has changed and decided to investigate & that’s how she founds him in the room of requirements and they just bonded, Draco really opens up to her and they meet in secret every night plus a kiss in the end maybe? Thank you

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: dudes i’m so close to 600 followers i love you all. thank you so much for sticking by my work. also so very sorry it’s taking me ages to get around to these requests. writer’s block, ya know? but, enjoy!!!! xoxo 

— —

As you watched Draco pick absentmindedly at his quill during Potions, you knew something was wrong. He had been acting off all year. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of Potions now that Slughorn was the Professor, but this didn’t excuse why he had been sulking the entire first month that school had returned. 

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice caught you out of your trance, causing you to snap your head in his direction with a startled expression. You suddenly became dizzy, needing to blink rapidly to regain control of your head.

“Yeah?” you asked, pretending like you hadn’t just dozed off while staring at Draco for nearly five whole minutes.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “We’re partners for — you weren’t paying attention, were you?” The clear disappointment on his face made you feel awful, but you couldn’t help it. You were intrigued by Draco’s lack of boasting. For five years now, you had spent classes with him where he had spent the entire time bragging about his status and wealth, and now he was just silently sitting at the back of the class, head in his hands and his mind clearly distracted

“I was too,” you snapped back, furrowing your eyebrows and turning to face Ron and Hermione, who were also paired together and beginning to jot down instructions.

“Then,” Harry leaned his elbows on the table and stared you down, “what potion are we making?”

You squinted, trying to think of what you had picked up from the short time you payed attention to Slughorn, “Draught of Living Death?”

Harry groaned, “Lucky guess.”

You grinned, proud of your shot in the dark, and stood up to collect the ingredients, bringing your copy of Advanced Potion Making with you to search the stocked shelves.

As you turned around to go back to your desk, arms filled with ingredients, you nearly crashed into a body.

“Oh, I am so sorry—” you grimaced, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead for being so clumsy. Luckily, you hadn’t dropped any ingredients, but you felt like a fool nonetheless.

Draco smiled softly down at you, “My fault. Didn’t notice your arms were full.” He proceeded to maneuver around you and collect his own ingredients, gently pressing up against your arm as he did so.

You shuddered, choosing not to look back and glance at him before speed walking back to your station, where Harry was preparing the cauldron.

“You alright?” he asked, peering up at you quickly before picking at the ingredients.

You nodded, forcing yourself to continue staring down at the table to avoid looking at the Slytherin boy. Something about him was just incredibly off and despite not really being friends with him, you wanted nothing more than to figure out what was going on in that pale head of his.

When class came to an end, Slughorn deeming yours and Harry’s potion the best one in the class (Hermione scowled at Ron), you waited behind to walk with your friends, who were approaching you slowly after cleaning up their desk.

“Naturally, Ronald,” Hermione scoffed, discreetly rolling her eyes, causing you to chuckle.

“What? I’m just saying!” he argued back, holding his hands up in fake surrender, “If you drank Draught of Living Death as a dead person, you’d return to life! It’s called Living Death. So, of course, Zombie.”

“That’s what was going on in your mind during class?” you couldn’t help the bubbling laughter as the four of you exited the class, turning down the hallway with the crowd, “Charming, really. No wonder Harry and I beat you guys.”

However, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a specific blond head rushing in the opposite direction. It was rather odd, considering your next class — Defence Against the Dark Arts — was also with the Slytherins.

“It’s what’s always going on in my mind, Y/N,” Ron deadpanned, looking over to where you were now staring, “What’re you looking at?

Hermione and Harry had now stopped walking, moving out of the way of the onslaught of students, being careful not to get trampled.

You turned back to face your friends, “I — need to pee, yeah, I need to pee.”

Despite your super unconvincing voice, they nodded at you and Hermione spoke up, “We’ll meet you in Defence class, then.”

“Right, yeah,” you mumbled, waving a quick bye and taking off in the current of students, unfortunately going against the tide as most of them were heading the opposite way.

You cursed yourself for being curious. Dodging students left and right, gripping onto your backpack to avoid having it get knocked off your shoulders, you eventually made your way into the clearing, adjusting your disheveled robes before continuing on.

Looking left and right, you couldn’t find Malfoy anywhere, but you were almost certain he had taken the left corridor. So you did the same. Luckily, you avoided coming in contact with anyone, rushing down and turning the corner.

As you turned, you saw Malfoy’s figure at the end, rounding another corner up ahead. You followed him, keeping your eyes peeled for anything that could give away what he was off to do.

He was by no means a star student, but skipping class wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ for him. In the five years you had known him, you had only noticed him skip class twice and both times were due to Quidditch injuries.

Yes, you had noticed both times he wasn’t there. Not because you wanted him around, but because he usually made his presence very well know, especially around your friends — who he seemed to strongly despise, despite the fact he had never been rude to you.

You continue following him up the stairs and down more empty hallways. You had never seen the school this empty, but that was because you had never decided to take a stroll while you were supposed to be in class.

Finally, after walking for what felt like ten minutes, Draco stopped abruptly and stared at a wall. You ducked, hiding behind a statue, and peered out through the tiny window you had.

He was staring at this blank stone wall, but you knew exactly what it was. You had been there countless times the year before where Harry had held practices for Dumbledore’s Army.

Why Malfoy needed the Room of Requirements was beyond you. He had always managed to get his way with Professor Snape, surely he couldn’t be doing anything proper or good behind those doors.

You watched as he stalked in, careful to double check if anyone was near him before the doors slowly started to vanish.

It was now or never, you thought.

So you bolted.

The doors were barely able to fit you as you squeezed through, the door turning into a wall behind you and disappearing completely. You stayed quiet as you turned around, ready to face a pissed off Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Room of Requirements was completely different from how you had seen it last year. Instead of a wide open space with mirrors and books on Defensive spells, it looked like a storage room.

Chairs, books, desks, anything and everything you could think of, were piled up to the ceiling in rows. The dust was unbelievable — your throat was already beginning to tickle after your first breath.

Not only could you not see Draco, but you could barely see anything with the amount of junk that was in this room. He had probably taken off down one of the rows, but which one, you had no clue.

You decided to head down the furthest right, passing old desks and books along the way. The smell of dust and decay got stronger along the way. You had to keep your eyes on your feet to avoid tripping on scattered objects.

Once you passed an old bookcase, you heard quiet muttering. Draco’s head came into view, along with what appeared to be a triangular cabinet. His head was leaned up against it, muttering silently, his shoulders shaking and his arms lying limp at his side.

“Malfoy?” you whispered, suddenly becoming very much aware that he probably didn’t want you following him.

He spun around, eyes wide. It was hard to tell since he was naturally so pale, but his complexion seemed even more ghostly than usual.

“What are you doing here?” his expression changed from shocked to anger, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

You stammered, trying to find a reasoning that wouldn’t make you come off as a stalker, “Are you okay?”

That wasn’t exactly smooth, but his face seemed to soften. He looked you up and down, visually calming when he noticed your wand wasn’t in your hand, nor did you show any signs of accusing him of anything.

“Is Potter hiding around the corner?” he hardened again, standing stiff and placing his right hand inside his coat as if ready to grab his wand and defend himself any second.

“No, no, he’s not,” you raised your hands, “I’m alone. I just... sorry I followed you in here.”

He slowly removed his hand from his jacket, letting it fall limp at his side once again. Despite Draco being one of the most intimidating and feared students in the school, not once had he ever made you feel out of place. You figured it was probably because you were a pureblood, and your family did have a decent status in the magical world. He would torment your friends, calling Harry awful names — even going as far as calling Hermione a mudblood.

You should hate him. Everything about what he had done screamed awful, rude, bully, dangerous, but he had always been kinder to you, softer even. And somehow, deep within your heart, you knew you couldn’t hate him.

It was annoying, really. Every time he and Harry were in the same room, tensions would go through the roof. Draco would spit insults at your friend, but turn to you and greet you or bid you a good day like a normal person.

Ron would often rant about their disastrous encounters with him in the common room after everyone was asleep, and you’d sit quietly and offer no input.

One of the moments you realized Draco was nowhere near as bad as he seemed was during the Triwizard Tournament. When Harry was under water — Hermione and Ron having gone missing as well — the notorious Draco Malfoy had comforted you. Had told you everything would be alright. That your friends would be safe.

Really, there was no way you could hate him after that.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked, eyes darting to the ground to avoid eye contact. You were honestly surprised he wasn’t angrier. He had always had a short fuse around most people.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to word it, “I was, uh, worried.”

His eyes snapped up to you and he scoffed, “You? Worried about me? Right.”

“I am,” you pressed on, “You’re not okay. I can tell. I just thought I’d try and find out what was wrong so I could... help, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. You did want to figure out what was wrong, but you weren’t sure how you could be of any help to him.

“Well, thanks, but I don’t need your help,” his voice had more of an edge now, clearly a sign he was becoming fed up with your presence. Maybe it was a mistake following him.

“How do you know? Maybe it’s something I can relate to. We both have a lot of pressure, being purebloods, you know,” you crossed your arms as you spoke, slightly offended by his tone of voice.

He rolled his eyes, “This has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t understand. I can handle myself.” Although his face was hard, steady, cold, you could tell that his eyes were pleading. Pleading for someone to care, to set him free.

“I can tell you’re lying,” you approached him slightly, trying your best not to seem as if you were cornering him, “Try me. Maybe I’ll understand.”

If you weren’t close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes were watery, becoming red as he clearly fought back his emotions.

“You think you would understand? You think anyone can possibly understand this?” he raised the sleeve of his left arm, revealing a dark tattoo on his forearm, the symbol immediately recognizable.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you took a step away from him, mind becoming hazy as your eyes were glued to the Dark Mark etched into his pale skin.

“You — you have the mark,” you breathed out slowly. You couldn’t fathom why he’d have it. You knew his parents were Death Eaters — hell, everyone knew that — but why Draco? What could he do while he was still at Hogwarts?

“Yeah, thanks, almost didn’t realize,” he spoke through gritted teeth, rolling his sleeve back down and finally letting his emotions free. A tear slid down his cheek as he faced away from you, frustrated at himself for being so vulnerable around another person.

You were still frozen in your spot. You thought he had maybe been dealing with depression, anxiety, pressure, fear — but never this. You never in a million years thought that he was dealing with the Dark Mark. 

“I’m so sorry,” you found yourself saying the only thing you could think of. It was true, you were sorry for him, but there was nothing that could be done. Once the Mark was on, was there even a way of removing it? It was unheard of, really. Once you pledged your undying fidelity to You Know Who, it was that or death from then on. Thinking of that, you couldn’t blame him for being quiet and distant all term.

You found yourself approaching him even more, feeling thankful he didn’t pull away, and did the only thing you could think of in the moment.

You hugged him.

Your arms wrapped around his waist slowly, noticing immediately how he tensed under your touch. When your arms were fully wrapped around him, you rested your head against his chest, hearing the violent thud of his heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” he asked tensely, his body completely rigid at the strange showing of affection.

“Hugging you,” you replied, voice slightly muffled by his clothing, “You can hug back, y’know.”

He hesitantly raised his arms and draped them around you, not fully hugging you just yet. But as his mind caught up with him, he pulled you even closer to his body, as if all of a sudden, you were the one thing grounding him to reality.

“Do you not like it? I can stop,” you chuckled humourlessly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your rash movement. If anyone saw you hugging Draco Malfoy, your friends would shun you for life.

He shook his head, “No, no, it’s not that. I’ve just — I don’t get these often.”

Your heart broke for him, “Well, I can give them to you.”

You replaced your arms around him even tighter and he relaxed at your touch, letting his head rest atop of yours. For such a strange encounter moments before, this seemed an oddly intimate way to end up.

“Thank you,” he whispered, arms still wrapped tightly around you. You had to do a double take. You were nearly certain you had never heard him apologize before. Was this what it felt like to be accomplished?

“Don’t thank me,” you muttered, slowly pulling away from him and tugging at the hair that got caught in his buttons, “I just always find hugs make me feel better. Thought I’d give it a shot. And I know I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through, but I am here. If ever you need anyone. Talking, listening, I’m good at it all.”

He forced a smile, cheeks more flushed with colour, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Even though you had just found out he was now a Death Eater, you didn’t fear him. You didn’t feel like you should be running in the opposite direction and warning Harry and Dumbledore. You didn’t feel like he should be kicked out, expelled or killed. In that moment, he was vulnerable, scared, human. You just wanted to help.

“I should probably head to class before Harry thinks I’ve been attacked,” you tried adding humour, but it didn’t seem to work.

Draco’s frown deepened, “I’m not going to attack you.”

“I know,” you reassured him calmly, regretting your joke, “I just don’t want Harry and Ron and Hermione to come searching. We’ll keep this a secret, yeah?”

He gazed up at you, a light smile on his lips, “Don’t exactly want the world knowing, so yeah. Thank you.”

You nodded curtly, unsure as to how to continue the conversation, “Well, I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself. Please.” You shot him a genuine smile and he returned the gesture, eyes locked on you as you disappeared from sight and out the door.

As you left the room, you let out a deep breath, leaning against the wall and processing what had just happened. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. A Death Eater. He wasn’t even old enough to do magic outside of school. Did that mean he had to do his Dark Arts in the school?

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell too much. The more you overthrought the situation, the more you’d be tempted to warn Harry. But you highly doubted Draco’s purpose was to harm Harry when You Know Who wanted to do that himself.

Beginning your speed-walk to class, you really did try to clear your mind. You thought about Quidditch, about your upcoming Transfigurations essay, and even about what topic you guys could be discussing in class, but it seemed nearly impossible considering what had just happened.

You had been so distracted by your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed you were right in front of the class. You opened the door with a grimace, knowing Snape was bound to be aggravated as hell that you were late.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he scowled, turning all of the attention of the class on you, “Mind explaining why you’re nearly half an hour late to my class?”

Half an hour? Had you really been gone that long.

“Sorry, Professor, wasn’t feeling well,” you lied, raising your hand and placing it on your stomach, “Was thinking of going to the hospital wing but didn’t want to miss the class.”

Snape scoffed, hardly believing your lie, “Thirty points from Gryffindor. Now sit down.”

You nodded, sliding into your usual seat next to Ron, who glanced over at you with a quizzing expression, “Where’d you really run off to?”

Luckily Snape was too busy scolding Neville Longbottom because Ron was not exactly a pro whisperer.

“Just... I wasn’t doing anything. Thought I was onto something but I wasn’t. Just forget about it,” you brushed him off, turning to face the black board and taking down notes, ignoring the confused stare Ron kept sending your way.

You had promised Draco you wouldn’t tell anyone. And besides, he showed no signs of doing anything dangerous just yet. Maybe this made you an accomplice, but you wanted to gauge the severity of the situation before you ran off tattletaling to Dumbledore.

Draco may have new found power, but was he actually going to put it to the test?

You wanted to find out why Draco.

——

For days now, you had actually been meeting up with the Slytherin in secret. Whether it be the Room or Requirements or even the Astronomy Tower during warm evenings, you became someone he felt comfortable around.

And surprisingly, you had become comfortable around him too. If your friends found out, they’d kill you dead, but you were becoming better and better at coming up with lies and excuses as to why you always got back late and where you kept going off too.

You’re pretty sure Harry is suspicious of you, but he’s never shown signs of not trusting you, so that was a good thing. Hermione and Ron were too focused on ignoring each other to pay attention to what you were up to — honestly, a part of you was thankful for it.

The Astronomy Tower was dark as nightfall fell upon it once again, the twinkling stars and bright moon being the only source of light. It was peaceful, really. The only place you could really go to get away from the chaotic environment of the school during the day.

And, yes, it did make it slightly more enjoyable that Draco would accompany you here.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked, the usual question you’d greet him with.

He shrugged, “Same as usual.”

You nodded, looking out over the dark lake, “Remember, I’m always here if you wanna vent.”

He smiled slightly, stepping closer to you and leaning against the railing, “I haven’t forgotten.”

The air surrounding you was tense, yet strangely peaceful. As if you and Draco had slipped into a common ground. Unsure how to address the issues at hand, but very much aware that you were going to be there for him.

“What did you tell your friends you were doing today?” he smirked, knowing how you had started to lie for him.

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him, “Told them I was going to the Owlery to write to my mum. Don’t know how they believed it.”

“Because they’re idiots,” he scoffed, causing you to turn around and face him with a stern glare.

“Hey, you can’t keep talking about them like that. They’re my best friends,” you defended, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. You cocked an eyebrow as he opened his mouth again, warning him not to call them any other names.

He raised his hands, “Fine. Apologies.”

You uncrossed your arms and rested them on the railing, looking back out over the starlit sky and shadows of mountains. The view from up here was gorgeous. You had the view of the entire castle, as well as the view of the scenery surrounding it.

No matter how many times you looked over Hogwarts, the view never got old.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” you asked, looking down to the courtyard, illuminated dimly under the moon.

“Yeah, it is,” Draco said softly. You looked over and noticed his eyes were still on you. Both of your cheeks went pink, turning away immediately and choosing to look at other things.

“I’m scared,” he said softly, pulling you attention back to him, “I think — I know — that the Dark Lord wants me to do something. Something bad; something dangerous. And I — I don’t want to do it.”

You felt your heart sink at the broken expression on his face. You knew that he hated himself for what he had become, he had told you numerous times. But it didn’t change the fact that you really did feel bad for him.

“What is it he wants you to do?” you asked, moving closer to him without even realizing it.

He shook his head, eyes wide, “I — I can’t tell you. It’ll put you in danger.”

Based on the paleness of his face, you knew you shouldn’t push it. After all, being the only one at school who knew he was a Death Eater was already putting you at enough risk. It didn’t help, either, that you were slowly, but surely, falling for the boy in front of you.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you smiled, placing your hand softly over his. You hadn’t realized he was shaking so much, but he relaxed under your touch and let out a deep breath.

“I just—” he sighed, closing his eyes, “—I just don’t want to do it.”

“I don’t blame you,” you moved even closer, placing your other hand on his cold cheek, “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I wish there was a way I could help.”

He opened his eyes, smiling softly down at you and placing his hand over yours, which was rubbing his cheek lightly, “I wish you could help too. But the last thing I want to do it place you in harm’s way.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks due to the way he was gazing down at you. He seemed to be staring into your soul and it was the most intimate moment you had ever felt.

“I appreciate that,” you whispered, realizing in that moment how close you were, “But I don’t want you in harm’s way either.”

He chuckled dryly, “Kind of late for that. I was practically born in harm’s way.”

Quite suddenly, he pulled away from you, and you only then noticed how warm he was when his distance caused cold air to surround your body. You found yourself missing the closeness, but figured his distance was probably for the best. You could barely fathom telling your friends you were talking to Malfoy — you couldn’t imagine what they’d say if anything were to actually happen.

“I know, I wish you had a choice,” you spoke up, louder this time as he kept his back turned to you, “It’s not fair.”

He shook his head, letting it drop, “It’s not. But —,” his voice trailed off before he turned and faced you, his face set and all softness gone, “I should probably go to bed.”

Your eyes involuntarily widened and you couldn’t help the clear shock on your face, “Wait, did I say something?”

“No,” he replied rather quickly, “I just need to go.” And without saying another word, abruptly rushed down the stairs, his blond head disappearing from view before you could even say another word.

You stayed there, silently in the dark, for another long while. You couldn’t understand why he had taken off so hastily. Was he scared of you? For you? For himself? Did he have a realization? What was it that had rushed him away?

You walked back to the Gryffindor common room with a sulky mood, mind whirling as to what it was that could have caused a drastic, sudden change in his mood. Draco had always been a tough book to read, often leading to him being irrational, but something told you this was more than just his normal actions. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being paranoid — he was dealing with You Know Who — but you couldn’t help wanting to know more.

The common room was quiet as you re entered. Thankfully, you wouldn’t have to deal with your friends’ questions tonight. They could wait for the morning when your head was a little clearer and you could think of better answers.

You stalked up the stairs and into the room, glad that Hermione was snoring away so it was loud enough to cover the sounds of you sliding under your sheets and putting out the lantern next to your bed.

Safe to say, it was hard to sleep that night, your head far away and your body tossing and turning non stop.

You had never been more physically and mentally exhausted as you were the next morning.

——

Somehow, you had managed to go four days without seeing Malfoy. He hadn’t shown up to class, nor to any of the meals in the Great Hall. You were worried, there was no beating around the bush about that. But you still couldn’t express your worries to your friends or they’d think you were insane.

On the fifth day, the dark heavy rain poured down and the dark clouds in the ceiling of the Great Hall during breakfast did nothing to lighten your mood.

You had barely slept these last few night, Draco being the only thing you could think of. Both worried for his safety, and worried for the safety of others, you kept an eye out everywhere you walked to see if you could spot his familiar face.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

To your great distaste, seeing Harry and Ginny finally realize their feelings for each other in the span of these last five days had made your longing for Draco even worse. Yes, your stupid heart had decided to grow feelings for him. And yes, it ticked you off knowing you’d never be able to act on said feelings.

So, seeing Ginny linking her hand with Harry’s as she joined your table for breakfast made your blood boil.

“Morning,” she grinned, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s cheek, Ron grimacing at the affection.

“Bloody hell, can you not do that around me?” he groaned, looking down at his plate with disgust as if seeing the gesture caused him to loose his appetite.

“It’s sweet,” Hermione beamed, closing her book and placing it between you two on the bench, “I think it’s nice.”

Harry and Ginny grinned at her compliment, but it went unnoticed by you as your eyes scanned the Slytherin table once more. Draco’s head usually stuck out like a sore thumb, so you’d see him if he was there.

“Ron, you’re ready for Quidditch practice, yeah?” Harry nodded towards Ron, finishing off his pumpkin juice and standing up, “Let’s get going.”

“It’s raining, mate,” Ron groaned, about to stuff the last bit of toast in his mouth.

Harry shrugged, “Thanks for pointing out the weather, let’s go.”

Hermione giggled as Ron begrudgingly stood up and followed Harry out of the Great Hall. As you watched them leave, your eyes following them to the door, your heart leapt out of your chest.

Draco was standing in the doorway, looking like right hell. His face was ghostly, his eyes sunken in and dark and his hair matted to his head.

You stood up, nearly knocking Hermione over with the force of your movement. But as you looked over at him, Hermione seemed to vanish from your view.

“Gotta go,” you said to the two girls, striding towards the entrance. Draco must have seen you, because he took off in the opposite direction, his pace picking up once he noticed you following him.

“Oi, Draco, slow your roll,” you shouted, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t expected him to actually stop, causing you to crash into his back and nearly stumble over.

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled, regaining your balance and hiding the flush on your cheeks. He didn’t move, so you turned around to face him, holding back a gasp when you noticed the state he was in.

“Draco, what happened?” your voice was soft, reassuring. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel like you were judging him.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, looking down to his feet, “I’m fine.”

Scoffing, you raised a hand to his cheek and placed it against his skin lightly, “You can open up to me, remember?”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, “I’m sorry. I just — I needed to stay away.” He shuddered as he spoke. You could tell he was trying to be as open and honest as he could without giving too much away.

“From me?” you asked, stepping closer to him and pulling him behind a pillar so you couldn’t be seen by passing students.

He nodded, “I don’t want to put you in danger if I can help it. I’m — I like your company.”

“I like your company too,” you smiled softly, “Which is why it sucked when I couldn’t find you.”

“No, like — never mind,” he waved his hands, brushing you off, “It’s pathetic.”

“Wait, no, you need to be open with me,” you pointed a finger at him, a grin forming on your lips at the redness growing on his cheeks, “What is it?”

He fidgeted in his spot, avoiding your gaze before speaking so softly you almost missed it, “I actually like you. Like, like you. Since first year, actually. And I opened up to you. And then I realized I was putting you, the one person I care about, in danger.”

You stared at him, mouth agape and face drained of colour. Had he just said he likes you? Draco Malfoy likes you? You had always had a soft spot for him — even though you shouldn’t have had one — but you never imagined he felt the same to this extent. It slowly started to make sense; why he was always kinder to you, why he felt the need to open up to you, why he wanted to distance himself after doing so.

The redness on his cheeks grew, and you could feel the heat flooding into your own. For some reason, just the knowledge of his crush had your heart fluttering away because you couldn’t deny — you had one too.

“Well, that’s good to know,” you stepped closer, “I like you too.”

His head shot up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head, “You — you do?”

“Yes,” you said, more seriously this time, “And now that my little secret is out there, you need to start taking care of yourself. I know this is scary and you don’t know what’s going on, but take care of yourself. Please. For me.”

He seemed to ponder on your words, moving closer to you, “Promise. I will.”

Almost as if your presence had done something to him, the colour seemed to have flooded back into his face and his eyes seemed to spark life once more. You grinned, pleased at your affect on him, and wrapped your arms around him.

He leaned into the hug this time, less awkward and unsure. His head nestled into your neck and his hands gripped your waist firmly, the affectionate gesture being a source of comfort to both of you.

You pulled away after a long moment, grinning like an idiot and trying your best to hide it, “I’m really proud of you for opening up, y’know? It can’t be easy and I—,”

Your rambling was cut off by his lips forcefully pressing up against yours. You were too caught off guard to kiss back, standing there stiff as a board with your mind racing to catch up to his actions. He noticed your stiffness, causing him to immediately pull away and stare at you with panic in his eyes.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” he ran his hand down his face, pale as ever and the panic in his eyes growing more by the second, “Forgive me, it was heat of the moment.”

“Stop rambling,” your mind finally caught up with you to the point where you could process what just happened, “Kiss me again.”

He placed his hands softly on either sides of your head and pressed his lips softly against yours. Tingles shot through your entire body at his touch, your heart being sent into overdrive as fireworks erupted in your belly.

His kiss was soft but passionate and needy. You could tell he was desperate to cling to you as much as he could, his body pressed up against yours and holding you flush to him. His body was relaxed — this was probably the least stressed he had ever been around you.

Your hands went into his hair, his delicate kiss still sending your mind into a frenzy, even after he had pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“That was — that was —” Draco’s breathing was a little off as he chuckled, eyes staring into yours with a whole new level of adoration.

“Yeah,” you grinned, pulling your forehead away from his to look at him properly. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t fight his smile.

From that moment on, you didn’t leave his side. You met in the Astronomy Tower nearly every single night — it was a place just for the two of you. He confided in you about his feelings, his fears, worries, dreams. Anything that was going on in his mind, he told you about it.

And he loved you.

He felt like the didn’t deserve your kindness, your open heart, but he welcomed it and accepted every moment, feeling the least alone he had ever felt before.

You, on the other hand, managed to keep your time with Draco a secret from your friends for a long time. They had become suspicious, yes, but you managed to throw them off your scent and make up a storyline of what exactly was going on.

And you knew bigger things were to come. Wars, fights, probably even death. But you were going to keep your promise and stick by his side until the very end.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Play Pretend (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: From the Love Tropes category: “Blackmail”

Word Count: 1596

Warnings: Modern!AU, angst, Ivar being a dick, nothing else I can think of.

A/N: This ain’t the fluffiest piece, it’s not fluffy at all, but hey, it’s marginally less angsty than the last one, that I can promise you.

To be honest, idk what this is, and I am not certain it is any good. But I’ve been dealing with one hell of a writer’s block lately, and I really needed to just write what came to mind. Hope you enjoy!

You eye the name flashing on your phone screen, and though a part of you really doesn’t want to answer, you still do.

“I would have thought you caught on that I really didn’t want to talk after the fourth day. This is bordering on stalking, you know.”

“Is it stalking if you gave me your number?” Ivar retorts without missing a beat, and you sigh.

“I assume you have a reason to call me. Unless missing the sound of my voice became too much to bear.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Is it flattery if it is true?” You taunt back, only to then chastise yourself for falling into familiar patterns.

“I heard your mother’s firm is taking over Ragnar’s newest countersuit.” Ivar starts, choosing to ignore your words.

“Ah, you just happened to hear that?”

“I might have asked,” He concedes, before taking a breath and continuing, “You know I’m going to England with him, right? His last meeting with Ecbert before he retires,” You offer only a hum in response, but something like dread and worry churns at your stomach. It is never a good sign when Ivar sounds so damn pleased with himself. “My father listens to me, trusts my advice.”

“If you’re going where I think you are…”

He interrupts you, words cutting and cold, “I could have your mother’s firm dropped before she even gets to sign anything.”

“I would say something about how blackmail isn’t the way to mend things with your ex, but…”

“You know better.” He tells you, the dry tone making the beginning of a smile pull at your lips, lips that you furrow when you notice the evidence of your foolishness.

____

A very lengthy argument and a plane ride after, you’re back in Kattegat, enough clothes for a week and a scowl on your brow that you think might be stuck there from now on.

Six months ago your mother started insisting that, now that you had gotten engaged to ‘one of the Lothbroks’, you should consider starting to work more closely with her; five months ago you freaked out at the mere idea of it and decided to do the exact opposite and take an internship opportunity in a non-profit in Nepal; four months ago Ivar said that if you were running away and leaving that you might as well break it off.

In none of those four months he considered letting his family know that long distance didn’t work -not that he even tried- and that you had broken up.

So now you are set for a week in the Lothbrok’s home for Björn’s wedding, pretending you never broke up with Ivar with the threat of your mother losing her contract looming over your head.

Which makes all of this fucking fantastic.

“You should have told them,” You say for what feels like the thousandth time, eyeing his profile carefully. “You should have told her.”

“You’re not here to tell me how to handle my family.” Ivar points out gruffly through gritted teeth.

“No, I’m here to pretend we haven’t broken up four months ago,” You scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation, turning to look back out the window. “Because that is a very healthy thing to do.”

“Healthier than moving to the ass-end of nowhere because someone suggested the possibility of you committing to something for once in your life.”

“I commit!” You protest immediately, frowning at his doubtful glare, “I committed to you!”

“You left me.” Ivar accuses without missing a beat, rage flaring and eyes set intently on you. Your mouth falls open at the fucking audacity of this man.

“No, don’t turn this on me. You-…” You bite back the words with a groan of frustration, running your hands through your hair before sighing, “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Resting back against the seat and wondering not for the first time how much these people pay their drivers to not blurt out every little secret that they overhear, you close your eyes and focus on the dull thrum of the car speeding through the highway.

Most of all you dread seeing Aslaug, if you are honest. The woman always did have a keen eye to notice everything about everyone, or at least the confidence to pretend she did. If you’re honest, she…intimidates you.

You tell yourself she has no idea you and Ivar broke up, which would give her no reason to hate you. She was always warm towards you since Ivar first introduced you as his girlfriend. Her eyes were even glistening with pride and happiness when you walked in with a ring on your finger.

You jump in your seat, turning frantic eyes to the man that sits next to you.

“Oh, Gods, the ring! Y-Your mother’s ring, I d-…”

Your words are cut short and left choked in a dying gasp with only a movement of Ivar’s hand, that now extends between you with the engagement ring in the palm of his hand.

He doesn’t even look your way when he offers it, but when you reach cautious fingers to grab it, you could swear his hand trembles slightly.

Sliding it back over your finger feels strange, and for a moment it feels so warm it burns.  You toy with the ring idly, and cannot keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

“You kept it.”

“Of course I did, it’s my Ma’s.”

Of course, how stupid of you. You curse the useless hope that unbidden sneaked up on you.

You decided to leave, you remind yourself. Hell, you are considering agreeing on making the original six months of your internship last a year instead.

Granted, agreeing to making it a year may be more out of fear of coming back home than of truly wanting to stay there. But still, you shouldn’t be holding out hope that there’s something left, or that there might be something to come back to Kattegat for.

“R-Right.” You nod for emphasis, but it is to conceal the way you have to swallow hard to keep your composure.

After a while of silence, either because your curiosity always got the better of you or because you need to make sense of this insane ruse you are about to partake in, you ask,

“Why are you doing this, Ivar?”

“Hm? Doing what?” He asks, at your stern glare looking back out the window and shrugging one shoulder, “I didn’t want to tell them.”

“You’ll have to, eventually.”

“Not now,” He states, a little harsher, making you realize you’ve struck a nerve. His eyes find yours for a moment before he returns his gaze to the road that passes you by, and the manor that approaches quite quickly. “But now…now Björn is getting married and…that should have been us, you know.”

“W-What?”

“The wedding, the…the everything,” He grits his teeth, and his hand tightens into a fist before it loosens, the gesture familiar only now he lacks the crutch at his side to grip tightly in anger. Your eyes trace his profile intently, and you hold your breath waiting for him to talk. Ivar takes a breath, shoulders rising and falling slowly, “I should have married you.”

“So what? So you could make me stay in Kattegat?” You ask, maybe a bit more bitingly than you should.

“You loved me,” He states, proud even he makes it sound like an accusation, “You told me no one made you feel like I did, that you would never love someone like you loved me. Was that a lie, hm?”

All the answer you can offer is a glare and words kept stubbornly at the tip of your tongue. It is cruel to throw your words back at you, but you wouldn’t put it past him, since all of this is a cruel and sick game.

He is the one that broke up with you, he is the one that told you to mail him the ring back, he is the one that made things what they are; and yet he uses power and blackmail to get you to play a part. All the while refusing to admit he is the reason why you have to pretend in the first place.

But you are not deluded enough to tell yourself this is unlike Ivar. He is as ruthless as his father, maybe even more so, and he has the single-minded focus that Ragnar lacks. You aren’t sure if that last thing is a positive or a negative.

The car parks at the entrance of the lavish home you know by heart now, and Ivar takes a deep breath, looking at you one last time.

His words before he leaves the car leave you cold and stunned for a few moments,

“You’ll remember how good it was, you’ll see. I’ll make you forget all about leaving me.”

Scrambling to get out, you walk around the car to stand at his side, looking up at him with wide eyes, “So they know? They know a-and you made me come here to make me be with you again?”

Ivar frowns, as if you are the one that’s not making any sense.

“They don’t know,” He insists, the hand not on the crutch grasping at your left one, fingers running over the ring with appalling familiarity. You are left to wonder how much of this game of play pretend he is willing to make himself believe as true when he offers a smile that feels like home and says, “I don’t lie to you, you know that.”

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay! I’ll be trying to post two or three celebration thingies three days a week from now on, so that’s it for today but I’ll hopefully see you tomorrow!

Also, some things in the masterlist may be changed (Echoes, for example, was supposed to be a Hvitserk one), so I might change the “Fake Relationship” for Ivar and write a sequel to this.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless​  @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla​ @fae-sedai​ @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​ @sagyunaro​    

[unmaskedagain]

Rock Star

I was feeling a bit of writer’s block this morning. So I went through my prompts and found this awesome one. It has a bit of angst.

  She lost her friends. The boy she was in love with broke her heart. No one in class apart from Chloe would even speak to her anymore. Lila’s lies had taken root in class, leaving Marinette in the back alone and abandoned. The worst part was that Marinette didn’t even know if she could be friends with any of her classmates again after the truth was exposed. In the effort to cling tighter to the coattails of someone who promised them the world, they had abandoned a childhood friend as if the friendship meant nothing; as if Marinette meant nothing. And as if that wasn’t enough, Akumas were getting stronger every day. Chat Noir was pushier than ever before. Most days it was all too much.

           Most days Marinette didn’t want to get out of bed. She rarely smiled anymore. She couldn’t find it in her to design. It was like the life force had been drained from her. It didn’t take long for her parents to notice. However, after weeks of trying, when it became clear that Marinette wasn’t going to talk to them and that she wasn’t getting better, they sent her to a therapist. After they managed to get her to promise to at least try.

           Dr. Vanderbilt was a kind woman with greying red hair and a Scottish accent. It took multiple sessions before Marinette started to open up about her problems at school; about feeling overwhelmed. One day after a session, the doctor gave Marinette a notebook.

“What’s this for?” Marinette asked taking the black notebook. The front of it said it had a 1000 pages.

“Whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, I want you to write.”

“Write what?”

“Whatever you want,” Vanderbilt smiled. “What you’re feeling. Poetry. Songs. Quotes you know. Write a story. Whatever helps you get what you’re feeling out, lessen the load you’re carrying a bit.”

           So Marinette did.

           It was a struggle at first. She never thought of herself as much of a writer. Then she started writing random quotes she knew. Then Marinette started writing a bit of poetry just to try to express herself in a way she could understand. However, during a particularly troublesome day, when Alya accused her of being lazy and not being a good class president, Marinette resigned her position much to the shock of the class and started writing song lyrics.

           One of the recommendation from Vanderbilt was to always stop doing things she didn’t want to do just because it made other people happy; especially if it was at harm to herself.

           The doctor made Marinette write 100 times: I will not set myself on fire to keep you warm.

           Marinette always hated being class president; the stress alone could kill a dozen elephants. She hated doing free commissions so she stopped that too. She hated doing the whole birthday celebrations, when everyone was quick to forget her that year. Or plan parties and fundraisers for trips that class made sure to make clear they didn’t want to her go to or on. So she stopped that too.

           It was freeing.

           Writing lyrics to songs were freeing. Soon she was writing them during class, lunch, after school, when there a moment of free time when helping out at the bakery.

           And Vanderbilt was right. It did help her.

           Marinette to smile a lot more. The pep in her step was back. She started hanging out with Chloe and Luka more and more. She made friends with others kids in class. She created a website and started selling custom designs.

           One Friday, after school, Marinette found herself in Jagged’s Hotel room with Chloe and Luka. Jagged had asked Marinette to bring his new concert wardrobe that he had commission from her. He had and Clara Nightingale were going on tour together.

           After Jagged had reviewed the clothes and approved them, proclaimed each outfit to be, “Rockin!”

           Marinette found herself writing a song in her notebook while Luka and Jagged discussed musical influences. Chloe and Penny discussed a potential internships.

           She was so invested in writing that she didn’t notice when the talking stopped. Or when Jagged asked her if she wanted Pizza.

           Marinette jumped back when a hand suddenly waved in her face. “Wait! What!” She looked around and saw the amused faces of Jagged, Penny, Chloe, and Luka. Even Fang had a long grin on his face.

“What’s this love?” Jagged asked pointing to her notebook. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages.”

           The bluenette blushed and tried not to hide her notebook; it would only make them more curious, “Nothing; just a notebook for ideas.” Technically that was true.

“Right on, can I see?” Jagged asked.

           Marinette instantly pulled the notebook to her chest and her blushed turned a dark red. She was not going to show a Rock Star the song she wrote. She’d rather die. “Nope! Nah ah, nothing to see here.”

           Chloe rolled her eyes, “Yes, because that’s totally what someone with nothing to hide does.” The blond looked at Penny. “She writes song lyrics. They’re pretty good.”

           Marinette glared at the blond, “Traitor.”

           Luka looked a bit curious. Jagged had a full blown grin on his face, “I knew it!” he shouted. “I knew there was a rocker in you. I had just had to wait a bit, love. Come on. Let me see then! Show Uncle jagged your songs.”

           It took about twenty minutes to get Marinette to agree and then another ten to pry the notebook out of her hands. She watched with a pit in her stomach growing bigger and bigger as she watched Luka, Chloe, Jagged, and Penny flip through her notebook. Reading the lyrics that came straight from her heart.

           What if they hated them? What if they thought she had no talent? What if they thought she was a freak? What if! What If!

“This is good, mate,” Jagged suddenly said. An impressed look on his face. “These are really good.”

“Told ya,” Chloe said smugly.

           Penny nodded, “I wouldn’t mind commissioning some songs from you.”

“I’d like to jam together,” Luka said. “Maybe we can do a duet.”

           Jagged suddenly shot up, “Penny! Call the guys. We need a band! Marinette’s gonna sing for us!” He ran for his guitar.

“Marinette’s going to do what now?” Marinette shouted.

           Marinette was going to sing.

           She sat on a dark brown wooden stool, in front of Jagged’s backup band, with Jagged and Luka on guitar. Chloe and Penny watched in the background. An assistant help up a camera.

           Jagged had decided to give Marinette a rockstar makeover; well as much as she would let him. Her hair was pulled back in a faux hawk with a few curls framing her face, her makeup was flawless, her face was painted to look like she had been crying and her mascara had gotten everywhere.

           It took a while for Jagged, Luka, and she to work out the music would be good for her songs and what songs she’d use. She decided to let the four: Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Chloe decide on the best ones. Marinette was too bias, she knew.

           They had practiced. Everyone assured her she had an amazing voice but Marinette thought they were a bit biased too. They loved her too much to hurt her by saying anything mean.

“Hey fans watching!” Jagged said into the mic. “Today, I got a special guest here. My honorary niece and personal fashion designer; Marinette. She’s written some kick ass songs and agreed to prove that she’s a rockstar like her Uncle. Give her some love!”

           Marinette got up and waked to the mic.

           The drum beat started slowly. Marinette took a deep breath. The guitars and piano started.

           Marinette opened her mouth to sing,

“Someday I won't be afraid of my head

Someday I will not be chained to my bed

Someday I'll forget the day he left

But surely not today.”

           The beat picked up a bit.

           She fought not to close her eyes as she sang. Instead, she thought of why she wrote the song; all the pain, all the mess going on inside. Her blue eyes got a faraway look to them.

“One day I won't need a PhD

To sit me down and tell me what it all means

Maybe one day it'll be a breeze

But surely not today

But surely not today”

           Admitting she was in therapy was hard. Penny comforted her and admitted she went a lot too. Jagged hadn’t been happy when Chloe told the two adults just what was happening in Marinette’s class.

“Oh you don't know what sadness means

'Till you're too sad to fall asleep

One day I'll be snoozing peacefully

But surely not today

Surely not today.”

           Marinette voice carried across the room. She let herself get lost in the music. Otherwise, she’d be too panicky over the fact that she more or less admitted to being depressed.

“One day I'll swear the pain will be a blip

I'll have the hardest time recalling it

I'll be the king of misery management

But surely not today.”

           This song was a promise to herself. That she would move on. She would get better. Somehow, someway, Marinette would conquer all that she was going through and be better for it.

“One day that song won't make me cry anymore (oh no no)

One day I'll get up off the bathroom floor (hey yeah)

Oh, piece by piece I'll be restored

But surely not today (surely not)

Eh, not today”

           Marinette swayed to the music, dancing in place. The other people in the room watched, entranced by her voice.

“oh you don't know what happy means

If it's only in your dreams

I'll be acquainted with my jollities

But surely not today

Yeah, surely not today.”

           There were days when Marinette swore she forgot what it meant to be happy; questioned if she had ever been really happy. Or if she had just fooled herself into thinking she was. She knew better now. And Marinette refused to let the dark thoughts win.

“Surely not, surely, surely not

Surely not (surely not today)”

           Marinette sang that part softly. She knew she wasn’t going to get completely better right away. But she would… One day.

“One day the thought of him won't hurt the same

Won't need distractions to get through the day

I guess I hope I'm gonna be okay

'Cause I'm not today.”

           The song slowly died down. Silence filled the room. Then there were claps and cheers. Jagged’s new manager Harvey Boyd looked ready to wet his pants from excitement.

“Yes!” jagged yelled. “That’s how you do it!”

           Marinette blushed again and ran off stage as Luka readied himself to perform. Penny and Chloe both assured her that she had been amazing but Marinette couldn’t stop her heart from racing in her chest.

           Chloe helped prepare her for her next song as they watched Luka perform.

He had gotten used to being Solo since Kitty Section kicked him out the band. Luka sang a called, She will be loved. A sad melody that was fit him to a T.

“I don't mind spendin' everyday

Out on your corner in the pourin' rain

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

And she will be loved, and she will be loved”

           When he was done, once again Harvey Boyd had that hungry look on his face.

           Then Jagged performed one of his hits. After that he brought Marinette up on their makeshift stage again.

           Marinette didn’t feel any better performing the second time. She’d be singing the song Jagged chose.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

So much for my happy ending

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh”

           The song was definitely more Rock than her last one. And she wrote it most about Adrien, some of it geared toward Alya and the rest of her friends.

“Let's talk this over

It's not like we're dead

Was it something I did?

Was it something you said?”

           Marinette had wondered for months what she had wrong. Why it was so easy for them to just ignore her; disregard her, end their friendships.

“Don't leave me hanging

In a city so dead

Held up so high

On such a breakable thread”

           They left her alone. Adrien left her alone. She trust them, and just left her.

“You were all the things I thought I knew

And I thought we could be…”

           Marinette closed her eyes for just a moment as the beat of the music changed.

You were everything, everything that I wanted

“We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it

All of the memories, so close to me, just fade away

All this time you were pretending

So much for my happy ending

 So much for my happy ending.”

           The song went on for a few more minutes. She had let the music as the guitar solo slowly died down. The song was met with applause.

           Marinette performed a few more songs, along with Luka. After one of them, Harvey had come directly up to her and Luka and offered to be their manager. Apparently, Jagged’s label had been watching them and wanted to give each of them a record deal. If Penny and Chloe hadn’t been there, both Luka and Marinette wouldn’t fallen her their butts in shock.

           Jagged called Boyd away to discuss something.

           Luka gripped his guitar so tightly Marinette feared it would break, “That didn’t just happen, did it?”

“Nope,” Marinette shook her head, earnestly. “It’s the fumes from all their hairspray. It must have knocked us out. We’re in coma right now.”

           Chloe glared at them. “Oh. Shut. UP! You were amazing. You both were. Marinette you screamed Girl power. And Luka, there’s probably a million girls planning on marry you right now.”

“I have to call my mom!” Luka and Marinette said at the same time.

           Her parents were excited about the news. But they made it clear as long as it didn’t interfere with her school work, she could do whatever she wanted. Sabine and Tom were just happy their little girl was back.

           Luka said his mom was the safe. School first, hall of fame second.

           Jagged pulled Marinette on stage for one last song. The song was chosen by Chloe. It was the song Marinette wrote once she realized she was done. She was done with the drama in class, done with fake friends. Done with game and lies. Done with mean comments and ice cold glares. She was over it. And Marinette didn’t care anymore.

“You wanna play, you wanna stay, you wanna have it all

You started messing with my head until I hit a wall

Maybe I shoulda known, maybe I shoulda known

That you would walk, you would walk out the door.”

           Marinette watched Penny smile as she turned on the big fans pointed at her.

Said we were done, you met someone and rubbed it in my face

Cut to the punch, she broke your heart, and then she ran away

I guess you shoulda known, I guess you shoulda known

That I would talk, I would talk

           She remembered Alya standing in class renouncing their friendship, and nearly everyone joining her. The look on Lila’s face as she finally fulfilled her promise. Adrien not doing anything, and avoiding contact. He never stood up for her; not once. He blocked her calls, stopped answering her texts, until finally he let Nino and who else in class convince him to end his friendship with Marinette outright.

           But when got over the loss, the heartbreak; she decided it was for the best. Marinette didn’t need them. She didn’t want them. Marinette swore she’d never be friends with them again.

“But even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies.”

           The fire in Marinette’s eyes caused a few people to step back; including Luka. Then a wide smile spread over her face and

“Oh I really don't care

Even if the stars and moon collide

I never want you back into my life

You can take your words and all your lies

Oh oh I really don't care

Oh oh oh I really don't care?”

           When the song ended, everyone cheered.

           Jagged grabbed the mic, “Wasn’t she pure Rock and Roll, or what?” He picked up Fang. “What do you think, Fang? You loved it! For those of you who don’t know; this is my pet,” He told the camera. “Totally coolest guy ever. I’d never do anything mainstream like get a cat or anything.” He said with a wink. “For those of you who loved today’s acts; I’ve got some good news. All songs are going to be on itunes. Just look them up! In Addition; my label wants to offer both Luka and Marinette records deals. Who knows, maybe I’ll reach out to Clara about them coming on tour with us; we could use a couple of awesome opening acts.”

           Marinette went home with the biggest smile on her face. She didn’t think much what happened. She figured the record deal wouldn’t go anywhere; someone would realize just how lame she was and stop it dead in her tracks. Marinette also figured that Chloe had exaggerated about how many watched; no one wanted to see some Amateur sing, even if it was on Jagged Stone streamed it.

It wasn’t a big deal, Marinette thought when she went to bed, tomorrow no one would even remember her. Still, it was a pretty fun.

           By Monday morning, Marinette would learn just how big of deal it really was. Little did she know that, overnight, her song ‘Not Today’ was downloaded over 2 million times? Her song ‘Happy ending’ sold over 3 million. But ‘Really Don’t Care’ broke records. The rest of the songs had had performs sold well too; each selling over a million copies. The world was listening to her music, and she had no clue. Luka did pretty well too; his songs were just trailing after Marinette’s in sells.

           Marinette had been helping her parents in the bakery’s kitchen, listening to the radio, when a new song started to play. Marinette turned white as a sheet, “M-Mom! Dad!” She said, her voice trembling.

“What’s up, honey?” Tom asked, worry clear in his eyes.

           She pointed at the radio with a shaky hand, “That’s mine.”

“What?” Sabine asked confused.

“That’s mine,” Marinette repeated. “That’s my song!”

           Her parents looked even more confused. Until they listened closer to the song and recognized their daughter’s voice.

           Sabine dropped the pans she was holding, “You’re on the radio,” She whispered. “You’re on the radio.” She yelled, cheering.

           Tom pulled his daughter into a giant bear hug, “My sugarplum’s a Superstar!”

           After Marinette’s song

           Once, she finished in the bakery, Marinette ran to Chloe’s. When she was let into the penthouse, she rushed to Chloe’s room, and as soon as she saw the blond, she yelled, “I’m on the radio!” And screamed. Chloe screamed with her.

           Then Luka called and screamed, “I’m on the radio!” The sound of his mother cheering the background. As far as he was concerned it was the best day of his life. The year had sucked so hard; first his sister became one of Lila’s groupies, then he got kicked out of his own band, he realized he and the girl (Marinette) he had a crush on were better off as friends, and he broke his lucky guitar and had to fork over his savings to buy a new one.

           But getting a record deal, being on the radio, nearly made all of it worth it. Luka still really wanted his sister back though.

           The three friends spent the rest of the weekend hanging out and being amazed at their luck. Chloe got the internship she was after in the PR department. Thanks to Penny, she’d be Luka and Marinette’s promotor. Or least learning firsthand how everything works.

           When Monday morning came, Marinette was still oblivious to just much had changed in so little time… Until she got to school, and some random girl asked for her autograph. Marinette stuttered out a, “Sure.” And signed the girl’s notebook. While she was doing it, four other kids lined up behind her. She signed each one with a smile.

“I really like your song: Not today,” One guy told her. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one that gets that way sometimes.”

           Marinette was so touched, she nearly started crying right there. She would’ve if Chloe hadn’t dragged her away, with a hiss about not crying in front on fans.

           On the way to class, a few kids stopped and asked her for a picture. She agreed. But when more and more kids tried to get her attention, Marinette, once again, had to be saved by Chloe.

“You are not getting mauled on my watch,” Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’d never get to work in PR again.”

           Marinette giggled. Chloe rolled her eyes with a fund smile.

           The smiles died when they reached class. They had gotten there early. Marinette was rarely ever late anymore sense she had lighted her work load. Only a few kid were there. Max, Nathaniel, and Mylene; they all looked at Marinette with wide eyes.

           Marinette ignored them as Chloe and she went to their seats. They made light talk and ignored the looks of the other students as more and more arrived. Most didn’t say a word to her; not knowing what to do or say.

           When Rose arrived, she immediately rushed over to Marinette, “I love your music. I didn’t know you could sing!” She chirped. “I can’t believe you performed with Jagged Stone. You’re so lucky.”

           The bluenette gave the other girl a small smile, “Yeah it was amazing. Luka was great too,” She added. “He’s ecstatic about the record deal. He was so bummed when Kitty Section kicked him out; something about him holding you guys back. Did you guys ever find a new singer and lead guitarist? It’s been months, right?” It was spiteful. It was the meanest thing Marinette had ever done. And they deserved it.

           Rose visibly wilted. So did Ivan and Juleka. Every member of Kitty Section regretted kicking Luka out of the band the moment they saw him performing with Jagged Stone; getting the break of a lifetime. And when they heard about a potential record deal… well, let’s say regret didn’t begin to cover it.

“Oh, we’re working on it,” Rose smiled, a big fake smile on her face. “We got a lot of people we’re considering.” The truth was, and it was hard for Kitty section to learn, that most people who had a fraction of Luka’s talent didn’t want to work with a bunch of teenagers. And without Luka there, no one was reminding them to practice or book gigs.

           Rose returned to a seat, feeling more bummed than she had when she got to the class. She had been happy for Marinette, and for Luka. But she had so many dreams for Kitty Section and herself that just because she was happy for them, didn’t mean she wasn’t unhappy for herself.

           Chloe pulled Marinette back into the conversation, just as the last of the students arrived, “So, once you sign the record deal, are you going to go on tour with Jagged and Clara. Luka said he’s going.”

           Marinette frowned. She hadn’t really considered it much. Clara had reached out to her congratulate her on the record deal and tell her how much she loved Marinette’s songs. Clara had hinted hard that she’d love Marinette to come on tour with her. But Marinette didn’t know. Being a rock star wasn’t ever one of her goals in life.

“I still want to design,” Marinette admitted.

           Chloe shrugged, “So do that too.” She suddenly gripped Marinette’s arm. “You can wear design your own dress to the Teen Choice Awards, and the MTV music Awards. You can design my dress!”

           Marinette laughed, “My song came out like three days ago, and you’re practically writing my acceptance speech; I might not get nominated.”

           The blond scoffed, “Oh you’re getting nominated. Do you know how many people downloaded your songs? Records were broken. Even my mother played ‘Really don’t care’ whenever she wants someone to stop talking to her now. Go on tour!”

“I’d need more songs,” Marinette said. “I’ll need to release like an actual album.”

“Penny went through all yours songs, remember?” Chloe said. “She sent me a list of all ones that she think would top the charts. She wants to record, ‘Fight Song’ as soon as you sign with the label. And she swears, ‘I kissed a Girl’ is going make people lose their minds.”

           Marinette sent her a smirk, “That song’s half yours remember; we wrote it after you and Kagami got closer.”

“Won’t even hide the body, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe growled.

           Marinette laughed, “Fine! If I go on tour, I want you there with me. I couldn’t do it with you! You’re only one I’d trust me my social media accounts.”

“How could you invite Chloe,” Alya asked hearing the end of the conversation as she arrived just after the bell rang. “I’d be a much better social media influencer than her!”

           Chloe raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh, and how’s the traffic for the Ladyblog?” She asked.

           Alya flushed with anger. It was bad. They all knew it was bad. Ladyblog had died dramatically after Ladybug vocally for the other press to hear told Alya she didn’t work with reporters who didn’t fact check. “Marinette’s my bestie; I should be going with her.”

           Marinette snorted, “Last I check your bestie was Lila. Or don’t you remember ending our friendship?”

“Well, I, uh,” Alya stuttered out. She had completely forgotten disowning the bluenette. She had been so excited when her mother told her friend’s name was trending, thinking she’d see Lila Rossi, only to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the top search list of the day. Then she watched the video of her performing, when Jagged mentioned the record deal, Alya lost her mind. Her mind was filled with images of her and Marinette at music awards shows and on tours; movie premieres. It was all going to be amazing.

           Except it wasn’t. She and Marinette weren’t friends anymore. A balloon popped inside Alya.

           Marinette gave her a sad smile, “What did you think I forgot? Or you must have.”

“The chances of that happening or as likely as Jagged Stone owning a cat,” Chloe smirked as Lila walked into the door. “Or did you forget that part too? Wonder how Lila saved something he never owned?”

           To her credit, Lila didn’t bat an eye. “He doesn’t own one now. He must have forgotten the poor thing once he got really famous and they went out of style. I wonder what happened to it.” It was good performance. Lila even got teary eyed.

           Still, Lila was met with suspicious looks. The class started to wonder if she was really their golden ticket. Or if the pissed of the real one instead.

“Congratulations, Marinette,” Lila simpered, jealously flaring in her eyes. “Who knew Jagged Stone was your Uncle?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Chloe poked yet another hole in her story. “You said you were oh so very close.”

           Marinette smirked, “I had get my rock and roll genes from somewhere.”