#and people were pissed at me for daring to argue that we should be encouraging allies

[solvicrafts]

This is a hard truth that a lot of people don't want to hear, that there needs to be a balance between holding men accountable for their behavior, pointing out injustices that they benefit from, and at the same time encouraging them to learn and grow.

And this goes for any group of people, really, but especially so for young men right now.

I was saying this shit back before the 2016 election and really pissed off a lot of people for daring to argue that we should encourage our allies instead of shaming and alienating them.

"Yes, absolutely, people should support our civil rights because it's the right thing to do, but a lot of people genuinely do not know how much of the world is structured to prop them up at the cost of bringing others down."

I'm going to say something possibly really, really controversial here, especially in the wake of THIS election:

Most people are capable of being empathetic, understanding, and logical, but if you are going to engage with them then you have to have the maturity to commit to reaching them.

At one of the places I worked previously, there was this security guard who worked a few nights at the end of the week who was honestly one of my best friends there. He was a well-educated, very devout Christian man around my father's age, and he was black. For context, I am a young Irish-American liberal Hellenic Polytheist.

We actually got along far better with each other than I did with all of the hippie woo neopagan people I knew there, and he with the Christians there. And that's because we were not only both well educated within our belief systems, we were also really good at meeting in the middle and extending social grace and understanding to each other. We found that our core principles were perfectly aligned, we just didn't always arrive to our conclusions in the same exact ways.

When the pandemic hit in 2020, he was reluctant to get vaccinated, and when we talked about it I was the one person who got through to him. And he told me so. He told me outright, after he got vaccinated, that it was my voice that changed his mind.

I did not do that by shaming him over all of the people he might kill if he caught COVID and spread it. I did not do that by attacking his intellect or scientific literacy. I did not do that by threatening his financial security and pointing out that companies are letting people go for not getting vaccinated.

I did it by acknowledging his beliefs and concerns (especially as an older black man, given this country's history), and agreeing that he absolutely has valid reasons to feel the way he does, but by letting him know that my position on this subject was one of caring about his well-being above all else and letting him know when I got vaccinated and where, and how the process went for me.

Look, shaming CAN be effective in some limited scenarios, and I've done that, too. I've shamed quite a few people on public transit for refusing to let disabled elderly people sit. I am very much guilty of telling a woman that her imaginary friend does not need a seat of their own so that a guy who fell over getting on the bus could actually sit the fuck down.

But when it comes to bigger picture social issues, it's so much better to try to reach people and establish dialogue FIRST. And I know that that is asking a lot. For many of us, it goes against our very instincts.

At the local farmer's market last week, I had a man come up to me in a MAGA hat and I was absolutely braced for a fight. Instead, he eagerly showed me pictures on his phone of the garden he was cultivating. He was almost GIDDY about his plants, about the wildflowers and the pollinators and the fruit and the trees. That man was reachable. He was not there to attack me for being a queer woman. He was there to bond over how cool plants are and had no idea what he was really signing up for.

It's so much easier to condemn people broadly as monsters, and I know it feels much more satisfying and rewarding in the moment. I've done it, too. I was downright obnoxious about it when I was younger. But this is not the kind of behavior that leads to long-term societal growth.

The more we cut off and alienate people, the easier it is for them to fall prey to indoctrination. Exposure and social engagement is our biggest weapon against bigotry and THAT is a major reason as to why the Republican party wants to destroy public education.

I have had an immense uphill battle with some of my closest male friends in trying to keep them from falling down the alt-right pipeline. It's been a nearly two decade endeavor in a few cases, but I have seen those men in my life gradually improve and become well-rounded, empathetic, and educated men.

I guess what I'm saying here is, if you have a man (or ANYONE for that matter!) in your life who is showing early warning signs and/or you believe is susceptible to the MAGA movement, please think about what I've said. It's so much harder to approach them from a place of understanding than of anger and I get that, but at the end of the day, one of those is going to be much more effective at changing their viewpoint.

Lastly, if you find yourself in a situation where you are trying to engage with someone who thinks very differently than you do, here are a few tips and some examples:

1. Acknowledge their viewpoint.

"I understand where you're coming from"

"I think I see why you think/feel this way"

Or even just asking, "I don't really understand, can you explain how you arrived to this conclusion/viewpoint/opinion, etc.?"

2. Offer them an olive branch.

"I see what you're saying, and actually, I think you will find that our opinions aren't too different from each other's."

"You have a point about this, and if I could just build off of that, here is where I am coming from."

3. Address their concerns

"Yeah, you're right, our taxes are already way too high, but if we didn't have to raise them at all and could, instead, take a hard look at how they are already being spent?"

"Wolf reintroduction absolutely could be a problem for farmers if it's handled poorly, and you're right that city people don't understand that as intimately as you do, but what if I told you there's a way we could work this out to your benefit, too?"

4. Thank them for listening! (even if they didn't magically change their opinion right away, you never know)

"I'm glad we had this talk, thank you for hearing what I had to say."

5. Reassure them that you listened, too! (even if YOU didn't change your mind)

"I can't say you've changed my mind, but you've given me something to think about."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.

[taetaespeaches]

“I’m so sorry I dared you to do that, caroling looks humiliating.”

namjoon x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.6K

a/n: Hi lovelies! So this may be one of the most random fics I’ve ever written lol. Idk where I was going with it, but I think that’s why I kind of like it. It’s Joon and Daisy/reader hanging out on a December night and conversation leads to more random conversation and Joon ends up doing some caroling. You know, normal things... I hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading! :))

HE was animated and glowing as he told you the story of the time he burned Santa’s cookies on Christmas Eve when he was a young boy. He sat next to you on the sofa, a bottle of beer in one hand as his other moved in accordance to his story as if he was conducting it like a musical arrangement.

His skin was bright and golden in the Christmas tree light, his bare face as stunning as ever, the dimples in his cheeks drawing you into the story even more as he laughed at himself. And you were laughing too. Gasping for air, you clutched your stomach as he continued talking, his inflections moving up and down melodically. If you were a linguist, you would study his cadences in pure fascination, the rhythm of his story flexing the skills he’s made a career with.

“My mom came in,” he paused, his eyes wide. “I’m sitting there in the chair in front of the oven, my nose in the comic book, I don’t even know she’s there yet,” he edges you on, you hanging on his words as he led into the climax of the story. “And she scolds sharply, ‘Kim Namjoon!’”

Jumping slightly at his sudden exclamation, you put your hand over your mouth to conceal your giggles.

“And I look up at her in shock. She’s pissed,” he emphasized.

The smile on your face slowly grew wider as he continued with the hilarious tragedy of that fateful Christmas Eve. “And she goes, ‘why does it smell like burning food in here?’ and my heart dropped into my stomach,” he reveals, you breathing out, shaking your head.

“You forgot the cookies,” you spoke, Namjoon nodding slowly.

“I forgot the cookies,” he repeated your words in confirmation, you snorting in laughter. “I got so distracted by the comic that I completely forgot I was supposed to take them out after a certain amount of time.”

“I’m picturing your mom right now, and I’m terrified,” you giggled, Namjoon’s lips spreading into a wide smile, dimples on full display for your eyes only.

“One of the scariest moments of my life,” he admitted through a chuckle. “But anyway, I ruined Christmas because Santa didn’t get any cookies.”

Your jaw dropping, you stared at him. “Did he even bring you presents?”

“Well, you see, he already bought the presents,” he told you through a smirk, causing you to laugh. “And my parents-I mean, Santa,” he corrected, you nodding at him with a smile, “weren’t going to go through the hassle of returning them, so yeah, we got the presents,” he chuckled. “My sister was worried though, my dad told us that Santa wouldn’t leave gifts without cookies.”

“He’s kind of a greedy old bastard,” you said just before taking a sip of your own beer. Swallowing the drink, your eyes widened. “Santa,” you clarified, “not your dad.”

Squeezing his eyes shut in amusement, Namjoon put his hand over his mouth as he laughed at you.

“Fuck, not your dad,” you continued through a bashful giggle. “Santa, because he expects cookies,” you overexplained, as Namjoon leaned forward and placed his beer on the coffee table. “That’s greedy, just leave the gifts dude,” you continued as you watched Namjoon turn toward you, coming closer to you. “It’s your job,” you finished your rant, just as Namjoon placed a hand to the side of your face, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet and slow, his lips lingering before he pulled away just enough to look at you.

“Santa is a greedy old bastard,” he agreed, you giggling as you leaned forward to kiss him once more. Pulling away once again, you watched as his smile widened, the expression stunning.  

“Have you ever been caroling?” You asked, Namjoon’s eyes popping wide open for a moment as he looked at you curiously. You weren’t sure where the question came from, but Namjoon didn’t seem to mind the randomness.

“I never have, no,” he replied fondly. “Have you?”

Thinking for a moment, you shook your head. “No,” you said simply.

“I always wanted to though,” he told you, his hand finding your knee. “I thought it looked fun when I was a kid.”

“You should do it,” you encouraged, the man shooting you a questioning look. “Right now,” you added with a smirk.

“You want me to go caroling right now?” He asked.

“Just outside my apartment door,” you said, already giggling at your idea. “I dare you,” you added with a teasing whisper, Namjoon sighing.

“You know you can’t just dare people to do things and expect them to do it,” he argued, you groaning in response.

“Come on, please,” you pouted. “I’ve never had a Christmas caroler serenade me before,” you said in feigned sadness.

Namjoon stared at you for a moment before standing up and heading to your front door without an ounce of hesitation. “Joon,” you giggled, watching him stride across your apartment, “I was kidding.”

“No, I’m gonna do it,” he called back to you before turning around to look at you. “Because you deserve to be serenaded.”

His expression was sweet, his eyes soft and kind, full of love. “Oh, babe, you’re drunker than I thought,” you told him, holding back a smile as he chuckled.

“Well,” he thought for a moment, “Maybe,” he confirmed, you both laughing. “But drunk or not, I’m singing for you,” he told you before turning back to the door and opening it quickly, disappearing outside as he closed it behind him.

Jumping up from the couch, you quickly jogged to the door, opening it just as he started belting ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham! using his entire frame to sing the song. He even had a little bit of choreography to go along with the song in the form of hip thrusts, wiggles, and twinkly fingers.

Smiling fondly at him, you leaned against the door frame as you watched him. The longer his act when on, the more in love you felt, your chest swollen with affection as you admired this gorgeous man singing for you, simply because he thought you should be serenaded and he wanted to make you happy. Who even does that?

“I only know the chorus,” he called out just before circling right back into the chorus on the song, causing you to laugh loudly at his antics. Your focus on the man was only broken when your neighbor, an older woman who had a bit of a distaste for you ever since you picked some of the daisies from her garden, stepped out onto her porch to inspect the noise coming from your boyfriend.

“Joon,” you called out to him in a hushed tone, fighting back a smile. His eyes widened as he stopped singing for a moment, looking to you curiously as you nodded toward your neighbor.

“Oh,” he said in realization, an adorably bashful smile overtaking his face as he laughed at himself. However, instead of stopping under her glare, he slowly worked back into the song and choreography, continuing his performance for you.

Throwing your head back in laughter, you covered your mouth with your hands as you watched your boyfriend sing and dance. You snuck one more glance at your neighbor, just as she was shaking her head in disapproval before returning back inside, closing the door on your boyfriend’s disturbance.  

You didn’t even have time to process your neighbor’s reaction as Namjoon cleared his throat dramatically. “Are you ready, Daisy the Menace?” He suddenly asked, slowing his dancing into a hip sway. “That song was for your entertainment, be now, it’s time for you to be serenaded.”

Cocking your head at him, you pouted as soon as he started singing ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’.

Namjoon would tell anyone that he couldn’t sing, but you loved his voice. And you appreciated the effort he was putting into his impromptu vocal performance of Christmas songs just for you.

Giving him your undivided attention as he sang about letting your heart be light and your troubles being out of sight, you didn’t realize your emotions were bubbling until a tear slid down your cheek, Namjoon’s eyes catching it at the same time you felt it. Wiping it away as Namjoon bounded up your steps to get to you quickly, you giggled at yourself.

“Are you ok?” He asked in concern, his hands meeting the sides of your face as he peered at your features intently.

“I’m fine,” you laughed, though more tears welled up in your eyes. “I just love you so much,” you whined, Namjoon smiling softly as he breathed out a sigh of relief. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest, his body rumbling in an amused laughter.

“You’re drunker than I thought too,” he teased, causing you to laugh against his body.

“Shush,” you sassed through a chuckle. “I’m so sorry I dared you to do that,” you apologized, “caroling looks humiliating.”

“It wasn’t my proudest moment,” he confirmed, both of you laughing. “I’d do it again though. For you,” he added cheesily, you scrunching your nose as you pulled away from his body slightly to look at him.

“I don’t think our friend next door appreciated it too much,” you commented, Namjoon looking to the woman’s apartment.

“Yeah, I would say it definitely didn’t help us win her over at all, that’s for sure,” he smiled, you feigning a pout to express your pretend disappointment. “I love you,” he told you sincerely.

The comment took you by surprise, but you accepted the confession easily. “That’s very obvious,” you told him with a smile, Namjoon squeezing his eyes shut as he chuckled lightly. “I love you more, Joon.”

And fuck, you did. More than anything.

[korrasera]

They're smug gotchas because I'm right when I talk about this stuff and that really pisses people off. The kind of people who have a strong emotional attachment to saying 'genocide joe' really want to spread the idea that Biden is encouraging a genocide and every single day I see people like that encouraging people not to vote in a year when we have to deal with Trump again. Again.

But they're also not really smug gotcha, either. I'm responding to the people who actually are being smug. This isn't an 'I'm rubber and you're glue' kinda situation, despite the fact that you want to criticize my stance on all of this.

Let's dive in further:

You do not get points for jumping on someone else's bandwagon and then acting like it's a cogent criticism of the situation because politics aren't as simple as repeating terrible catchphrases.

I've criticized the US for providing aid to Israel several times in the past, despite overall saying little of my own words about the genocide in Palestine. Also, don't forget that US is also on the UN Security Council and votes to support Israel every time there's any contention. We can also talk about the importance of the BDS movement as one way to help drive US foreign policy, because it's 70+ years of policy that we're fighting against.

You know, rather than a single presidential administration. Biden is a part of the problem, but he absolutely isn't pushing for more genocide and he's not wholly responsible for it.

Also, since you wanted to bring it up, let's talk about self-awareness. You're confusing confrontational language with authoritarianism and bullying. What is it about confronting people on their opinions that you think constitutes bullying behavior? Is any kind of disagreement bullying if the issue is important enough? Does that sound like authoritarianism, to disagree with people?

Here's how I see it.

It's not authoritarianism for me to say that I think someone's politics suck and they should change them. People who want to argue that the Biden administration is trying to encourage genocide are wholly wrong and are repeating what they say to try to convince people to support their version of the facts. Disagreeing with that isn't authoritarianism or bullying, but bullies and authoritarians often feel like it is because they don't really deal with confrontation that well. I get why people would feel this way, but it's very much one of those 'how dare you criticize me!' situations.

Ask yourself, do you honestly believe that it's bullying to lightly, and I do mean lightly, mock people for getting something so wrong? It's not kind, sure, but you could easily say a lot worse about people.

I mean, I pointed out that the politics of people who reduce the issue to a catchphrase (while encouraging people not to vote, remember that) suck and that they should eat their hats. If you think that's bullying then I think you're having an emotional reaction here, rather than bringing forward any kind of rational disagreement. Ask yourself where that emotion is coming from.

And finally, let's not forget that the people we're talking about aren't protesting a genocide. They're performing for social status and group membership.

If they were protesting the genocide that they might actually talk about what's going on in Gaza, why it's important to restore aid and food supplies to the region, or the progress of the attempts to get Israel to agree to a cease-fire. Or just...how to support moving towards a permanent peace instead of just saying 'genocide joe' so they can continue to sit in an echo chamber and pat themselves on the back in smug satisfaction that they've taken a step to defeat the evils of the world.

This is a perfect example of performative behavior. People who aren't trying to contribute to the conversation meaningfully, people trying to derail any other conversation, getting on a high horse and claiming that they are ethical arbiters when they're just performing. Maybe they were taught, maybe they were misinformed, maybe they're just being assholes. But repeating catchphrases doesn't protest a genocide.

So no, I don't agree that I'm responding to people protesting a genocide. If they were protecting a genocide they'd protest a genocide. They wouldn't hang on someone else's poorly thought out social media takes.

@afriendlyirin, I get where your emotion is coming from, but I can't do anything to help you process it. If you need me to be a bad guy in this situation I can't say anything that'll change your mind. Your emotional response is going to keep you from getting a good read on this situation until you learn to deal with it.

Now that the Biden administration is sending air food drops into Gaza (the uncommitted voter campaign during the primary really helped make it happen too!) and has been driving for a cease-fire at the same time...

...do any of the people who liked to say genocide joe all the time feel like eating their hats? Just a nibble?

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Creeper

I’m writing more hikyuu to prove that you actually should request Haikyuu stuff when requests open and also just to flex. 

Tenou x reader

word count: 1,600 (about)

warnings: none, this is pretty sweet and fluffy. 

Summary: Tendou is uncharitbly called a Stalker when it comes to his crush.  I mean what you spend half your time stareing at one person and suddenly you’re a a stalker? Guess that means you’re a stalker too...

Tendou knew he was a bit of a creep and that you probably hated him, if you even thought of him at all. But he was okay with it, he had been dealing with people being scared for a while so he shouldn’t care. Even if the person scared of him was drop dead gorgeous. 

You came to watch volleyball practice nearly every day after school. Lots of people did but you were the only one who caught his eye. He made sure his blocks were mega impressive if he knew you were watching, but it wasn’t enough. your attention always seemed to be on someone else. 

Not that he wasn’t used to that either. But it took him a couple of days to figure out why it was bothering him now all of a sudden. 

Tendou seriously considered asking you to transfer out of  Shiratorizawa when he realized he had accidently started crushing on you.  He simply couldn’t have it, it was too distracting. He tried to way the pros and cons but in the end he scrapped the “50 reasons why (y/n) should leave Shiratorizawa.” Essay. Besides if you actually did leave Shiratorizawa, then he wouldn’t be able to see your cute face everyday. 

“you’re staring again,” Reon said, Tendou frowned. 

“I don’t know what you mean, I wasn’t even looking in your direction,” He shot back with a smile. He really was such a creep, always sitting at the right angel so he could look at you, but as long as you didn’t notice him then it he wasn’t hurting anyone. 

“you should just ask her out,” Shirabu said through a mouth full of pork. Tendou went stiff just thinking about it. 

“Nah she’s not my type, wayyy to pretty for my tastes and she’s even nice and smart from what I heard, who’d want to be with a girl like that?” he fake gagged finally tearing his eyes away from where you were sitting with your friends. he picked at the rice on his plate slowly forming a rice snowman. 

“sure, whatever,” Shirabu. the subject changed and Tendou looked up again watching you laugh, you were cute, he wouldn’t mind dating you, it would be nice to see you in his large sweatshirt or cuddle with him while you did homework together. Even just to hold you would be nice, he knew that you would probably flinch from his touch if he tried anything in real life, but his fantasies didn’t have to adhere to the real world. it would be sweet if you weren’t so incredibly out of his league. 

You came to the Shiritorizawa match early, as you always did, you wished the volleyball team wasn’t quite so popular, it might be easier to get a good seat then. Normally you would go up to the stands to watch from a safe distance. 

Today you weren’t so lucky. 

“Hey! you girl,” Coach Washijō snapped at you making you jump. 

“u-uhm Yes sir?” he pointed at a bag at his feet. 

“Fill up these water bottles for the game,” He barked. you squeaked and scampered to do as he asked. 

“Hustle! Show some school spirit!” he shouted as you struggled to fill the bottles as fast as possible 

You had thought about becoming the manager for the team but this interaction made you glad you hadn’t  Washijō was biting at your heals as you dragged the water to the courtside. you were almost in tears as he yelled at you. 

“I-I-I,” you couldn’t even force a simple ‘I’m sorry’ with out tripping over yourself you were so flustered.

“ah thank you for helping (y/n) we’re going to extra luck thanks to you,” you looked up to see who had saved you, and weren’t surprised to see tendou there. Of course he would be the one to save you. you felt your heart melt a little seeing him. 

You never got the chance to see satori up close, you almost forgot how tall he was. and now that he was so close you couldn’t help but flush with embarrassment. Now that the Coaches attention was off of you, you could speak again.

“It’s uh no proplem coach and g-good luck with the game Tendou,” you squeaked before darting off the court and up to the stands. Of course all the good seats were taken so you were relegated to the back of the stands. 

Still, it was a pretty good game, the other team up good fight you won in straight sets. If you were right, Tendou didn’t miss a single block. 

You really only came to the games for the cute red-headed middle blocker. You didn’t speak to Tendou often, it was rare you found an excuse too, but you still had fallen for him hopelessly.

you sighed dreamily to yourself as you walked out with a mass of people. You still couldn’t belive you’d talked to him today. 

Tendou was buzzing with excitement. It had been a really good game and it was all thanks to you. No way he could have done without you sweet words to him before the match. It probably also helped that you had touched his already lucky water bottle. 

He was on cloud nine as he hummed happily walking off the court, his team mates couldn’t help but notice.

You were watching the practice like you always did, save for the fact that you were alone today. Most of the time your friends would join you to giggle about how handsome Ushijima was, but none of them could make it today. 

“Hey you’re (y/n) right?” semi asked, stopping you before you could even enter the gym. 

“uh yeah?” you sounded unsure of yourself, but this was the first time Semi had ever bothered talking to you and you had no idea why. 

“cool, I saw you at the game the other day, you should come to more of our games-”  you were more confused than anything. Was he hitting on you?

“uh okay?” you said awkwardly, not wanting to tell him that you already went to all the games. 

“you know Tendou likes to see you there,” he added raising his eyebrows you felt your face flush with embarrassment. so he wasn’t hitting on you, but playing wingman for tendou

“oh, did Tendou tell you that?”

“nah, but we can all just sort of tell he’s into you,”

“That’s kind of a jump don’t you think? I mean just ‘cus he wanted to see me doesn’t mean he likes me,” you argued nervously messing with your fingers. 

“Trust me, He’s into you, He’s probably pissed I’m even talking to you, He’s just... kinda weird, so ask him out sometime,” Semi encouraged. 

As it happened, Tendou was pissed that Eita was talking to you. How dare he try and steal Tendou’s little good luck charm. Tendou usually stared at you as much as he liked, but he couldn’t stomach watching you blush at whatever semi was saying to you. 

was that why you came to every practice and every game? because you were in love with him? he though about you clinging to Eita the way he wanted to hold you and his heart lurched. he wondered if he could finger tape his heart back together again. Not that he would do anything to break the two of you up, if you were happy then he couldn’t stop that right? and if you were dating Semi then he’d definitely see you more...

He was leaving the gym lost in his own thoughts when he heard his own name called  “Tendou, do you think you could walk with me back to the dorms?” Tendou almost jumped. How the fuck were you so quiet?

“Awe does the is the cute little Junior scared of the dark? You need your big strong Senpai to walk with you?” he teased automatically before mentally kicking himself. he really hated himself. you laughed politely and started walking with him 

“Actually I wanted to talk to you, Semi said you liked me,”

Tendou wanted to through himself into the ocean. or maybe a really big hole in the ground that could swallow him up entirely. anything really to get out of this situation. 

“oh? is that what you two were talking about?”

“yeah he said that I should ask you out,”

“oh,” maybe he’s just kill Semi instead, that would work too. 

“I really like you Tendou, I want to ask you out,” you admitted stopping in the middle of the walkway. he was glad you did because he froze instantly. this had to be a joke right? Semi put you up to this and they were all laughing at him right now. but as he looked around him, he was alone, no one even hiding in the bushes and you didn’t look like you were pulling a prank. you looked almost as nervous as he felt. fuck it. he learned forward kissing you quickly, barely brushing his lips with yours before pulling back, not wanting to press his luck. 

You were left completely breathless, you touched your lips feeling them buzz. Tendou laughed. 

“is that why you come to all the games and practices? you’re stalking me or something?” he cupped your cheek and kissed you again, this time he let the kiss linger long enough for you to kiss him back before he had to pull away, you're soft lips were making his head spin.

“you’re lucky you’re so cute (y/n) otherwise you’d be a total creep.”

[yanderecandystore]

Imagine the yandere bullies trying to like the reader...who likes teasing them? Y/N is dominant and love to make them blush. If they try to say something back, Y/N thinks of a comeback out of the spot. Y/N might be small but strong. So if one of the bullies try to joke about their height. Y/N will carry them as a princess. "You look so cute in my arms but the only problem is your mouth. Let me fix that~" Y/N steal a kiss. And the bullies do physical harm, Y/N will only look for another cutie.

I'm in love with your thinking, boo.

Let me see what I can do!

I'm worried I can't add much to this tho, it's so good! 🥺😭

Also, I'm sorry if I didn't use the exact same line, I wanted to give the idea that this happened multiple times, mostly for the same reason (they talk to much :P)

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

The tables have turned, motherfucker. [Yandere Bully x Low-key Dom!Reader]:

I don't know how to tag this reader.

Dom? Savage? Smartass? I don't know.

But I like to imagine it being… Low-key dom?

Fuck it, I'll go with it.

You're not like the submissive cowards they have met. You're one of the annoying people that never let them have their fun and oddly enough, they can't have enough of you.

However, you can't tell if you really hate them. Sure, they're annoying, but they can be so cute when you mess with them.

Your first encounter was so funny too.

You could tell from a mile away, they acted like brats and thought they were pure royalty.

Having them staring at you since the moment that you came inside class was starting to really piss you off, so you just looked behind to see them looking at you with judging eyes.

You winked at them.

And their reaction was priceless. Look at that adorable red face!

"- What!- You-" They accidentally yelped, a little too loud for the teachers liking.

"- Sigh…. Coldwell."

They had to stay in class after the bell rang, and you could tell they were still pissed by the way they came storming in looking for you.

"- How dare you- Do you know how much time we wasted listening to that old hag talk?"

"- 15 minutes?"

"- Yes!"

You learned fast that the best way to disarm them is by giving them your most charming expression and that smoothest voice you could muster.

"- I'm sorry if I'm so captivating, love."

"- Ah! As if! N-nerd!"

And that's how your journey begins. Making your bullies fall in love even harder than you expected.

It's normally just subtle flirting and gestures, but they had to keep annoying you, right?

Maybe that's what they want in the end. Annoy you endlessly so you give them attention, you should probably do something to change that.

"- So listen closely, you tiny little shit-"

A kiss could do the trick.

"- W-what did you just-"

"- Love, your voice is the best type of music, but the lyrics are so predictable and cliche. Try changing your vocabulary love~"

The way you call them love tho-

Hot, blushing mess on your arms. They can function properly like this!

"- I- You- Why?"

"- Oh, because your reaction is priceless."

"- G-go away!"

They feel awful knowing that you're only doing this to get a reaction, but this type of attention it's addicting.

Maybe they should put you on your place…. But maybe they'll enjoy this a bit longer.

Just don't let them see you doing this to anyone else! They can't have you being all flirty like this to anyone but them.

Or worse, what if you actually like someone else?!

Do you treat your loved one better than them…?

It's this type of thinking that leads them to chase you, but never able to fully grasp you.

Maybe they just need to change their tactics, be a little more severe with you. The idea of getting physical with you is always on their mind, but every time they do something minimal, it feels like a lot!

"- Why would you slap me?" They had enough of your flirty jokes and decides to slap you.

"- Because you're annoying!" They argue.

"- Tch, whatever then…" You walk away, you're clearly mad at them for the slap, but it wasn't that strong, was it??

They could have punched your guts or cut you or whatever, they could have done way worse, so in their minds, a hard bitch slap is nothing.

But seeing you mad at them is so…. Frustrating! They don't want you to ignore them like this, it hurts their little hearts…

Maybe they should apologise right? Maybe they should just say sorry and tell you the truth?

And everything will be alright, right?-

"- [Y/N], hi."

…. Who?

"- Hi."

"- Are you okay? You seem to be in a pretty bad mood… Let me guess, the twins?"

…. How dare they.

"- Yeah, but I guess I was the one that start it."

"- No way, they're the worst! It's not your fault they're lovestruck."

"- Pfft, oh, because they have a heart?"

Laughter. Sweet smiles. Playful conversation. That love shiny in that student's eyes why talking to you.

Lovestruck.

Lovestruck.

Lovestruck!

LOVESTRUCK!?

How dare they say that the twins are lovestruck, when they themselves are all lovey-dovey with you?!

And the worst part is that you're encouraging them! What is wrong with you?!!

They should give you a lesson for being so- for being so-

For being so you!

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[littlemisssquiggles]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(1) i understand how the other feel about ozpins lies but I don't thi k how they act with Oscar is awful ,I hope he snaps at them ,and stands up for ozpin an himself

(2) I was hoping that oscar would some how thanks to ozpins memories ,would bring the people in the city of mantel together to fight the grim some how get them all to atlus,

(3) I was hoping that oscar would get a episode to him self were maybe a few days go by and he on his own but v8 going to b 2 episodes even if he did get time to him self for an episode or 2 I feel like I would get to see him do as much as I'm hoping 4

(4) like ur self I'd like to see ruby reaction to him maybe being maybe gone,I'd like to see Oscar feeling on losing the lamp an letting ruby down

(5) I think oscar should get gravity dust or wind to help him keep up with the others

(6) I now we're going to see Oscar with y,j, and r but i want him to be with Weiss and Blake

Uhm…since I already gave my answers to Points 2, 3, 5 and 6 in other RWBY response posts, I’m just gonna only answer Points 1 and 4 for this one to avoid having to repeat myself XD

 “…I understand how the others feel about Ozpin’s lies but I don’t think how they act with Oscar is awful. I hope he snaps at them and stands up for Ozpin and himself…”

Assuming that you meant that you think the way how the group treated Oscar back in Argus was bad and you’re hoping for him to go off on them, I don’t blame you for feeling that way anon-chan. Not to sound overdramatic or anything like that but V6CH9 is still considered my most despised episode of that season and RWBY in general and I’ll even toss in V6CH8 as well since I didn’t and still don’t like how the show basically had everyone stand idly by and allowed Jaune to walk across the room and slam Oscar into the wall.

And what was even worse is that no one dared to pull Jaune off of Oscar as he practically shook the kid while screaming accusations in his face for actions that weren’t even his. And the real kicker to me is that even when I rewatch that scene it just feels so out of character for the others to just let that happen. They all literally just stood there as Jaune wrongfully manhandled Oscar.

Sure we had Weiss attempt to stop Jaune but outside of that and Ruby barking at Jaune to back off of Oscar, nothing else was done. No one thought to step in front of Oscar and come between him and Jaune before the Arc boy could lay a finger on Oscar.

And what sucks even more is that even after watching what Jaune did to Oscar, NO ONE thought to check in on him and see if he was alright after such an ordeal. Instead Ren and Nora leave to comfort Jaune---Oscar’s accoster mind you----while the others divided to do other things. And yet one of them wasn’t making sure that Oscar was fine emotionally. Yet they all act surprise when they find him gone from the house?

Which makes the fact that all he did was leave to go shopping so utterly bad that it’s not even funny. I know it’s a meme in the Pinehead community (along with Oscar’s missing character development and the fact that he’s practically the pet gold fish of the hero team that they keep neglecting and losing each season yet he always comes back and still loves those silly bastards anyways) but I honestly hate that that’s canon. Anyways, I’m not here to rant about V6CH9. In respect to Oscar telling off the others for the way they treated him and Oz back in V6, I think it could be mighty swell for that to happen.

As a Pinehead, I am genuinely tired of this weird approach that the show has of having Oscar be perfectly complacent with everything that’s happened to him---even when he’s downright being practically abused to some degree. It’s not fun to watch as a fan of his character. Oscar has been through a lot since his introduction and outside of the dojo moment from V5 where he confessed his fears to Ruby, we haven’t really gotten any more moments of Oscar coming clean about his true feelings over his current experiences.

And NO I am not counting his speech in V6CH9 where the showrunners deadass had the audacity to have Oscar say to the hero group that he’s been contemplating about all that happened between him, Oz and the whole reveal of Ozma and the events of the Lost Fable despite never showing the audience scenes where we can see Oscar doing just that.

It is insulting at this point how poorly the CRWBY Writers have handled Oscar’s treatment in the show. While V7 was definitely an improvement (albeit except for that one episode where Double D Rivas downright forgot Oscar in the episode while all his so-called teammates and friends were up in Amity celebrating), it still doesn’t quite make up for the mistakes of V6 nor does it erase my disappointment for that volume in terms of how they handled Oscar’s side of the story.

All the more reason to hope for better things to be done for Oscar in V8. Like you, I would like to see Oscar speak up against the team and their past actions (especially with the mistakes they made with Ironwood and still have yet to take responsibility for), not necessarily in defence of himself since Oscar has been shown to be a selfless individual---always placing others before himself---but more so for Oz.

I want Oscar to be the one to mend the tethered bond within his team between the others and the other half of himself. After all, while two differing souls, Oz is still a part of Oscar especially once the Merge occurs. They may not be the same person but they are a part of each other and will come together to complete one another. Or at least complete Oscar since according to V5, Oz is the one meant to change with the Merge. Not Oscar. I mean Oscar will technically change but I’d still like to strongly believe that his soul will become the dominating personality and persona as Oz’s fades more into the background as it combines with his.

And while the other heroes may like and trust Oscar, they can’t favour only half of him. This is especially the case since Oscar and Oz are expected to become one entity at some point. So I’m hoping that before that happens, Oscar uses this time to get everyone back on the same page---burying the hatchet after all that transpired between the last two volumes and thus starting things anew with everyone having a clean slate.

This needs to be done in order for the heroes to move forward and work together since uniting against the common foe will be what helps not just them but all of humanity and Remnant. At least that’s what I assume. While I don’t necessarily need Oscar to go off on the other heroes, I would like it if it he did call them out for their past mistakes with Ironwood---mistakes that he unfortunately partook in encouraging---as well as their treatment of Oz, finally helping them to see the bigger picture and what’s more at stake. I’m honestly tired of the story having our heroes pin all the blame on Ozpin while making it appear as if RWBY were in the right despite doing the exact same thing that got Oz in trouble with them.

So for what it’s worth, I hope that’s addressed in the series and I hope it lends to Oscar aiding to patch things between the team and Oz especially now that he’s returned. The group and Oz need to reconcile and I’d like to believe that Oscar is the key to helping with that.

“…Like yourself, I’d like to see Ruby’s reaction to him maybe being gone. I’d like to see Oscar’s feelings on losing the lamp and letting Ruby down…”

Ooooh I’d love it if V8 kicks off with Ruby learning that Ironwood had ‘killed’ Oscar. That’s a scene I am literally praying would happen when the group split up and RWBN_P head up to Atlas or Amity Arena to confront Ironwood. I want Ironwood to just blurt it out like it meant nothing to him that he shot and killed a child---I want to see Ironwood basically treat Oscar as nothing more than another face for Oz---not even his own person despite promising him in the second episode of V7 that so long as Oscar was in Atlas, he would be safe.

And most of all, I want to see the reactions of everyone---Ruby and Nora especially---when Ironwood says with the straightest and most cold-hearted of expressions that he killed Oscar. If we don’t get a scene like that then not gonna lie anon-chan, I will be beyond disappointed. Because what’s the point of having Ironwood shoot Oscar to his death if it wasn’t going to be brought up at some point, ey?

Give me that angsty scene where either Ruby or Nora---most likely Nora--- get super pissed at the reveal of Oscar’s alleged death, thus sparking her to attack Ironwood and thus, a fight breaks out between RWBN_P and the Ace Ops, talks of negotiation completely out the window since Ironwood killing one of their own (Oscar) practically meant war.

I also wonder if Qrow being framed for killing Clover might also come up as well. Like imagine a scene where one of the Ace Ops accuses our heroes of treason after letting them know that Qrow was charged for Clover’s murder, much to RWBN_P’s surprise only for Ironwood to indifferently say something to the extent of the group being even in some way---Qrow allegedly killed one of his own (meaning Clover) while Ironwood killed one of theirs (meaning Oscar) and that’s how it’s revealed. Or something to that level. Who knows? All in all, I want that scene to happen and I really, really, REALLY want it to see Ruby’s response to Oscar’s alleged murder since she’s someone whose always protected him since the start. It’ll be even worse if she learns that her actions resulted in Ironwood killing Oscar for that added double whammy. That could be great storytelling and character-building-wise! Buuuuut we’ll see for next season.

As for Oscar being saddened over losing the lamp and letting Ruby down---well technically we kind of got a scene like that already last volume anon-chan. It was during the moment in the finale episode after JNPR 2.0 had managed to evade capture and were hiding away in the training room. While taking a breather, Oscar apologized for losing the lamp leading to Jaune trying to reassure him only for Ren to ruin the moment by bringing up the fact that the villains now have possession of the Lamp of Knowledge while the Staff of Creation was still in Ironwood’s grasps.

In that scene, the camera made sure to focus on Oscar’s troubled expression as Ren went on his tangent. As a matter of fact, it was Ren going off that made Oscar run off to go confront Ironwood in the first place as his way of trying to fix everything on his own.

I’m not sure if we’ll get to see Oscar apologizing to Ruby personally for losing the lamp after she entrusted him. However I think it could be a potentially cute Rosegarden moment if the first thing Oscar does when reuniting with the others is apologize to Ruby specifically for losing the lamp only for Ruby to disregard his apology completely and straight up just embrace Oscar on the spot; more relieved to discover that he was alive to even care about the relic. That’s something I’d like to see done for V8 but who knows?

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[bondsmagii]

I mean to ask this genuinely, no hostility, but can you explain how you correlate scp to being in a cult? I dont disagree, I just cant articulate the reasoning as to why I dont disagree, and would like to see where youre coming from with this. Also, could you tag it with cults or cult discussion or something similar, please? Thanks! Have a good day.

OK [cracks knuckles] I will try and keep this as short as possible, but you have to understand I’ve been observing the wiki in the wild literally since its inception, so there is a lot of stuff to consider. anyway let’s buckle up.

[EDIT: after finishing, this is obnoxiously long. sorry. I encourage people to read it though, because yikes.]

I base this theory on a set of guidelines set out for spotting if an organisation might be a cult. generally cults are religiously based; obviously this does not apply here. as far as I’m aware, nobody sees the SCP wiki as a religion (yet). because of this a couple of the points regarding spotting a cult are irrelevant (they concern things like separation from the Church which obviously doesn’t apply) but nearly all of the others (even some religious ones) can apply if we provide context. so without further ado:

Signs You’re In A Cult and How the SCP Wiki Literally Fits Into All of Them

let’s start with the most obvious:

opposing critical thinking

something that has long pissed me off about the SCP wiki has been its complete inability to think critically. staff will literally ban people for criticising them, and the parameters of “criticism” have only grown wider and wider over the years. anything that is the “party line” is sacred; nothing can be improved upon because it’s already perfect, and Staff Knows Best. any policy changes are law, and any dissenting voices are silenced – even among younger staff members (length of service wise, not age wise). I have seen staff put on probation or demoted for arguing against pointless or pedantic policy changes; I have seen people of all levels banned for arguing with staff. if this doesn’t happen right away, arguing with staff over their decisions will absolutely get a target on your back, and they will find a way to ban or demote you as soon as they can.

any criticism on the wiki is frowned upon unless it comes from the Major Staff Members – these are people at the top of the hierarchy who can do no wrong, and as you can imagine, they’ve done some shit. staff has always had a problem with elitism, bullying, and even abusive behaviour (blah blah blah #NotAllStaff, but the ratio is quite concerning) and any criticism of their behaviour or even pointing this fact out is dangerous if you want to remain on the wiki. hell, I know many people who are aware of this who don’t speak up because they’re genuinely scared of retaliation. a lot of staff are really nasty people, and because of this attitude they are beyond criticism.

isolating members and penalising them for leaving

the penalising them for leaving part isn’t strictly accurate, because as far as I know, nobody has ever been bullied or threatened into staying on the wiki. however, I do remember a while back (2011/2012-ish) when the Foundation RP community began to show up on Tumblr, and the wiki began to get a fanbase that wasn’t contained on the site itself. staff were not happy about this and to this day they still constantly try and get a monopoly on all off-site locations. they have an official Offsite Outreach Team (yes, that’s its real name) who “reach out” to communities on other platforms (YouTube, Reddit, Tumblr, etc) and set up an Official Presence there, and then they encourage everyone to use the Official Presence rather than the fan-made ones (which are often more established and better/more consistently run). there have been several off-site spats between staff and the fandom, because they arrive demanding the authority and respect they have on the wiki and get Big Mad when they don’t get it. just recently one (now ex) staff member, djkaktus, went absolutely primal on Reddit and banned a whole bunch of the community for daring to say that they didn’t like the new LGBT logo for pride month (many of these people were LGBT themselves and felt as though it was pandering/putting targets on their backs); several more years ago (2014, I believe?) I myself had a run in with the Outreach Team and it was one fucking hell of a headache that ended in a malicious smear campaign against me, so like. yeah.

as for isolating members, they do this via elitism. the above is an example of it (making everyone feel a sense of obligation or loyalty to the Official Presence), but a huge part of it has always been the elitist attitude prevalent on the wiki. the SCP wiki has high standards for writing (allegedly… I’ve seen some garbage on there tbh, same as any other website) and it uses this to bully and demean its users. criticism of writing is overly harsh but highly encouraged; anyone complaining that it was too cruel (which it often is) is ridiculed for being too sensitive. (staff have been working on this for years, but really nothing has changed; people have just gotten more between-the-lines about it.) this encourages a kind of desperation among new users to “rise up the ranks” and earn respect so they can be the ones dishing out the criticism instead; they will do so and then immediately act in accordance to their status, bullying others how they were bullied and sticking to their own “rank”. brief interruption: staff and bootlickers if you’re reading this and thinking of reblogging to defend yourself, the code word is yeet. if I do not see the word yeet in your reply I will know you have not read this thoroughly and tell me why I should then bother reading anything you have to say.staff themselves is incredibly removed and closed off from the rest of the community; they have a bunch of private chat rooms they hang out in, and inter-dating is common. they don’t tend to interact much outside the flock, and are the definition of cliquey. joining this rank is supposed to be an achievement, but really it’s probably the most dangerous place to be. I have seen so many staff members have literal, clinical mental breakdowns over the strain and treatment they suffer.

(there’s nowhere to neatly slot this in, so: I don’t know how many people have noticed this, but SCP fans, when you spot them on other platforms, are snooty. not casual fans, but those involved with the wiki? I can spot them from a mile away, because whenever the Foundation is mentioned, there they are, acting like they’re part of some cool club. some of these people are innocent (they’re just mimicking the behaviour of other members) but some of them really do seem to think that their site is somehow better than whatever site they’re on, and it’s really creepy to see.)

emphasising special doctrines outside of scripture

obviously this is religion-specific, but with context it can fit. if we take scripture to mean SCP lore, and special doctrines to mean differing headcanons, ideas, writing styles, etc… oh boy.

there’s something that’s often said on the wiki: there is no canon. buddy, there is. yes, you can write whatever you want technically, and you can disregard headcanons you don’t like and you can build on different things and theoretically people can just ignore your shit if they don’t like it, but that is not what happens. there is absolutely a canon, and deviating from it will get you downvoted into oblivion and even personally attacked. people will accuse you of the most ridiculous shit, like desecrating the wiki or betraying the universe or whatever. so where does the emphasising part of this come in?

why, it’s simple! if one of these special doctrines (headcanons or whatever) comes from staff or an Approved Member, it’s fine. go nuts. even if it’s something that anybody else would be absolutely slaughtered for, it’s fine if staff approves. there is no creative freedom on that wiki, and anyone attempting to carve a piece out for themselves will suffer for it. one of my close friends still gets hate for an SCP he wrote featuring heavy headcanons and building on existing lore about a well-known character, and some of this hate is because he didn’t set the fucking article out “how it should be”. 

seeking inappropriate loyalty to their leaders

oh boy. staff are god on that website. they’ll deny it, but they know it’s true. many of them are arrogant and, in my opinion, some of them are pathologically narcissistic. they think they are hot shit, and they encourage people on the site to believe the same. a huge majority of users on the wiki are high school students, so 15-18 years old. the next huge group are college-aged, so 19-22 or so. several staff members are in their mid-20s up to 30s, maybe even coming 40s or early 40s now. when you’re in your mid-20s, it’s very easy to look cool to a 15-year-old. it’s very easy to look at a young userbase and convince them that you’re hot shit, and that’s what staff do. they act like it; most users respond to it, and if anyone dissents? see point one.

staff have always had double standards. from the very beginning of staff, they have gotten away with a lot more than the average user. staff have been allowed to bully, ridicule, harass, dismiss, shit upon, and target people with reckless abandon, usually only meeting punishment when other staff members feel too inconvenienced by them. a lot of the time when they’re punished, it’s a lot lighter than it would have been for an average user (a month ban rather than a permaban, for example). this is seen as almost a point of hilarity for a lot of people, who think it’s cool and just a right you get when you’re staff. you know best, you’ve seen some shit – who can blame you for slamdunking a 15-year-old’s first SCP?

the amount of respect and adoration these people demand is ridiculous, and anybody daring to criticise them ends up on a shitlist. staff show up in other areas (Tumblr or Reddit) and expect that same amount of respect, even among people outside of the wiki who might just be casual fans. they act a lot more important than they are, and demand that everyone treats them appropriately. I’ve seen staff members throw shitfits because they didn’t get enough upvotes for their articles, and many staff members’ quality of work declines when they make staff, simply because they know that they’ll get easy upvotes as soon as people realise it’s a staff member who wrote it. downvotes are enough to get you put on a shitlist. 

publicly, their word is law. you are not allowed to debate with them in the forums if they put a “stop” on the topic; the same applies in the IRC chat. if staff says “stop”, you will be punished if you mention it again. you are allowed to discuss it with them privately, but I think that’s rather insidious, as staff have been known to twist facts and withhold information before. this gives them a public persona of always being right – and something else that cults do is silence dissenting voices so nobody who might agree can see other people saying the same things and feel encouraged/emboldened. 

crossing Biblical boundaries of behaviour

again, we’ll need to contextualise this. if Biblical boundaries are things like sins and all the stuff the Bible says Do Not Do, then in this context these are the wiki rules. staff (and their friends) will constantly cross the rules, as previously mentioned, and they will get away with it.

the wiki rules say “don’t be a dick”. I have caught staff bullying people countless times, and no doubt there’s more I haven’t caught. even out in the open, staff are argumentative, dismissive, rude, intimidating, and oftentimes plain nasty. the wiki rules say “don’t coldpost articles; get feedback”. staff is just out there throwing their shit onto the wiki and expecting an avalanche of upvotes in five minutes Or Else. policies are made that set parameters and staff changes them whenever convenient – for example, the long-standing rule that things that occur off-site are not the responsibility of the Disciplinary Committee (yes, its name.). unless, of course, it’s someone they don’t like. a major staff member bullies somebody on Tumblr? “sorry, it was offsite, not our problem”. someone staff doesn’t like gets into a brief spat on Reddit? banned for harassment. 

there are countless examples of this, from small things to major things like bullying, harassment, and even abuse (or enabling of abuse). staff will punish people for transgressions and then turn a blind eye to a fellow staff member committing a transgression that was ten times worse. they have even protected rapists and sexual predators in the past – another kind of behaviour common in cults, because that’s what happens when you combine narcissism and entitlement with total authority.

that’s the main bulk of it

but now the context has been established, here are a few more concerning things I’ve noticed (quickfire now):

cults shit on former members

and the wiki does the same. any staff member that’s grown fed up of the groupthink and the cliquey attitude and how nasty people are or who has been mistreated by staff themselves; any regular user who feels the same and vocally quits? shat upon. lauded as a bastion of whatever is wrong with the wiki. declared an Enemy and rallied against. it is so creepy.

cults use Us vs Them mentality, especially in language

broad declarations establishing a community and a community spirit in the face of adversity are common in cults. appeals to emotion and loyalty are used in a very manipulative way. catastrophising and fearmongering is common, too. I’m seeing this in how the recent drama with the legal issues is being handled. broad appeals to “defend the wiki”, hashtags being encouraged, emotional speeches from staff about how it’s a make or break situation… 

…and this is being reflected in the absolutely insane comments people are responding with.

this is a fucking writing website. the above is not a normal reaction at all.

the attitudes of regular users quickly grow concerning

people very quickly get obsessed with the wiki and it defines their lives. they seem to feel as though they owe something to it or they need to serve some kind of a purpose; many people try and “get the word out” and become voluntary spokespeople. they go around practically preaching, and I do not see the users of any other website doing this.

cults want full control over how they’re seen by outsiders

and the scp wiki does the same. as mentioned previously, when the fandom grew and spiralled off the wiki to other sites, staff debated for weeks over what to do. brief interruption the second code is shrek is life.they were not comfortable with the idea of the wiki having an independent fandom, and for years now they have been in constant struggle with offsite communities, trying to gain the same amount of control they have over the wiki. it’s impossible to do so thoroughly, and it’s clearly an annoyance for them.

cult leaders will let “lesser” members do their dirty work for them

and guess what staff does? rather than wade in there and get their hands dirty with internet arguments, they’ll sit back and let regular users dogpile on dissenters and say all the things staff shouldn’t be seen to say in public. note how even if this would violate the bullying policies, they’ll just get a warning so long as staff agrees. 

in conclusion

@ everyone on the scp wiki: yall know you’re in a cult, right?

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Feather

Summary: you had a crush on pigeon boy

Word Count: 1.8k

You sighed. You were so hopeless. 

It started out as an innocent crush. He was very attractive and surprisingly, not a total asshole. 

Then time went on, and your “innocent crush” was going to have to get a name change. Six months of silent pining, stolen glances when he wasn’t looking, laughing a little bit more when he made a joke, watching him train with Kurt— you were going to fall for him hard, and when you’d finally hit the ground you would most likely be crushed. 

-

“If I were stuck on a deserted island… hmm… I would pick… Kurt.” 

Your friends were playing some game in your room. You weren’t paying any attention. Instead, you were thinking about Warren. Your history teacher said you’d need to pick partners for a project next time you had class. You really wanted to ask Warren to be yours, but that would be so awkward! Some girl he never really talked to and only knew because of his big friend group wanted to work with him on a project? Yeah, no thanks. He’d probably pair up with Ororo. 

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“Who would you pick?” Jubilee asked. 

“Pick for what?” 

“If you were stranded on an island, who from the friend group would you pick?” Jean explained. 

“Warren.” 

“Dang!” Jubilee exclaimed. “She didn’t even hesitate. I bet she’s thought about it before.” 

“He has wings— He could fly— We wouldn’t be stuck…” God, you got flustered so easily.

“Uh huh… Look, everyone knows Warren’s hot. You can admit it.” 

“He’s… cute.” You stated awkwardly, trying to not let your big, fat, crush seep through into the conversation.

That was the thing. You’d somehow managed to keep your crush a secret from everyone. I mean everyone— telepaths included! You had absolutely no idea how you did it, but if they did somehow know, then they never did anything to prove so. 

-

You were sitting in the shade under a tree, book in your lap, but ignored for the piece of metal in your hands. It was one of Warren’s feathers.

Since they could shoot out and pierce things, he was encouraged to use them during training, leading to his feathers being reused by Hank for scrap metal for his next big project. You managed to steal one and hide it in the bottom of your sock drawer for two weeks before taking it out and using it as a bookmark. Sometimes you thought about getting a handle or something put on one end to make it a dagger, but you never did. 

You ran your thumb over the tip absentmindedly. Carefully though, so you wouldn’t cut yourself. You were so lost in thought you didn’t even notice when Peter snuck up behind you.

Not noticing Peter was like not noticing a natural disaster. It was near impossible to do. 

“Whatcha got there?”

“A book,” You responded, quickly placing the feather down as a page marker and slamming it shut. 

“I saw something shiny. What was it?”

“Nothing! Just my bookmark.” 

“Can I see it?”

“No.” You held the book tightly in your hands, afraid Peter would try and snatch it. 

You did not, however, think about how he could have just pulled the feather out with super speed since part of it stuck out. 

“Hey!” 

Peter admired the metal feather in his hands. “Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just give it back!” You tried to reach it from Peter’s hands, but he was too fast, dodging you every time. 

“Is this Warren’s?” He asked.

“I said give it back Maximoff!”

“No. I wanna know why you have one of Warren’s feathers!” 

“Hank gave it to me.” You could tell Peter was going to run off with it any moment, so you did the only thing you could think of to slow him down. 

You kneed him in the crotch. 

“Ow!” He balled his fists, causing the feather to bend.

“Peter no!” You cried.

“Why’d you do that? That shit hurt.” You wanted to cry. That feather was one of the most important things you owned and now it was bent. 

“You bent my feather!” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have kicked me in the dick.” 

“If you had given it back like I asked, I wouldn’t have needed to!”

“Well-” He was hunched over in pain, “-here, take it back.”

You grabbed the feather and your book lying on the grass and ran inside. 

-

You tried to bend it back into place, but you had no success. You screamed in frustration. Why did Peter have to be so nosy? You just could not have nice things, could you?

You stared at the feather. It looked pathetic, all dent and beaten. Just like your stupid one-sided crush. 

You dropped your head against the table, shielding it from view. You didn’t make any sniffling sounds or choked sobs and hiccups as tears fell down your face. You kept the heartbreak hidden. 

Just like your feelings.

-

You didn’t speak to Peter at all. You never really needed to, and when you did need to you just... didn’t. Simple as that.

Peter got mad you weren’t speaking to him. He didn’t see the big deal. Why did the feather have so much meaning to you? You weren’t that close with Hank, and you rarely ever spoke to Warren. He couldn’t figure out why you got so upset.

“It’s your turn, Pete! Ask someone.” 

You avoided his gaze perfectly. If Peter chose you, you would have literally no way to escape conversation. You mentally pleaded for him to not choose you. 

“Uh… (Y/N).” But you were not lucky. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” You regretted your decision soon as the word left your lips, but you really didn’t want to talk to him any more than you had to. 

“I dare you… I dare you to tell me why you’re so upset over the feather.” Everyone was confused by his statement. What feather? What kind of dare was this?

“Come on, that’s not a real dare.” You argued.

“Well, it’s my dare I’m giving you. You have to answer.” 

“No.” 

Warren whispered something to Jubilee, but you couldn’t hear. It just made you more unfocused in the moment.

“(Y/N), I gave it back. I’m sorry that I broke it.” 

“Sorry doesn’t fix it! I spent hours trying to fix it and I couldn’t, okay? You stole it and wouldn’t give it back.” 

“You kicked me in the dick!” 

“Because you were going to run off with it!”

“That— That doesn’t mean you can just kick me in the dick!” 

“Wait. You kicked him in the dick over a feather?” Warren asked. He probably thought you were some pathetic child, hurting people over some feather.

“Hank gave her one of your feathers and I broke it. Not on purpose!” Warren’s face shifted from confusion into soft realization. 

“Oh… I could just— I could just give you another one right now.” 

Your eyes were wide, nerves racing. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Nonsense,” He plucked a feather out without even flinching and held it out for you. 

“Thanks…” You held it tightly in your hand and tried to mask your emotions. 

Your heart was racing— he gave you a feather! He gave you one of his feathers! You were never going to let it go, and you would probably be buried with it. 

“Do we all get feathers?” Scott joked. 

“Piss off Summers.” You couldn’t help but smile a bit. Only you got a feather!

-

You framed it and hung it on your wall. Stepping back, admiring your handiwork, you felt a rush of happiness come over you. The feather was everything to you at the moment.

“Wow. You framed it.” You turned around and looked at him. Warren was standing in your doorway. You felt a little embarrassed, he was probably going to think you were some creep for framing it. You should have just been content with the dent one! Why’d you have to go and cause a scene? 

“It looks nice.” 

“Thank you…” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

I’d let you run me over with a truck. Of course, you can ask me something. You can ask me anything!  “Yeah.” 

“Why’d Hank give you one of my feathers?” 

“I um, I stole it…” You sheepishly admitted, avoiding eye contact. 

“You could have just asked me for one. I wouldn’t have cared.” 

“Oh no. I could never— That would be weird. This situation is kinda weird.” 

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “Why did you steal it from Hank?” 

You froze for a moment. You could not let him know about your undying love you’ve been harboring for six months. Wait— Did you call it an undying love? Were you at that level now? Oh god… 

“I just… I think your wings are cool. I think they’re cool. The feather was cool. Um… yeah.” 

“Oh. I thought they like, freaked you out, or something. You’re kinda quiet around me.”

“What? No! Never, I just, suck at small talk.”

He nodded, “You’re chatty with the rest of our friends.” 

You were panicking. If you couldn’t explain yourself, Warren would live the rest of his life thinking you hated him! You couldn’t live with that.

You had to coBeforeme clean about the truth. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

He didn’t say anything at first. You were ready to jump out the window and fall to your death. 

Then he spoke. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just gonna—” You motioned to the window, ready to have the floor swallow you whole. 

Before you could even take one step, Warren grabbed your hand. “Please don’t do that.” The emotion was evident in his eyes. 

You were going to open your mouth and speak, but you couldn’t. His lips were pressed against yours, moving together. Your free hand cupped the back of his neck, ghosting the ends of his hair. He wrapped his other hand around your waist pulling you closer, your chests touching. You didn’t want to stop, afraid that if you did, you’d wake up from some dream. 

But Warren broke away to breathe. Your eyes bore into his. Neither of you wanted to speak, unsure of what to even say. 

“I didn’t do that just because you were about to jump out a window. I mean, I did, but I also like you. A lot. And I thought you were maybe intimidated by me because you were fine around everyone else but you never really said anything to me. Then I thought, maybe I’m not trying enough, but then I also thought, space is good and you may not want anything to do with me and—” 

You kissed him again. You broke apart after a few moments of lingering lips. 

“I didn’t mean to cut you off, but you were rambling, and um, I thought you wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry.” 

He blushed and shook his head, “No, you’re— you’re fine. Great, actually.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” He nodded his head slightly. “Um,” He glanced at your lips and then looked up into your eyes. He slowly leaned in and you followed.

[kittykatz009]

Mocha Choco Latte: A KiriBaku fanfic

My first MHA fic, and it’s going to be a multi-chapter KiriBaku one! A special thank you to my lovely wives @wingsonghalo and @ittybittytoostormy, and my dear friend @musics-lifes-record. This insanity wouldn't have been possible without your constant encouragement. A special thank you to Wing for helping me with edits <3 I love you lots, babe Title: Mocha Choco Latte Pairing: Kirishima/Bakugou (with background Izuku/Ochacco) Rating: T, mostly for language  Wordcount for chatper 1: 3,039 Summary: Katsuki hadn't anticipated spending his senior year of University working at a cafe, but who was he to complain when it paid the bills? Besides, what could be the worst thing that could happen? Also available on: AO3

Chapter 1: Caramel Mocha Frappuccino 

If there was one thing that Bakugou Katsuki despised, it was people. Specifically, idiotic people. Like the ones who came in with a stupidly complex order that he had to repeat back twice to make sure he got each and every instruction right. Or the ones who would watch him make their drink, and the moment he would finish it, they would mention that they needed a milk alternative because god forbid they say something when ordering, or when they saw him grab the container of milk. And don’t even get him started on having to take their food orders; that was a new level of idiocy he hadn’t believed could be possible. Whoever said the customer is always right should be kicked in the face. He swore that this cafe was a beacon for idiots, and here he was, front and center, having to cater to their every whim.

“Kacchan, you’re scaring the customers again,” Midoriya Izuku commented as he approached the register to clock in.

“Can it, nerd. It’s not my fault that some people can’t get their order right the first time they order it,” he grouched, throwing a glare at the woman at the end of the counter who was typing away at her phone, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited for him to give her her drink.

“Still, you can try to be nicer to the customers. You are the cashier, after all.”

“And whose fault is that? I was perfectly happy being the cook until you fumbled because you were geeking out and spilled hot coffee all over the CEO of Nighteye Records.”

“Oh come on. I’ve apologized for that enough. You know I didn’t mean to! I just can’t help getting excited when I meet celebrities,” he complained as he shrugged on his apron.

“You’re lucky he didn’t try to get you fired, dumbass,” he scoffed, eyes rolling. He grabbed the cup from the steamer, the extra hot almond milk frothing, and quickly poured it into the to-go cup, mixing it in with the mocha syrup and the three decaf espresso shots, before popping a lid on the cup because heaven forbid he make the mistake of adding the whipped cream.

“Here,” he said, placing the drink on the edge of the counter aggressively. The woman huffed, throwing her phone in her purse before she scooped the cup up.

“About time. And would it kill you to be a little more appreciative of your customers? After all, you were the one who messed up my order in the first place. I can just take my business elsewhere, you know?” The challenging smirk she wore as she took a sip of her drink made Katsuki’s blood boil.

“Alright, listen here you b-”

“We are so sorry about the mistake! Please, have this cookie on the house!” Izuku interjected quickly, forcing himself between the seething Katsuki and the lady, thrusting a pastry bag in her direction.

“Well, at least ONE of you has manners. Thank you.” She snatched the bag out of his hand and stomped out of the store. Katsuki was fuming; how DARE she treat him like he was the idiot when she was the one who couldn’t get off her phone for more than five seconds to order her damn drink with the proper milk? He hoped she enjoyed the word “KAREN” scrawled across her cup. He turned toward Izuku, eyes narrowing.

“Quit it, Deku. I had that under control.” Izuku gulped, taking a step back from Katsuki, throwing his hands up in front of him in defense.

“You were about to call her a bitch, Kacchan. I had to do something. Sato’s told you if he gets any more complaints about you being rude to the customers, he’ll have to fire you.” Katsuki sighed, shoulders sagging as he realized just how right his friend was. He couldn’t afford to get himself fired, not with rent coming up soon. He was sure that Deku would help him out if that did happen, but damnit, his pride wouldn’t allow freaking Deku of all people to be the one to help him out of a bind like that, even if he was his roommate.

“Whatever. Anyway, Batteries for Brains dipped early, so I’m glad you showed up. Wasn’t looking forward to trying to run both the line and the register on my own. He should be lucky that all the orders so far have been for drinks and pastries, otherwise I’d have to kill him.”

“Kaminari’s a good guy. He probably had a very valid reason for leaving early,” Izuku said, heading toward the kitchen.

“Hopefully to tutoring. That guy’s math is atrocious,” he griped, counting the drawer down for shift change. “Oh yeah, pastry girl asked about you,” he called over his shoulder, smirking as he heard Deku run into the door frame, a muffled swear falling from him.

“U-Uraraka? What did she have to say?” he asked nervously, rubbing the red spot on his forehead.

“Wanted to know what you were up to this weekend. Told her to ask you herself.”

“Kacchan! That’s so rude!” Izuku whined, grabbing the pickup order ticket that printed off, scanning over it before grabbing one of the to-go cups to scrawl the instructions on it.

“What? I gave her your number, you moron. I’m not that heartless.” He finished counting down the drawer, noting that that idiot Kaminari short changed him, and took the cup from Izuku, whose face was as red as one of Sato’s cherry danishes.

“W-why would you do that?” he stammered, grabbing the next ticket and moving to the pastry case.

“Because clearly you’re not going to be the one to make the first move. You’ve been pining over her like an idiot since we first started here. I still can’t believe she caught you when you tripped on that drink that you spilled. You could barely stutter out the words ‘thank you’; do you really think I expect you to be able to ask her out?”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Thanks for having my back, Kacchan.”

“It’s whatever. You owe me one,” Katsuki grunted out as he sprayed the whipped cream on top of the drink before fitting the lid on it snugly. He placed the finished drink next to the pastry bag on the pick up rack and went for the next order. “Here, this one needs actual food. Get out of my space, loser.” Izuku took the ticket with a smile and went to the small kitchen, humming as he got to work.

Time passed idly, customers trickling in—some passing through for pick up, others dining in—and Bakugou was counting down the minutes until he was off. The dinner rush had come and gone, leaving the two to focus on the pre-closing procedures in between orders. Which left Katsuki with time to let his mind wander.

Working in a cafe wasn’t how he anticipated his senior year of university going, but it paid the bills. The place had a nice homey quality to it—the mismatched chairs and tables scattered about the dining area paired with various paintings and prints from local artists really made the ambiance. There was a small section by the register that displayed various knick knacks made in the community that were for sale, though Katsuki hated dealing with those purchases since there was a lot of paperwork involved to make sure that the right artist got their money. The real money maker of the cafe laid in the pastry case, though. Sato’s confections were famous throughout Akihabara; many locals supported the young business man who had a heart of gold and sweets to match. And Sato wasn’t a bad guy to work for. Quite the opposite, in fact; he paid his employees well and was very flexible with their schedules since most of them attended University of Akihabara, which is how Katsuki got roped into the evening shift. Not that he was complaining about that—it was generally a quiet time and he didn’t have to deal with as many stupid customers. Overall, it wasn’t a bad gig.

Katsuki had just finished breaking down the decaf espresso machine (good riddance—it was an abomination to mankind) when the bell at the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for this onslaught of stupidity. The last patron had argued with him until they were both red in the face about the cafe having diet whipped cream, even though he assured him that the cafe never had any to begin with. Eventually, he was able to convince him that the drink was perfectly delicious without a topping, and sent him on his merry way, all the while wishing he could punt kick that pint-sized asshole across the room.

He exhaled and made his way to the register, finally looking up and blinking in surprise as he took in the appearance of the customer waiting on him. This guy looked ridiculous—his obnoxiously bright red hair was spiked up and Katsuki was sure that this guy was trying to emulate either a hedgehog or a porcupine. His choice of clothing, or lack thereof, was as disastrous as his hair. His chest was fully exposed and the only sort of covering his upper half had was some sort of weird cropped red and black jacket. Black pants tucked themselves into hideous muddy-red boots, but what really took the cake was not the weird open-mouth face mask that he wore; instead, it was the piss-poor attempt at red chaps that were held together by a gaudy-looking R-shaped belt buckle. He looked like he walked right off the page of some sort of shitty manga that he was sure Deku would read. It wasn’t like they didn’t get cosplayers in the cafe, because they did all the time, but this was surely the most bizarre one he had seen. The guy smiled at him, and Katsuki had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid, over-friendly cosplayers.

“Welcome to Sugar Rush. What do you want?” he asked gruffly, ignoring the softly chastising “Kacchan” coming from the kitchen. He couldn’t help it—he had had his fill of idiots for the day and his feet were fucking sore.

“Uhh,” the redhead eloquently replied, craning his neck to look at the menu. Clearly this guy was more brawn than brains, in Katsuki’s most humble opinion. Miraculously, he kept himself from tapping his fingers against the countertop in annoyance while the other scanned over the hand-written list of drinks, his eyes finally lighting up in delight as he settled on one.

“I would like one of the caramel mocha frappuccinos please!” he said with a smile and Katsuki noted that the guy even had put in false teeth; the ones grinning back at him were sharp and dangerous looking.

“Size?”

“Um, large?” he replied, though to Katsuki, it seemed like he was uncertain.

“Is this for here or to go?” Katsuki was praying that the guy said to go because if he had to wipe down the lobby one more time before they closed, he was sure he was going to lose his mind.

“To go, unfortunately,” the cosplayer laughed, handing his card over as Katsuki gave him the total. “Oh yeah, don’t you need to ask my name?” he asked, putting the card away along with his receipt.

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just go to the end of the counter,” he replied, scribbling on the cup then turning to get the ingredients, effectively cutting off any conversation. He swore he heard the cosplayer mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “of course you do ” under his breath, but Katsuki refused to ask. As he stood up, milk in hand, he was met with disapproving green eyes peering at him from over the kitchen window.

“Not a word, Deku. And I swear to god, if you come out here, I’ll kill you,” he threatened while measuring out the milk. Izuku sighed, shaking his head and disappeared from Katsuki’s line of sight, which he much preferred right now. He poured the milk in the blender, added the pumps of mocha and caramel syrup, and tossed the ice in before popping the top on the machine and turning it on. Katsuki caught himself checking out the cosplayer out of the corner of his eye while he waited for the drink to be blended perfectly. The guy was sort of cute, he mused. Kind of in that endearing puppy dog sort of way as he hummed along to the shitty pop music that was playing on the speakers while he scrolled his phone. It was ridiculous, however, that he would even be thinking about how attractive the guy was—he was sure that he would never see him again. That, and he was nothing more than a customer; Katsuki had no business daydreaming about how nice it would be to feel those arms wrap around him, crushing him to that stupidly beautiful chest that was on display for all to see. Nope, not at all. It was hopeless. Just a fleeting crush that would never come to fruition.

A crash from the kitchen followed by an exclamation of “oh holy shit ” snapped him out of his delusional thoughts, and he huffed out an angry sigh. Leave it to Deku to break something once again. He emptied the contents of the blender into the to-go cup, adding a swirl of whipped cream to the top before securing the lid to the cup with a soft pop. He felt a smirk start pulling at his lips as he turned around.

“Large caramel mocha frappuccino for a ‘Shitty Hair,’” he called out, causing the cosplayer to look up from his screen, blinking in bewilderment as he looked between Katsuki and the drink that was on the counter. The reaction was priceless, if Katsuki could admit that to himself, and it was totally worth the look on the cosplayer’s face and the shrill “Kacchan ” yelled at him. What Katsuki wasn’t expecting, however, was the cosplayer to start laughing, a deep rumbling sound that sent shivers running through him. God, why was this guy’s laugh even attractive? It wasn’t fair.

“Oh shit, that was great!” the cosplayer replied once he was finally able to catch his breath, wiping tears out of his eyes while reaching for the cup. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Have a great day, man!” he exclaimed, placing some coins on the counter as a tip before grabbing a straw and leaving the cafe. Katsuki was baffled at the guy’s reaction—most people didn’t thank him for insulting them. He shook his head, pocketing the yen, and turned to see a heaving Izuku with his hands on his knees like he had just ran a marathon frantically looking between him and the now closing door.

“Kacchan! You can’t call people names like that! Do you even know who that was?” he cried.

“Uh, just some shitty cosplayer, duh?” Katsuki rolled his eyes at Izuku’s theatrics, grabbing the blender and heading to the sink to rinse it out.

“A cosplayer?? No! That was Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan!” Izuku replied and Katsuki dropped the blender in the sink, whipping around to face him.

“Kirishima Eijirou, as in the fucking actor?” Katsuki could feel a ball of dread curling up in his stomach. He was hoping that Deku was wrong, but that nerd knew celebrities like the back of his hand. The exasperated look he got in return was more than enough to confirm his worst fears.

“Yes that Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan. Oh my god, I can’t believe you called him Shitty Hair. What were you thinking?” he asked, pulling at his hair.  

“In my defense, I thought he was just some shitty cosplayer! What the hell was that get up, anyway? God, it was awful.”  

“Oh my god, you’re kidding me, right? He’s currently filming for the live-screen adaptation of the Red Riot comics. This has been a highly anticipated movie from director Toyomitsu Taishiro that’s been in the works for the past four years. All Might productions picked it up and they finally just got the casting settled last year and were able to move forward with the filming process. And, he’s the main character. Oh my god, my best friend just called the actor for one of my favorite comic book heroes Shitty Hair. Oh my god, what if he gets the cafe shut down? What will we do about rent money? I’m sure mom could help me out, but still…” he trailed and Katsuki had to take a deep breath.

“Calm down, you dork. I highly doubt he’s going to get the cafe shut down. Hell, he seemed to have a good laugh over what I said. Besides, if he was upset with anyone, it would be me, not you. So don’t overwork your brain over there with things that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Izuku exhaled, visibly calming. “I still can’t believe you did that, though.”

“Are you ever going to shut up about it?” Katsuki groaned, going back to cleaning the blender out.

“Only when you decide to stop holding you being a barista over my head because of the Nighteye incident,” he laughed, walking out to the lobby to lock the door and turn the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed.’

“Fair enough. Now, let’s get this shit done quick. My bed is calling my name.” They continued with their closing procedures, and as Katsuki was counting down the drawer for the night, his thoughts were haunting him. He just happened to have the shittiest luck, he determined. Not only was he crushing on a customer, but the customer was an actor. An actor who he happened to insult. Holy fuck. Great job, Katsuki. Way to fucking go. As they finished closing and were leaving the shop, he decided that it didn’t matter. This would just live to be an embarrassing tale that he would make sure he and Deku took to their graves. It’s not like he would ever see the guy again, after all.

Thanks for making it to the end of chapter one of my very first BNHA fic! Hope it was to your enjoyment. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know how I did! Chapter 2 should be coming soon <3

[reddeadmort]

I loved your oneshot of Arthur with Hosea’s daughter, do you think you could do an alternate version where he objects to them being together. But they continue to sneak around because they refuse to give each other up 🙏🏻

This was a fun exercise, re-doing the story slightly. The pre-amble/background from the original - “So….Dad…..” works for this one too, but I’ve not included it here for brevity. I know you were probably looking for mostly angst here anon, but I couldn’t help a fluffy ending again! 

P.S. I would love to be able to draw the first part of this as a cartoon frame or something! I’ve had that scene written pretty much since the request came in!. 

Arthur x f! reader | “It’s not what it looks like” | AO3 link

Guidance: Fluff and a bit of angst.

Words: 1.6k

It was a pleasant evening in Horseshoe overlook, and the majority of the gang were relaxing and drinking around the fire. Then, suddenly, the quiet chatter was interrupted by a yell.

“WHAT THE….! GET BACK HERE!” 

Everyone looked up towards the source of the commotion and saw Arthur running towards them. He was completely naked, save for his hat clamped over his privates.  Not far behind him was Hosea, pulling his gun out of his holster.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY DAUGHTER!” Hosea practically screamed at Arthur, pointing his revolver at him; Arthur had managed to position the fire and the seated group between them.

“Hosea! It’s not what it looks like!” Arthur had one hand up in front of him, the other still protecting his dignity with his hat.

“WHAT WAS MY ONE RULE ARTHUR, MY ONE RULE!” Hosea yelled, gun still trained on Arthur.

“Finally got caught then brother” John chuckled next to Arthur.

“Shut up John, not helpin’” Arthur hissed back.

“FINALLY? WHAT DOES HE MEAN, FINALLY!” Hosea was a whole other level of furious, one none of them had seen before.

“Well, old man, cowpoke’s been poking your precious little daughter for months” Micah sneered.

“WHAT!!!!”

Arthur cringed and took a step back as Hosea pulled down the hammer of his revolver.

“Dad! What the hell!” You appeared from behind Hosea, your clothes hurriedly pulled back on. You pushed his arm down and stood in front of him.

“Y/N, you stay out of this! I’ll deal with you later!” your dad snapped at you.

“Goddamn it dad, don’t you dare speak me to like that! You need to calm the hell down.” You were furious at Hosea; you weren’t a little kid anymore, you could make your own decisions.

“Y/N, if you don’t move….”

“NO! Dad, stop acting like a fool and leave poor Arthur alone. Come find me when you’ve calmed down.” You stormed off, leaving a slightly bewildered Hosea stood in front of a chuckling group. Arthur had sensibly already slunk off, as soon as Hosea was distracted.

—

A few weeks had passed, and your dad was still mad as hell. He had eventually come and had a talk with you that night, but wasn’t particularly coherent, just kept on trying to forbid you two from seeing each other. You didn’t listen, of course, but were sensible, and kind enough to hide it from your dad.  

It was tough, all you wanted to do was sit in Arthurs lap as you all relaxed around the campfire. You dreamed of being able to snuggle into his chest as he held you tight. But no, you had to content yourselves with stolen kisses in the woods around camp. You hadn’t been able to spend the night – or indeed any proper time – together since the disagreement.

You didn’t dare go back to Arthur’s tent; you certainly weren’t going to let your dad actually ban you from seeing him, but you’d never seen him so angry. You’d love to get some time away from camp, to sleep under the stars, or even get a hotel room; but Hosea was keeping such a close eye on Arthur you had no chance. You could swear that every time you even sat next to each other, your dad appeared, staring at you.

Hosea was barely talking to Arthur, only when he was forced to. If Arthur tried to speak to him, tried to encourage him to share a story like he always used to, Hosea would either walk off or snap at him. He was slightly better with you, but not much; it was strange having your dad be overly polite towards you. Your rapport was damaged.

It was killing Arthur. Hosea was such an important friend and mentor to him, and he’d known him for so long. Arthur also couldn’t stand the thought of your relationship with your dad suffering either. Despite your protestations that you were in this together, Arthur was placing all the blame on himself.

One evening, when Arthur was on guard duty, you managed to sneak away from the campfire without Hosea noticing – luckily he was too engrossed in arguing with Dutch over his next great plan. You crept over to Arthur, who was leant against a tree, before stopping and calling to him. You weren’t stupid enough to surprise an armed man on guard duty.

“Arthur… it’s me” you whispered.  

“Evenin’ Y/N.” Arthur using your name threw you; he always called you ‘darling’, or ‘my girl’. You didn’t say anything about it and walked up to Arthur, resting your hand on his arm.

“You okay sweetheart?” you said as you went up on tiptoes, asking Arthur for a kiss. To your horror, Arthur didn’t lean down, and instead flicked his arm up in annoyance, causing you to remove your hand. “What the hell, Arthur?”

“Look, sorry Y/N, but I’m on guard.” His response was blunt, and you didn’t really know whether to be angry or cry.

“That’s not stopped you before!” you protested.

Arthur sighed as he looked down at your confused face. “I’m sorry darlin’. I just…I don’t think we should do this anymore. You an’ your dad are far better off without me causin’ trouble, actin’ like a fool. Hosea’s right, I shouldn’t have come near ya. I’m sorry.”

Oh hell no. This was not acceptable. “Arthur Morgan, just because some people call you an idiot doesn’t mean you have to act like one. Come with me, now, we’re going to sort all of this out.” You strode off, stopping a few metres away when you realised a slightly dumbstruck Arthur was still standing there. “Arthur! I ain’t joking, come on!”

Arthur weighed up his options briefly before deciding the best cause of action would be to not piss you off any further and started to follow you.

As you strode back into camp, Arthur at your heels, you grabbed Arthur’s repeater and threw at it the unfortunate Lenny, who happened to be passing. “Lenny, I’m afraid you need to take over guard duty for a bit.” You didn’t bother stopping to hear any complaints, but Lenny was smart enough to not even try.

All eyes were on you and Arthur as you stomped towards Hosea, sat in his tent. He looked up at you both before rolling his eyes.

“Dad, we need to talk.”

“Which we? Because I sure as hell still can’t stand to talk to him, not after what I saw him doing to you.”

Sighing, you sat down next to Hosea on his bed. Arthur shuffled nervously in the entrance to the tent.

“Dad, enough is enough. If you would just listen for….”

“No, you look here, Y/N” Hosea interrupted.

“NO! Dad….I’m sorry. Please listen. We’re not going to stop seeing each other just because you say so, you should know that’s not how it works. I’m a grown woman now, I can make my own decisions. You have to stop acting like a martyr whose world is ending.” You were expecting yet another argument, more protestations; instead, Hosea just put his head in his hands.

“Oh my dear, I know, I know” he sighed. “You’re both still so young, you should be allowed to have some fun.” Arthur scoffed slightly at being referred to as young, but quickly quietened as Hosea shot him a glare. “I’m just worried about…”

Hosea didn’t have the opportunity to finish his sentence before you interrupted him.

“Fun? Well, I won’t deny that we’re having that.” Hosea winced slightly at this remark, the image of what he’d seen that night was still burnt into his brain. Arthur cringed, covering his face with his hands, almost certainly going a shade of red underneath it. “But, dad, did you really think that’s all this is? Is that what you’ve been so upset about?”

Hosea stared at you, then at Arthur, not sure what to say.

“I…I just assumed….” he stammered, unusually flustered. “Arthur, my boy, after Mary….. you always said that you’d…..”

“Never let another woman make a god-awful fool of me?” Arthur finished Hosea’s sentence, and Hosea nodded. For a moment, no-one spoke, unsure of how to continue.

“I love her, Hosea. I love Y/N.”

Your head snapped round to look at Arthur; did he just say…..

“What? You…. what?” You stood up, as Arthur stepped forwards, putting one hand on your waist and gently cupping your face with the other.

“I love you, Y/N. I don’t ever want to be apart from you. My life has been more…. more erm…. livable with ya. I’m sorry darlin’, I ain’t so good with words.”

You pulled Arthur in by his shirt for a kiss before replying. “Arthur, you daft bugger, I love you too.” You both grinned at each other, completely forgetting your dad, still sat on his bed, slightly shellshocked. You turned to look at Hosea, hoping that this development would reassure him, maybe change his mind.

Your dad stood up slowly before walking over to you. He stopped in front of you, staring, not saying anything, before wrapping his arms around you in a big hug.

“I’m so sorry, both of you. I do make a bit of a fool of myself without your mother around to see me right. Now, Arthur, you better be a good man to her, otherwise…”

“Yeh, yeh, Hosea, I know, you’ll kill me.” Arthur laughed.

“No - I was going to say otherwise she’ll kill you, and we both know which would be worse!” The three of you chuckled as you elbowed your dad gently in the ribs before you all headed out to update the rest of camp.

[channy-mae]

Instagram Couple

“Again?” You mumble under your breath when the director called for a retake on the 12th take that night. Irritated you walk up to the backup dancer who kept making mistakes. “Listen, you don’t bend over until the 5th beat and you spin on the 3rd.” You calmly try to explain it to her so you wouldn’t be there all night long. Her attention wasn’t even on you and you followed her eyes to a shirtless Jay Park, his expression was one of irritation as well considering how the first part of the music video wasn’t finished yet. “Hey! Pay attention to the dance instead of drooling over him.” You snap at her. The director motions for you to go back to your original position, so they could start again. After three more retakes, the girl finally stops making, dare you say it, stupid mistakes. You were in the middle and the end of the MV and positioned on and around Jay, “Okay, now put your hand on his chest and cue.” The minute the camera starts rolling you begin to move your body against his to the beat of the music. You could feel him moving against you and for a second that felt like it was just the two of you, “Cut, perfect!” The director’s voice tore you both out of the trance that was each other and Jay quickly lets you go. The rest of the recording goes by flawlessly without a mistake by the other dancers.

“Ah, that’s a wrap, good work everyone!” The director calls out and the crew starts packing equipment up to leave, you start walking to the dressing room to change back into less provocative and casual clothes, when you hear giggling. “Oppa, the song is so good! When you perform it live are you using all the dancers again?” you look and see the same girl who was making mistake after mistake obviously flirt with Jay. She was twisting a lock of her hair around her finger and was attempting to act cute, “Yeah, I’m only going to use one of the dancers since so many isn’t necessary.” Jay smiles at her. “Oh, really if you do pick I would really love it if I were to be that one dancer.” her hand was now on his arm and you couldn’t take it any longer, “Hey I wonder who’s clothes they just threw out, anyone came in wearing a pink hollister dress?” you call out. The girl rushes past you thinking her clothes were thrown away. A week goes by uneventful for you, but your boyfriend on the other hand not so much. Jay walks through the doors of your shared apartment to find you on the couch, “Y/N what are you doing up so late? It’s,” He glances at the time on his phone, “1:30 in the morning.” You purse your lips and don’t say anything, taking out your phone you unlock it and place it on the table. Jay just stands there confused about what was going on, huffing you begin talking.

“I can understand you not choosing me to be the dancer in one of your live performances, I really don’t mind. But, what I do care about is now everyone thinks you’re dating the dancer you chose for said performance and you have yet to say that they are wrong. What am I not your girlfriend, is this some sort of illusion I’m making up?” you were standing up now with your arms crossed wanting an answer from him. “Y/N you are my girlfriend and I love you, the only reason I haven’t said anything yet is because I didn’t think I’d need to. These things die off on there own jagi, you see it all the time.” his voice was calm as was his body language and that just pissed you off. You knew you were a secret, that your relationship wasn’t public and that was frustrating. “That’s why we should go public, I’m sick of having to hide the fact that we are together, it’s stressful and frustrating, not to mention that people have been on this for a week now. It’s just irritating to see the other dancers, and see her smug face. ” You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him trying to get him to understand how you felt about it. He hugs you back, “Not yet, I’m in the middle of a deal that will really benefit everybody and I’m thinking about-.” You shove him away. “What? You’re in the middle of a deal so our relationship is pushed to the back burner? Why does she get to be your girlfriend in the media then if it’s so important. Or is that a ploy to ensure it, because she’s korean and I’m a foreigner?” You spit out.

“What! I never said that!” Jay raises his voice, “You didn’t have to say it, you suggested it when you didn’t call people out on this!” you yell at him angry. Jay runs his hand over his face in agitation, “I’m not going to argue with you y/n” Jay turns around most likely to go to the room. “No,we need to talk about this, I want us to go public. It...it will make me feel better about this.” your voice was barely above a whisper. “I already told you, I can’t do that right now.” You open your mouth to interject, before you could say something he continues. “A week, that’s enough time.” Jay looks at you with a hopeful expression. Your eyes mist over and you could feel yourself about to cry, you rush into your bedroom and start throwing stuff into a bad. “Where are you going? Y/n….jagi why are you packing?” Jay reaches for the bag you were holding and you jolt away from him. “Don’t..a week, you want to let this fester on for a week, for some deal! Why do I have to spell out the fat that this is upsetting me? If that’s the case then for a week we can just not talk. Since I’m a secret it won’t matter right. Focus on the deal that’s just so special.” You didn’t give him time to say anything, you were out the door and hailing a taxi. You get in and tell the driver your best friend’s address, not even looking out the window to see if he followed you. That was the worst you’ve ever been angry at Jay and the worst fight. Once you arrive you find the key underneath the potted plant next to her door, walking in you remember that she wasn’t even home being out of town for some convention. Sighing you toss your stuff onto her couch and flop down. Your routine for the last couple of days were the same, go to the studio to practice, go home to your friend’s place, ignore any calls from Jay, and stream your favorite drama. You were on the couch eating ice cream and chips, when best part where the long awaited kiss scene for the two main characters were when the doorbell rang. Upset you drag yourself up and to the door, with a mouth full of potato chips and ice cream you open the door. In front of you stood a flushed Jay Park, you swallow and attempt to close the door not wanting to see him.

“Wait, wait listen y/n, I’m sorry.” you stop trying and motion for him to come inside, wanting to know what he had to say. “What?” You ask with your arms crossed. “I wasn’t thinking about how you felt about it when you were clearly upset. So, I did the right thing and revealed us.” Jay wraps you in hug smiling brightly. “What! When?” to answer your question he takes out his phone and hands it to you. It was his instagram page and the recent posts were pictures the two of you had taken together, or just pictures of you he had taken. You lean up and kiss him, happy that he decided to mend your relationship and put an end to the rumors. It didn’t take long for the kiss to go from sweet to lustful, you pull back “We can’t, not here.” you try to reason with him. “Jagi, I haven’t seen you in four days. I couldn’t even talk to you to tell you how sorry I am, so instead let me show you. Plus whatever she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Jay picks you up and walks you to the bedroom you were using. You two continue the kiss, rapidly undressing each other and throwing the clothes out of the way. You pull away to catch your breath and Jay takes that as an opportunity to take off your shirt and his. No matter how many times you see him, the sight of him shirtless and his tattoos are enough to leave you breathless and drooling. He starts kissing your neck, nipping on your collarbone aiming to leave marks. Moaning out you reach down and fumble with his belt trying to remove it. “Having a hard time?” He smirks at you and gets up to take off his pants, once in just his boxers you stand up and push him to sit on the bed. He was hard clearly evident of the tent in his boxers, you trail your hands up his thighs to his boxers and slowly slip them off. His cock pops out and twitches, Jay moans looking at you. You take one hand and cupped his balls, then enclosed the tip of his penis into your warm mouth.

“Ah… ohh, God, y/n… that… feels so good,” Jay managed to say. His encouragement made you smirk around his cock, you moan around it sending vibrations through his body. You take another half inch of his dick into your mouth, then pulled up to its tip. You started to get into a bobbing motion, able to take a little bit more of his cock into your mouth each time, until you were swallowing a little more than half of his length. Take him out of you mouth and blow on his cock, drawing out your motions as your lips slide along all sides of his cock as you bob up and down. “Ah...ah fuck jagi, stop I’m going to cum.” Jay gently pushes your head away. You stand and shed your panties and lay back on the bed, Teasing you, he ignored your glistening pussy and kissed and licked your inner thigh, then you felt his mouth travel to the other side where he licked and gently bit the inside of your other inner thigh inching closer your pussy. By this time, you were moaning and bucking your hips. You could no longer stand any more of his teasing and you grabbed his face and moved him so that his mouth was in line with your vagina. That was all the prodding he needed, as he immediately started sucking on your clit and running his tongue up and down your wet slit. Gasping, you look down as he extended his tongue and pushed it deep inside of you. You feel him put his hands on your ass cheeks, which he massaged roughly while keeping his tongue buried in your wet sex.

The intense pleasure he was giving you with his mouth made you feel like I was slipping in and out of consciousness and you could hear the slurping sounds emanating from between your legs. Your hips were bucking wildly as you ground your pussy roughly into his face. You shook and shuddered and experienced your first orgasm of the evening. He let you recover by licking the wetness from the inside of your thighs and his mouth stayed away from your sensitive clit for a minute or so. Once he saw that you had recovered, he began to lick up and down your slit again. This time, he put two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards, while working his tongue over your clit hard and fast. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. You always appreciated his talented tongue and he drove you to two more orgasms before you pushed him away. Huffing he sits up and lines his cock to push inside of you, “Are you ready?” You simply nod your head. He kisses you, while continuing to kiss you, he takes his shaft in his hand and you feet him run the head over your wet slit. He positions himself right above your opening and slipped the head inside and then powerfully pushed forward, instantly opening and filling me. You pulled your mouth away from his gasping and moaning in pleasure. Almost instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he starts to slowly thrust in and out of you. He begins to move inside of you with a slow and steady pace of long even strokes. He then moves forward and you feet his weight on top of you sensually crushing your breasts against his chest. You moved your hips up to meet his thrusts and feel another orgasm rock your body. Seeing you release, he begins pumping furiously into you. As he quickened the pace, you begin to thrust your hips up hard against him. You were both grunting and sweating profusely as he fucked you hard and fast. You could feel he was close as well and you started screaming as another powerful orgasm overtook you and my body shook almost uncontrollably as Jay continued his powerful thrusts. After you had come down from another peak, you could tell by his breathing he was close to orgasm, when he suddenly pulled out of you. He takes his cock and starts to stroke it and cum erupts from him landing on your stomach and chest. You both were breathing deeply and Jay gets up and heads out of the room, “Where are you…” before you could finish he comes back with a damp towel in his hand and he cleans you off. “I missed you. And we probably shouldn’t tell your friend we had sex in her house.” Jay giggles. You laugh as well and you both drift off to sleep.

[whitebear-ofthe-watertribe]

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 7

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It has been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they are not trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things could not be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter Word Count: 5,820

Enjoy!!!

The venue that Nino was to perform at was conveniently near campus. The small old theater – location of hundreds, if not thousands, of plays and concerts over the years – stood on one side of a large courtyard. A grand fountain lay at the center of the courtyard, its water glistening in the soft beams of evening sunlight that streamed through the gaps between trees and buildings.

Marinette and Adrien made their way along the school’s pathways towards a small corner restaurant that they frequented for study dates. The air was comfortably warm, as if the heat of summer was trying to make one last appearance before the weather officially cooled.

Marinette shot Adrien a sideways glance, trying to discern what was going on in his mind. There were dark circles under his eyes, and though he concealed it well, she could sense the tension coming off him.

“So…” she ventured, feeling out whether he wanted to talk about serious things or not. “How was your day?”

Adrien shrugged.

“Shockingly normal,” he said smoothly. And unhelpfully.

Marinette frowned as she waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, she pressed on.

“Well, normal is completely subjective, so what does normal look like for Adrien Agreste, superhero-slash-model.”

Adrien sighed, giving her a look that said he knew exactly what she was getting at.

“Fine,” he relented. “It was full of people complaining about how last night was a disaster, and how Chat Noir let everyone down. And then my father showed his face in the office for no other reason than to be snippy with me about disappearing before the dinner course had even been served. So, all in all, pretty normal.”

He put on a forced smile as they waited for a group of people to pass in front of them.

Marinette bit her lip in frustration. Adrien’s new blasé behavior wasn’t fooling her.

“Adrien, you know they’re all wrong about you, right?” she said finally, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk.

Adrien turned to look at her. His jaw tightened a little when he saw her expression.

“I’m alright, Mar,” he said, with a shrug and another forced smile. “I couldn’t care less about what they say, I’m just glad they’re finally catching on.”

“Catching on?” Marinette squinted at him suspiciously. “Catching on to what, exactly?”

“To the fact that I, the shinning son of Gabriel Agreste, am absolutely useless,” he chuckled humorlessly, avoiding her gaze as he turned to continue walking. “I mean it’s about time, right? Maybe I should consider retiring soon!”

 “Adrien, this isn’t something to joke about,” Marinette said, her feet carrying her forward once more to follow him. “You deserve none of that garbage, and you know it.”

“Don’t I?” he called over his shoulder with a wry smile.

And with that, Marinette was done.

Lengthening her stride, she shot passed him and whirled to face him directly, cutting him off mid step.

“Enough!” she snapped.

Taken aback, Adrien froze as he looked down at her.

“Don’t you dare start thinking you deserve any of what they’re saying!” she said, stepping right up to him and poking a finger into his chest. “You are incredible, and brave, and so strong. You’ve given so much for them, and they have no idea! But I do!” Her voice shook a little. She could feel furious tears welling up, but she forced them away. “I’ve been defending how worthy you are to everyone else today, now please don’t make me fight you, too.”

He stared at her as she glowered up at him.

She hated how he did this; after so many years of bottling up his emotions, there were always hurdles she needed to cross before he would open up. He had learned enough to eventually take down his guard and actually talk to her, but not before trying to pretend that everything was fine. She knew the part of him that didn’t want to put any burden on her would almost always be struggling with the part of him that wanted to be fully known and accept her help.

The longer she held his gaze, the more she saw his walls crumble. Finally, for the first time that evening, she saw his genuine emotions crack through the façade.

“I – I’m sorry,” he said finally, reaching a hand up to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Marinette. You’re right, I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“It’s not that you’re joking about it,” she countered. “It’s that you’re joking to cover up the fact that you’ve taken their words to heart. That’s what is pissing me off.”

Adrien’s expression darkened as he considered her words. For a moment she thought he might dispute her point, but finally his shoulders slumped in resignation.

“I suppose that’s not… entirely… untrue,” he said finally.

Marinette’s anger began to melt as she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

She could feel his heartbeat as she buried her face into his chest.

“When are you going to realize that I’m always right?” she said, her words muffled into his shirt.

Adrien let out a snort.

“Almost always,” he said.

She smiled. “Ok fine, almost always. But that’s still pretty close to always!”

“Fair enough,” Adrien pulled away to rub her arms affectionately as he gave her a grateful smile. “You’re at least ninety percent right on this particular subject.”

“Nope,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m at a full one hundred percent on this one, and you can’t change my mind.”

Adrien’s grin broadened at this, and he didn’t try to argue further. Then, taking her hands, the scrap of fabric she’d been pressing into her palm finally caught his eye.

“Hey, wait. What’s this?”

Raising her hand up to eye level, he frowned as he pulled the fabric away and discovered the place where the needle had punctured her. The skin was still flaming red, but the bleeding had mostly stopped.

“You’re hurt?” he scolded, examining the mark closely.

“It’s nothing,” she sighed impatiently. “I’m fine, really.”

He tore his gaze from her palm to shoot her a frustrated look.

“Oh, come on. You know I’ve had worse than this,” she snapped, trying to tug her hand back.

Adrien held tightly at her wrist.

“We fight supervillains on a near daily basis,” he said with exasperation, “and yet you still manage to inflict injuries on yourself doing schoolwork.”

“In case you hadn’t realized, any poise or grace I have as Ladybug is purely thanks to Tikki. I’ve always been a walking disaster outside the suit.”

“That’s not true!” he argued, but the incredulous look she threw him made him rethink his words. “Ok fine, that’s not completely true.”

“Only mostly true,” she said, nodding with finality.

Adrien rolled his eyes with a snort but didn’t press the point.

Marinette was relieved to see some of his tension begin to fall away a little as they joked. It was a small victory, but she would take what she could.

“It’s completely normal, you know,” she said as they walked towards the restaurant’s patio, her thoughts returning to their previous conversation. “To feel like you’re… not enough.”

Adrien sighed as they took their seats, but Marinette noticed that he had at least dropped his sardonic expression. She scooted her chair around the table so that she could sit closer beside him.

“I mean, you know more than anyone how much I’ve struggle with that, right?” she pressed on.

The corner of Adrien’s mouth twitched into a hesitant smile and he nodded.

“And do you remember how you always encouraged me, even when I was ready to completely give up on being Ladybug?”

“I can be painfully optimistic,” he snorted.

Marinette smiled.

“Yes, sometimes,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that everything you said back then wasn’t true. We’ve always had to do some incredibly difficult things, and I supposed we’ve been doing this long enough that it’s easy to get tunnel vision.”

She reached out and pulled Adrien’s hand into hers.

“But the important thing is to remember who we are and what we fight for. The people of this city rely on us because we were chosen to do what they can’t. And when it all feels like too heavy a burden to carry, please remember that you aren’t in this alone.”

“I know,” Adrien nodded, his thumb running soft circles along the back of her hand. “I know that we’re always going to be there for one another, I just…” he sighed again, scrunching his nose as he struggled to find the right words. “I guess… now that I know that Hawkmoth has this power over me… maybe that’s what’s been making it so easy to just give in to those dark thoughts.”

Marinette’s grip on his hand tightened.

A waiter approached their table with bread and olive oil.

Marinette gave him a grateful nod and quickly ordered a house wine and some hors d'oeuvres she knew they both liked.

Adrien said nothing while she did this, merely nodding in agreement when she glanced his way for approval. He took some vinegar that sat on their table and poured a bit into the oil.

When the waiter left, she said, “You know how Master Fu always talks about balance? How our Miraculous were made to be used in tandem, equal parts of the same powers. They must always be used together in one way or another, or else things fall out of alignment.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that the whole balance thing extends beyond what we do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. We have been friends… partners… for so long that I feel like we have become as much a part of that balance as the power in the Miraculous, you know?”

She pulled one hand away from Adrien’s to tear off a piece of bread and dip it pensively into the oil and vinegar, watching as the two substances created a swirled pattern on the plate.

“Adrien, you are the one who has held me in balance all this time,” she said quietly, surprising even herself with the emotion in her voice. She inhaled a deep breath and continued. “You have always been there to pull me back into sync whenever something bad happens or when I’m doubting myself. When I’ve fallen apart, you held all my pieces together. You’re like… my personal solid rock. From the very beginning, when I knew there was no way I could be a hero, you knew that I had what it took. You held me together and helped me become Ladybug. And… I just want you to know that I’m here for you in the same way you’ve always been there for me. I know that I can’t fully understand the battle you’ve been forced to fight, but please know that I… I’m always going to be by your side, to help you balance out that darkness and to help you fight.”

Adrien’s eyes softened as he stared at her, and she felt her face growing hot at the depth of her own words. Clearing her throat, Marinette turned to the menu, trying to make it seem like she was suddenly engrossed in the scrawling words, but not actually taking in anything they said.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she heard Adrien say softly.

Before Marinette could respond, she found herself being wrapped into his arms.

“You have always been there for me,” he said, and she felt his warm breath as he buried his face into her hair. “Even from the beginning, when you didn’t know me that well and had no reason to care, you were still there for me. You hold me together, too.”

After another long moment, Adrien pulled back, his eyes brighter than they had been earlier.

Marinette smiled, running her hand affectionately down his arm.

The sun was setting below the city’s horizon, and the clouds towering high above were painted with the pinks and golds of its last light.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Marinette exclaimed, tearing off another bite of bread. “You were trying to tell me something after you left your father’s office last night, right?”

To her surprise, Adrien’s face had darkened again, a crease appearing between his brows.

“What?” she asked, swallowing quickly and leaning towards him. “What happened? Was it something bad?”

But Adrien shook his head, taking a piece of bread for himself as he quickly schooled his features into a mask of unconcern.

“No, it’s nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Marinette gazed at him thoughtfully.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty… I dunno, shaken?”

“Nah, it was just my father being his usual self,” Adrien shrugged, though he still didn’t quite meet her eye. “It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Ok…” Marinette said finally, though still not entirely convinced. “Suit yourself.”

*******

“Tonight’s gonna be a good one, eh boys?” Nino said, grinning.

He, John, and Antoine were crossing the large square. It was full of people enjoying what promised to be one of the last warm evenings of the season.

“I’m really looking forward to doing that new song, Antoine,” he continued. “It’ll be a total hit!”

Antoine gave him a halfhearted smile, shrugging.

“Eh, I guess,” he said, his attention turning to a couple young kids chasing each other around the large fountain.

Nino raised an eyebrow at John, who shrugged in response.

Antoine had been in a weird mood for days now. His enthusiasm during their rehearsal that afternoon had been rather lacking, and he wasn’t nearly as jazzed as usual about their upcoming show. He hadn’t said anything to either of them, but Nino could tell something was weighing on his mind.

“Seriously, you ok, man?” Nino asked, peering curiously at him.

Antoine shrugged again, not meeting his eye.

“Yeah, totally,” he said flatly.

Nino frowned. As they neared the fountain, he turned to John.

“Hey man, you want to go ahead and make sure everything’s ready?” he gave John a meaningful look.

John nodded, understanding passing across his face.

“No problem! See you guys in a bit.”

He hurried off, weaving between groups of wandering people before disappearing into the theater.

Antoine gave Nino a confused look as he steered them towards the fountain and pulled him down to sit at the edge of the water.

“Ok, talk,” Nino said, gazing expectantly at him.

Antoine frowned before turning away and shaking his head.

“It’s really nothing. You don’t need to make a big deal of it.”

“Oh, I’m not make a big deal of it,” Nino said lightly, leaning back on his hands. The marble beneath his palms was flecked with water droplets. “But whatever ‘it’ is, it’s clearly dragging on you, and I want to make sure my friend is actually ok before he has to entertain hundreds of people.”

He gave Antoine a sideways look.

Antoine gritted his teeth. After a long moment, though, his shoulders slumped. Leaning forward onto his knees, he turned his head to look at Nino.

“I’m sorry, man, I guess I’ve just been in a weird headspace lately.”

“Weird how?” Nino asked, frowning.

He waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right words.

“I dunno, it’s like… I’m not sure if I really get much joy out of doing these concerts anymore.”

He avoided Nino’s gaze.

Nino said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“Like… I still enjoy doing music, but this just doesn’t feel like what I want to do anymore. I feel like I don’t know where I want to go in life, but regardless it isn’t this.”

Nino nodded, leaning his head back to look up at the towering clouds high above them. The last rays of sunlight framed them in brilliant gold. A gentle breeze picked up some of the spray from the fountain, blowing a soft mist onto the back of his neck and arms.

“I’d been wondering if you were feeling that way,” Nino said finally. “I mean, I know you’ve still been writing songs and all, but lately it just felt like your heart wasn’t in it as much as it used to be.”

“That’s fair,” Antoine said, his voice full of resignation. “I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine what else I could be doing with my life. Like, we’ve been doing this since high school. This is what I know how to do. So, does that mean I’ve already put myself into a corner?”

Nino gave a snort.

Antoine turned to him again, his eyes reproachful, but Nino just reached out to clap him lightly on the back.

“Dude, are you serious?” Nino said with a grin. “You’re one of the most talented people I know! You can do whatever you set your sights on.”

Antoine let out an irritated huff, rolling his eyes at Nino’s words.

“Are you sure you’re not just talking about yourself?” he asked.

Nino listed his head, frowning.

“I mean,” Antoine continued. “You have all these amazing dreams, plus the skills to meet them. You just got signed for that movie soundtrack, for crying out loud! You seem like you have everything figured out and I just… I want to know what that feels like.”

Sighing, Nino leaned forward to mirror Antoine’s posture.

“Dude, I don’t have shit figured out,” he said.

Antoine glanced at him, incredulous.

“I know it seems like I do, but it’s true!” Nino insisted. “I mean I’ve always wanted to do music and movies, but do you seriously think there aren’t times where I wonder if I’m doing it all wrong and need to be pursuing something else?”

“You always seem so happy to be doing what you do, though,” Antoine argued, his hands balling into fists. “You seem to love all the traveling and the performing, and I… I used to enjoy it, but I can’t get on that same level anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love visiting new people and places! I’ve always loved making music, so this just seemed the most obvious path. But it just doesn’t feel as fulfilling, I suppose. Like we crossed that line of ‘making it big’ and now what else is there to achieve?”

“Duh, selling out the biggest stadiums in the world?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Antoine deadpanned. “As incredible as that is, it’s not quite the sense of achievement I think I need.”

“I get it,” Nino said, shooting him a grin. “You’ve always been one to shy away from the things a lot of people might find superficial.”

“I don’t even know if I can call it that,” Antoine shrugged. “I think it’s more about having set goals to reach, obstacles to overcome… something tangible to work towards.”

“Well then,” Nino hedged. “When was the last time you felt that sense of achievement?”

Antoine inhaled deeply, lifting his gaze up to the sky as he thought.

“I dunno… I’ve been teaching my cousin to play her guitar these last few months, and that’s been pretty rewarding.”

“Have you given professionally teaching people music any thought before?”

“Not seriously,” Antoine tilted his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s ever really crossed my mind. I mean I had a lot of fun with it before, and it was totally amazing to see her get better and have that fresh excitement about it… but what if that isn’t right for me either? What if I get bored, or stop liking it? What if I end up right back here not knowing what I want to do with my –”

“Dude, you’re overthinking this,” Nino broke in, stifling a chuckle. “You’re treat all of this as if any decision you make will be the end-all be-all. But what’s stopping you from trying out a whole bunch of different things?”

“But how do I even start something like teaching?” Antoine asked, running an exasperated hand through his hair.

“I think the only thing stopping you is your fear of failure,” Nino supplied, slowly considering his words. “It’s like… you’ve got it in your head that everything in life has to be linear, and that if you go down one path then that means you suddenly block off all the other paths. And I think that is what you need to forget about.”

“How will I even know if teaching will make me happy?”

“The only way you can know that is just giving it a shot. And if it turns out that teaching also isn’t the right fit, then what’s to stop you from moving on to something new? You just gotta keep moving forward, man. Even if you do something and it doesn’t fulfill all your expectations, at least you’re still living life! And someday, after you’ve tried all these new things, maybe you’ll be able to look around and realize that’s where you’re supposed to be. And if you hadn’t tried all those things then you might have never discovered it.”

Looking around at Antoine, Nino could see a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Damn. You should be a motivational speaker with speeches like that.”

Nino snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m serious, man!” he said as they both laughed. “I know it sounds like some gushy, optimistic bumper sticker or something, but really the best thing you can do in life is follow your joy. Follow your joy by trying new things, and then share that joy with others where you can. Don’t give up on yourself.”

Antoine shook his head, but the grin he wore was genuine.

“Thanks,” he said after a long moment. “I appreciate your trying to help. I’m sorry for how off I’ve been lately.”

“No worries,” Nino shrugged. “We all had a feeling you were dealing with some stuff. I’m just glad you finally decided to talk about it.”

They sat there for several quiet minutes, listening to the conversations and laughter around them. Another breeze blew mist onto Nino’s back, and he relished the cool feeling.

“It’s getting late,” Antoine finally said. “We should probably get going. Don’t want John going out onstage by himself.”

“Ah, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Nino waved his hand, grinning. “He’ll probably have so much fun that he’ll decided he needs to go solo.”

“Let’s not feed his ego that much,” Antoine laughed.

Standing up from the fountain, they moved to leave when a familiar voice called out across the square.

“Nino!”

Turning, Nino spotted Adrien and Marinette sitting at one of the patio tables of a nearby restaurant. They waved and smiled as a waiter dropped off their bill.

Nino and Antoine returned the wave.

“Why don’t you go on ahead,” Nino said, sitting down once more on the fountain’s ledge and leaning back on his hands. “I’m going to say hi to those guys real quick, it’ll only be a minute. You can go help John make sure everything’s alright if you’d like.”

Antoine nodded.

“Tell them ‘hi’ from me,” he said before jogging off to the theater.

Nino let out a long breath, wishing he could do more to help Antoine. There had been plenty of times in his own life where he’d been stuck with similar doubts about his choices, but at least Alya had always been there to help talk him through things.

“Those were some very wise words,” said a voice beside him.

Turning, Nino found a tiny old man standing a few feet away from him, smiling kindly. He wore a bright floral shirt and his arms were fully occupied with brown paper bags full of groceries.

“Pardon?”

“Forgive my eavesdropping,” the man said, taking a step closer. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. It is very kind of you to encourage him like that.”

Nino couldn’t help but grin.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’m just glad I was able to talk him through some stuff.”

“It is hard for everyone to navigate the many different paths that life takes us on,” the man said, nodding sagely. “It is important to have good friends to help you through it, and it is clear to me that you are, indeed, a very good friend. The people close to you are certainly fortunate to have you to rely on.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nino grinned, feeling heat flood his cheeks at such high praise. “I’m Nino by the way.”

“It is good to meet you, Nino,” the man said, returning his smile. “My name is –”

“Master Fu?”

Turning, Nino saw that Adrien and Marinette had finished paying for their meal and were now standing beside them, looking curiously between himself and the man.

“Do you two know each other?” Marinette asked, smiling as she stepped forward to quickly peck Nino on the cheeks.

“Not officially,” the man said, smiling benignly. “We were just getting acquainted by chance.”

“What a coincidence!” Adrien said with a grin. “Master Fu has been a… well, a sort of life coach to both Marinette and I for years now.”

Nino noticed that Adrien was sporting dark circles under his eyes.

“Really?” he turned curiously to look at the man. “What kind of life coach?”

“Well, certainly not one you seem to need,” Master Fu said, shooting him a conspiratorial look. “It sounds like you have quite some words of wisdom under your own belt.”

Nino laughed.

“Only for my friends. I myself can always use whatever advice I can get.”

“And that, in itself, is an excellent form of wisdom,” Fu grinned. “Well, I’d better be off. Can’t let this butter pecan gelato go to waste!”

“Yes, I’d better get going as well,” Nino said, standing up and realizing that he towered over the tiny man. “I’m playing that theater tonight, and my bandmates are waiting for me.”

“We’ll stop by for tea soon, Master,” Marinette said.

Though her words sounded light, Nino thought he saw an oddly grave expression cross her face. But when he looked more closely, her light smile had returned.

“My door is always open. And that goes for you as well, Nino,” Fu said, turning to him. “I would greatly look forward to speaking with you more in the future. I’m sure there are… many things we could discuss.”

“I look forward to it,” Nino said, smiling and ducking his head in a quick bow of farewell. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Fu.”

“The honor was all mine.”

Master Fu shifted the bags in his arms to wave goodbye.

As he raised his arm, Nino caught sight of a familiar jade bracelet tied around his wrist. He froze, staring at it.

There was a glint of secret amusement in Master Fu’s eyes as he turned to leave, tucking his bracelet out of sight once again.

And as Nino made his way towards the theater with Marinette and Adrien, he had the sneaking suspicion that his friends were getting much more than simply “life coaching” from the old man.

*******

The air inside the theater pulsed with loud music from one of the opening bands as Marinette led Adrien through the lobby.

Nino had parted with them at the entrance, hurrying backstage to join his band.

As they rounded a corner, Adrien spotted the stage raised above a large cheering crowd. Fog and bright colored lights flashing through the otherwise darkened hall, giving the performers a neon glow. 

Marinette tugged him forward, her fingers entwined with his. She wove a path through the crowd and up to the front where it was standing room only. Finally coming to a stop, she let out a whoop and raised her arms to start swaying in time with the music.

Adrien gazed around, taking it all in.

The air was hot and humid, thick with a range of floral scents. A bar in one of the back corners was advertising a range of cocktails, and hundreds of people pressed in tightly together, some carrying drinks as they danced.

The band on stage was made up of four women wearing eclectic outfits that dripped with shimmering jewelry. Two of them were singing in a language he didn’t know.

The final notes of their last song rang through the hall, replaced quickly by a tidal wave of cheers. The performers bowed to them all before moving off stage. The cheering continued, pulsating in Adrien’s ears until it crescendoed to a deafening volume as Nino and his bandmates came into view.

Beside him, Marinette jumped into the air and waved her arms, shouting her praise.

Nino flashed a grin at the crowd. He pulled his keyboard into position at the front microphone.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” he asked, his voice magnified to echo through the room.

He was met with a fresh wave of enthusiastic screams.

“We’re gonna play you a few of our songs,” he continued as he thrummed a few melodic notes. “We hope you’ll like them!”

A momentary hush fell over the room, broken by a couple scattered whoops, before Nino brought both hands down on the keys and filled the space with an upbeat rhythm. Once again, the hall erupted with screams and hollers of approval as people began jumping and dancing to the music.

Adrien and Marinette were pushed tighter together as the crowd surged forwards in excitement, drawing them closer to the stage.

Looking down at her, Adrien grinned as Marinette paid no mind to the tight space – she was using the little room they had to dance along with everyone else.

His eyes were drawn the curves of her waist and the entrancing way her dark hair caught the lights. Her cheeks flushed with excitement and her soft lips were turned into a beaming smile, dazzling him.

‘How is she so beautiful?’ he thought, momentarily in awe that he had her in his life.

Everything weighing on his shoulders seemed to evaporate as he focused on her. The joy she exuded was contagious.

He reached a hand out to wrap around her other side and pull her into a spin.

Marinette gave a squeak of surprise before dissolving into laughter as she caught on to what he was doing. Taking hold of one of his fingers, she lifted their hands high up and allowed him to spin her again, twice, three more times before draping her arms over his shoulders.

Adrien placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushing along the soft, warm skin where her shirt rode up. He pulled her close, enjoying the feel of her against him and grinning as she closed her eyes and flowed with the music. For the first time in days, he forgot the troubles that awaited them outside. In that moment, the only thing he let himself focus on was the woman he had given his whole heart to.

As song after song played, they danced together in the little space they shared, beaming whenever they caught each other’s eye.

“Hey!” Marinette called to him after a while, raising her voice for him to hear her above the music. “Can you bend your knees for a sec?”

“Wha- why?” he inquired, tilting his head in confusion.

“Just do it!”

“… Ok?”

Adrien did as he was told, lowering himself until he was at eye level with her.

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers laced into his hair as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

He melted into her touch.

Her breath was soft and warm on his mouth, and his whole body tingled as he returned the kiss. He tightened his own arms around her waist and straightened, pulling her against him as her feet left the ground.

Marinette laughed, breaking the kiss and drawing back a little to look at him.

Adrien returned her smile before burying his face in her neck. He inhaled deeply and held her there for a long moment before setting her back down again.

“I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve you,” he murmured into her ear. “But I hope you know I’m more thankful to have you in my life than I could ever put into words.”

“You’ve never had to do anything to deserve me, mon chaton,” she hummed back, reaching her thumb up to gently caress his cheek. “You’ve always underestimated how truly good you are, you know that? You deserve every happiness in the world just by being yourself.”

Adrien shook his head but allowed himself a small smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she could read the words on his lips.

“I love you too,” she said, her own words drowned out by loud cheers as Nino’s band pounded the last chords of a song before immediately jumping into the next one.

They held each other tightly. Her head rested against his chest as they swayed slowly in place, ignoring whatever tempo the crowd was dancing to as the music thrummed around them.

Adrien had no idea how long they stayed like that, safe in each other’s arms, but a sudden buzz from his pocket pulled him back to the present. Reaching to retrieve his phone, he checked it over Marinette’s head, careful to not disturb her as they continued to sway.

The message was from Master Fu. It seems he had been able to set up Adrien’s travel plans faster than expected – his flight to Tibet would depart in a little over one week’s time.

Once again, Adrien’s mind was flooded with doubt.

There was a part of him that deeply regretted not just telling Marinette everything he had learned about his father and the Peafowl Miraculous. It would have been so easy, and he knew that telling her would likely release of some of the burden.

But Master Fu had been right; Marinette had theorized that his father was Hawkmoth all those years ago. So, if he told her everything now, she likely would come to a similar conclusion once more.

He knew it might be unwise to keep Marinette in the dark, but this just hit far too close to home. What if she jumped right into action? What if she went immediately to his father’s office, demanding he hand the Miraculous over? What if she took him directly to the police under the possibility that he was aiding Hawkmoth? For that, he was not ready. He needed solid proof before he could bring himself to accuse his father of such villainy.

No, he could not tell her, not yet. Adrien needed to discover the truth on his own first.

Lol can you see where I had a self-therapy sesh with my writing in this chapter?

This was a pretty calm one in the midst of... well, everything that has happened and (no spoilers) everything that's coming, so I hope you guys enjoyed it! To the handful of you still reading my stuff after a million years of hiatus, thank you so much for you comments!! You have no idea how much I LOVE hearing form you!!!

[let-it-raines]

Yo yo yo. I need Killian's POV for the break-up prompt!!!!

Original prompt: "You talk about me in your new song and I get mad over it, so I’m standing outside your apartment door to argue, only to see you open the door half naked.”

You can find Emma’s POV | Here | but it’s not necessary to understand what’s happening here! 

Tagging some peeps who liked the first part: @wellhellotragic @effulgentcolors @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @bmbbcs4evr @lfh1962 @onceuponaprincessworld @qualitycoffeethings @branlovestowrite @that1fangirlsblog @badwolfandtimelords @bengalaas @captswanis4vr @mayquita

He drops his keys in the bowl on the entryway table, hearing them clank against the porcelain as they’re the only thing in the dish. There used to be another set of keys there, metal that would hit against his, but they’re not there anymore.

She’s not here anymore.

Pushing down whatever is lodged in his throat, he gulps and moves on. He thinks about her when he puts his keys in a bowl. It’s ridiculous. She should not be able to invade his memories like that. She should not still be so prevalent.

She left. She’s not here.

So why does he still feel her everywhere?

She’s in the way that there’s a scuff mark on the wall outside of their…his bedroom. Her heel had hit against the wall on the night that he signed his record deal. They’d been so happy and so incredibly intoxicated, stumbling into the apartment with smiles on their lips that they couldn’t seem to part. He’d tried to press her up against the wall to trail his lips across her jaw, but her ankle had twisted and her heel and jammed into the paint, making the gray chip off and turn into white.

That had been a good night. He doesn’t think they even made it into the bedroom.

She’s there in the way that she didn’t bother taking any of the throw pillows on the couch when she…left. She’d been the one to insist that they buy them, to drag (not that he minded) him into every home goods store in Maine for multiple days until they found the right pillows.

“It changes a room, babe. And the apartment is so stuffy. It needs color.”

He once almost packed up the pillows in a box and shipped them to her, but then he would have had to ask for her new address. Asking for her new address made it seem all too real. If she has a different address than him, that means she’s not here, that she’s not coming back.

Some days he convinces himself that she’s going to come back.

But he knows Emma. He knows how she works. She’s not going to come back unless something pushes her. She’s stubborn like that.

Besides, why would she come back when he was the one who pushed her away?

He was the one who left to go on tour, knowing how Emma feels about people leaving her. He knows her past, knows the people who have left her before, and even if he wasn’t leaving her, he was still leaving.

But she hadn’t begrudged him for it. She had encouraged him, supported him every step of the way. It was supposed to be better. It was supposed to be his dream.

They were supposed to be fine.

They weren’t supposed to fall apart.

But there were the interrupted FaceTimes and completely missed calls. Trips home were cancelled. Trips out to see him were never made. Somewhere along the way they stopped being them, they stopped fighting for each other, and that’s why when he puts his keys in their bowl, they’re alone.

It’s why he’s alone.

“God,” he groans to himself, running his hand through his hair and tugging at the strands, knowing he should cut his hair soon before it blocks his eyesight. “Get it together, man.”

He’s having to tell himself to get it together. He’s talking to himself, and it’s not the first time he’s done that lately.

It’s also not the first time he’s poured himself a glass of rum before five, not caring about social norms or early hangovers, so he doesn’t care while the alcohol burns as it runs down his throat. His tolerance is higher than he’s willing to admit, but he only has the one drink.

It’s always one. Never more.

He wants to drown out his thoughts for a moment, but he doesn’t want to drown them out completely, drown her out completely. Simply temporarily.

After he finishes his drink, he heads to his (their) room and immediately makes his way into the bathroom, turning on the shower so he can wash away this day and all of the thoughts that have been consuming him.

All of the thoughts of Emma.

Temporarily.

He doesn’t usually take hot showers, ones where the water scalds his skin, but if he’s going to be dramatic today, he might as well be dramatic in every sense of the word. Besides, it feels good. It makes him feel something other than what he’s been feeling today.

Not every day is like today. In fact, most of them are good. Or as good as they can be. He’s got a job that he loves despite all of the pain that it’s brought him. He’s got friends, good ones, even if he knows they have a difficult time hanging out with him and not talking about Emma.

That’s one of the things about dating someone for nearly half a decade. Their entire life can meld into yours. Her friends become his. His friends become hers. There was no separation between the two of them.

Until there was.

But he still has his life. He still has people who make him happy, things that make him happy.

He just misses her. That’s all.

It’s as simple as that.

He misses the bloody love of his life, and he wishes that he could turn back time, could make things right before they went wrong.

When his skin starts to pink, he turns the water off, getting out of the shower and drying his body off before wrapping his towel around his hips, the words of his tattoo peeking out over the white material.

“What does this mean?” Emma asks, tracing the ink with her nails, every touch setting him aflame.

“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

“I know what it says, weirdo,” she laughs, the sound echoing throughout her apartment. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, and he’s spent his entire life listening to beautiful sounds, beautiful music. “But what does it mean? To you?”

“Ah,” he sighs, reaching down and pushing the strands of her hair that are falling in her face behind her ears, “well that’s an entirely different story, love.”“Will you tell me?”

“Aye, of course.” Her fingers continue to trace the words, running over the pretty cursive. “My brother – ”

“Liam, right?”

He tightly smiles at her, the wounds of his loss still fresh after all of these years. “Yeah, love. Liam. I used to be pretty uptight while in school, always worried that I wasn’t doing enough, being enough. So when I’d fail an assignment – “

“Which was really like getting a B, right?”

“Hush,” he laughs, reaching down and flicking her ear only for her to grab his wrist and kiss his palm, her lips soft against his skin. “So when I’d fail an assignment, when I’d struggle with my music, with anything, Liam would tell me that it’s okay to fail. That it’s a part of life, and often we become better for our failures. So when I ran across the quote a few weeks after he…after, I decided to get it inked on my skin as a permanent reminder of him and how important he is to me.”

He doesn’t know what he expects Emma to say, what her response should be. They’ve only been dating for a few weeks, and that was probably too much. But she asked.

If she asks him, he’ll tell her the truth. Always.

That’s the promise he can make to her.

Instead of speaking, Emma crawls up the mattress and plants her knees on either side of his hips, settling herself on his lap while her hands card into his hair, scratching at his scalp. Her lips slide over his, stealing his breath away. He’s never felt a kiss like this, never felt so much emotion in the movement of another mouth on his, but it’s like she’s trying to pour the words she doesn’t have into the kiss.

And it’s working.

He may be the one out of the two of them who works in words, who tries to make them pretty when they’re not, but Emma’s able to convey so much with so little.

He’s halfway in love with her, and he could tip over and be all in at any time, with any movement.

That might have been the movement.

Shaking his head, he brings himself out of the memory and tugs his towel up before pushing his hair off of his face. He’s about to dry his hair when there’s a knock on his door, a banging really. It sounds angry, hard, and he huffs as he makes his way out into the hallway, ready to yell at whoever is knocking on his door like they’d like to knock it down.

But then he opens it without looking through the peephole, which is either his worst mistake or greatest decision, because standing in front of him with red eyes and windblown hair is the love of his life.

The one he hasn’t seen in five months.

Three if he counts the time he saw her getting coffee at their old shop, but it was just a flash of blonde hair, a glimpse of a red jacket.

Emma.

Fuck.

He was not prepared for this. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this no matter how many times he wished for her to show up again.

He doesn’t even know that he’s clenching his fist and grinding his teeth until his hand starts to hurt and his head starts to ache. Maybe his heart too.

Bloody hell. It’s a good thing he writes songs for a living, that he has an excuse for why he thinks like this. Otherwise his thoughts would be that of a teenager having a crush for the first time.

(He’s thirty-two years old.)

Why is she here?

“What are you doing here, Swan?” he grits out, trying to control his emotions and knowing that he’s failing.

Something shifts in her face, the wide doe eyes and timid smile transforming into green slits and a scowl. It’s the look he got every time he did something to piss her off, and he prepares himself for the blowback, knowing that it’s coming.

“How dare you write that song,” she spits, her voice rising and falling with each syllable. “You just put our life, my life out there for everyone to hear.”

Fuck.

The song. He forgot about the song. He forgot that it was being released today. He’s sure his manager has sent him a million emails about it, but he’s been avoiding his phone. He can’t…he wrote the song, recorded it in two tries, and then never listened to it again. It’s too hard, too much, and when his label told him he was legally obligated to release a new single, it was the only one that he had prepared.

The others stay unfinished.

He shouldn’t have released it though. He knows that he shouldn’t have, not with a broken heart, not with Emma still out in the world where she can hear it.

She obviously heard it.

“No one knows it’s about you.”

“I do,” she screams, her face turning red and her voice echoing throughout the hall, so different than the laughter that once resided here, “I know! Our friends know! Everybody goddamn knows! I’m driving down the road on my way home from work, trying to live my life, trying to move on, and I just have everything that I’m trying to forget thrown back in my face like that.”

Trying to move on.

She’s trying to move on.

“Love – ”

“Don’t call me that,” she cries, and he aches, his stomach painfully twisting within him. He could vomit, but he needs to hold it together, needs to let her yell. He did air out their private life, even if it is in metaphors. She deserves this much. “I am not your love. You’ve made that very clear.”

That almost makes his legs fall out from beneath him. He’s never not loved her. He’s always loved her. He will always love her. He’s never wanted her to be anything else.

“Swan,” he speaks, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to calm his breathing, “if you want to yell at me, come inside. I have neighbors, and I don’t think we want them witnessing this.”

She scoffs, her body showing all of the signs of her stubbornness, but she walks inside anyways, walks inside like she did thousands of times before, walks inside like she still belongs.

She does.

He gives himself a minute to control his breathing, to try to pull together his emotions, so he takes a few breaths in and out and fakes it as spending time locking the door before turning around. The sight of her standing in his (their) apartment nearly knocks all of the breath he just got back out of him, and he has to steady himself on the table, the lone keys shaking in their bowl.

When she turns around, he moves his hand, running it through his hair to push it back before rubbing his face, hoping the tension will go away.

“Why are you here?” he sighs, even though he knows. “The song? You’re mad about the song?”

“Of course I’m mad about the song. How could I not be? Have you heard it?”

“I wrote it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have dozens of other songs about you, nearly every one of them on a record somewhere. You never seemed pissed about those then.”

“We weren’t broken up then.”“Well whose bloody fault is that? Because it’s not mine. I didn’t want to break up.”

Hot tears sting behind his eyes, his throat closing in on itself. He can’t do this. He can’t. He has to.

He finally said the words he’s been holding inside of him.

“You think I wanted to break up?” she screams, the volume and hoarseness of it taking him back a bit. “You think I wanted to be having breakdowns on the side of the road because I can’t handle reliving parts of our relationship. You think I wanted to be the girl who sat at home and cried every time you didn’t pick up the phone? Every time you had to go one minute into our conversation? Every time I went out with my friends and heard your voice on the speakers at a bar when I hadn’t actually heard your voice in days? You think I wanted that?”

He’s about to say something back, to yell every single feeling he’s felt for months now, but then Emma quickly falls to the ground, her back against the wall while her arms wrap around her knees, making her as small as possible. That’s exactly what she does when her emotions become too much, when she doesn’t have the words, and he chokes down his own sob.

He’s hurt, but seeing her hurting is the worst thing for him. He can hurt. He can be the one who’s sad, but not Emma. She should…she should be happy. All he wants is for her to be happy.

“Emma,” he sighs, trying to steady himself for her. When she doesn’t respond, he kneels down in front of her, knowing his towel isn’t going to hold up but not caring. “Emma, are you okay?”

She peeks her head up, her eyes soaked with tears while her shoulders shake. “Do you think I’m okay?”

“No.” Without hesitation he reaches and wipes away the tears. It’s something he’s always done. He doesn’t see why he should stop now, even as he feels a tear escape his own eye. “I’m sorry, lo – Swan. I’m sorry that you heard the song and that it hurt you.”

“Why’d you write it then? You had to know that I’d hear it eventually.”

“Because I hurt too. Music is how I deal with things. You know this. You’ve always known this. And how the hell else am I supposed to deal with my heartbreak?”

“By writing the damn song and then not putting it on the radio.”

He chuckles under his breath, not able to help himself. She always sees thing so simply, just as they are.

“I had to fulfill my contract. I had to release a new single.”

“Don’t you have another one? One that’s not about us?”

“No.”

Emma sighs, throwing her head back against the wall and tightly closing her eyes. He can tell that she hurts. He hurts. He aches, really. His entire body aches with pain.

He wishes that she hadn’t come here, that she hadn’t shown up.

But he doesn’t think he’d trade seeing her face for anything in the world.”“How long are you home?”“What?” he stutters, not expecting that question.

She finally opens her eyes again. They’re clearer than they’ve been all this time. “How long are you home this time? How long until you have to leave again?”

“A few weeks. I’ve got to go back and meet with the guys for a couple of days at the end of September.”

He doesn’t expect what happens next, but he should have. He’s kissed Emma more times than he can count, and he should have seen the signs of her getting ready to kiss him. But before he can process any of this, she’s sliding her lips over his in a demanding kiss that makes him feel like they never stopped this, like they were never apart. Her hands are in his hair immediately, tugging him closer, and his hands find her face, the smooth skin just as he remembered it.

It’s like coming home after being away for months at a time. If anyone knows how that feels, it’s him.

He hasn’t felt like he had a home in months.

For right now, despite the fact that he knows this is a relapse, that he knows this is likely a mistake, he’s going to let it feel like home. He’s going to find home in Emma.

He almost stops them, but then she’s pushing him onto the ground, his towel falling open while she straddles his hips, rolling her hips into his while he trusts up into her, their lips never parting. He has no control after that, not after experiencing how damn good she makes him feel, so he doesn’t stop them when they stumble into the bedroom.

He doesn’t want to stop them.

So he enjoys himself, enjoys the way that she feels exactly the same when he slides into her, enjoys the way that she makes the same little sounds when he nibbles at her ear, enjoys the way that she still does that thing where she traces the muscles of his back with her fingers when she’s falling apart at his touch.

He enjoys it all and wishes with every breath in him that he can somehow fix the brokenness. That they can fix the brokenness.

After they’re finished, they don’t talk for nearly thirty minutes. He expected Emma to leave the moment he pulled out of her, but she didn’t. She stayed. She stayed while he cleaned them up. She stayed to go to the restroom. She stayed to slip into her favorite of his sweaters. She stayed to cuddle with him afterwards, her cheek resting against his chest.

She stayed.

But just because she stayed doesn’t mean that things are okay. He knows this. He’s just having a difficult time admitting it. But he has to.

“Sex doesn’t solve our problems, Swan. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she says, tightening her arms around his chest. “I don’t…we shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t even still be here. I’m not sure what came over me, over us.”

“A hell of a lot of emotions.” He presses a kiss against her forehead, wanting more proof that she’s real, that this isn’t a dream. “We’ve got…there’s a lot left between us, love. There was never anything wrong between us, I don’t think. I just wasn’t there.”

He hates that he wasn’t there. He should have been there.

“That’s kind of what went wrong. You can’t be in a relationship without being there.”

He knows. He knows. He knows.

But they still work. They’re still them. If he’s around, they can still be them. That’s what he has to tell himself.

“But it’s not us. It was the distance, my job.”

“Which is your dream.”

“Aye, it was my dream,” he confirms softly, running his fingers through her hair and down her back. She’s real, she’s real, she’s real. “It is my dream. But I should have never let it come between us. You’ve been my life for half a decade. You have been there for absolutely everything, and I should have tried harder, should have done more.”

“I don’t think there was anything either of us could have done.”

She sounds broken, like she doesn’t want to be having this conversation. Or maybe she can’t be having it. Maybe this is all too hard. But he needs to talk to her. He needs to work things out. There’s no other way.

If she doesn’t want him back, she doesn’t. He can’t change that. He can’t force her into anything. But he can hope. There’s always hope.

He still loves her.

He’ll always love her.

“I could have made more time to call. I could have scheduled breaks between cities. I could have booked a flight for me, for you. I could have done so much to save us, to make you feel less alone.”

“Killian, this isn’t all on you.”

“No, no, it’s not,” he admits, knowing that their relationship wasn’t perfect, that there were other things to fix, “but I’ve had five months of living alone, even when I wasn’t here, to think about all of the things I could have changed.”

“Me too,” she sighs, lifting her head from his chest and untangling her legs before she moves to the other side of the bed, putting distance between them all the while he rubs his hand up and down his face trying to work out the stress lines. Why is she moving? Why is she putting space between them?  “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either. Do you even want to try again? Or are we chalking this up to a one-time thing? To a fallback?”

He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. He has to know.

“I don’t want it to be that,” she answers, and his heart fills with hope. “But I can’t go back to how we were…what do you want?”

“You.”

That’s it. That’s all he wants. He just wants to be with her. No part of it is a lie.

Her eyes blow wide, her lips opening before quickly closing. “That’s all. You just want me?”

“Always, Emma” he promises, smiling despite himself, the hope growing even more. “But you’re right. We can’t…I can’t leave like that. I can’t do things just for me without considering you. And you can’t let me just do it and say that things are okay.”

“I kind of figured you knew things weren’t okay.”

He didn’t. He should have. But they can’t change the past. He knows that now.

“You’ve never lied to me, so I didn’t expect it then. I always believed the words that you said.”

“So what are we doing, Killian? What do we do?”

He shrugs, sitting up against the headboard. He won’t lie to her. He’ll tell her the truth. Always.  “We try again. We make compromises. We do better. For ourselves. For each other. And maybe I don’t put a song out without letting you know.”She smiles, the first genuine smile without heartbreak hidden behind it for the first time today. It makes his heart absolutely soar with the hope that they can fix them. What’s that saying? Hope is the thing with feathers. Hope can fly.

“I’d like that.”

It’s not easy, but he didn’t expect it to be. They take things slowly, beginning things by just talking, by taking days to talk through their issues, to talk through all of the things that they’ve missed. It’s a lot of life to catch up on, but he and Emma have always worked. They understand each other, and they know when to push and to pull.

It’s just taking a bit of relearning.

But things do get better, and eventually they get back into the groove of things. There are more smiles than tears, and they go back to making each other laugh. They go back to being them.

He really likes making her laugh.

Their friends are thrilled if not a bit wary, but he reminds himself that this isn’t about their friends, it’s about them. The same goes with his bandmates when he tells them, when he has to after his lyrics become brighter, less melancholy. Some of them practically collapse in happiness that he won’t be “broody” anymore, but others ask him if he’s sure, if he really wants this.

He does.

Because at the end of the day, at the end of every day after awhile, he gets to come home and put his keys in a bowl that holds another set, the metal clanking together in a tune that’s sweeter than any music he can make.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

Love better.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane & Alec Lightwood & Max Lightwood-Bane & Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Max Lightwood-Bane & Rafael Lightwood-Bane Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Max Lightwood-Bane, Rafael Lightwood-Bane Additional Tags: Mortality, Domestic Malec Summary:

Something's off with Max, and not just the normal teenager-my-parents-suck-stuff. It's more than that. And Rafael is done being kept at a distance from his brother.

“Magnus?”

He had barely closed their bedroom door, when Alec, already in bed, called out for him.

“What is it?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, you know that. And I really wish you would, you look quite anxious.” Magnus joined his husband on the bed and took Alec's hands in his. “What's worrying you?”

“Max is”, Alec sighed. “Have you noticed anything different about our boy?”

“Not really”, Magnus shook his head and thought back on the last few days, weeks, but nothing unusual came to mind. “But I'm worried now: Am I a bad father?”

“Please, you're the best father anybody could wish for”, Alec brushed his doubts away. “Maybe I'm overreacting, but it feels like he's keeping his distance. And I don't know what I did wrong to push him away.” Alec dropped his head and stared at their entangled hands.

“Or maybe our little warlock is just a typical teenager”, Magnus suggested with a shrug. It had been the same with Rafael a few years back; from a certain age on, your parents were just lame and so uncool. Or whatever the current slang was; Magnus didn't even bother with trying to catch up, especially since every now and then he still threw in slang from Victorian times.

“Maybe...” Alec looked back up, but didn't seemed to be convinced. “It's just... It felt different with Rafael. Instead of getting overemotional, bitchy or something like that, Max just closes himself off.”

That was indeed weird, their little blueberry wore his emotions on his sleeve. And to Magnus that hadn't stopped. So maybe there was some truth to Alexander's suspicions.

“Do you want to talk to him then?”

“I don't know... Maybe I am overreacting and it's really just some teenager-stuff and if that's the case I don't want to push him further away by being pushy and probing.”

Magnus squeezed his husband's hand and shot him the most encouraging smile he could muster up. “I trust you and your judgement. I'll keep my eyes on Max and I'm sure that if there's something bothering him, he'll come to us.”

“Ok”, Alec nodded and smiled back, “I have no reasons to doubt the smartest man I know.” He leaned over and brushed their lips together. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hermano, we need to talk.” Rafa burst into Max' room, leaving the warlock no chance to argue. Besides, he knew better than to start bitching; Rafa already looked pissed off enough, no need to aggravate him further.

So, instead of groaning at his brother to leave him alone, he put the comic book down and looked up at Rafael, who had closed the door behind himself. “What's up?”

“That's a damn good question.” He stomped over to where Max was sprawled out on the bed, pushed the warlock's legs off it to make room for himself and sat down. “What's up with you?”

“I'm alright”, he shrugged, not exactly sure where Rafael was going with this.

“Right”, the older brother scoffed. “Of course you're alright, that's why you keep avoiding me and Dad. Is it a Shadowhunter thing?”

Shit. Of course Rafael was right, hitting the nail on the head, but that was not a conversation Max was comfortable with having right now. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“You're a horrible liar”, Rafa sighed and the anger on his face dropped and turned into a more saddened expression. “I just... If you tell me what I did wrong, I'll happily fix it. I don't want to lose you, man.”

“But I'm gonna lose you!”, Max just blurted out. Shit, not how he wanted this to go...

“What?” Now Rafael looked like he had no idea what was going on. “Why are you going to lose me?”

Damnit. Well, there was no need in trying to talk around it, but then again, there was also no way to make Rafael understand... “I'm immortal”, he just mumbled, his head hung low. “You're not. Dad is not. And... I'm not like Papa, I can't handle it. I can't just keep a little box with your stele or something...”

“What are you talking about? What box with my stele?”

Max couldn't explain, he had to show his brother. Papa and Dad were both at the Institute right now and there was no danger in looking through Papa's old stuff, so Max got up and motioned for Rafe to follow him.

“A while ago I was looking for a specific spell book. But instead I found this little box.” It wasn't really hidden in the shelf, but also not on full display, disappearing in the sheer amount of books, tokens, fangs and all that magical stuff so it wasn't surprising that neither of the brothers had ever seen it before.

“What's that?”, Rafe asked, as Max carefully got it out of the cupboard and put it on the living room table.

“I asked myself the same thing, so I looked inside. It's Papa's”, he explained and lifted the lid. “Memories of past friends, loved ones, all the people he outlived.”

Completely silent, Rafael walked over and inspected the box, somewhat curious and terrified at the same time. There was this old wartime photograph of Papa with some blonde guy, having his arms around him. There was an old watch, almost ancient and Max was afraid to touch it, out of fear it'd break. There was an amulet with a beautiful gem that, depending on how the light shone on it, shimmered green or almost as blue as Max' skin. There were letters and postcards, some of them hundreds of years old.

“Put it away”, Rafael demanded and quickly turned around and walked away.

Max complied and followed his brother into his room, where he already sat on the bed with an empty expression on his face.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shown you”, Max apologized and sat next to his brother, putting his hand on the Shadowhunter's shoulder.

“No, it's alright, it's just...” He turned to Max with his brown eyes all sad. “I never thought about that, you know? I mean I know that you and Papa are immortal, but I never really got it...”

“I know what you mean”, Max nodded and scooted a little closer. “I never really gave it too much thought as well. Until I found that box and... I don't know if I can do that. Just keep some memories and then move on... I'm not strong like Papa.” Max didn't bother trying to fight the tears that were making their way down his cheek; he had cried enough about losing who he loved to know that any tries to blink the tears away were useless.

“Please”, Rafe shot back, trying to smile encouragingly, but tearing up as well. “You're as strong as Papa and Dad put together.”

Max was about to argue that, when he heard the apartment door opening. “Boys, we're home!”

“Please don't tell them that I've been snooping in Papa's stuff”, Max pleaded as he wiped the tears of his cheek.

“I won't”, Rafe promised and dried his own face.

And like that a silent promise went between them to keep what they just realized from their parents. It's not that they didn't trusted them, on the contrary. But how should they even start this conversation? There was nothing that Max could say, it was just a sucky feeling and all talking would not change the fact Max was immortal.

“Boys? Where are you?”, Dad called and after making sure that he was indeed tear-free, Max walked out into the living room with Rafa on his heels.

“Ah, there you are. We got pizza on our way home, hope you're hungry”, Papa smiled and put the cartons on the table.

“Starving”, Rafe forced himself to smile and sat himself between Max and Papa.

“Good, then dig in!”

“Everything at the Institute alright?”, Max asked, as Dad cut their dinner, trying his best to sound casual. Maybe talking about something completely different would distract him enough, at least until he was back in the privacy of his room.

“As alright as leaving Uncle Jace in charge can be”, Papa chuckled and Dad just rolled his eyes.

“My life would be a lot easier, if Jace just stuck to being the house husband, and let Clary be a fulltime Shadowhunter... Huh”, he chuckled. “I never thought I'd prefer working with Clary instead of Jace...”

Papa chuckled along. “Jace and Simon could start a Dad's club, let Izzy and Clary battle New York's demons. The ladies are fiercer than their husbands, definitely.”

As Dad and Papa continued reminiscing about a time when Dad hated Aunt Clary, Max just focused on his pizza. Which was hard to do, his stomach had dropped to some very uncomfortable places and Max felt like he would be sick.

Under the table, Rafael reached out and grabbed Max's hand, squeezing it reassuringly and he could just start crying again. Damnit, Rafa was so much better at putting on a brave face, he even managed to smile as he ate his pizza, instead of the young warlock.

“Max?” At Dad's call, he dared to look up, biting hard on his tongue to keep from breaking down. “Are you alright?” Dad looked worried about him, but Max decided to play it as cool as he could.

“Yeah”, he lied, forcing a smile, “I'm just a little off I guess...”

He leaned over the table and put his hand on Max's forehead. “You're not feverish, that's good.”

“I think I'll just need to get to bed a little earlier”, he shrugged, before Dad could examine him some more and prayed to whoever would listen that Dad would just accept it and leave him be. Otherwise Max would break down any moment.

“That's probably a good thing”, Papa nodded. “The pizza will still be good tomorrow. Do you want to lie down here on the couch on go to your bed?”

Damnit, why did they have to care so much instead of just letting Max leave? “I'll go to bed” he answered instead and slowly got up. “Just have dinner”, he shot over at Dad who motioned to get up with Max. “I'm ok, just tired.”

“Right.” Dad sat back down, looking somewhat awkward at Max. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will”, he forced a smile.

As soon as he had the bedroom door closed behind him, he let the tears run wild.

This was so unfair! Why did he have to deal with this? Max was fifteen for crying out loud, he should worry about curfews and avoiding being grounded, not the inevitability of life and death!

Wallowing in his self-pity, he lost all sense of time, until his door opened.

“Relax, it's me.” Rafa held his arms up defensively, as Max jumped up off the bed, ready to face whoever walked through the door. Seeing that it was just his brother, Max fell back down, and the Shadowhunter sat next to him and pulled the younger brother close.

“Sorry”, Max mumbled and pressed himself against Rafael's side. He was only three years older than him, but quite a bit bigger; Papa always joked about the Shadowhuntergene, with Dad being so much taller than him. Right now it was nothing but comforting though.

“Nothing to be sorry for”, Rafa assured him, gently rubbing up and down Max's back.

They sat in silence for a while, calming each other down. After seeing Papa's box, Rafa too was pretty shaken. He preferred to play the big and strong warrior though, so Max pretended not to notice the tears that made their way down Rafael's cheek.

And then a soft knock echoed through the room. “It's us”, Dad announced, “can we come in?”

Max looked up, seeing Rafa being just as afraid and worried about what their parents would think about their issues... They couldn't keep on pretending, though. Clearly the adults knew that something was up and maybe the sooner they'd get out with it, the sooner it'd be over. With a flick of his wrist, Max magicked the door to open and their dads walked in, sitting on each side of the boys.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Max wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure what to say, what his issue was and... It was just hopeless. So he scooted a little closer against Rafael, who answered instead. “We found Papa's box.”

“What box do you... Oh.” Papa went quiet again, when realization hit.

“I just don't want to one day have only your bow and arrow in a box, with Rafe's stele next to it”, Max eventually admitted, it was barely more than a mumble though.

“And is that all we're gonna be for you one day?”, Rafael asked, sounding like he was scared of the answer.

“What? No way”, Papa made clear. “You are my sons and I love you more than anyone or anything ever before. Even in three, four or eight hundred years, I can promise you that.”

Dad moved over and put an arm around Max. “And it's true the other way round as well. Even when I'm up there with Raziel, I'll still love you and that won't change.”

“Yeah, but it will change!” Max looked up at his Dad, who tried to look brave, but he was actually sad. “You'll leave us, Rafe'll leave us and I... I'm not like Papa. I can't deal with that.”

“Well”, Dad smiled, “you don't need to be like Papa, because you are so, so strong just the way you are; I know it. I can see it every time you train, every time you help the little warlocks with their spells, when you teach the young Shadowhunters about magic... To put it in terms of Uncle Simon, you have an absolute superpower and that is your big heart. And yes, having a big heart like this, it's gonna cause a lot of pain. But do you think it'd be more painful never loving your brother or missing him, but all that in the best of memories?”

“It's really unfair”, Max stated, after his Dad's speech had sunk in. “You don't even know what it's like, but can give a speech like that?” Max wasn't sure whether he was impressed or annoyed that Dad thought he knew what it felt like.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, “that's your Papa's fault. We've talked a lot about this, him and me, when many, many years ago, I too found the box and started to realize a thing or two.”

“Your Dad was so hurt, to be seemingly only one in a long line of loved ones”, Papa continued the story. “He was scared, like you are”, he squeezed Rafael's shoulder, “that one day I would just move on and confine him to a piece of memorabilia. All I can promise you, is that with all my power I'll fight to never let that happen. And Max'll help me with that, and I'll help him with that as well.”

Mhm. Did Max feel better right now? No, not really. He still dreaded the future like nobody's business and he could feel how Rafael next to him felt the same way.

“This won't get easy over night, not even in a decade or two. What Papa and I have learned though, is that we need to talk about those things. Especially the things that scare us. Our lives just are a little contrasting, being Shadowhunters or Warlocks makes a few differences”, Dad shrugged. “It doesn't matter what it's about, come and talk to us, ok? Because there is nothing, absolutely nothing in this or any other world that could make us not love you anymore.”

“Really nothing?”, Rafa asked, and just a bit of a grin broke through.

“Son”, Papa grinned back, “I believe there's nothing that can shock a parent more than what the two of us did to our parents.”

“That sounds like a challenge”, Max giggled and grinned up at his Dad, who smiled right back.

“It is an unwinnable challenge for you two”, he made clear. “I'll bet the entire Shadow World that me and your Papa will love you until the sun explodes.”

“Max! We need to go!”, Magnus called for the third time.

“I'M COMING!”, he yelled back and Magnus could hear the eye roll.

“We'll be late to little Alexander's rune ceremony”, Magnus reminded his son, as he finally made it out of the bathroom.

“I need to look good for my great-grand nephew, though”, he grinned and Magnus could only smile back.

“You do look very nice. Not sure who you dressed up for... I'm pretty sure Alexander doesn't mind, en contraire to a certain warlock lady...”, he added with a grin and a wink, before opening a portal.

“Oh my god, Papa! Don't be embarrassing!”, Max groaned, flushing nicely purpleish.

“Me? How preposterous! Wait, you got a little bit...” Magnus straightened Max's lapels and motioned to tuck a stray strand of dark blue hair behind the young warlock's ear, when he moved back.

“Can you cut it out? I'm 112, I can get dressed all by myself, thank you very much.”

“Your Dad used to say the same thing. And then he'd go out in washed-out jeans and an old ratty shirt...” As much as he loved him, Magnus could only shudder at the thought of his late husband's style, especially in the early years of their relationship.

“That's harsh”, Max shot back with his mouth gaping open. “You're really calling me a fashion disaster like Dad?”

“Thankfully you take after me, style-wise”, Magnus chuckled and pushed Max through the portal to the institute, where everybody already seemed to be assembled.

Max didn't even grace Magnus with much of a glance once he spotted Madzie and hurried over to the girl and the seat next to her that just happened to be empty still.

“It looks like you'll owe me twenty bucks soon”, Catarina chuckled and came up on Magnus' side, looking at the lovebirds.

“They're not together yet”, he shot back, “and it's only a few weeks left till Christmas. I can still win the bet.”

“Yeah, right. Come on, you're great-great-grandson's rune ceremony s about to start.” She nudged his arm and he followed her to an empty seat, as they watched Alexander walk down the aisle, all determined and a little scared for his big moment.

He didn't just inherit the name; the little Shadowhunter reminder Magnus so much of his Alexander, his determination, his drive...

Optically, he definitely got his great grand dad's looks though. Whenever Magnus got the chance to tousle those unruly curls, he always had wonderful flashbacks to Rafael scrunching up his face when Magnus stroked his head.

.

“Hey, Papa?” Magnus enjoyed a wonderful cocktail at the party, when Max walked up to him. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I am”, he smiled. “are you?”

“I think so...” Well, that looked like he was not alright at all.

Magnus put his arm around Max's shoulder and together they walked out on the balcony, where they could sit in private. “What's bothering you?”

“Nothing, it's just... There's a lot of talk about Alexander Lightwood today, obviously. But, it just... It hurts so much. And then he looks just like Rafa and... you know?”

“I do”, Magnus nodded and pulled his son in for a hug. “I miss them, too. Every day. But that's love, you know?”

“Well, love sucks.”

“No, it doesn't”, Magnus smiled. “Love hurts, yes. But in the final balance... Not even all the pain at missing your Dad and brother can dampen the joy I feel that I got to spend around seventy years with them. Nobody can take those years away from us. Nobody can ever take away that Alexander was my husband, that he was your Dad; nobody can ever ruin Rafael being our son and brother.” He gently stroked Max's back, who had his face pressed against Magnus' shoulder; he knew his son well enough to know that he fought with everything he had against the tears and was losing that fight. “Love hurts. And for centuries I locked myself off, just forbade myself from loving anybody. Those were the loneliest years of my life. Yes, I had Catarina, there was my friend Ragnor I told you stories about, but I thought being miserable now was not as bad as being heartbroken then. That was not true, at all.”

He cupped Max's face and locked eyes with his son. “Your Dad showed me what love is all about. And I am so happy for every second, because being with him gave me you and Rafael. And as much as it hurts, how can I be angry about having gotten to be a husband, a father? It was the best damn thing that could have happened to me.”

“And to us”, Max chuckled and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Without you, Rafe would have lived his whole life on the street and who knows where I would have ended up.”

“Maybe everything does happen for a reason”, Magnus smiled. He wasn't sure he believed that, but who knew... There could be a grain of truth in there.

“Maybe”, Max smiled. “Thanks, I feel so much better now.”

“Good.” Magnus leaned over and pressed a kiss against Max's forehead.

“Ok, then I'll let you get back to your cocktail”, he decided and got up, determination clear in his eyes.

“And where are you off to?”

“Well, there's something I need to do...” The way his cheeks flushed in deep purple, there was only one thing Max could be talking about.

“Uhm, no”, Magnus decided and motioned for Max to sit back down.

“What now?”

“You can't, not yet at least”, Magnus explained. “You need to wait until Christmas.”

“Why, so you can win your bet against Aunt Catarina?”, Max shot back with a raised eyebrow, a look he definitely had learned from his Dad.

“So you know about that, alright.” Now it was Magnus who blushed ever so slightly.

“Yes. Madzie and I know about that”, he deadpanned. “And we are not amused.”

“Sorry, son.”

“Yeah, well, you should be. Because somebody told me that no amount of pain and hardship can compare with the wonderfulness that is lo... Well, what might be there”, he corrected himself, blushing some more.

“Using my words against me... Not sure whether I should be proud or ground you”, Magnus grinned.

“I'm 112, you can't ground me anymore”, Max made clear, shot him a grin and strutted back into the building.

“Well, Alexander.” Magnus looked up at the sky, where he assumed his husband to be. “No need to worry about us. Max is doing just great. He's growing up to be a man just like his Dad and I know you couldn't be prouder. I'm really lucky to have him, he has been making my life worth living these last fifty years without you. Well, I should get back to our great-great-grandson's rune party. It's about damn time though; this institute has been living without an Alexander Lightwood for way too long.”