#given that she is currently on a world tour it’s not good

[jentlemahae]

-

[drakeanddice]

Haunted by a fantasy world where "adventurer" is handled in the same way as "assassin" in John Wick. An ifykyk secondary economy running on gold coins where everyone knows each other but no one acknowledges the elephant in the room because we have manners about our weird-ass line of deadly desperate dangerous work.

Rolling into town, looking immaculate. Checking into the Inn. Not an inn, or the coaching house, or the traveler's hostel. The Inn. The one that takes my ridiculous oversized coin and says that my room is ready, and will I need to visit the Smith today? Perhaps a meeting with the Vintner? Shall I send up the Gourmand?

"Good afternoon, Master Whicke," the Smith says, putting aside the barrel scraper he's been working on to flip a switch beside the forge. Racks of tenpenny nails and trowels and hammers fold back to reveal the glittering points and edges of a score of swords and axes and spearpoints lit with the flicker of finely-tuned enchantments. "Shall we tour what's new?"

"What sort of occasion are we hosting, Master Whicke?" The Vintner asks, pocketing the coin with a sigh. "A funeral," you say.

"Ah, well perhaps something light to start, then," she says selecting a straight-walled flask that glitters with contained starlight, proof against the touch of the undead. " And something for remembrance," she plucks a small crock of something evil-smelling and phosphorescent. "And then something to really bring down the house." She gingerly selects a double ampoule of energetic looking jellies.

The Gourmand carefully runs his knife through the salted flank of a cockatrice with a pursing of the lips. "So many neglect trail rations, Master Whicke, and it is their shame. Paired with goldenwheat pancakes and carrion honey, a mouthful of cockatrice--properly seasoned of course--will keep the mummy rot at bay, even post-exposure. I have been given to indicate by the Management that your current escapade may make such information useful to you. I will of course wrap your purchases exceedingly carefully. Rot will be your constant companion in the Black Pyramid."

There's something here.

[terastalungrad]

Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine.  According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire.  According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset.  That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle.  Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun!  This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on.  It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material.  He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material.  That’s a big taboo.  I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

[piratefishmama]

Stevie Harrington who always had a weird little crush on the town freak but was too much of a chicken shit to really do anything about it.

Like she'd heard the stories from Cass an Nicole, what he was like, how he treated them (wonderfully apparently), they giggled and bragged and maybe for a brief half an hour of gossiping with the girls she'd entertained the idea of maybe going and seeking him out herself... but then Carol had rolled her eyes, called them both gross, called Eddie trailer trash and then Tommy had told them point blank that they should probably go get tested.

Stevie put her little crush into a box and just kind of. Hid it there for fear of judgement, for fear of exclusion, expulsion from her friend group for daring to want someone who didn't fit their 'image'.

It wasnt like Eddie ever really made any attempt to talk to her anyway, looked at her occasionally, they traded glances across the hall, which he'd quickly break and hide behind his hair (cute), she lent him her pencil once and never got it back. Saw it on occasion, resting on his ear, pointing out from within his mass of unruly curls.

Cute.

But then they graduate, Eddie taking a little longer to do it but he does it, to the mass cheering hysteria of his chaotic group of nerdy gremlins, given his 'only Munson to Graduate' status, the chaos was a given really.

And then he's gone. Got out of Hawkins as fast as his legs could carry him leaving his incredibly proud uncle behind to cheer him on from a distance.

An it should have been easy really, to move on from her little crush, the one she'd hid in a box for safe keeping, it should have been easy to find someone else, she was never unnattractive, in fact she was probably one of the most sought after women in Hawkins, but... she just doesnt.

She has flings here and there, meaningless one night stands, dates that dont really do it for her. Laments to her new best friend and sister she never knew she needed, Robin, about how she'd let popularity screw her out of what could probably have been something really good. She'd let fear of exclusion stop her from going for what she wanted.

Robin had scoffed, called Eddie three wet opossum in a trench coat, but it'd never been with quite as much judgement or disgust as her old friends had talked about him, so it was safe for her to talk.

But Robin also knew Ronnie from band, and Ronnie, had Eddie's current phone number. And so Robin, now had two VIP tickets to the brand new location on Corroded Coffin's most recent tour that they've only just very spontaneously added to the list because Eddie is, and always has been, a fucking simp.

So, y'know. Maybe harbouring that crush for as long as she had, wasnt the worst idea in the world.

Eddie still hides behind his hair. It's still very cute.

[tswift]

I never doubted for one second that the reason she doesn’t speak up on all the world’s issues is due to safety. She isn’t perfect, she’s not some great political activist, but she has a heart and she has good intentions. It was baffling to see how easily people attacked her character (fans too, not just her typical haters) because she wasn’t speaking on things they expected or wanted her to. We may not know Taylor personally, but she’s shared so much with us over the years. Some of us grew up with her. The one thing that is clear as day is how genuine she is. Yes, she falls short. But some of these expectations placed on her are just simply unrealistic. And also, given the current state of the world, dangerous. I’m sure she will have plenty to say once the tour wraps.

[archangeldyke-all]

arranged marriage between royal!Sev & royal!reader pls 👁️👁️

OOOOOOHHHHH

men and minors dni

your betrothed does not seem happy about the situation at hand.

to be fair, up until five minutes ago, you weren't either.

apparently, being a grown unmarried woman is more shameful to your parents than your attraction to women. so they've scoured the world for another unmarried royal woman who shares your proclivities as they call it, and sent a letter to her father.

all without your knowing, of course.

you weren't aware that your visit to the foreign nation of zaun was anything more than a show of alliance until last night, when your parents revealed their ruse to you.

apparently, you are to be married.

the only reason you aren't screaming and trying to flee the wedding currently happening, is because you've caught sight of the woman you are to be marrying in three minutes.

she's gorgeous.

you're shocked into silence, all your protests and complaints about the morning evaporating the moment your eyes land on the woman scowling at the end of the aisle.

your mother chuckles beside you, and you glare at her.

"y-you didn't tell me she was--"

"what? good looking? you didn't think i'd marry you off to some inbred asshole, did you?" she teases.

"well..." you trail off. you kinda did. your mother giggles.

"you'll be happy to know that she's incredibly intelligent, she's her father's main military consult, and she spends most of her time in her own estate in the mountains about mile away from the palace."

she just keeps getting better and better. you suddenly feel... inadequate. an entirely new anxiety settles in your stomach, your fears of not liking your bride-to-be evaporating at the sight of her.

"w-what if she doesn't like me?" you whisper.

your mother snorts, and then the music swells.

you're walked down the aisle by your parents, the three of you glittering in jewels and gold.

your fiance stands at the end of the aisle, a small frown on her lips as she watches you approach. you feel like you might throw up. she looks like she's being held hostage.

when you reach the altar, you stand awkwardly in front of your bride as her father's voice bellows to the crowds gathered in the palace. "we are gathered here today to celebrate the love of our next generation of leaders..."

"fuckin' bullshit." your bride mutters.

you snort grossly under your veil. your mother elbows you hard, but your fiance's eyes spark, just a bit.

"i... i take it you didn't agree to this either?" you whisper.

the princess-- sevika, you've been told-- smirks, just a little. you wouldn't be able to tell if you weren't standing six inches away from her. "you could say that."

you almost gasp when she reaches forward and grabs both of your gloved hands. you manage to catch yourself, realizing that she's just following the wedding proceedings, and then try to put your head on straight as you gently thread your fingers through hers.

she's studying your hands with a furrow in her brow. you squeeze her, and her eyes dart up, her eyes squinted as she tries to make you out through the veils over your face.

"so..." she whispers as her father blabbers on. "how do you like zaun?" she asks awkwardly.

you choke back a laugh, and her lips twitch a bit at the muffled sound. "it's lovely. i was given a tour by boat yesterday-- the water here is beautiful."

"you'll like my estate then. or... our estate, i guess." she mutters. "it overlooks the spot where the river opens into the ocean. it's..." her eyes are soft and affectionate as she talks.

"beautiful." you whisper.

her lips twitch again, and she nods. the crown on her head tilts forward just a bit, and you gently reach up and straighten it for her, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear before bringing your hand back down to hers.

the crowd rustles with an awkward silence. both you and sevika look around, trying to figure out what's happened.

"lift her veil." silco-- sevika's closest advisor-- hisses out from over her shoulder. sevika blinks rapidly, then bites her lip to keep from laughing.

you almost smack her hands away when she reaches forward.

you're a princess, sure, and you'll be married regardless of what she thinks of you-- but you really want her to like you... because it's starting to feel like you might like her. and you've only known her for five minutes.

for one horrifying moment as sevika focuses on tucking your veils over your crown, you wait to see her reaction.

but then, her sparkly silver eyes flick down to yours, and a surprised little smile breaks out across her face.

"o-oh." she whispers. you gulp, and her father's voice booms. something about loyalty and honor and the unity of two nations. you're only focused on her, though. "hi." she says shyly.

you let out a relieved laugh, squeezing her hands in yours again. "hi." you giggle. sevika's tiny little smile only grows, crinkles forming around her eyes and an adorable gap-tooth revealing itself. "y-you..." you look over your shoulder at her father, blathering on. "you're very beautiful." you whisper.

sevika's responding grin makes your knees wobble. "it's funny you say that, i was just thinking the same thing about you." she says.

you gulp, looking down at your intertwined hands and then back up at your future wife. "i-i was much more upset about this whole ordeal ten minutes ago." you admit.

sevika opens her mouth to say something, but then she's cut off. "and now, as a seal of their love and commitment to unity, the brides shall kiss." her father's voice booms. she grins, and leans forward, kissing you softly.

you drop her hands, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. sevika hums into your mouth, her arms reaching out to hold your waist, pulling you closer and closer and closer--

"ahem!" your mother coughs, nudging you.

you and sevika pull apart, gasping for air and giggling at all the shocked, gawking faces in the crowd. "whoops." she whispers.

you lean forward and bury your giggles against her shoulder as your parents and her father exchange gifts and shake hands.

sevika leans down while the focus is off the two of you, and whispers in your ear. "so, are you wearing white 'cause you're really a virgin?"

you giggle against her shoulder and nip her earlobe, beyond thrilled at the way she squeaks and jumps a bit. "you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

"fuck-- you think we can skip our own reception?"

"no, but i do think we can find an empty room in this big ass castle to sneak away to. get to know one another a little better." you tease.

sevika barks a loud laugh, inturrupting her father's rambling, before she swoops in to kiss you again.

the scandalized gasps from the crowd are entirely worth it.

behind you, you hear your mother tiredly mutter something under her breath to sevika's father. "oh, fuck. this may have been a horrible mistake."

taglist!

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@sevsdollette

[mariaofdoranelle]

Of Rumors and Bodyguards

CO-WRITTEN WITH @leiawritesstories

Written for Rowaelin Month’s Forbidden Love day; @rowaelinscourt

We’re just two writers sharing little evil giggles and big plans, that’s all.

Warnings: swearing

Words: 1,2k

AELIN GALATHYNIUS CHEATING SCANDAL: SPOTTED IN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH BODYGUARD!!!

“QUEEN OF GLASS” STAR SHARED EMBRACE WITH SECURITY GUARD! DORIAN HAVILLIARD IN TEARS!

Aelin Galathynius caught cheating on Dorian Havilliard with bodyguard! Hollywood’s Darling Has How Many Darlings??? See New Photos

After the third ridiculous headline, Aelin dropped both the stack of magazines and her phone and flopped backwards on the hotel bed with a groan. Her publicist had woken her up with coffee and the tabloids, and she wished she had time to wake up before she had to look at the absolutely crazy stories that the gossiping tabloids spread. Even though she had been acting for years, she still wasn’t used to their prying and the constant cameras clicking in her face, even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed.

Besides, that garbage about her and her bodyguard? It was pure nonsense.

Well, mostly nonsense.

The photos they had taken were true enough, because Aelin had hugged her bodyguard last night. However, there was absolutely no romance involved—Whitethorn had been physically supporting her, keeping her on her feet.

Because he’s her bodyguard. He was guarding her body, that’s all—and a lot less than she would like.

She had been about to collapse after she had received a very brief, very shocking call on the phone she rarely used. The voice on the other end had been low, curt, and to the point. There was an accident during a job. We haven’t heard anything from them. That was two weeks ago.

The implication—they could be dead—made Aelin’s whole body go weak, and her security guard’s rapid reflexes were the only thing that had kept her upright. For a moment, she let him hold her, let him stabilize her, leaned into the solid strength of his Kevlar-covered chest. And then she pulled herself together, put away her burner phone, and stepped away from Whitethorn’s hug. She’d given him a nod of thanks, and he nodded back in quiet understanding.

Simple support, and not even an emotional one. That was all that had happened.

Leave it to the tabloids to take that moment out of context and start rumors that spread like wildfire across the Internet.

And Dorian—he was probably too busy with the boyfriend he was definitely hiding from the tabloids to notice the Rumor of the Day, but his publicist would surely give Aelin a piece of her mind soon.

Elide stuck her head into Aelin’s hotel room, rolled her eyes when she saw the magazines discarded on the floor. “You know they’re a load of crap,” the publicist said as she walked over and picked them up. “Also, I need you to read this one.” She flipped one of the magazines open and laid it across Aelin’s lap.

“Why?” Aelin glanced quickly down at the pages, scoffing at the grainy, zoomed-in photos splashed onto the glossy paper. “Gossip pisses me off, Ells.”

“Yeah, I know, but you need to read the actual words so you know how to respond when the people today ask you about it.” As usual, Elide had a good point.

“Fine.” Aelin frowned, but she began to read.

Is Aelin Galathynius Taken By Someone Else?!?!?

The “Queen of Glass” star was spotted last night in an intimate embrace with a man who sources say is her current bodyguard, Rowan Whitethorn, who has been on her security team since March, when Galathynius began this press tour for the newest season of the Netflix hit series.

Sources report that Aelin and her co-star Dorian Havilliard are often seen getting cozy together outside of press appearances, and an exchange in a recent interview confirmed that the pair’s wild, explosive chemistry on-screen has spilled off the screen too. Fans all over the world were overjoyed to hear of the star’s new romance.

But the photos from last night tell an entirely different story. Could it be that the actress has more than one man after her heart? Or could she be keeping something secret?

Last night, sources say that Galathynius was walking back to her hotel with Whitethorn as her escort when she stopped briefly in a nearby park. Only minutes later, she was spotted in her bodyguard’s arms! Looks like a romance is brewing, or even already in progress! After all, her incredibly popular character in “Queen of Glass” spent the whole first season secretly in love with Dorian’s character until they finally brought their romance to light. Is life imitating art?

According to an eyewitness, the embrace lasted for several minutes before the actress moved away from her bodyguard and began walking to her hotel again. At this time, we do not know any additional details, but with the ongoing press tour, we are certain that she will make an announcement soon. Keep your eyes on our social media for the latest, hottest updates!!

“They’re such vultures.” Disgusted, Aelin threw the magazine at Elide, who caught it before it could smack her in the stomach.

Elide huffed. “It’s their job to stir up the people. Be prepared for at least half the interviewers today to ask you about this.” She launched into her daily spiel about what Aelin should expect during the press that she, Dorian and a few of their castmates were filming. “And above all, don’t you dare let Dorian answer any of the questions they’re going to ask about the plot of this season. You know better than anyone how much of a spoiler machine he is. He gets one spoiler this time. One.”

“I might have to tape his big mouth shut,” Aelin joked. “Bet the press would eat that up.”

“Honestly, it might give them something else to yap about.” Elide straightened, one finger up as she recalled something. “Pap walk! We’re doing a round of pap walks to get their attention somewhere else. I’ll text the details, but so far…”

Elide flipped through her notes, and Aelin was about to ask a few follow-up questions when there was a rapid, firm knock on the door.

“What?”

Rowan Whitethorn cracked open the door and stepped into the room. “They’re ready for her in hair and makeup.” He scanned the room, his gaze sharp, alert. “Morning, Miss Galathynius.”

His face was perfectly neutral like it always was, making it impossible to tell if he knew anything about the new rumors. He probably did, but Rowan was so professional, it got unnerving sometimes.

“Morning, Sergeant Whitethorn.” He’d never been in the military, but she called him “Sergeant” anyway. Mostly because it made him delightfully grumpy.

True to form, he frowned, but instead of his usual snarky retort, he just held the door open for her and walked her across the hall to another room, this one full of stylists. She was swept into their whirlwind, and by the time she turned around, her bodyguard was once again outside the door, on watch for any potential mishaps. Rowan really was an excellent security guard.

Too bad he was also a highly wanted criminal.

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[marvelobsessed134]

Smut of current Nikki sixx

The reader is his wife they are at dinner with Tommy Vince and their wives

Nikki can't keep his hands to himself pleasuring reader under the table with his fingers

As everyone is in conversation with each other Nikki and reader sneak off to the bathroom Nikki works his magic with his tongue and and bends reader over 🍆

Then walk of shame from the bathroom as Tommy and Vince start laughing and say you guys couldn't wait jump each others bones 🧡

Kinktober day 11: public sex

A/n: fuckin love Nikki it’s been awhile since I’ve written for him.

Pairings: Current!Nikki Sixx x Fem!Reader

Warnings: age gap, public sexual acts obvi, daddy kink because yes, Nikki is so damn horny for reader lol, dom!nikki, sub!reader, the other guys and wives poke fun at y’all, Tommy being Tommy and cheesy puns lol.

I’ve given up on summaries lol

You were sat at the dinner table after one of Mötleys shows for the world tour. Right now you’re in Mexico City, enjoying some good Mexican cuisine.

You felt Nikki’s hand trail up your leg towards your pussy and you froze for a minute, making sure everyone was distracted before you hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your husband just laughed quietly and put a finger over his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. “Be a good girl for daddy ok?” He whispered in your ear causing you to shiver and goosebumps arise.

“O-ok.” You responded, and then Rain started talking to you. While yes, you are the youngest of the wives, you still get along great with them. So you tried your best to pay attention to your friends words when you felt the bassist move your panties out of the way and stick a finger into your tight hole.

“Mhmmm….yeah.” You said absentmindedly. Brittany chimed in, “Y/n? Girl, you ok?”

Your eyes widened when he rubbed his finger over your clit. That evil bastard he knows you can barely function when he does that.

“Oh-“ you cleared your throat, “I mean yeah I’m fine. I just don’t know if I’m gonna be able to eat anything my stomachs been upset.”

“Aw honey, do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?” Nikki asked with a facial expression telling you to say yes.

“Yeah. I think I should go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You replied quickly and felt the older man’s finger slide out of you. You quickly got up and sped walked to the bathroom.

“Im gonna go check on her. Make sure she’s ok.” Your husband said before too got up and headed towards the bathroom.

“Dude…Nikki’s gonna get some!” Tommy cheered loudly and people looked at him with furrowed brows. Brittany smacked him on the arm, “No shit, don’t need to say it to the world. But yes they’re totally fucking.”

Nikki backed you up against the locked door of the singular restroom and unzipped your dress before tugging it down. Your breasts flopping out of the satin material.

“Fuck, I’m so lucky.” The bassist muttered before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples. You moaned and gasped as he nipped and bit the sensitive skin.

“Mmm, love these tits.” He muttered against you, switching sides to give the other side attention.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as you it relished in the feeling. “Fuck, daddy.”

His hand trailed back down to your clothed covered pussy and tugged your underwear down. His fingers inserted into you and you moaned. “Oh daddy, please!” You weren’t sure what you were begging for. “Yeah baby?” He teased, whispering right in your ear before nipping at your earlobe.

You sighed contently at that, “I want- I want your cock.”

“Oh yeah? You want daddys cock? I’ll give you my cock.” Nikki pulled his pants down enough so that his cock sprang out. He picked you up and you spread your legs instinctively. The raven haired man teased your entrance with his tip before inserting into you, feeling your walls clench around him.

“Holy fuck.” He breathed.

“Nikki- please move. Fuck me please.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart I will.” And he started bucking his hips into you. You moaned as he constantly hit your spot.

You clutched on his shoulders harder, nails digging into the material of his shirt. “Mmm…daddy oh my god.” You cried out as he went harder and faster.

“Quiet, we don’t want anyone out there knowing you’re being fucked like a slut now do we?” He covered your mouth as he said this and you nodded, eyes wide and watering.

Finally, you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge before clenching around his cock your vision going white for a second as that beautifully overwhelming feeling shot through your whole body.

“Mmm- mph-“ your moans and cries were muffled by his hand, and soon enough you felt him shoot his load deep inside of you.

“Oh!” You breathed in relief.

Nikki planted a sweet kiss to your lips, “So good for me.”

The two of you got cleaned up and walked back to the table like nothing happened.

Of course, Tommy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Y/n, are you feeling better?”

Your face went red for a bit before saying, “Yeah. It was just a little stomach bug.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it hit you hard.”

Oh god, Tommy knew. And if Tommy knew, everyone knew.

“Yeah, and Nikki came right after you.” Vince chimed in and Rain kicked him under the table. “Vinnie, not appropriate. She’s clearly embarrassed that we all know they had sex in the bathroom.”

“Oh god.” You said as you buried your face in your hands. The bassist rubbed your back soothingly, “Alright we get it. Everyone knows we fucked. Now let’s eat and forget this never happened. Tommy, say something again and I will kick your ass.”

“Yes sir.” The drummer responded with a mocking salute making everyone laugh.

[mushroomnoodles]

What’s the petrigrof family dynamic like once they return to Ooo and as Morrigan gets older in the WizardBetty Au

after they take the portal back to ooo, simon is welcomed with open arms by marceline, who hes been keeping tabs with using the phone that has service through universes. betty, however, quickly gets overwhelmed and uncomfortable- she hasn't been around this many people in... well, an extremely long time, and it doesn't help that marceline is clearly the little girl she failed to save.

this world is absolutely nothing like the one betty left, either- she's gotten so used to wastelands and being hunted by oozers and wild animals that being completely domestic in a world where she's reasonably safe feels... wrong.

her wizard status is confirmed, and after a few extra tests on her run by pb (due to the fact she fell in the Lich's well) she and simon settle back into the human city with morri.

but even after settling, betty feels the waves of her sadness rise. she's been surviving for so long.. she used to be an extrovert, she used to be so fun loving and free and she was a university student, a budding archeologist.. she's so different now. and she feels alienated doubly by the modern humans. she and simon have a lot of discussions about reopening simon's exhibit in a bigger place; it's good money but they worry for morrigan's safety.

but betty isn't really feeling great. it's her turn to get into a depressive funk.

she gets therapy on simon's suggestion, and it was a lot to get used to, but minerva is helping with her MMS and learning to properly grieve her simon and the world and self she lost.

two years or so after returning to Ooo, simon and betty open up a small museum- a live-in museum house combo dedicated to pre-war humanity, where the front is the museum and the back is the private living space. betty prefers to hang in the back and take care of morri and stuff while simon runs the exhibitation and gives tours- she's still getting used to people, and she's been taking up gardening, knitting, crocheting.. stuff to keep her hands busy.

she also really enjoys trying out new recipes! in the "current" time (where simon is pregnant with baby #2) she's looking forward to growing some actual food that she can cook with this year. she's grown some herbs before but this is the first time she's given veggies a try!

although morri is getting to be a handful.. they're dreadfully curious about everything and betty's really starting to see herself in the little guy.. they're very hands on and intelligent and they surprise her every day with how well articulated and versed they are.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

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[ghoulgirlwrites]

So Don’t Hate Me, Trust In Me

Pairing: Frank Iero x Female Reader

Era: Danger Days

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: ~1500

Summary/Request: So I was thinking about a Frank X fem!Reader (she/her) during Danger Days era, where they are really close and it's obvious they like each other, and Frank is more forward with liking her, but she's insecure bc she doesn't have any experience with relationships and intimacy (even just handholing and stuff), and is worried he'd be disappointed, maybe even something like she's not good enough for him. And he gets her to talk about it to him and is really understanding and reassuring, and willing to give her time and space, but she feels better after the conversation and wants to try. So basically angst to fluff?

A/N: I LOVED writing this one. It was one of the first fics I worked on in getting out of my hiatus and it was just everything I wanted in a request (particularly Danger Days Frank). Enjoy!

--

You’d just started a new job as Frank’s guitar tech. It was a dream job for you, since you wanted to work with bands and travel around the world, but you were too shy to get onstage yourself. MyChem were currently on tour promoting their newest album, Danger Days, and you were excited to work for them, since you’d been friends with Frank since shortly before Revenge had come out.

But the best part of the job was getting to work with Frank. The rest of the band was super nice and welcoming, but Frank was so generous and he seemed to care about making your job easier whenever he could. Every time you switched out a guitar for him, he’d grin at you as if you were his personal savior. When you’d first started working for Frank, you’d been nervous that it would affect your friendship, but it had only brought you closer.

However, you were trying to be cautious because you knew you were starting to fall for him. You figured that he was just nice to you because he was nice to the rest of the crew, but you often caught yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him or to run your fingers through his hair, which he’d taken to wearing longer, down to his shoulders. You knew you couldn’t act on these feelings because you figured he’d never like you back and saying or doing the wrong thing could put you out of a job and you really wanted to keep working with him, not just because of your crush.

--

You were just about finished setting up before MyChem took the stage for tonight. You handed Frank his first guitar and he put his hand over yours on the neck of the instrument, holding you in his hazel eyed gaze.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.” You felt proud that your voice didn’t tremble and you prayed he didn’t notice your hand shaking beneath his.

He turned to head to the side of the stage, but then ran back to you.

“Did you forget something, Frank?” You asked.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say you look really nice tonight,” he said.

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “Thanks.”

You watched him play his heart out, still bewildered from the compliment he’d given you. It wasn’t the first time, but usually his praise was about your work. Your stomach fluttered at the idea that he noticed how you looked. You usually dressed for comfort, in jeans, band shirts, and hoodies and you weren’t dressed that differently tonight, apart from the fact that you were wearing your favorite hoodie. You liked it because it was comfortable, but you also thought that it brought out the color in your eyes.

The show was nearing the end, when Gerard started walking around the stage as he spoke into his microphone.

“So before we play our last song, we wanted to give a big thank you to our crew who do such an amazing job at every show. Thank you to our merch, our lights and sound people--”

Frank cut in. “And I just wanted to call my guitar tech, Y/N, to the stage for a minute. Y/N, where you at, girl?”

Your face burned as you shrunk back, but you saw Frank walking over to you, his guitar still slung around his neck. He lifted one hand, beckoning you gently with one finger. “Come on,” he mouthed, his lips curling in a sweet smile.

You sighed, walking onstage to a crowd of thousands, who were all screaming for you. ‘Bet they’d scream for just about anything if Frank told them to,’ you thought bitterly to yourself. But all thoughts went out of your head as Frank took your hand and led you over to his mic so he could talk.

“This is Y/N, my amazing guitar tech, she keeps me in line all night, can we give her a big round of applause?” Frank asked the crowd, lifting his arms up towards the pit. You blushed over his comment about “keeping him in line all night,” and hoped the stage lights didn’t show how red you felt.

The crowd went wild once again and your face burned even more as you felt Frank wrap his arm around you and pull you into a hug, discreetly kissing your cheek. It was such a quick peck that you were almost sure you’d imagined it, but when Frank pulled away from you, he was blushing too, but grinning, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling.

Frank finally let you go and you escaped to the sanctuary of backstage. You hadn’t wanted to hurt Frank’s feelings by running away, but it made you nervous being in the spotlight. And that kiss on your cheek had made your heart soar, but now you felt nervous. What did it mean?

--

After that night, you tried to keep yourself busy and limit your interactions with Frank. You didn’t know what his intentions were and you were scared you weren’t good enough for him. You had never really dated anyone and you knew he’d had quite a few relationships, so you were also afraid that your inexperience would be a turnoff for him.

It was hard to totally avoid him though, especially since you worked for him and you’d seen his face fall enough to know that he’d noticed and wasn’t happy about it, but you couldn’t help it.

Finally, he cornered you one day backstage while one of the opening bands set up for their set.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured.

Your heart stopped. You were caught. There was no avoiding the conversation now. You swallowed hard. “Frank, I…I’m sorry. Can we talk about this somewhere more private?” As you said this, you saw Gerard out of the corner of your eye, looking over at the two of you, his eyebrows furrowed. Gerard was hard to miss these days, with his bright red hair.

Frank nodded and you let him take your hand and pull you away from everyone else. Once you’d stopped walking, he held your hand in his still, loose enough that you could let go if you wanted to, but tight enough that you could sense that Frank didn’t want to let you go.

He sighed. “Look, I--I’m sorry if I scared you off that night when I called you onstage, but I just--I wanted to show you how special you are to me and how much I like you, I just didn’t really know how. I didn’t plan on kissing your cheek, it just happened, so if you’ve been avoiding me because of that, I’m so sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable and I want you to know that we’ll do whatever you want. If you want to pretend this never happened, we can do that, if you want to leave tour--”

You’d been listening to him ramble, your heart fluttering in your chest as he said everything you’d hoped to hear from him, but when he mentioned you leaving tour, you had to stop him. “Frank, I don’t wanna leave tour.”

His face lit up with a cautious sort of hope. “You don’t?”

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “No, I don’t.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank God. So what is it then? I miss you and I want us to be good again.”

You sighed. “I like you too. I like you so much that it scares me. A-and I could tell you liked me too and that scared me even more.”

He frowned. “Why? You never have to be afraid of me, you know that.”

You bit your lip. “I know. It’s not that. It’s just that…you know I’m not very experienced when it comes to this kind of thing. And I’m insecure that I’ll screw it up, or that I won’t be good at…you know.” You trailed off, blushing furiously.

His full lips curved in a slight smile, his hazel eyes full of warmth and love for you. “Y/N, you’re going to be amazing, because you’re amazing. But we can slow things down, I can…I can back off a little if that’s what you need.”

You nodded. “Not too far back though,” you whispered, smiling slightly.

He reached his hand out to yours, linking your pinky with yours. The simple, gentle touch felt amazing.

“Better?” He asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, reaching up with your other hand to brush his hair out of his face. It had grown down to his shoulders and you loved the way it looked, even when it obscured his beautiful eyes. “Thanks, Frank.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

The two of you took things slow over the next few months. Frank was unendingly patient with you, which made you feel brave enough to progress your relationship. You still worked for him, since it gave the two of you the chance to spend a lot of time together and travel around the world. You loved watching him play music and jump around the stage like a maniac. And after every show, he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

[retnym]

WORLD TOUR- .04

"Don't call me that."

We’re still in Germany for a few more weeks, having two other shows then moving on to the next country. During this time Jace will be hanging around us. Once we leave he has to go back to college. He’s been taking me on small dates like dinners and little shopping sprees. Well, it was more we walked around, I don’t like people spending money on me. I really just enjoy the company. And this company won’t last long once the distance becomes too much once again. 

I might as well keep him around to get my mind off the stress of touring though. It also bothers Tom that he’s around so it’s a plus in my book. Bill, Georg, and Gustav have been hanging around him as well. It’s been a week and a half since our second show. These are a little spaced out only because there was supposed to be another but the building it was in got shut down. I couldn’t tell you why but it did. 

Since the boys hang out with Jace, I’ve been with Johanna during that time. They only hang out with him when Tom isn’t around though so it’s a rare occasion. Some bro-code they have they can’t all hangout together.

Weird.

Tonight we’re going out to dinner together. Even Tom will be there. It’s a night to just relax and be around each other. These shows will be tiresome and this is about to be a crazy time. 

It’s a casual but formal dinner so I dressed in a black silk dress that has a slit on the leg that starts from the top of my thigh all the way down. Silver heels to match. I was currently waiting for Jace to pick me up, I kissed Springroll goodbye and decided to wait outside. 

I live with my aunt for the time being. I thought about getting my own house but since I travel so often there’s no point. My cat will stay with my aunt until after the Germany shows then I’ll pick her up and she’ll travel with me on the bus. 

Pulling out my phone real quick I check the time. It’s 6:13, Jace was supposed to be here 13 minutes ago. It’s a good thing I wasn’t the one who made the reservations. He’s been doing this every day. He’s late to come to get me for everything, always having an excuse too. 

I still haven’t given him an answer on us trying again but he seems keen on getting me to be his. I’m going to make him work for it a little longer though. 

A horn honks from down the street and I step down the stairs of the porch as his car pulls up near the mailbox. I wanted to wait for him to get out and open the door for me but we are running too late to be dramatic about opening a door. Getting in with a huff he immediately drives off before I even buckle my seat. 

The car ride was short, his driving being a little crazy as he swerved around other cars, almost running a few lights and signs. My hand never un-tensing. His one hand was on my thigh and the other was on the wheel. 

Once we came to a stop, I got out of the car as fast as possible. “What’s the rush?” He laughed, slowly getting out of the car. I tried forcing myself to laugh too but it came out almost like a croak. “We’re late, Jace. They’re waiting for us.” I don’t even wait for him to catch up with me, I’m already at the doors to the restaurant. 

“Reservation?” A man who looks like he’s in his younger 20s asks me. “Oh, Kaulitz?” He nods, motioning for me to follow him. Jace was now behind me, he never sped up he kept the same pace. It frustrated me a tiny bit but what can you do?

“There’s Jo!” I smile, waving to her. It looks like she just got out of the bathroom. She returns the favor and walks over to me. She was wearing a dark green velvet feel dress that had long sleeves but her cleavage showed and it looked amazing. She pulls me into a hug and we continue to follow the guy to the table. 

“There she is!” Georg grins, high-fiving me. Bill scoots over and we sit next to him. Johanna was next to Gustav. It was a curved booth, so it went Georg, Tom, Gustav, Johanna, Bill, me, and then Jace. I was right across from Tom. He was on his phone, no surprise there of course.

 I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him though. His dreads were down and it was weird seeing him without a hat. Before I could think too much Jace had taken my hand and I smile up at him and then join the conversation with the others. They were all wearing button-ups and nice pants. Nothing too fancy but it was something.

We started drinking right as the food came in. It was just the appetizer so we didn’t even feel a buzz with our drinks yet, that’s when I tapped my spoon on the glass earning everyone’s attention. My eyes flickered between Johanna to Tom who automatically looked up my way.

“So, I have been meaning to bring something up.” I laugh awkwardly, now with everyone’s eyes I began to feel a little nervous. Biting at the dead skin of my bottom lip and taking a deep breath I continue. Even as a performer, I get extremely nervous with complete silence.

Also, something on my mind has me suddenly confused with my thoughts.

“Um, we all know Johanna is a pretty good photographer. She’s also very organized. Unlike most of us.” I adjust the top of my dress, letting go of Jace’s hand to wipe the sweat onto my dress but it doesn’t help wearing silk. “I want her to be our personal photographer, along with managing certain things for us. Helping us get interviews, ads for products, speaking for us over the phone, things like this that we’re too busy for.” I explain to them, glancing at her who nervously stared at the table. Her leg was bouncing up and down, I could tell from the way her body is shaking slightly. “That’d be amazing.” Bill was of course the first to speak up and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “I think it sounds like a good plan.” Gustav shrugs, smiling at Johanna whose eyes lit up like stars. 

“What do you think, Tom?” Bill asks his brother and Tom was playing with his piercings, jumping from the sudden attention his way. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea. We do need it.” He points out and we all look at him like he’s crazy. “What?” He gives a look. 

“No negative input?” Georg chuckles. “Why would I?” He asks and a few of us deadpan, his eyes lock with mine and he finally seems to get it. “My comments go to you, not innocent bystanders.” I roll my eyes at what he said but then Jace says something. “But I do?” Tom just presses his lips together awkwardly before going onto his phone. I cough to get the tension to just go away.

The night ended up getting better as we ate. We all started drinking even more, except Jace who we all decided was going to drive us home. The others got dropped off by other people because they knew they were going to drink. 

Let me tell you, we were having a blast. Laughing loudly as we ate, telling stories and jokes with each other.

Since it was getting pretty late I order my last shot and beer. Quickly taking the shot I went to grab the beer but Jace stops me. “You might want to slow down.” He places a hand on my lower back but I shake my head. “I’m enjoying myself.” I went to take another sip but Jace takes it from me completely. My face scrunches in confusion along with a little irritation. “Give it back, Jace,” I mutter going to take it again. “Drink water at least.”

“I have been. Just give it.” I please with him. “[Name].” He warns but I slide the cup back my way. “[Name]-” “You’re not my boyfriend,” I whisper, bringing it up to my lips he tries to grab it and it spills on my chest, sliding down my dress. I gasp, standing right up and climbing over him. “Woah, what happened?” Bill laughs.

I just ignore him pushing myself over Jace’s lap which was quite difficult in a dress and with the small amount of room with the table. I’m sure I was giving Georg and Gustav a show. “I’m sorry.” He says, trying to help me but I push him back. Speeding off to the bathroom even though I’m stumbling a little bit he stays behind me. “Wait, slow down.” I try to continue walking but Tom… I mean Jace grabs my wrist right as we're outside the bathroom. The music played loudly so even if we argued no one was to hear. I don’t really care though, I’m drunk off my ass. 

“Babe, I’m sorry.” I slam myself accidentally against the wall, standing up straight. “Don’t call me that.” I put a finger against his chest.

“We aren’t dating. You left me.” I shove him with every word. “I know, I know.” He whispers, his face looking a bit blurry. I slowly blink, forgetting exactly what I was saying but I keep running at the mouth. “You announce how you feel and then next I’m nothing to you. Sleeping around with all those-” I cut myself off with a cry and his face contorts again and it’s Jace once more. “What? That- I didn’t.” He looked confused and even when drunk I can realize where I messed up. “You’re a dick. You had a girlfriend for a month and you’re back to me?” I hide my face in my hands and he pulls me into a hug. 

“I’ll always love you, that’s why.” He kisses my head and I close my eyes.

Why did I say that?

Shorter of a chapter but this is kind of getting more into you and Tom as the chapters go on. It's still a slow burn so figuring everything out might take a minute.

[midnightfantasiez]

Invitation | Jacob Bae

SUMMARY: never would you have thought to have instantly clicked with the one and only idol Jacob Bae, within a short period. when he finally invites you to take a further step in your relationship with one another, how could you possibly refuse?

PAIRING: idol Jacob x afab! reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: french kissing, pet names, oral (afab! reader receiving), fingering (afab! reader receiving), p in v sex, protected sex (we cheered), man's doing it from behind

WORD COUNT: 2,354

A/N: @zzoguri this was written for you 😚 i hope you like it 🥺

It has been a couple of weeks since your mutual friends introduced you both to one another.

You were in your final years in college and had little to no connections to many boys in your life. You were the type to always hide in the library or the quiet reading rooms scattered throughout campus, wanting to avoid indulging in all of the parties or chaos around you. With that, you were definitely not a regular on the college’s party scene. Attending frat parties or clubs would be the last thing you want to do on a Friday night, choosing to snuggle up in bed with your favourite snacks and drinks while watching your favourite TV shows. 

Naturally, your friends were starting to worry about your love life—convinced that you wouldn’t be able to find someone even until graduation came in a year. Hence, they decided to be good samaritans and tried their best to find one that would suit your type to the best of their abilities. 

Your close group of friends knew how you’ve always had a soft spot for music, and it’s something that you have always been passionate about besides the current course you were taking in college. It was probably pure luck when one of your buddies was mutual friends with an actual idol from one of the most famous boy bands of the year.

Given your personality, she was convinced that you and Jacob Bae were a perfect match with one another. Thanks to her luck, she secured a few tickets for you to attend their ongoing concert—The Boyz 2nd World Tour: Zeneration. 

Wishing that she would finally shut up about meddling with your love life, you decided to give it a go and went to the first day of the concert. Unbeknownst to you, you start taking interest in the man himself. 

It was the way he presented himself on stage—the way his body moved according to the rhythm and vibe of each song perfectly, his harmonious voice that suited each of the songs from the setlist, not to mention the outfits he was given to wear (especially during the opening where he wore a see-through shirt with his hair all slicked back good lord). 

When you finally got to meet him in person backstage after the concert, he was a man you would fall for and would immediately be listed down in your “men whom I surprisingly approve of and will trust with the rest of my life” book.

He was so calm and friendly that he could break off the ice between you two even though you’ve just met, and it was how you were engaged in every conversation you’ve had with him. You definitely were a little upset when they had to call it a night as they had to prepare for the upcoming concerts for the rest of the week. But he managed to grab a few more tickets for you and your friends so that you could come again during the tour's encore and final day. 

Fast forward to the present day, you were at the backstage waiting for the rest of the members to arrive. It took about 10 minutes before all 11 members came down to thank all the staff and visit all the guests that had arrived to support them on their final day. It took a while for Jacob to finally make his way towards you, but when he did, he absolutely couldn’t leave your side in the slightest bit. 

Something in the air made both of you seemingly attracted to one another, even though you had just met for the second time. It was as if you both were drawn to each other, wanting to know more and deepen the relationship you both have created. 

He gently grabs hold of one of your hands into his, caressing it before opening his mouth to suggest the plans for the rest of the day. 

“Say, there is this really nice restaurant not too far from here that I occasionally dine in whenever I feel for a candlelight dinner. Care to join me for the night?” He asked in such a sweet way, how could you say no?

Without much hesitation, you quickly nodded your head before he made some arrangements to inform his managers and your friends that you both would make a quick dinner and that he would bring you back home safely by the end of the night. 

Seeing this as a sign, your friends immediately encouraged you to take up the offer, convinced that this would be the start of a spark to happen between you two. 

For the first time in a while, you actually agreed with your friends on this for once.

It was a rather fancy restaurant that had the Parisian vibes to it. You could tell how it would be a place where idols would occasionally indulge after a long day of work, especially when they have just finished a concert tour. 

Jacob, being the kind gentlemen that he was, ensured that you’ve always felt comfortable and would bring up a variety of topics to talk about—which you deeply appreciated because gradually, he was slowly pulling out from your bubble, getting you to open up to him more. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who showed interest in the other party. Otherwise, it would’ve been an awkward one-sided relationship. There was just something about you that drew in him, and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was either. All he knew was that he was desperate to try to get to know you better, and eventually, he definitely thought about taking a step further in the relationship you both have now. 

The dinner went on smoothly and he offered to pay for the meal at the end, much to your disagreement. 

A gentleman should always pay on the first date, no? 

Those words lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

As you both exited the restaurant, he somehow volunteered to be your chauffeur, clearly wanting to keep you as long as he could to himself. 

“If you are free for the night, would you like to come over to my place?” 

“Woah, Jacob. Aren’t you taking this a little too far? What makes you think I’d return to your place that quickly?” You joked. 

“What if I said I have got the best liquor saved just for you, some good music to vibe to, a comfy sofa and a cosy atmosphere to indulge you for the night? Would you agree to my proposal?” 

Now that was tempting. Given both of your similar interests in music (and good liquor), it was very hard to reject the man’s offer. You knew that it should be a red flag for someone to invite you back to their comfort place that quickly, especially when you two are just friends at the moment, nothing else. 

But somehow, you just couldn’t turn down his offer. In fact, you wanted to know more about him too. 

In return, you smiled back at him while taking a step closer so that you were mere centimetres apart from each other’s faces. 

“That is a yes in my books.”

One thing led to another, and you both began feeling tipsy. And before you knew it, you were both kissing one another on the sofa. 

You were both finishing up the last drop of the liquor bottle that Jacob owned among his stash of wines and when you both looked into each other’s eyes, you knew that you were far too gone to even think rationally at this point. 

Jacob bent down his face to yours in slow motion, and within seconds you felt his hot mouth infused with the sweet wine he had just consumed earlier all over your mouth. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he then slipped his hands down to the curve of your sides to rest on your hips as he drew you in. You didn’t expect how much of a prodigy he was with his tongue, casually slipping and wrapping itself onto yours. 

God, this whole session was causing you to lose your breath, your pants getting more visible as the minutes passed. Jacob noticed how much you enjoyed it and proposed a better idea. 

“Won’t you—crawl up in my bed—with me.” He asked in between the kisses. 

“What makes you—think that I would agree with that?” You asked while trying to catch your breath.

“For one, you would be cosy up in the sheets and I’ll make you feel good and care for you. Will you accept the invitation?” 

If you did, you already knew where this was going. Having sex when technically this was only your second time meeting one another? It would be absolute insanity. 

But you were already deep in this whole situation and ready to let loose for the night. 

“Show me what you’ve got then.” You challenged the male. 

Immediately, he carried you into his room and laid you down gently on his comfy sheets. He slowly undressed you, only leaving your underwear on as you laid your stomach down on the sheets. 

“Relax, baby. Let me take care of you, hmm?” 

Accepting his proposal, you laid your head on your arms and crossed them on the sheets.

Closing your eyes, you start to hear how he has walked behind you, undressing himself before slowly climbing onto the bed with you. 

Instantly, he bent down and began to fidget with your core, slowly rubbing it, earning a soft moan that escaped your mouth. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” 

You nodded your head and he knew he could proceed onwards with his care. He slowly increased his speed before finally coming into contact with his mouth upon your core, kissing and sucking them.

“Mmmh… yes… keep going, Jacob.” Your moans sounded so sweet to his ears, and that was when he knew his care was effective after all. It was then he decided to insert two of his fingers into your core while he continued to suck on it simultaneously. 

God, you were on cloud nine. It just felt so sickly good. 

“M-more… Jacob… please… don’t stop.” Purely on instinct, you decided to spread open your legs more to give him access to your entrance. And how you’d actually wish him to finger you deeper within. 

It went on for a few more minutes before you both knew you were about to reach your high. Jacob gives you the consent to cumming around his fingertips, and that was exactly what you did when you released your sweet love juice around his fingers. He takes them out from your core before placing them into his mouth, savouring them all without leaving a single drop. 

“God, you taste so f*cking good.” 

Just when you thought he was done, he opened up one of the drawers by his bedside to reveal a condom that he was about to place over his member. He asked you for your consent first to see if you were willing actually to do the deed with him. 

“What makes you think I would say no after you literally just made me cum?” 

He smirked. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

Once he was done adjusting his member to the entrance of your core, he slowly pushed in as he climbed further up onto your back so that he was hovering over you completely now. 

“God, Y/N. You’re so tight for me.” 

“Then do your magic and help me loosen up, sweetheart.” You whined, already wanting him to go fast on you. 

“Such an impatient one, aren’t you?” 

With your consent, he instantly picked up his speed and went as fast as you would’ve preferred. There is nothing about going slow and gradually picking up his pace whatsoever. He grabs both of your hips and pounds into you continuously, checking up on you ever so often by leaning in to kiss you on your forehead. 

You just looked so goddamn attractive to him at the moment. Your bareback, the way your long brown hair flowed down onto your back, and god, your moans. He swears he would definitely record them down so that he could listen to them all day at all times if he has to. 

Especially when he needs that motivation right before heading up on stage before a performance. 

 “J-Jacob… I’m cumming…” You mewled. 

“Cum for me then, baby. Do it with me.” He groaned.

With a few more powerful thrusts, you both reach your highs simultaneously and instantly release your juices together. He slowly pulls out his member from you and lays beside you as he reconnects his lips with yours. 

“Our connection is something else, don’t you think? Perhaps we are really meant for one another.” Jacob announced, making himself clear while he was still panting from the intense workout. 

“Gee, I had no idea you were this obsessed with me. What makes you think I’m special in your eyes?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to attend another day of the concert and take you out to dinner if I weren’t interested in you.”

You both burst out in laughter before reconnecting your lips once again. But it all came to a halt when you suddenly realised how you had forgotten to keep your friends updated about the night, surely you have to return home sooner or later-

“Why don’t you stay over for the night? At least stay with me till the sun rises.” Jacob proposed, which, to be fair, was valid—you were in no shape to be able to walk normally after that intense session you both have just done. 

“I can’t. My friends would worry about me.” 

“Hmm. I think I could fix that.” 

He gently takes your phone from you while having your consent to type out the message that he would send to the mutual friend you’ve both had.

🍐: change of plans, i’m keeping Y/N with me for the night. fyi, we’re more than just friends at this point. 

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @zzoguri (join my perm taglist here!)

[rosewood-multifandom-writer]

Yeah whoever is on the writing team on Street Fighter, somebody from the RE4MAKE writing team should help out because SF6’s story writing is currently not that good right now. Even though this is a stretch, but ever since Hobo Bison came back with amnesia, I’m now having low expectations on how the story is going to progress. The foreshadowing and buildup of Bison coming back was very present in World Tour and in the Arcade storylines.

To put it briefly, Juri Han is in Nayshall in World Tour because JP is also there, still doing the dirty work for Shadaloo even though it’s been supposedly shut down. Chun-Li is currently semi-retired. Semi-retired being that she may be doing less work, but she’s investigating what is really up after Juri told her in a vague way that it’s not over when Bison “died.”

Fang Fei has been behind the scenes trying to revive Shadaloo. A.K.I is doing a lot of the missions and assignments given to her by her master.

JP framed Ken Masters for committing a terrorist attack, and there’s a chance that we might get violent Ken. JP also told Ed that he is a true successor to Bison and is fitting to take his place.

Multiple times Bison was mentioned plenty of times. He was mentioned a few times in World Tour, Arcade Mode, and in character win dialogues.

So the execution of him returning was fine, I’m just now skeptical of how the new gen fighters as well as the previous fighters from SF5 are gonna be written in the character development department.

Like I swear if Balrog takes the side of Old Shadaloo, then that is just destroying his ongoing character development.

And if we’re gonna kill Bison off for real, it needs to be a good death and it needs to be someone who can outmatch his power or be equal to it. Not a singular Hadoken.

I also get that Bison’s little shtick is that he is all about world domination, but can we PLEASE give him a different goal? I’m thinking about a cartoon mouse named Brain whenever he opens his mouth about world domination. I’m not even asking for him to be a goody-goody, I’m just wanting him to be interesting character wise. Eh, at least Hobo Bison is a little hot. Not as hot as Ed though, he’s beaten him in the sexiness department by a landslide.

I don’t know, my expectations on SF6’s story are low now, Capcom really needs to get new writers if they really want to learn from SF5’s story mistakes.

[sassyfrassboss]

There's a recent rumor/leak that MM enjoys the negative publicity as much as the positive. That she actually likes the comparison to Wallis Simpson. Being notorious still gets your name in the history books. She probably leans into the villainess characterizations, like the first pap pic of her smiling in the car after the health issues of two of her in-laws. Don't know if it's true, but it makes a lot of sense because it kind of follows the projection stuff. ..... I don't think she like the negative I think kt just helps her live her best victim life the way I see it she thinks she's gods gift to the world and everyone should stop and stare in wonder when she enters the room and the fact they don't and that Dior and the like aren't banging down her door is a mystery to her.

She's a victim of her own sense of self importance and always will be this woman came in as a third rate z list cable actress and expected to be given higher billing than the Queen 🤣 remember Harry talking about the show they all went to and people were talking about her and not anyone else not even TQ? Yeah that's Meghans real mindset.

You're right that when articles are vilifying her and make her look bad she can PR spin it that once again the press is attacking a "young mother just trying to remain private and do good work for others."

As for Meghan thinking she was more popular than TQ, Tom Bower's book summed it up perfectly. He said that after the AUS tour Harry and Meghan approached The Queen with what was basically a new royal model that would center around Meghan. They believed that she was a super star and the AUS was the best tour that the BRF had ever had. They truly believed that they did a stellar job and that Meghan's world popularity eclipsed The Queen. Basically what they wanted was to push Meghan to the forefront and have everyone run things by her first. She was to get the better events, charities, patronages, tours, appearances, etc. They thought that since Meghan was so PR savy and modern that this would make the BRF look more relatable and with the current times. When The Queen kindly informed them that their plan for a new monarchy was never going to happen is when things turned incredibly sour. Even more so than before.

This is when I truly believe they started formulating their plan for a dueling monarchy overseas.

[joels6string]

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 11 - Rebuild What's Broken

Summary: Joel busies himself until the gates of Jackson open in the final week of January.

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.7k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

It wasn’t better this way, being apart, pretending like he didn’t want to cradle you against his chest while you slept and everything else that came with that feeling. He knew that now. But did you?

Chapter 10 || Series Masterlist

When did that clock get so fucking loud?

A halo of orange light circled the leather-bound journal Tommy had gifted Joel for Christmas on the old wooden table Joel called a workbench, pencil scratching against paper as he etched blueprint after blueprint until his hand and eyes ached from the strain. 

Through the winter, he’d turned the spare bedroom upstairs into a workshop, slowly filling in a small set of drawers with whatever bits and pieces of guitar hardware he could find. A music store a few miles away was raided after he and Tommy had cleared it of a few infected, a house up by the chalet was full of nails and screws, and he’d developed a good relationship with a guy up the road, Daryl, who traded him wood prepped for carving and sanding for half the haul of whatever Joel cut down and towed back. On top of patrols, Tommy had also roped him into the Great Jackson Renovation of 2035, which he was currently planning, touring every house and building to assess the repairs needed to keep it in good enough shape to last whatever the elements threw at them. 

“Thirty-six by…hundred and seventy-two…no that can’t be right…” he murmured to himself, the mug of coffee beside his right hand cold as a midnight dusting of snow floated through the air outside his window, “Seventy-two by a hundred-thirty-six.”

When he finally called it a night and slipped beneath the neatly tucked sheets of his bed the clock read 1:26 AM, the monsters of his dreams ready for their nightly feast. It was always the same now; Sarah was always the first to fall, her tiny body he could still remember the weight of in his arms crumpling to the ground, then Ellie who went down swinging, and finally you, with that forgiving smile and touch to his cheek. You always told him it was okay before you faded away, forgiving him in your final breath, and every day he woke with a scream.

“Ellie?” he called the following morning, gently rapping his knuckles on her front door, “Breakfast’s ready.”

“Okay!” she yelled from inside, “Be there in a sec!”

All he knew to do was work. Whether it was cooking new things, fixing the house, carving, building, fighting…anything that could keep his mind busy and unable to wander through the dangerous situations in his head. The restoration project had filled a large section of that void space, Tommy’s plan to keep him occupied working better than he’d like to admit. Maybe it kept some of the guilt he felt at bay. 

The two had been at odds in the days before you left. Joel was furious Tommy had approved it, though Tommy swore he had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t his call. You’d volunteered, and Maria had given the okay despite Tommy’s best attempts at keeping you here. There had never really been a good reason, only selfish ones. 

“Any sign of them yet?” Ellie asked as she sat at the small square table in the kitchen, a plate piled with eggs and toast in front of her.

“Not that I know of,” he replied with a sigh, walking right past the second empty plate set out for him and joining her, “Wanna help me today?”

“I’m on farming.”

“That a no?”

“Can you get me off farming?”

“I’m sure I can put in a good word.”

With Ellie in tow, Joel met up with Tommy at the church, tape measure and ladders out as a remodel was planned. It felt like the old days, Tommy’s ideas too extravagant and Joel’s too practical, the pair meeting in the middle on a design that was feasible, functional, and appealing. Maria had stopped by to see their progress, smiling ear to ear at the rough sketches Tommy had done. 

“What about like, you know space right here. For dancing,” Ellie chimed in, waving her hands around, “And a little stage over there in case anyone wants to play guitar or…or sing something.”

That comment had Joel smiling a little, teaching Ellie how to play had been some of the better moments of the last few weeks. She’d been getting the hang of the strings of the guitar he’d gifted her in the fall, pride swelling in his chest at just the thought. Tommy and Maria agreed with her idea, talking with her about any other thoughts she had while Joel’s mind wandered into a realm of fantasy. Your fingers in his hair, his arm around your waist, he’d never dreamed of dancing before, he’d loathed the very idea of it. But after the sight of your forest eyes gazing up at him as you led him through the movements, the memory plagued him. 

You’d granted him a second chance in a light snowfall when you’d both stepped out for some air as the credits had begun to roll the night before you’d left. Tommy’s Christmas carols of choice were heard even from outside, and though you hadn’t said a word to him since his plea you come back to him, you’d smiled when he’d asked for a hand.

“Still got some of those bad memories to replace…” he’d said, and you hadn’t been able to refuse. 

There had been space between you still, but considerably less than the first time he’d found your hand in his. There were less toes smashed, too—still a few, but not enough that had his face burning in frustration. You’d left after that, patting his chest once with a simple “I’ll see you soon,” a gaping hole ripping open where your hand had been as you faded from view. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to see you off, he knew himself well enough, there was no way he’d have let you go without a fight. 

“Earth to Joel!” Tommy’s voice thundered, “Can we build that?”

“Build what?” Joel replied, the three pairs of eyes locked on him rolling in unison.

Thursday brought the weekly night out at the Bison. Tommy and Maria along with Indy still met like clockwork, Joel begrudgingly agreeing to go just to keep his brother off his ass. He’d only ever gone for you, to get you out and making friends, to acclimate, but after a few months it was for the chance you’d need to slip behind him, your hand grazing over his back, shoulder, or arm. It sent a shiver down his spine every single time, he missed the feeling. A beer gone warm sat in front of him as Tommy lost at darts again, too tipsy to see straight enough, Seth celebrating another easy-won victory against the one man in Jackson who had decent perks to wager. This time, Seth managed to weasel a few extra bottles of scotch for his own personal stash. 

“Miller,” Indy called out, her newly-established girlfriend Sophia on her heels, “What’s it been now? We’re going into week six?”

The two women took the seats in front of him, clearly this corner hadn’t been dark enough to hide him. 

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, gagging down a sip from his glass, “Somethin’ like that.”

“As if you don’t have the days numbered on your calendar.“

It had been seven weeks and three days, four weeks exactly since last contact with Eugene when the group landed in Nevada. The anticipated return home was already a week later than expected. It had been gnawing away at him. Not that he had any expectations for your return, just the thought of you back safely in the gates was enough for him right now. The rest he could grapple with later. 

“I know they’re late,” Indy finally admitted, quieter, more reserved, “And I know you’re as panicked as I am.”

The muscle of his jaw twitched as it tightened, “Yeah.”

“Think they’re okay?”

“How should I know?”

His answer should have been softer, more empathetic, maybe he should have lied, but it fired off with his temper. He didn’t want to talk about this. The moment he let his mind entertain the possibility you were gone would be the end of the waning control he had over himself. Once that broke, the path back to the man sitting at this table wasn’t one he could navigate without a guide. Indy understood, nodding and staying planted in her seat as if she somehow knew he couldn’t be alone, uncaring of the callous words he just spewed at her. He’d have to save the bludgeoning guilt over the fact he didn’t deserve the care he got from the people around him for later. 

As soon as an acceptable departure time hit, he was walking the dark streets alone back home, the old desk lamp on the workshop table flicking on as he opted for sanding the body of his next guitar over doing the sketches and measurements Tommy had asked for. It could wait. He was being too rough, too fast, he knew he’d have to redo all the work he was doing tomorrow, but still, he couldn’t calm his movements, the wood taking the brunt of his frustrations. The table shook beneath his hands, his teeth grit together as the dust began to burn his eyes, the clattering of the frame that rest beside the light causing his hands to drop everything as he moved to right it. 

It was the only photo of you he had, that anyone had. Tommy had taken it from Seth, no doubt for a price. The summer sun had been still filtering in through the bar’s windows, you were seated beside him at one of the small tables near the dart boards, the true focus of the snapshot Tommy and Eugene in a heated game. That wasn’t what he was looking at. It was you listening intently to whatever he was droning on about. He couldn’t even remember what it was he was telling you, it probably wasn’t interesting, but the way you looked at him told otherwise. He wanted to go back, pay more attention to you, he hadn’t caught it at the moment, but instead he was here alone with nothing but the heavy weight of regret on his shoulders.

Despite sleeping alone, he only pulled back the right side of the sheets, as he did every night, grabbing the book on the bedside table to distract him until his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. Except tonight, he couldn’t even concentrate on the page. Too much of the dam had weakened, at this point he was contemplating sleeping at all. It wouldn’t be worth it. He’d be up in two hours sweating and panting. 

“Joel!!!” He awoke with a jolt. “Joel!! Horses!! At the fucking gates!”

Ellie waited for him at the stoop, his jacket askew on his shoulders and your scarf around his neck as they took off towards the West gate. Tommy was already there, and Maria, Jesse and Seth as well as they awaited the group approaching. Joel’s stomach was tense, butterflies in a whirlwind; would you be happy to see him? Indifferent? He could handle either of those, but not disappointed. The time away likely worked against him, your own demons overtaking what little progress he’d made. It wasn’t better this way, being apart, pretending like he didn’t want to cradle you against his chest while you slept and everything else that came with that feeling. He knew that now. But did you?

In a sea of strange faces, he looked for the familiar. Eugene was there, chapped cheeks and wide eyes, Paulie too, who spotted Joel and quickly turned, and stranger after stranger marveling at the sights before them as he once had. The lights, the nostalgia of normalcy, it was captivating, but he didn’t care about them. 

“Joel,” Tommy called, Eugene pressed behind him, “Joel…”

“Where is she?” Joel asked, everything sinking, the butterflies dropping dead and heavy like shotgun casings, “Where the fuck is she?”

“Come over here.”

A gentle hand on his shoulder was roughly shoved off, ire rising as his face burned in rage.

“Tell me. Right now,” he demanded, “Right here.”

“She’s gone, Joel.”

Gone. 

“Ellie…” he mumbled, “Ellie, go with Maria…”

“What? No!” she argued, but Maria didn’t make him ask twice, wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders and pulling her away, “Joel!”

His feet trudged across the pavement, the scraping of the rocks and dirt beneath his boots like nails on a chalkboard as he tried to remember how to breathe. He was underwater, his limbs slow as they dragged against the resistance, his lungs refusing air, the sight of your bow in his brother’s hands like a bullet to the chest.

“Christ…” he gasped, his vision tunneling, a snarl ripping free from his chest as he took off in a feral lunge and gripped the assumed perpetrator by the jacket, “What did you do?! What the hell did you do?!”

Paulie was quivering, his hands grasping Joel’s as he blabbered incoherently, Tommy and Eugene quickly following and failing to pull the irate Joel from his trance. When a fist was raised, Tommy was too slow, Joel’s knuckles connecting with a jaw that buckled beneath the force, the yelp of agony that followed only fuel for another blow. He didn’t even notice the crimson staining his skin when Tommy finally got enough of a lock around him to send him hurtling backward to the ground, his spine and head impacting hard enough to have him groaning as his eyes came back into focus. Eugene and Jesse were helping Paulie, Tommy standing in the middle as if he stood a chance if Joel tried to advance again, his eyes flicking between each of the two men.

“You stay down, Joel!” Tommy was yelling, muffled and far away, the ringing in Joel’s ears making the words only half audible, “Stay the hell down. I mean it.”

“Or what?” Joel threatened, delirious and bloodthirsty, “You were never any match for me, boy.”

“Stay down, Joel. Please. I’m asking.”

Once on his hands and knees, he could see the fear dripping into his little brother’s eyes, his body turning towards Joel as he readied to block the next attack, Eugene still trying to drag Paulie into the nearest building before Joel could recuperate. Your bag was sitting two arm’s lengths away, the bow you’d carried for years discarded on the ground as if his very will to live wasnt tethered to that curved piece of wood. 

Dragging himself to your belongings, Tommy followed with a shuffle, easing only when Joel rose to his knees and clutched your prized weapon to his chest with trembling fingers as he stood. As reality came crashing down, one of his hands covered his mouth as the shock set in, Tommy’s empathetic grip falling to his shoulder without resistance this time. 

“I’m sorry, brother,” Tommy whispered, “I know you—“

“Don’t,” Joel warned; not that fucking word, “I wanna know what happened. All of it.”

“I don’t think that’s—“

“I wasn’t askin’!”

With a reassuring pat to his back, Tommy went to find Eugene, leaving Joel in the darkness he was unsure he could ever wade out of. 

“I can’t do this,” he muttered under his breath, “I can’t do this again. I can’t do it again… Please God, I can’t.”

But he had to. Just like before, he had a reason to keep going. Tommy. Ellie. Maria. Giving up wasn’t an option. He could fight for them. He had to. 

“Joel,” Tommy sounded, “sit down.”

“What?” Joel snapped, finding not only Eugene with Tommy, but Paulie, too, “Why is he here?”

“Sit. Down. Joel. The second you get up, it’s over.”

Now he understood what a caged animal felt like. All this pent up anger, the tensing of every muscle, the empty, hollow feeling in his gut, it was all here. He wanted to pace, relieve some of the pressure, but he did as he was told for Tommy’s sake and no other, his fiery gaze set upon the group towering over him as they surrounded him. 

“She was sick,” Eugene began, “pneumonia. We were five days from destination, I told her to hang on, we were almost to the medicine. I promised I’d get her home. Burning with a fever, coughing, whimpering with aches, it was… One morning I woke up and she was gone, all her things left behind. We checked everywhere. I swear. All day we searched, yelling her name, checking for tracks. They stopped at a river.

“We went back to the house we were in that night, thinking maybe she’d find her way back. By morning, we were…overrun. Horde. We had to leave and we assume that…well, that they got her before we did.”

“Christ…” How was reality worse than the scenarios in his head? “She’s out there.”

“Joel, no,” Tommy reasoned, “Joel…”

“You said all was well! When you checked in on the radio!” His mind couldn’t land on a thought, he was recalling every detail he knew, looking for a reason, a cause, a sign… You had looked pale the last night he’d seen you, your head had been warm, but he’d thought nothing of it. You were sick…

“We didn’t…want you to go out looking…” Eugene admitted, Joel barely able to suppress his anger.

“She’s out there,” he was mumbling to himself again, “She needs…help.”

“Joel.” It was Tommy’s turn to try and talk him down. “Don’t do this. Joel! God damnit!”

He was already halfway out the door by the time he was fully on his feet, he needed a horse, a few weapons, a map… Food he could find, the clothes on his back would do. The stables were thirty feet away, his horse was itching for a long trip, had to be, it had been awhile. 

“Joel! Listen to me. For once in your god damn fuckin’ life. Listen to me!” Tommy was still talking, it was like the buzzing of a gnat. “You know how this ends! That the last way you want to see her!?”

The light would be gone from your eyes, he knew that. If he could find you, and he would. He’d take down everything in his path til he did. He imagined you scared and alone as you waited to turn, too afraid to walk back and get your gun to end it in favor of Eugene and Paulie, and he owed it to you to do what you weren’t able to. It was the one thing you always made him promise, to end it before the turn. And he couldn’t keep it. But he could end it before your face was overtaken, your skin turned into a putrid Petri dish, and your limbs seized and contorted. He could save you before it got worse. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Tommy eased, taking advantage of the pause in Joel’s pursuit as he contemplated the next steps.

“Are you comin’ or no?” Joel finally asked, not turning to face his brother, his voice flat and lifeless. 

“Joel…Don’t do this.”

“Are you comin’ or no?”

“Joel, we got families here—“

“She is your family!”

With those words he whipped around, chest heaving once again, eyes begging for anything to hold on to. Tommy’s hands provided the support he needed to let the levee finally break, his little brother that had been forced to grow up too fast despite Joel’s best attempts at preserving every last bit of innocence providing the net once again that could keep him from falling.

The fur of Tommy’s collar was soft on Joel’s face as his brother pulled him into his arms, Joel accepting the embrace away from prying eyes. It was a reminder that despite his loss, he wasn’t alone. It was a confirmation he desperately needed that terrified him all the same. 

“You have been there for everything,” Joel finally began as he pulled away, letting vulnerability slip through the cracks, “Rebecca. Ma. Sarah.”

And I need you now. 

“Okay, Joel,” Tommy finally conceded, “Alright. I’m with you. Okay? I’m with you. Go home. Pack a bag. Meet me in an hour at the stables.”

Was he cursed? The past year had been nothing but carnage and death. Tess, Sam, Henry, was this his penance for pulling Ellie out of that hospital? Being around him was a death wish. As he passed the cemetary within eye sight of his house, he paused. Should he leave now? Was bringing Tommy along just another risk? He could make it back to the stables in thirty with his machete, shotgun, and revovler in hand. Not that he knew where he was going, and he sighed as he realized Tommy had left him in the dark intentionally. 

Panicked footsteps followed the creaking of the hinges on his front door, Ellie’s body slamming into his hard enough to push the wind out of him. She was crying, her arms locked tight as she buried her face into his shoulder, his arms instinctually wrapping around her.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he soothed, leaning his chin on her head, “It’s alright.”

“Don’t go,” was all she whimpered in response, his shoulders slumping in defeat, there was no winning this, “I know you’re gonna go. Don’t.”

“I have to.”

“So you can die, too?!” Her small frame yanked free, shoving at his chest as her face twisted in a fresh wave of tears.

“I ain’t gonna die–”

“That’s what she said!! And she’s gone!”

An eerie silence followed, Ellie holding in her gasping breaths as her soaked green eyes pierced through him. The thought of you out there alone and scared was plaguing him, the chance that somehow you’d find a way to survive was low, but it wasn’t zero. It was fool’s hope, but he’d never been the smartest guy in the room anyhow. He needed something to keep his feet moving forward.

“I gotta bring her home, kiddo,” he finally resigned, “I’ll be back. I swear.”

Ellie's Journal - January 26, 2035

Art by @natendo-art