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porcupine-girl · 3 months ago

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Our Song S3: Commercial Break

While I work on editing episode 5, I've posted a special chapter on AO3, with all the Our Song-related stuff I saw (and bought) in China!

You can read it here on AO3 or below the cut:

First off, a literal word from our sponsor: I found a UBEST ad. For a country where a lot of the population is lactose intolerant, there are a lot of milk ads. I guess when a lot of your potential market is lactose intolerant you have to advertise your milk more heavily than here.

I very much wish I'd been able to see someone in concert while I was there, but nobody I could find happened to be playing either of the cities on the few days I'd be there (Joker played Beijing DAYS after I left! 😫). But I did see ads for Jam Hsiao coming to Shanghai in August:

Wait... Who tf is Jam Hsiao, you may ask? You'll find out in episode 5!

Thanks to a tip from marlo-noni on tumblr, I found two "idol stores" in the Shanghai Jing'an Joy City mall, which were ground zero for merch. These stores were about 75% K-pop, but there was a decent amount of merch for Chinese singers and actors, along with a few current cdramas.

Photo cards are very popular, little playing-card-sized random photos of celebrities, some of which look official and some of which look like selfies from their social media. You can buy these singly, or in packs of like ten, or in actual decks. I didn't buy any, but I saw some for both Wang Sulong and Joker Xue:

I also saw some for Zhou Shen, who was in Season 1 of Our Song, but I forgot to take a photo of those. The first store especially also had a ton of these 6"x18" double-sided banners. This was the only Liu Yuning merch I saw on my trip! There were a ton of these but I bought these two, LYN and Joker (photos show first one side and then the other):

In the second photo, the text on Joker's banner reads 你是我今生未完成的歌 (You are the unfinished song of my life), lyrics from his song 未完成的歌 (Unfinished Song) from his 2009 album of the same name. The text on LYN's banner reads 一束光 / 黑夜的2 (A beam of light in the dark of night 2). 黑夜一束光 is the name of one of the songs on his 2019 album 十.

I also bought this Joker Xue bookmark (front and back):

The first idol store was also where I got an ACTUAL PIECE OF OUR SONG MERCH! It's got Xiao Zhan, who was on season 1, not 3, which you can watch here (it says 2 but it's 1)—the store had a whole section for Xiao Zhan merch.

Honestly, I almost didn't notice it in with all the other Xiao Zhan stuff—I don't even remember him wearing this outfit, though apparently he wore it for some of the promotional photos like this one. I eventually noticed the Our Song logo, though. I have to wonder if I would have seen other Our Song merch around if I'd actually been in China while it was airing, or if this was only made because of XZ's popularity (as a singer, overall he's not nearly as big a star as some people they've had on the show, but among people who shop at idol stores he may be the biggest lol).

My white whale of this trip was to buy at least one actual physical CD from an artist I like, or at least someone I know of. I asked on multiple subreddits where I might be able to buy CDs in China, only to be told over and over again that Chinese artists don't release physical media anymore and nobody cells Chinese CDs. The closest thing I got to a real answer was someone who suggested a bookstore chain they thought might maybe stock CDs at some locations, but with the warning that they probably mostly or only sold western artists. This turned out to be the biggest bookstore chain in China (and run by the government, unsurprisingly); I went to at least a couple different locations as well as many other bookstores and not a single one had CDs.

Finally, a couple days from the end of my trip, I was looking for more idol stores in Beijing and had the idea to Google where to get K-pop stuff, since the idol stores were mostly K-pop (the idol stores actually did sell K-pop CDs, as did a couple other places I saw, but not a single Chinese CD). This is what finally led me to a blog post about places to get K-pop stuff in Beijing, including CDs, which mentioned the store Disc in the Chaoyang Joy City mall! (Joy City seems to be a big mall chain in China, I went to two different ones in Beijing on top of the one in Shanghai.)

Unfortunately, once I got inside there were signs saying no photos - I'm not really sure why, but I really didn't want to get kicked out so I didn't take any! Which is a shame, because talk about hitting the jackpot! The very first thing I saw when I walked in was a bunch of George Lam CDs, along with Hacken Lee (who was a senior in S1).

I have no idea how the discs were organized, honestly. I think maybe the first section was Cantopop, since George and Hacken both recorded mostly in Cantonese and there was also a lot of Wang Fei (who has never been on Our Song afaik but I have some of her songs, she's recorded in both languages). Then was clearly Mandarin stuff, and maybe vaguely sort of in alphabetical order but not very strictly? And maybe also by genre? There were no signs on the shelves that I could find explaining the organization, listing genres or anything.

I opened my notes app and made a note with "Where can I find these?" in Chinese along with a list of the artists all in hanzi, but thankfully the guy I found to help me actually spoke pretty good English. I still showed him the list because it just seemed easiest. He knew exactly which ones they had in stock and where to find them.

They had two of Penny Tai's albums, a couple from Wang Sulong, a bunch of albums from Da Zhangwei's band The Flowers, one Da Zhangwei CD/DVD, and a bunch of Joker Xue albums. (As an example of the weird organization, the Da Zhangwei album was shelved with the Flowers albums, which suggest genre but not alphabetical, and Joker's stuff was on an endcap in a totally different part of the store that I never would have found.) I wound up buying a Flowers double album and Joker Xue's latest, Countless (I already knew I loved the title track from this album):

I will not say how much I paid for these; let's just say that the Joker CD was somewhat reasonably priced while the Flowers CD, which was released in 1999 and this is probably a copy from then, cost way more than I was hoping to spend. 😬 But I have yet to find a single Flowers album on eBay or yesasia.com or even iTunes—the few Flowers songs I have in my playlist I've ripped from YouTube—so I bought it. The guy helping me actually handed it to me telling me it was their best album; I'd assumed he was trying to sell me the most expensive one but believe it or not this double album was actually the cheapest one they had! I forget which album it was but one of the Flowers CDs was going for 1000RMB ($137)!

Joker's album, Countless, cost a little more than I'd normally pay for a CD in the US, but when I got it home and finally opened it, it very much earned that price! I was not expecting it to be full of more merch. It's in a very nice grey box to start with, then on top there was a black envelope that, when I opened it, contained several index-card-sized black and white photos of Joker. Plus instead of just simple liner notes with lyrics, there was a full little photo book, with the lyrics on the smaller black half-pages in between:

Also! I could not get a photo of this, but I heard Hu Xia's song 那些年 (which you'll see him perform soon) in the wild! We were eating breakfast at a pastry shop in Beijing and they were playing it! What's really funny is that my son realized it at the exact same time I did—"Mom, this is a song from your playlist!"

Of course, Our Song merch wasn't all I was looking for in China—to see some of the other merch and ads I saw, keep an eye on my PG Goes to China tag on Tumblr; I made some posts while I was there but I'll also be posting several themed roundups over the next couple of weeks! I might even post a few photos of boring things like the Great Wall and Forbidden City.

I promise next time I will be back with more actual Our Song. Until then, here is 无数, the title track I love so much from Countless:

youtube

#our song #我们的歌 #joker xue #薛之谦 #xiao zhan #liu yuning #花儿乐队 #pg goes to china #Youtube

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 2 months ago

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Chapter 24 ~ Getting out

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW’s: despite Carr having a knife again, she doesn’t really do much with it besides some threatening actions, and I don’t think that needs a tw, do you? No? Cool lol

WC: 3019

Taglist: @dont-touch-my-soup, @kixngiggles

AN: I need to get to a point where I start writing again instead of spending all week editing the chapter I'm about to post so uh, yeah, I'm practicing that on this one XD

Resh

It was the first time he’d been outside in days, and he couldn’t have cared less.

His fever had broken sometime during the night, to the relief of his captors, who may or may not be keeping him alive to use him for his magic. He still halfway expected the prince to show up and drag him back to the torture chamber. He couldn’t keep anything straight in his mind.

The summer sun’s heat beating down on his head and bare shoulders felt real enough, as did the weakness in his legs, which barely supported him. Without Lox under his arm, they wouldn’t have supported him at all. Rowan followed as he was all but dragged out of the cabin, clucking at Lox like a mother hen until the man snarled at them.

Resh blinked against the brightness of the day, wondering why they even bothered. Half-lidded eyes scanned the encampment, not really taking anything in as he allowed himself to be maneuvered about. He didn’t pay attention to whatever Lox was trying to explain to him; why should he care? He wouldn’t have left his bed if it hadn’t been more effort to stay than to leave it.

But his gaze focused when a head of reddish-blond hair popped up, the contrast vivid against the stark white of the linens hanging on the line behind them. Lox caught the movement too, but when the woman turned and began adjusting one of the sheets, he turned back to respond to a question Rowan had just asked.

Resh couldn’t look away, though. The dress was wrong, but the profile, that choppy hair, the way she stood, glancing at them out of the corner of her eye… could it be…

It couldn’t be. Carr was dead. His vision wavered through tears he refused to blink away. He couldn’t break his line of sight or her spirit would disappear, just as it had however many days ago it had been now.

The spirit met his eyes then, and he had to blink because he couldn’t see and he had to see but then she’d be gone…

His eyes twitched, shuttering his gaze for a split second. His heart plummeted. Fuck, shit! He almost didn’t want to look again, to see that she was gone, but he also couldn’t not look. A tear slipped free as he reluctantly refocused on where she’d been, his pulse pounding–

She wasn’t. Wasn’t gone. Her gaze was filled with frustration and a longing he could read from here as her fingers moved clothespins with no purpose he could discern. Could spirits do that? Move things in the real world? Or was this the real world… could be a dream… could be a nightmare, could be…

Resh lifted his free hand to run his fingers over his throat, ignoring the sharp pangs shooting through his chest at the movement. There, the little indentations, the scars from the thorn collar, they were there. Real? Was she real, too? Gods, he wanted her to be real. More than anything.

He had to check, had to see…

Lox tightened his grip on Resh’s waist. “Woah there, take it slow, now.”

“Oh, look! He’s actually looking around,” Rowan said. “I think that’s the first sign of interest he’s shown in, well, anything.”

Their words faded into the background. Resh kept his gaze locked on the woman who looked like Carr. She didn’t look away from him either.

Just as he was getting ready to let himself believe it might actually be her, another man walked up and draped an arm over her shoulder. She broke their eye contact, looking up at the man. Talking to him. Not pulling away, not pulling a knife, not putting him on his ass.

The man started walking, pulling her away with him. Still, he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t let go of the idea… was he imagining things, or was her back a little too stiff, her gait reluctant?

Another person had come up to speak to Lox while Resh’s attention had been elsewhere. Lox’s grip was loose, and Resh was feeling a little stronger now. He could pull away. He could punch that other man in the face and make sure the woman who reminded him of Carr was okay.

They were about to disappear behind one of the cabins, the man’s hand now in the center of the woman’s back, guiding her along. Pushing her along. He ground his teeth, hoping he wasn’t about to fall on his face chasing after someone who probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

But before he could move, the woman’s fingers flashed behind her back, right as they turned the corner.

Resh blinked. That… that was sign.

Stay. The way is clear.

Thieves cant sign.

What the fuck. He shook his head, even more confused. He’d never understood ‘the way is clear’, and he understood it even less now. He was standing here only under the assistance of the man who’d shot him and killed… killed the women he loved… His breath caught in his throat and he forcibly redirected his thoughts.

How the fuck was the way clear? How the fuck was a dead woman signing at him from under the arm of some guy? It was, it couldn’t be, it–

Lox pulled away from him, and Resh lurched, knees almost buckling until Rowan ducked under his arm, taking Lox’s place.

“Can you manage him?” Lox asked them, and Rowan gave a sharp nod in answer. “Good. You know the priorities.” With that, he grabbed Rowan’s face between large, callused hands that Resh had an all too close view of, and kissed Rowan, hard. Quickly, but thoroughly.

Resh tried not to gag.

Rowan turned to him, their lips swollen and cheeks slightly flushed, and said, “C’mon.”

They started moving, and Resh had no choice but to hobble along with them, trying not to wince as the movement stretched the skin in his shoulder and jarred his sore ribs. He’d expected to be deposited back in that room, but they set off across the field, passing the clothesline and going the opposite direction from where the woman who might be Carr had disappeared. He wanted to ask what was happening, but, of course, he couldn’t.

At least, Rowan had never looked less like the prince with those kiss-swollen lips. And the clearing was definitely not in the capital, not with those huge trees looming all around. For that, he was grateful.

~~~

Carr

They were coming. So soon and not soon enough and fucking shit, she needed the rest of her blades.

Carr twisted the one she’d stolen from Demex in her hand, running her thumb along familiar grooves. Gods, it felt good to have it back, like she’d been missing an extension of herself. She felt more complete with a weapon on her person.

With the blade pressed against the inside of her left wrist, Carr pushed away from the cabin and moved towards the gathering cabin, fully intending to veer off to the gates before she got there. She’d find her stash, and if she had time she’d change out of this motherfucking dress–

A flash of movement caught in the corner of her eye, and she ducked behind the sheets.

“Arah?”

Fuck, that was Rowan. She hadn’t moved fast enough. Carr switched the blade to her right hand, then put what she hoped was a convincingly frightened expression on her face and stepped back out. “Demex said we’re bein’ attacked…” She trailed off as she came face to face with Resh, who was leaning on the healer’s shoulder.

She couldn’t act like she knew him. Or did it really matter at this point? “Uhhh…”

“You’re heading to the gathering cabin?”

Carr nodded mutely, unable to look away from Resh, whose mouth kept opening and closing but not forming anything that looked like words.

“Well then, I could use some help, if you don’t mind,” Rowan said a bit acerbically.

She did mind, actually, but it wasn’t like she could really refuse. “Who–”

“A new one,” Rowan said as Carr slipped under Resh’s left arm. Their tone invited no further questions, and they started moving as soon as Carr was in place.

Carr hoped Resh didn’t mind the feel of cold steel against the bare skin of his lower back.

The gathering cabin was all the way at the rear of the valley, giving her plenty of time to notice things like how heavily Resh leaned on Rowan but not her, and whether slipping the knife pressed against Resh’s back into Rowan’s waist was a good move or not.

For once, she’d really prefer not to harm someone to get what she wanted. Which was Resh, who kept giving her sidelong glances, looking like he’d seen a spirit, and damnit, she wasn’t dead and could he just get that through his head already?

They passed several people heading down, some of whom offered their help, which Rowan refused. Carr seethed a little more each time it happened. The man who tended the animals passed them by without comment, herding a group of goats. Where the fuck he’d put them in the gathering hall was a question she’d prefer to have unanswered, because she really couldn’t get stuck in there.

“Rowan, I can take him if there’re things you need t’ do,” she said, only for her offer to be declined.

Fuck. Was she gonna have to stab them after all?

While she wrestled with a conscience she didn’t much like having acquired, it occurred to her that it was much too quiet. Aside from the activity of a few stragglers, there was no noise coming from the forest around them. Carr’s eyes flicked up to the ridge, where she’d spent some time watching the camp herself. Light glinted off something metal as someone stepped out from the treeline, a bow raised–

“Get down!” she shouted, shoving Resh into Rowan and sending them all staggering sideways. The arrow whizzed over her shoulder as she fell, positioning herself over Resh. Someone released a pained cry in the distance, and Rowan started cursing. Resh shuddered beneath her.

Rage coursed through Carr, and she lifted her head towards the cliff. “Stop shootin’ at the people you came to rescue, you dumb fucking shits!” She thought she saw the bowman startle, then they shifted back, became indistinguishable from the treeline.

“Useless as fuckin’ tits on a turtle,” she grumbled under her breath.

Something shook beneath her, and she looked down to find Resh staring up at her, his eyes wide. And filled with… tears. Fuck.

Carr? he mouthed, disbelief transforming to radiant hope.

“You fucking bitch,” Rowan hissed, and Carr wrenched her gaze away to find the healer staring at her right hand, clenched around the dagger on the ground.

Carr jerked up and away as they lunged for it. Shit, guess she should’ve stabbed them after all. She slashed at the healer when they attempted to disarm her, and they reared back, holding a bleeding hand to their chest.

“Resh, get up,” she urged, positioning herself in front of him. “Don’t want t’ hurt you, Rowan, but I will if you make any more moves towards me or him, understand?”

The look Rowan gave her could’ve peeled the skin from her bones, but they backed away. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Do you?” Carr retorted. “Your crazy fuckin’ leader almost killed us for some fucking gold, and then kidnapped my friend! Only reason I didn’t slit every one of you spineless cunting fark’s throats is because you seemed like decent people. Don’t fuckin’ prove me wrong now.”

She glanced behind her to find Resh still struggling to push himself up. His bandages, fresh and white before, now were splotched with blood.

Carr knelt to help him without taking her eyes off Rowan. “If you’ve got what I think you’ve got in that cabin, go. Get outta here before the rest of the soldiers get here.”

Shouts and clangs of metal replaced the unnatural quiet in the valley, growing closer and closer. Thankfully, no further shots had come from above, but Carr didn’t trust that to last. Although it was fucking ironic they’d shot at the ones they’d come to save.

Rowan’s face fell. As they backed away, Carr felt a twinge of guilt for the likely fates of the ones outside the camp’s walls, fighting for their community’s chance of escape. An escape they’d never get to take part in. Demex, who’d been kind to her, that nasty kiss aside, would die fighting for them, and if she could, she’d make sure he didn’t die in vain.

But first, she needed to make sure she and Resh didn’t get accidentally offed in this rescue attempt. She switched her blade to her left hand, then ducked under his right arm, the blood seeping through the bandages reminding her which side he’d been shot on. “I got you, Resh, c’mon.”

She staggered under his weight, but they both managed to get to their feet. Where his face promptly lost what little color it’d had to begin with. Shit. “Resh, you good?”

He nodded, but she could see it was a lie. His breathing was too fast, too shallow. Beads of sweat had popped up on his forehead, curling the limp strands of his hair.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

His mouth moved, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to say before his legs gave out. Carr lowered him to the ground as gently as she could. Which wasn’t that gently, not with his dead weight bearing down on her.

“Rowan!” Carr shouted, her hands fluttering over Resh’s bandages, wondering if she should rip them off to find the problem or if that would make things worse. Gods, what if they didn’t come back?

She waited a few seconds, but they didn’t come, so she decided the bandages needed to come off so she could see what she was dealing with. Instead of unwrapping them, she placed the tip of the blade under the strips of linen, ready to slice through, but then someone caught her arm.

They almost lost the hand they’d laid on her before Carr realized it was Rowan. “Oh thank fuck, you came back. What’s wrong with him, can you help?”

“I might be able to if you let me past,” Rowan said carefully, glancing at the knife Carr had shifted to their sternum, angled to stab up under their ribcage into their heart.

Carr hadn’t even realized she’d moved. She dropped her arm but paused before moving aside. “Nothin’ funny, yeah?”

“Kid, I’ve been tending to him night and day for almost a week, I’m not gonna off him now. But I don’t have much time–”

Carr tilted her head, listening to the sounds of the fighting.

“–so if you don’t mind…”

She moved. Her hands trembled as she kneeled on Resh’s other side, knife at the ready. Just in case. But the healer paid her no heed, instead feeling around on Resh’s chest.

Ribs, Carr thought. Fuck. If he had broken ribs, and she’d shoved him to the ground, one of them could’ve snapped, stabbed through a lung… had he been gasping for air before he’d passed out? But there was no blood at his mouth… her mind raced through the scenarios. She’d seen such injuries before. Every one had been fatal.

It was her breath coming too fast now, waiting for the damning verdict, that after everything, she’d ended up killing him herself.

“I think,” Rowan began, then paused to feel around some more. “I–”

“I think you should back away from this man before I slit your throat,” a male voice rumbled.

Rowan raised their hands, a resigned look on their face. “Waited too fucking long,” they muttered.

Carr glared at the man holding Resh’s life at knifepoint. “Brant, you dumbfuck, can’t you see they’re trying t’ help?” When he didn’t move, she hissed, “Let. Them. Go.”

He did, grumbling about the thanks he got for coming to save her life.

“Well?” she asked Rowan.

“I think his ribs are still intact,” the healer said before pulling up the bandage over Resh’s left shoulder. “He pulled the stitches again, though. Fucking pits, it’s impossible to keep them in this kid.”

Carr let out a shuddering breath, ignoring the look Brant shot her way. “Well, why’s he like this then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe overextended himself. But he’s not about to die, and I am, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.”

Brant moved to block them. “The pits you will. We’re rounding up the whole lot of you thieving bastards.”

Carr bit back a scoff; those were rich words coming from him, and from the humor dancing in his gaze, he knew it.

When she regained some control over herself, she said, “Let Rowan go, Brant. This place isn’t what we thought it was, and these people inside the walls have done nothing wrong.”

He raised a brow. “I can’t. We found the exit to the valley before we attacked from the front. There’s no escaping this place.”

Rowan’s breath caught, and Carr watched their face crumple.

Oh gods. If Resh wasn’t in immediate danger, she needed to fix this. “Who’s in charge? Did the Elder come with you? There are women and children here, people like… people like us, Brant.” She watched the meaning of her words sink in.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fine. You two stay here, I’ll go pass the info along. And get someone to come help with Resh.”

Carr nodded, thankful she didn’t need to leave Resh after all. It would be okay. Once he was safe, she’d make sure to speak to the Elder, back up Brant’s words.

She placed her hand against his cheek, the feel of several days’ stubble harsh against her palm. “It’s gonna be alright, Resh, promise.” She’d make sure of it.

The slightest bit of pressure registered against her fingers, as if he’d turned his head into her palm in response.

#hidden depths #original writing #original characters #whump #whump writing #fantasy writing #fantasy whump

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raaorqtpbpdy · 10 months ago

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Brotherhood (2)

Directly following the events of Double Helix, Danny enrolls in Bayville High school and joins the Brotherhood of Mutants. He's not sure if they actually believe he's a ghost and not a mutant, but at least they don't care enough to challenge him on it, and that's good enough for him. This is a direct sequel to Double Helix (linked above), and some parts may be confusing without the context of the original fic. I suggest you read that first.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week 2024, Day 5: The Owl House X-Men Evolution | Shell

I have seen exactly two episodes of The Owl House, and that was like four years ago or something, so I was not confident in my ability to write a crossover for it. Also, from this chapter on, it's unedited and I'll come back to edit later. I just want to actually finish this fic tonight.

I tried to work in a theme of both Danny and Wanda "coming out of their shell" throughout the fic. You can also read it on AO3.

Chapter 2: Transition

[Warning for mental institutions]

"You guys got any plans for the long weekend?" Lance asked as he sprawled out on the shabby couch in the board house. "Kitty told me she and some of the X-dorks are going on an educational retreat to the California redwoods. They decided on it yesterday. Can you imagine being able to just up and fly to the other side of the country on a whim."

"And for educational purposes, yuck!" Toad agreed. "If I had my own jet like they do, I'd go to Vegas!"

"If you could afford a jet like they have, you wouldn't have to go to Vegas," Lance said. "You'd already be rich. If I had my own jet, I would use it to go to all the concerts I'd normally miss because they're too far away."

"I don't need a private jet to go wherever I want," Pietro bragged. "If I want to go to a concert, I'll run right in past security and no one will even know."

"And if that concert is in Europe?" Lance asked. "Or Asia? You know, across a massive ocean? Can you run there?"

"Okay, point taken, but why would I wanna go to a snooty European concert anyway?" the speedster scoffed. "What about you, Danny?"

"What do I need a jet for? I can already fly," he said. "Not that I use it for major travel much. Maybe I should. That's what my cousin does. She flies all over the world."

"Hey! We should do something fun this weekend!" Toad declared. "Maybe sneak into a concert, or go somewhere cool! Show those X losers we know how to have a good time while they use their fancy private jet to go learn things."

"Sure, I'm down," Lance agreed.

"Sorry guys, I'm gonna pass this time. I actually do have plans this weekend," Danny said. "I'm gonna fly upstate and visit a friend. I haven't seen her in a few weeks."

"Her?" Pietro repeated with a smirk. "This wouldn't happen to be a girlfriend would it?"

"It's not like that," Danny said. "She's a friend. She's a girl. That's it."

"Uh-huh... sure," Toad said, sounding unconvinced. "You dog."

"Lay off," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, we gotta get to school. Long weekend's not here yet."

Toad groaned.

"Buck up, we've only got one more day," Lance pointed out.

When the long weekend finally arrived, Danny filled his pockets with all the things he wanted to bring, said good-bye to the Brotherhood, who barely acknowledged him as they argued about what to do that weekend, and took off. He flew north, toward the mental institution. It had been almost three whole weeks since he'd last been there, but he remembered the way.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to go back so soon, and Wanda probably wouldn't be expecting him either, but it wasn't like he was gonna be an inpatient this time. He would turn invisible and pop into Wanda's room to hang out with her. It hadn't even been that long, really, but he missed her.

Thinking about her in that room all alone again, without anyone or anything to distract her, it almost made him regret leaving in the first place. He should have been more considerate. Even though she said she'd be okay, leaving just because he didn't like Xavier was selfish.

When, after almost a full day of flying, he finally caught sight of the building, resentment gripped his chest. He hated this place. If it weren't for Wanda, he wouldn't have even stayed as long as he had. And if it weren't for her, he definitely wouldn't have come back, ever. No matter what.

But he did. He came back. For Wanda.

Sneaking in went just as planned. No one saw him. No one heard him. He was a ghost, after all. The moment he saw Wanda, he realized that he'd missed her even more than he'd thought.

"Knock knock," he said as he appeared in her room.

She jumped in surprise, but when she saw him, she smiled. "You scared me."

"Should I have said 'Boo', instead?" he asked. "I totally should have. Missed opportunity."

She chuckled slightly and shook her head.

"You seem to be doing pretty well, all things considered," he noted.

She was still wearing a straight jacket, but it looked looser, like whoever had put it on her wasn't as worried about her getting out. Her small smile still seemed genuine. Three weeks on her own again hadn't sent her straight back to her darkest place, it seemed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I've been taking your advice. Whenever I notice myself getting stuck thinking about the bad memory, I try to think of three good ones. It's hard sometimes, but I think the more effort it takes, the better it works, because it keeps me distracted for longer. Yesterday, I remembered reading that book with you. You know the one. I tried to imagine an ending for it where they were both arrested as war criminals instead of having a happy ending. Do you want to hear it?"

"Absolutely," Danny confirmed.

In truth, he hadn't even thought about that trashy romance novel in ages. It was largely forgettable for him, but if it helped Wanda better navigate her emotions then hell yeah he wanted to hear her ideas for an alternate ending.

In her version of the ending, there was a huge trial. The kings of both sides agreed that the Warlock and Sorceress were guilty of crimes against Arvenia, and sentenced them to live the rest of there lives in a deep, dark dungeon where the lovers could only communicate by having rats deliver notes between them.

Then, after years of planning their escape one note at a time, they broke out and took over the world together, killing the kings and terrorizing the people of Arvenia to keep them in line.

"Ooh, plot twist!" Danny said when she got to that part. "I like that you made them the villains in the end. They should have been the villains from the beginning."

"I agree," Wanda said. "It was stupid that the book just gave them another villain to blame for all the bad things they did and fight off, rather than acknowledging their crimes."

"Totally!" Danny emphatically agreed. "Oh, I just remembered! I brought you some stuff."

He reached into his pockets and pulled out all the stuff he'd brought. He pulled out a deck of cards, a book of MadLibs and a pen, a sheet of stickers. He wasn't sure what they would have the most fun with, so he'd just brought a bunch of random junk. Lastly, he pulled out a necklace, a black choker with an ankh charm.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Your first goth accessory," he said. "I found it in a random box in the attic where I'm staying now."

"No, I mean what's that symbol?" she asked, repositioning herself so Danny could put the necklace on her.

"Oh, it's an ankh. The Egyptian symbol for life, I think."

"Life, huh? Doesn't sound very goth."

"Well, you would be wearing it ironically," he said. "Most of the other gothy stuff I found had crosses, and seeing as your Jewish and all...." He shrugged. "Felt like it would be disrespectful. So, do you like it?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot," Wanda said. "You know," her voice became suddenly softer than before, like she was nervous. "Professor Xavier is going to come tomorrow. I think tomorrow might finally be the day he takes me with him."

"You think?" Danny asked, excited for her despite his hatred of the professor.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I've been doing a lot better lately, and I have a really good feeling about it."

"That's awesome, Wanda!" he told her. "In that case, let's call the necklace a good luck charm. I'm rooting for you. I know you can do it."

"Thanks."

"You know, I also found this totally sweet red leather coat when I was rooting around in the attic," he said. "Ankle-length, flared collar, and it's your favorite color. Once you're ready to give up the straight jacket, I'll bring it to you as a congratulations present. What do you think?"

"I think you're really trying to motivate me."

"What can I say? I miss my friend."

"Then we have a deal," she agreed. Tomorrow is gonna be the day. I just know it."

Danny grinned widely at her.

For the rest of the day, they mostly played MadLibs. They tried a few card games, too, but with Wanda's hands restrained, the only thing they could really do was collaborative solitaire, and that got old fast. Danny stuck little ghost and bat stickers on all the latches on her straight jacket while he told her about the school he was going to, and the board house. How he'd picked the same city the Xavier Institute was in so he could see her again when she enrolled there.

"They're all mutants at the board house," Danny told her. "I don't know if they actually believe I'm not, but they don't push it. They don't even call me a mutant by mistake. I don't know, maybe it's 'cause they're afraid I'll do something, or maybe it's 'cause they just don't care enough to argue with me, but either way, that's better than I ever got from Xavier."

"I'm glad you found people who accept you," Wanda said. "I hope when I go to the professor's school, I will too."

"Me too," Danny agreed. "And hey, even if you don't find them there, you'll still have me."

She smiled at him. Her smile was always small, burdened, a little sad behind the eyes, but it was honest. Danny liked that about her. She never tried to hide anything.

That night, he crashed in her room. Despite being fully padded, it was not very comfortable, but it was better than trying to fly through the night and ending up sleeping in a tree somewhere. He said 'see ya later' and left early in the morning to make sure he wouldn't be seen when the orderlies came to get her for her meeting with the professor, and promised to meet up with her again soon.

Then, he spent another day flying back to Bayville.

"You're getting back a little late, aren't you?" Lance observed when Danny finally returned to the board house. "Did you get to spend some quality time with your girlfriend?"

"Again, not my girlfriend, but yes, I did," Danny responded. "How was your... whatever you guys decided to do this weekend?"

"Oh, we ended up not being able to decide, so we just ordered pizza and stayed here all weekend," Lance answered. "So that was... that."

"Oh, yeah, those X-Men are gonna be soo jealous of the weekend you had."

"Shut up!"

It wasn't until a couple days later that news reached the Brotherhood of the X-Men's newest member. It came by way of Lance's budding relationship with Kitty.

"Really!? The X-Men have a new member?" Danny repeated excitedly when he heard the news after school.

"That's what Kitty said," Lance confirmed. "Apparently she's not gonna start at Bayville High for another few of days so she can get settled, but yeah. I don't know anything about her, though."

"I'm pretty sure I do!" Danny said. "I gotta go!"

"What?"

Danny didn't bother to explain. He went ghost, made a quick pit-stop in the attic to grab something and then flew straight for the Xavier Institute. He'd never actually been there before, but Tabitha told him where it was a while back. Apparently, she used to be an X-Men trainee before she joined the Brotherhood, and she was still friends with some of them.

Turrets rose up out of the ground the moment he got past the gate. Probably motion-activated. Danny easily avoided getting hit by turning intangible and staying that way until he'd flown straight through the front door. It actually took a while. The grounds were huge.

By the time he got through, there was a group of mutants waiting for him, suited up and ready for a fight.

"Relax, I'm not here to fight," Danny said. He held up the paper bag he'd brought with him. "I'm just bringing a friend a gift."

"Who are you?" demanded a guy with a weird visor. Scott, probably. He seemed like Scott.

"What do you mean who am I?" Danny asked. "You know me!"

"Like, I've never seen you before," Kitty said, crossing her arms.

How they expected to protect their identities when they didn't even wear masks, Danny had no idea.

"What are you talking about? I—" He stopped himself abruptly. "Oh yeah, my bad," he said, and let the rings of his transformation wash over him, revealing his human form. "Recognize me now?"

Judging by their gasps, the answer was yes, but they didn't stand down.

"What are you doing here?" Jean asked. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the Xavier Institute."

"I don't wanna join, but it's not like I hate you guys or anything," Danny said. "This just isn't the place for me. And I already told you why I'm here. I'm brought a congratulations present for Wanda. She's your new member, right? Or trainee? Whatever."

"How do you know that?" asked a fuzzy blue mutant that Danny didn't recognize until he started talking. That German accent was unmistakably Kurt.

"Well, when I saw her the other day, she said she felt really confident that she was going to be able to join you guys soon, and then Lance said Kitty said you got a new member, so I figured it must be her."

The others all glared at Kitty.

"What?" she asked. "It's not like it was gonna be a secret for long anyway. We, like, all go to the same school!"

"I wasn't aware you and Wanda were so close," came a familiar voice.

Danny turned to see the professor wheeling in and had to school his face to avoid scowling at him.

"We're friends," he said. "Can I see her or not? And keep in mind if you say no, I'm just gonna find her anyway."

"As long as you haven't come with ill intentions, I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to see her," the professor said. "We're all mutants after all, and a sense of community is important."

"I'm not a mutant," Danny muttered, his scowl finally breaking through.

The professor responded with a tight smile. "Jean, why don't you show Danny to Wanda's room."

"Of course, professor," Jean agreed. "It's this way."

She headed up the stairs and Danny followed.

"So do you and Wanda know each other from the institution?" Jean asked. "I mean, sorry, that's probably personal. I hope you don't mind me asking."

"It's fine," Danny said. "Yeah. Security couldn't exactly hold a guy who walks through walls, so I would sneak into her room sometimes and we'd hang out. She always wanted to be able to come here. I could never really understand it, but I'm still proud of her, you know? I may not agree with you guys, but you're good people. For the most part. I'm not quite sold on Scott, yet."

Jean chuckled. "I guess we can't really ask for more than that." She stopped in the hallway and knocked on a door. "Wanda, you in there? You have a visitor."

The door opened seemingly on its own.

"Danny!" Wanda's voice called. "I didn't think you'd be here so soon."

"I came as soon as I heard, and I guess word travels fast," he replied. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in," she said.

"I'll leave you to it," Jean said, as she backed away into the hall and closed the door behind her.

"You look good," Danny said.

Her clothes were a bit mismatched, but it was the first time he was seeing her without a straight jacket, and that was a huge improvement. She was also wearing the choker he'd given her. Her hair looked recently washed, and was neatly combed and tucked behind her ears.

Even the way she held herself was more confident, happier. Not being in that rotten mental institution was already having a positive affect on her, it seemed.

"I brought something that'll make you look even better." He held up the paper bag.

"The coat?" she asked, rushing forward excitedly to take the bag from him.

"I hope it fits," he told her. "It looked about the right size."

She let the bag drop to the floor as he pulled the coat out and smoothly slid it on. It looked like it might be a little wide in the shoulders, but other than that, it fit like a glove.

"It's perfect," she said.

"I also found some earrings that match the necklace," he said. "I slipped 'em in one of the pockets. I know you don't have pierced ears, but I figured if you ever did, you might like to have them."

She patted the pockets until she found what he was talking about and smiled when she pulled them out. Then, she laid them gently on her dresser.

He didn't think he'd ever seen her smile so much, and so unabashedly. It wasn't the tiny, hesitant smile she'd worn before. She was really coming out of her shell.

"Careful," he said. "Looking at you now, I'd almost think you weren't consumed by rage."

Her smile fell.

That had been the wrong thing to say.

"I am still angry," she said. "I can't stop it. But... you were right. I didn't need to control my anger. I just had to stop letting my anger control me. Now I can be angry and happy at the same time. Angry and excited. I feel more than just anger now. It feels good."

"I'm happy to hear it," he told her. "So how's this place treating you so far?"

"I have a roommate!" she replied instantly. "Her name is Rahne. And tomorrow, when they're done with school, she and some of the other girls are gonna take me to the mall for new clothes so I don't have to wear stuff from the lost-and-found anymore."

"That makes sense," Danny said.

"Do you wanna come?" she invited.

"I... would... but I might ruin the mood," he said apologetically. "Some of them don't trust me since I'm technically part of the Brotherhood, and we're... enemies? Rivals? Something like that. Plus, you don't want a guy tagging along on your first girl's shopping trip. Trust me. You'll want the full experience."

"You have a point...."

"I'll enjoy the surprise of seeing your new wardrobe when you come to school in a few days," he said.

They hung out and chatted for a little while until Wanda's roommate came back and Danny figured that was his cue to go. As he left her new room, he had the distinct pleasure of telling her he'd see her at school.

He could feel eyes on him until he was all the way off the manor grounds. They may not have hated him, but these X-Men sure as hell didn't trust him either.

Whatever. He didn't care what they thought about him. As long as they took care of Wanda, and left him alone, they were alright in his book. So far, so good.

#dp #danny phantom #x men #x men evolution #dp x x men evolution #fic #things i wrote #brotherhood #double helix #crossover #dp crossover #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover danuary week #danny fenton #wanda maximoff #sequel

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gayashelljatp · 2 months ago

Text

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle.

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air.

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving.

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own.

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed.

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring.

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away.

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed.

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right?

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world.

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense.

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes.

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease.

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,”

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,”

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!”

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,”

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.”

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time,"

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself, (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl.

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes.

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot.

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.) Request go here on my tumblr.

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years ago

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Title: “I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master” [AO3 Link] Originally written as part of: Bucky Barnes As… a Rockstar SERIES MASTERLIST Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Summary/Notes: This is, pretty much, exactly what it looks like. Rockstar Bucky, Flirting, etc. EDIT: Now! I’m happy to announce that this is now IT’S OWN SERIES that I have the honour of writing with @rookthorne! More rockstar!Bucky for everyone!

“𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝” Series Masterlist | Part 2 »

The crowd is already worked up from the band on stage and Bucky is grinning maniacally behind the stage. Nat, his bassist, looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“You good, Buck?”

“Fucking fantastic, Natalia. I’m fucking fantastic. You see ‘em? It’s packed out there.”

“Your shows have been sold out all week,” Sharon reminds him while fixing Scott’s guitar strap.

“Iunno, Shar, it’s just different. Somethin’ about this place.” His blood is pumping from the heavy bass, the Cap Quartet rocking out on stage. He’s played shows with them before - Sam, Steve, Joaquin and Riley are all cool dudes. They’d become friends pretty easily, so it was a no-brainer that they were the first band Bucky asked to co-headline his tour.

—

“Thank you, you beautiful bastards!” Riley’s voice booms, followed by a loud screeching of the crowd. “Hang onto your panties if you still got ‘em, because the final act is gonna knock you dead. Yeah, you know who I’m talking about, the band you’ve all been waiting for — let me hear you fuckers!”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets the thrum of the audience's cheer work its way all the way into his bones. Fuck, he almost has a boner.

“Where’s Clint?” He asks, eager to get on stage. Natasha jerks a finger behind her where Clint is downing a bag of Cheerios between sips of Mountain Dew. Bucky grins, because it means Clint will be amped. Bucky can’t help but strum his own guitar a few times, the calluses on his fingers a permanent fixture by now.

Natasha hauls both Scott and Clint over practically by the ear, her studded combat boots thumping with each step.

“Ready?” Bucky asks with a wicked smile.

“Ready,” the three return in their usual manner, with grins and lazy salutes. Then it’s blinding lights and deafening roars.

Bucky wastes no time in getting the crowd amped.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?! Let’s gooooo bay-beeeeeeeee!” While Bucky is loud, the crowd is louder and they are on their feet from the first strum of his guitar, and Bucky feels high as a kite.

It’s not your first show at the Kathedral, but it’s certainly the loudest. You’d never heard of this particular band, but Misty’s best friends make up the Cap Quartet, so you had to support them, of course. And they were good, you actually liked when they popped up on your shuffle.

Originally, you thought you’d maybe dip after they were done - sitting for two opening acts and the Cap Quartet’s set already had your feet aching. But the moment the next band stepped out, and Misty starts jumping up and down beside you, you have no choice but to stay. The energy was infectious and you kind of missed just letting go. You may not be a rebellious teenager anymore, but the atmosphere of being at a rock concert makes you feel young and reckless again. Even the smell of spilled beer and sweat brings back a bit of nostalgia, back to when you were sixteen and had ‘X’s drawn on your hands just to get in the venue.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?!” You hear the singer shout, and you can’t help but think how beautiful the whole band is.

There’s a redhead rocking heeled boots that look like they could kill a man, her bass guitar plastered with stickers. The drummer is wearing a sleeveless muscle tank that does wonders for his arms and the other guitarist has a dazzling smile when he looks out into the crowd.

But the lead singer - he’s rocking black leather pants that bunch above his combat boots like he’d haphazardly stuck his feet in, but they’re tight across his thighs. You can see every flex in his muscles as he jumps around on stage. His hair whips around his face as he throws his whole body into his performance. It’s a small miracle he even manages to hit any notes on his guitar. His black t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest, hugging his biceps, which makes your mouth water, but what really hits you is his voice.

The opening notes of his song are the epitome of zero to one hundred. Your throat almost hurts just from watching him, but he’s nothing but smiles, clearly lost in what he loves.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

He gets a moment of reprieve when the next part comes up, before he ramps up again, the veins in his neck prominent, making you wanna lick them. A glint of metal flashes in his mouth when he sings — a tongue piercing, probably.

One at a time I know this bridge we built won't last But it'll hold for at least a while Even when the life leaves your bones Your soul will follow me wherever I go It's in the way I feel your fire even when I sleep at night I stay inside your glow

He hits the chorus again, just as hard as he did at the beginning and you swear the floor shakes as everyone jumps.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

Then he faces the audience and hops on the speaker in front, leaning forward with his microphone, his other hand waving for the crowd to sing it back to him. You’re captivated by his crystal-like eyes as the lights bounce off them.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You even find yourself shouting along, the song is so catchy that you’re into it from the moment it started. As you shout the last line, he looks right at you and it’s like an electrifying bolt through your body as he holds the look for the next line before he bounds off to the sides of the stage that he’s been neglecting.

You’re in awe as his voice changes to something smooth and soft, the instruments that were near deafening slowing down with him. He sways in the middle of the stage, face turned up as though in prayer, the bassist even hitting a few notes on the keyboard to her side as she backs him up, vocally.

I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the)

And in perfect sync, the band picks up, hard again, all of them (except the drummer) jumping as well and the crowd goes wild. You narrowly miss getting kicked in the head by a crowdsurfer, who gets a fistbump from the singer over the side of the stage.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife Lost a vital part of me Lost a vital part of me Now there's nothing left I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You’re in a trance when he ends the song, holding the note so long you’re sure his lungs should burst. Maybe it’s the heat, or the adrenaline, or just your heart pumping out of your chest as you bounce for the rest of the set, but you could swear that the lead singer kept catching your eye.

You feel like you’re flying, on cloud nine, so maybe it’s all in your head, but goddamn if you didn’t twitch with want every time you met his eyes. How this crowd still had energy was beyond you, you knew that you were dead on your feet, hair plastered to your neck with sweat but grinning wildly.

“Alright you hellions, this is the last one.” When the crowd starts chanting ‘encore, encore’ he just laughs into the mic, his voice a little raspy from his performance.

“If we could, we’d play all fuckin’ night, you know that! But some of us gotta get to Indiana by tomorrow night. So we gotta make this last one count. Let’s get sexy, folks.”

His husky voice makes it absolutely devastating as he starts off by smirking at you.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster 'Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster

It’s as though each line sent a new wave of desire through you. You picture calling him a good boy, wonder if he’d flush just as beautifully as he did now under the heat of the lights.

I love you since this morning Not just for aesthetic I wanna touch your body So fucking electric

The crowd loses its collective mind as he starts to ruck up his shirt, as each line gets progressively more seductive, and his shirt rides further and further up. You can’t help but ogle his washboard abs glistening with sweat since he was right there.

I know you scared of me You said that I'm too eccentric I'm crying all my tears And that's fucking pathetic I wanna make you hungry Then I wanna feed ya I wanna paint your face Like you're my Mona Lisa

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest image you’d had all night. His shirt comes off over his head and he twirls it, throwing behind him.

I wanna be a champion I wanna be a loser I'll even be a clown Cause I just wanna amuse ya I wanna be your sex toy I wanna be your teacher I wanna be your sin I wanna be a preacher

You lick your lips just as he turns to you and if possible, his smile grows even bigger, feral, as he sings right at you. The lyrics made your head spin with want.

I wanna make you love me Then I wanna leave ya 'Cause baby I'm your David And you're my Goliath

He winks before strutting off, his muscles tight and taunting. The sway of his hips, intentional or not, entices you, and you’d give anything to bite down on them. The stupid pants are just taunting you at this point.

Ah-ha… Mhm, ah-ha\ Because I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption And I'm a lawyer Who's searching for redemption And I'm a killer Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He sinks to his knees on the stage as steam hisses in the back in billow pillars. The lights change, flashing reds and oranges, yellows and pinks. They dance magically across his skin.

And I'm a bad guy Who's searching for redemption And I'm a blonde girl Who's searching for redemption I'm a freak that Is searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

You’re going to die - straight to heaven or hell, it doesn’t matter at this point, because he’s honest-to-god crawling across the stage on his arms and knees, his mic still in one hand.

I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster I wanna make you quiet I wanna make you nervous I wanna set you free But I'm too fucking jealous I wanna pull your strings Like you're my telecaster And if you want to use me I could be your puppet 'Cause I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He ends at the edge of the stage, his torturous crawl making your throat go dry from more than just your screaming. Then, he flips on his back, lets his head hang over the side of the stage.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

The last line is but a whisper, and then he finally lets the mic drop, his arms stretched like he’s going for a backwards dive and his chest is heaving. He’s a sweaty mess, body on display and licks his lips while staring a hole into your soul.

—

The venue slowly begins to empty, stragglers buying merch or finishing their drinks. You feel dizzy when Misty drags you outside, saying that her friends want to hang out for a bit before they leave for the next town. You stumble along because, yeah, alright, her friends are cool.

They’re by their tour bus, all of them outside with drinks in their hands and they wave you both over.

“Excellent show, boys,” you greet as everyone takes turns hugging both you and Misty.

“Yeah, you guys killed it!” Misty agrees enthusiastically.

“What’d you think of the other bands?” Sam asks. “Parasite Fears has never been on the road like this.”

“That was the first band, right? They were really good! And the set was fun,” you say honestly. Now that you’re outside and it’s getting late, the sweat on your body is cooling, causing you to shiver a bit. Riley hands you a cup and when you ask what it is, he just smiles. You drink it anyway, because why not. They spend a few minutes chatting before a warm arm wraps around your shoulders, and your breath catches at the sight of bright crystal-like eyes beside you. His other arm is thrown over Joaquin as he stands between you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he smiles blindingly at you.

“Hi,” you say back, still a little stunned at how at ease he seemed to be, even as he retracts his arm. He’s changed into basketball shorts of all things, which makes you even chillier just looking at him. This close, you can see the intricate lines of his tattoos - metal plates from shoulder to fingers on his left arm, swirls of black script along his other.

“You look cold, sweetheart,” he observes. “Couldn’t you guys have taken this party into the tour bus?”

“They’re fixing the bus,” Steve says. “Told us to stay outta the way.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright to head out?” Bucky asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Should be,” Steve shrugs. “Tones said we’d be fine, or else he’d find another way. We’ll know in about two hours or so.”

“Ehhh, tell Tones to relax for once. If anything, you can divvy yourselves up and the rest of us could shuttle you the rest o’ the way.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve claps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, can’t have you ruining the tour, punk.”

Something about their easy camaraderie makes you smile. But you’re still cold, and Bucky still notices.

“If I had a jacket, I’d offer it to you,” he looks back at you. “Next best thing, I can offer our unbroken tour bus?” He jerks his head behind and you see the redheaded bassist leaning against the side smoking a cigarette, chatting with the drummer who appears to be double-fisting drinks.

You look at Misty who is being introduced around to the other bands by Sam and Riley and there’s no way she’s going to be anytime soon.

“Um. You don’t have to,” you say, because he’s a stranger. He cocks his head to study you. It looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t push.

“Offer’s open, doll,” he shrugs. Some other members come up to him, Steve, and Joaquin and congratulate them on their set so you quietly slip away.

You don’t know anyone else here, and it’s kind of awkward to be by yourself so you start wandering around. When you round a bus, you nearly smack into the drummer from Bucky’s band and you yelp as you both jump back.

“Sorry!” you both say at the same time before the sandy-haired man smiles and waves before walking past you. You notice that he’d dropped something - though it was small and black making it hard to tell what it was.

“Hey!” you shout at him, but he doesn’t turn around, instead heading back to his bus. You pick up the item, a transmitter of some sort, and try to catch up to him. You can’t seem to find him and the bassist had also left her spot so you approach the bus. The door is completely open but you knock on the frame anyway.

“Hello?” There’s no sound inside so you think about leaving it where he can find it easily.

“Takin’ me up on my offer?” You startle at the sudden voice behind you.

“Actually, your dummer dropped this,” you explain, thankful to at least hand it back to someone. “I tried to get his attention but I don’t think he could hear me, and then I kinda lost him in the crowd.”

“Don’t be offended, he probably took his hearing aids out,” Bucky tells you easily. “Thanks for bringing this back though, Sharon woulda fuckin’ killed him.”

“Hearing aids?” You can’t help but blurt out. “Wow.”

Bucky beams proudly as he tells you about his friend, Clint, how gifted of a drummer he is and how even losing most of his hearing never stopped him.

“That’s amazing,” you say, a genuine smile for his story and how much he was beaming just talking about Clint. Just then a gust of wind blows, and your jean shorts and t-shirt aren’t cutting it.

“C’mon, before you freeze,” Bucky jerks his head toward the tour bus and fuck it. You hop aboard, Bucky following you. He places the transmitter on the kitchenette table, looking hilariously giant in the cramped space.

“You come here often?”

“Did you just use the oldest pick up line of all time?” You scrunch your nose at him, liking the sound of his laugh.

“Is it working?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m just asking out of genuine curiosity,” he bats his eyelashes. They’re so pretty, you think to yourself.

“I used to. Less often now, but when I hear someone good is playing, I show up.”

He arches an eyebrow at you.

“Cap Quartet, I mean. Obviously. They don’t scream as much as you do,” you add, and you find yourself relaxing with Bucky as he takes all your jokes and jabs in stride as he tickles you for the slight.

“You hurt my feelings, doll,” he says, all smiles and sharp teeth.

“How ever could I make it up to you?” You find yourself flirting with him.

“Maybe you could scream for me this time,” he suggests, leaning in closer with a tilt of his head, eyes searching yours for a sign.

“Yeah?” You ask a little breathlessly, forgetting how to breathe as you two inch into each other’s spaces now.

“Yeah,” his lips just grazing against your neck. “Didn’t you enjoy that last song I sang for you?”

“For me?” You ask incredulously, making Bucky grin at you.

“Ya heard me, doll. For you,” he repeats. “It seemed like you enjoyed it..”

Whatever thought you’d had about him flirting with you was more or less solidified now, and it was making your body rebel against you. You lick your lips subconsciously before you answer. “Maybe.”

“Especially that bit… about wanting to be your master.”

You involuntarily hold your breath, legs squeezing together. It’s impossible not to imagine Bucky over you, pinning you down as he commands you to do as he wants.

“Or… maybe it was that bit about wanting to be your slave?”

The breath you let out is shaky, matching your trembling hands that are balled into fists across your lap.

Bucky’s eyes darken, and you’re not really sure who made the first move, but you’re suddenly kissing furiously, hands tangled in each other’s hair and clothes.

“Christ, I’ve wanted this since I first fuckin’ saw you,” Bucky tells you, pulling you into his lap, where you can feel his dick hardening through his shorts. It’s embarrassing how fast you get on board, your pussy quivering at the thought of being touched for the first time in too long.

“Tell me what you need, pretty little thing,” he nibbles at your bottom lip. “God, I wanna take you apart, wanna do anythin’ you want.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “That. Want that, too. Want you to fuck me.”

His lips curl into a smile against yours as he lifts you easily to tumble into a bottom bunk. “Yes, master.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes as...#my works #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #feat hold absence and maneskin lol #music taste

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

Note

I recently got so fed up with the nonstop antisemitism in my comments section of my fics that I quit writing entirely. All the fics on that account are canceled. Discontinued. We're done. And it's been so, so good for my mental health. I feel like I can breathe again. I don't have to dread writing, I can write something and just keep it to myself and never get yet another snide remark about """the Jews""" or "the Hebrews", as one total weirdo referred to us. No one informing me they Googled it and actually I'm wrong about [insert thing here]. No more Holocaust denial comments from the Danny Phantom fandom. Just me, writing. Making things I like. And then then I'm done, I don't have to brace for arguments later.

I genuinely do not remember why I ever posted fic for other people to read but I really do envy goyim sometimes. It must be nice to write things and not get referred to as Hebrews in the past tense like you're extinct or have Holocaust deniers pop up yelling at you for mentioning WWII. I feel like fandom would be fun if I weren't Jewish, or if I never mentioned Jewish people in my stories. But I am and I'm tired of having to edit people who are like me out of stories in order to not get shit on. And the sheer volume of antisemites in the End OTW Racism crowd shows me that there's no chance of things improving any time soon. Fandom is for certain kinds of people and I am not the kind of person it's meant for.

Initially I was thinking of getting a second AO3 account and posting something on there but I'm honestly enjoying the lack of hate so much I think I may just be done with fanfic entirely. And what's the wildest thing to me? I'm not upset about it. I'm just glad it's over.

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nightside-of-siberia · 4 months ago

Text

You Ache For This

Pairing: Agatha x Reader Request: yes (by anon) Prompt: an experienced Agatha teaches inexperienced reader about sex, ft. oral, fingering, and a magic strap. Words: 851 Part: 1 of ?

AO3 | Next

A/N: I'm really sorry if this is a little bit clunky - I did my best with what my brain gave me. The smut will hopefully start next chapter - I'll edit this part to include the link to it once it goes up.

You squirm, feel the beginnings of a self-conscious blush burning bright and hot at your cheeks as you tug nervously on the elasticated hem currently digging into the top of your right thigh “I don’t know if I put this on right,” you admit, “but I tried, and that’s the main thing, right?”

“Mhm,” you hear, “it sure is.”

Confusion prickles at the edges of your senses - of all the answers you’d expected to get, that had not been one of them, and you don’t really know what to make of it. You swallow, lick your lips as the elastic slips slips free of your fingertips to pinch at the soft flesh of your thigh once more. “So, uh, what do you think?” you ask, “did I do okay? Do you like . . . ?”

Dark eyes rise, settle upon your face with a hunger so intense that it steals your breath away, threatens to make your heart stop in your chest as confusion becomes surprise, then relief. “Yes,” Agatha purrs, her voice silky smooth and honey sweet as she takes the first of the many steps it’d take to close the distance between you, “I do like - and I know exactly what I’m going to do about it.”

“Oh,” you breathe, a smile spreading out across your lips as the cage of anxiety - of expectation and anticipation, of hope and wild desperation - finally releases its grip on your torso, “thank the gods -”

“No,” Agatha’s smirking, a wicked glint in her eyes as she takes your hands, traces out a path across your bottom lip with the tip of her left thumb, “you should be thanking me.”

A whimper rises out of your throat as you tilt your head, press your cheek into the soft curve of the palm of her hand. “O-of course,” you stutter, breathless and gasping, “thank you.”

“Hmm, good girl,” Agatha rumbles, a smug smirk curling at her lips as insistent fingertips coax your into tilting your head back just far enough for her to draw you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss that seeks to steal away what little breath you’d had left. A wave of lightheadedness washes over you to take its place, has you swaying almost drunkenly as you reach out in a mess of uncoordinated limbs for something to latch onto, to grasp and hold and cling to.

Warm, wide hips rise to greet your greedy fingertips, and you find yourself smiling as you curl your hands around them. You’ve always liked the way Agatha’s curves look, but there’s something so fundamentally different about the idea that you might actually get the chance to touch and feel and explore them this time that they feel like two completely separate concepts -

A quiet pop! rings in your ears as Agatha pulls away. You follow her without much thought, your eyes dropping to her lips as your own part around a much needed inhale so deep that it has you feeling lightheaded for an entirely different reason.

“Stop,” your heart sinks in your chest as your eyes rise, rise to where concerned grey eyes are staring back at you, “you need to breathe.”

You swallow, hands flexing against soft hips as you do your best to force moisture back into your mouth so that speech may become a viable option once again. “I am breathing,” you rasp, a hint of indignancy to your voice as you lift your chin, glare back at her with all the false defiance you can bring yourself to muster, “it’s not like I can just stop - after all, it is kinda a necessary thing for me to do if I want to keep on living.”

A flicker of mirth dances in Agatha’s eyes, tugs on the edges of her lips as her hand slips from your jaw down onto your shoulder, where her fingers begin to rather absently play with that thin - and rather flimsy - strap of the lace body suit that you’re not starting to think might be a size or two too small for you. “That’s not what I meant,” she mumbles, “and you know it.”

You roll your eyes, reach up to cover her hand with your own. “I do,” you concede, “and I promise I’ll be okay - I’ve got you to help me through all this, remember?”

“. . . are you sure?” you nod, firm and stubborn, as grey eyes search your face for any hint of fear, of uncertainty, of hesitation. When they find nothing of the sort, Agatha seems to soften. “You’ll tell me if you need to stop?” she asks, “to take a break?”

You smile, squeeze her hand. "'Course I will."

She exhales, shoulders sinking as a wave of relief washes over her, brings a soft smile to her lips. “Good,” she breathes, “now - would I be correct in saying that our next step should be to get you out,” she tugs gently on the strap beneath her fingertips, “of this?”

“Oh, yes, puh-lease -”

Laughter fills your ears as you lean into her, feel the swirl of magic curling around your ankles. “Well, let’s get to it, then!"

#wandavision #marvel #agatha harkness #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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ladytauria · 2 years ago

Note

Chubby!Jason+Tim cooking, if you don't mind prompt now

�� i never mind prompts! sometimes i am just very slow at getting to them ^^;

ngl there didn't end up being much cooking in this lol. i thought i was gonna sit down & write ~300 words of cooking + banter & ended up with almost 1k of fluffy domesticity, so. i hope u like it!

it's been a bit since i've had the spoons to do much writing so having this flow as (relatively) easy as it did was a treat. thanks for the prompt~

(i have another jaytim prompt sitting in my inbox rn too, so if ur reading this, nonny, i promise i'm going to get to it! my brain just refuses to settle on one idea~)

OH. and apologies for any missing 'e's.' the key was doing... not fine, but like, decently, and then it decided to pop out & then back on wrong. i think i caught them all, but. just in case.

EDIT: …the last paragraph seems to have disappeared for me? i hope i’ve fixed but, uh. this is also on AO3. if this keeps happening, you may want to read it there instead.

Tim comes home to the heavenly smell of something cooking. He smiles to himself, despite the heaviness in his limbs, and makes his way into the kitchen. Jason stands at the stove, stirring something, while meat sizzles in another pan. Normally Tim would take a moment to admire him; how comfortable and relaxed he is here, in this home they've built together.

Not today.

Today, he plasters himself against Jason's back, burying his face in the fabric of Jason's t-shirt and winding his arms around Jason's waist, underneath his Wonder Woman apron. This close, he can smell the lingering traces of Jason's favorite soap, the slight tang of sweat, and something uniquely Jason. He sinks into his warmth with a soft sigh.

"Long day?" Jason asks, voice rumbling under Tim's cheek. He lays a hand over Tim's arm, slowly stroking his skin with his thumb.

Tim nods. "In and out of meetings all day," he says. He prefers days when he can disappear into the R&D labs. Though, honestly, he'll even take the paperwork over meetings—especially a full day of them.

Jason hums sympathetically, which Tim feels more than hears. "Food'll be ready soon," he says. He taps Tim's arm once, twice. "You should go change."

"Mm. I'm good here, actually," Tim mumbles. Jason-cuddles are the best cure for long, draining days. Nothing beats burying his face in the plushness of his chest or or stomach. Especially when he absentmindedly cards his fingers through Tim's hair, scratching his scalp in just the right way to make him melt.

The space between his shoulder blades is nice too, though.

Jason snorts. "Uh-huh. I don't want to listen to you bitch about getting stains on your shirt tomorrow. Go."

Tim huffs. "I can eat without staining my shirt." Usually.

"Let's not take chances. Besides, are you really telling me you want to spend the rest of the night in your suit?"

Tim doesn't have to see Jason's face to know he's arching a brow, the same way Alfred does when he knows he's got you backed into a corner. He huffs again, but doesn't argue. After all, Jason's right. He really doesn't want to spend the rest of the night in a suit, no matter how perfectly tailored it is.

Still. He pinches Jason's side when he pulls away, grinning smugly at his boyfriend's undignified (and adorable) squeak as he dances out of reach. Jason glares at him, effect totally ruined by his mouth twitching at the corners. Tim sticks his tongue out. Jason loses the battle, treating him to a fond, helpless smile as he shakes his head.

Tim ducks into their bedroom, shedding the suit in favor of one of Jason's shirts. It's soft and worn, the Shakespeare reference on the front chipped from too many washes. Perfect to relax in. He takes an extra minute to stow his suit properly, if only so he doesn't have to iron it later, and returns, finding Jason plating their food.

"Feel better?" Jason asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," Tim says.

He snorts, and offers Tim one of the plates before nudging him toward the couch. "Is it a Criminal Minds or Star Trek night tonight?" he asks, scooping up the remote before Tim can and navigating to the family's shared digital library.

Tim's chest does something soft and gooey which really shouldn't be legal. He's not sure what his face is doing—only that he is helplessly, utterly, heels-over-head in love. These days, he's grown accustomed to the feeling; the warm glow in his chest from Jason's presence, the safety and surety he feels at his side. But sometimes something happens—something small and simple like Jason remembering his comfort shows—and love overwhelms him all over again. He hopes it never stops.

"Star Trek," he says, voice maybe a little thicker than normal. Jason doesn't comment; just finds the listing and starts up one of Tim's favorite episodes, casual as you please. Oblivious to or ignoring the effect he has on Tim. (The slight pinkness to the tips of his ears would suggest the latter.)

Tim leans into his side, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. "I love you."

Jason kisses the top of his head. "Love you too," he murmurs into his hair. They stay like that for a minute—just a minute—before Tim reluctantly drags himself away to eat.

It's delicious, as always. Tim hasn't eaten this well (or regularly) since he moved out of the manor—his self-provided meals being mostly takeout, and often skipped or forgotten in favor of work. And he's not the only one benefiting. Jason, no longer bouncing between safe-houses and looking over his shoulders, has filled out; hard muscles now protected by a layer of padding and squish perfect for curling up against.

Which Tim does, the second both their plates retire to the coffee table.

Jason snags the plush throw they keep on the back of the couch and re-positions them so they're reclining on the couch. Tim's head is pillowed on Jason's chest, near his heart; one of Jason's arms snug around his waist, and both of his pressed against Jason's sides. It doesn't take long for Jason's free hand to settle on his head, combing through his hair, untangling knots with perfect gentleness in between soft scritches.

It doesn't take long for Tim's eyelids to droop; heaviness returning to his limbs. He sighs quietly, contentedly, turning his face into Jason’s chest, and sinks into sleep.

#jaytim #timjay #jason todd #tim drake #dcu #batfam #tauriawritesfanfic #lovely anons #asks and answers #tauriawrites #domesticity my beloved #also i always write jason comfort so i figured it was tim's turn this time #tim deserves snuggles & by god he is going to get them

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gendervapor14 · 1 year ago

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~ how to make a fanfiction masterlist on tumblr ~

a detailed guide for folks new to tumblr, or those who just want to use tumblr to link and organize their fanfiction :D

disclaimer: i did this on a PC, and tumblr likes to update and change the layout of everything, so some locations may be different for you. feel free to reply or DM with any questions and i will try my best to help you out!

first thing's first! locating your account. this will make it easier to find your posts. when you first log onto tumblr, there is a list of items to the left. find the one that says "account".

locate your blog. you may have to scroll a little to find it. once you see it, click on it!

that should open up your posts and reblogs. it's okay if this section is empty! mine displays my intro post, but don't worry, i'll show ya how to make one of those. for now, go ahead and click on the "create" button at the bottom left. (alternatively, there's a bar at the top center you could use. click on "text" if you prefer this option)

go ahead and select text post!

here you will be greeted to a blank text post. there's a space for a title and text. if you don't want a big title, you can just backspace and it'll default to regular text. feel free to experiment a little here. the colorful icons to the right allow you to insert photos, gifs, links, and more. if you type something and highlight the text, you'll find even more options!

enter whatever you'd like to greet people with if they visit your blog. some sort of introduction. i threw out some random basics here. you certainly don't have to format it like this! get crazy, insert some photos and use colored text if you like. at the bottom of your post, you'll see a section for tags. i recommend using tags relevant to whatever content you'll be posting, so others can find your blog easier. if you're on ao3 or another fanfic platform, i'll show you how to link that to your intro post! for now, just type something like "link to my fanfiction" or "link to my ao3", or whatever tickles your fancy.

then, highlight whatever part of the line you want to serve as your hyperlink. in this case, in the "link to my fanfiction" line, i highlighted "fanfiction". a small menu should automatically pop up above that. the second to last option looks like a chain link. that will allow you to insert a link on whatever you've highlighted. click on it.

an "http://" option will display. paste your desired link in the display bubble! for instance, i pasted the link to my ao3 dashboard.

next part is posting! don't worry, your intro post isn't done, i know. in order to move on, we need to make some more posts to link, so for now, we're just going to post this "incomplete" intro. you can always go back and edit posts, so it's no worry! the post button is at the bottom right.

in order to ensure the post stays at the top of your profile, you need to pin it. (i used a random post in my example because my intro is already pinned, but the mechanics are the same.) in the top right of your intro post, there will be three little meatball dots. click on those.

that'll open up a dropdown. click on "pin". then your intro will always remain at the top of your profile, even as you keep posting/reblogging.

next part is making the actual masterlist! create a new post (button on the bottom left --> text post) and fill it out however you wish! i listed some different things you can include to describe your stories, but i've seen people organize these by characters instead, or themes, or fandoms. basically, you're creating something that will link from your intro to this post. so write up whatever you want someone to be brought to after clicking the hypothetical "my fanfiction masterlist" link in your intro post. if that's just at temporary list of characters without any stories linked to them yet, that works! you can link stories to the masterlist later.

once you posted the masterlist (it's okay if it's incomplete), click on the meatballs for the masterlist post. (again, i'm using a random post here, disregard that)

click on the "copy link" option to obtain the link to that post.

then, find your intro post and click on the meatballs for that!

this time, you're going to click on "edit".

somewhere on your intro post, write up some text that will serve as the source for your fanfiction masterlist post. for this, i used "link to my fanfiction masterlist". then, i highlighted "fanfiction masterlist" to open the additional options menu, and clicked on the chain link to paste the link to my new fanfiction masterlist post! this process of copying links and implementing them into other posts is the foundation of making a masterlist. from here, you can make as many subcategories as you please and link them back to your main masterlist, which is linked to your intro. (or you can just make a few giant masterlists like i do XD)

BONUS LESSON: another fun part of tumblr is the tags! you can invent your own! if you're a writer, you can make your own writing tag. i use "genwrites" because it hasn't been used by anyone else, so anyone who clicks on that tag will only see posts of my writing. you can link tags to your intro post as well! i'll show you how.

creating a tag is as easy as slapping it on a post, even if tumblr doesn't seem to recognize it. that's a good sign. once you've posted something with the tag, it exists on the website. when you click on the tag, it should open up a page like this. it's alright if your tag page is mostly empty, it'll fill up as you create posts with your unique tag! from here, you're going to copy the URL of the entire page.

then, the same way you inserted your fanfiction website and your masterlist, you can link the URL of your tag page to your introduction post! linking things to posts on tumblr helps keep everything connected. you can link individual fanfics from their source site to titles on tumblr, link specific reference posts and analyses, and so much more!

this was a rather lengthy post, so it's totally understandable if you get confused or lost along the way. feel free to reach out and i'll try to help out however i can! i'm no master - i learned all this stuff by trial and error. takes some patience , but i hope this guide is at least a little helpful! ♥ happy writing and creating folks ♥

#tumblr guide #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #new to tumblr

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invisible-storyteller · 5 months ago

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Exclusive

For the @twpbingo prompt “Porn Star”. Also for the @teenwolfrarepairevents Character of the Month (AO3 link). Relationship: Matt Daehler x Danny Mahealani x Jackson Whittemore 1300 words (teen and up) Tags: established Danny/Jackson, interviews, pornstars

Matt checked the second camera’s angle one more time before pressing start and popping down into the comfortable armchair of his interviewees' luxurious home. He still couldn’t believe that he managed to score an interview with the most popular-as-of-late couple in the gay porn industry, especially since the two were known for never collaborating with or giving information out to any outsider, let it be famous companies, professional reporters, or even other independent pornstars.

“Hi and welcome everyone!” Matt smiled into the camera directly aimed at him and clapped his hands together where his elbows rested on his knees, “This is Matt, the seeker of honest voices, without shame and without taboo, bringing you such exclusive, never-seen-before covers as today‘s video - made possible by the generosity of two very special guests who you may already know, and if you don’t, what rock are you living under?” Matt gave a playful side eye to the camera before turning to the actual stars of his show. “Danny, Jackson, you guys don’t know how grateful I am that you’re giving your first exclusive interview ever to me, and in your home, nonetheless!”

“Well, we thought it was time we answered some of our fans’ burning questions, 'cause seriously, you guys won’t stop harassing us,” Jackson looked into the camera with a judgmental once-over before quickly shifting his eyes back to Matt.

“I’m genuinely honoured, but I still have to ask: Why me? And why haven’t you guys addressed these topics on your channel before?”

“Our videos aren’t about sharing our relationship history or explaining why we decided to do what we do,” Danny took over as he flung an arm around his boyfriend’s neck and let it rest on the other’s solid shoulder, “They are there for enjoyment. And we know that you’re not gonna butcher our answers with editing to make them seem more presentable or polished.”

“Returning to your first comment: isn’t it your aim to make porn a bit more personal and humaine by including romance alongside the spicy stuff?” Matt jumped to his next question, feeling his palms sweat now that both men’s attention was solely on him, “You guys are basically vloggers. You just mix your everyday life updates with - amazing, might I add - porn.”

“Oh, so you’re watching our videos?” Jackson smirked at him as he snuggled back into Danny’s chest.

“Obviously. I only watch quality.”

“Who’s your favourite?”

“You,” Matt admitted unabashedly (his viewers loved this kind of stuff), prompting Jackson to regard his boyfriend smugly while Danny simply rolled his eyes. “So, why not address the fans’ questions if you guys aren’t scared of being personal?”

“Showing sex and "shenanigans" isn’t the same as revealing everything about our private life,” Danny retorted sharply as he narrowed his eyes at Matt.

“But you want to do it now?”

“Why not?” Jackson shrugged at the same time Danny said: “This way, we can keep the interview separate from our channel.”

“Alright. First, let’s go through a few fan-favourite questions,” Matt grabbed his notebook to scroll through his list, “How long have you two been together?”

“Six years. Got together in junior year, high school,” Danny gave his (most likely) pre-prepared answer while Jackson raised their intertwined hands to his lips and gave his boyfriend’s hand a chaste kiss.

“What gave you the idea of doing porn?”

“Jackson has an exhibitionist kink. I refuse to see other people openly ogle him. This was a compromise.”

“Are you guys gay?” Matt could barely keep his laughter in, but his job was to satiate the viewer's interest, no matter how absurd the question.

“I’m a paid actor,” Jackson winked into the camera, “See, our channel is actually just gay-for-pay.”

Danny rolled his eyes once more, and while he wasn’t looking, Matt noticed Jackson dragging his eyes up and down Matt's body (which had begun to somewhat relax into his chair but was now once again pulled taut by the attention) as the pornstar motioned for him to continue. Matt swiftly averted his eyes to the Notebook screen and tugged nervously at his shirt’s collar - maybe he shouldn’t have undone the top buttons, but it was just so damn hot in that house!

“Will we ev-" Matt stuttered over the question with a cough before collecting himself and giving it another go, "Will we ever see you guys paired up with someone else?”

The two men shared a confidential look, and when they gave their brief answer, their short "maybe" was synched perfectly. Then Matt continued asking a few more of the basic, fan-demanded questions before finally giving space to his own curiosity. His round of questions was something his interviewees couldn’t prepare for, and thus, their reactions were bound to be much more organic (and maybe he could stop feeling so out of his element if he finally got the upper hand for once).

“How much of your sex life do you put on film?”

“About half of it,” Jackson estimated after a moment of pause with an agreeing nod from Danny.

“Doesn’t it kill the mood?” Matt scooted forward in his seat, genuinely dying to know, “The pressure to perform, to create videos regularly?”

“We only film when the mood to show our love strikes us,” Danny explained with a grin, “It’s just lucky for our fans that the mood strikes often.”

“You mentioned you have daily jobs that you would rather not disclose,” Matt recalled, “Doesn’t the, um, porn bother your bosses?”

“I work for a friend, actually, my ex-girlfriend,” Jackson explained nonchalantly, “And she doesn’t give a crap.”

“Seems like a wonderful woman.”

“And I’m too good at my job for big corporations to refuse my services,” Danny added, making Matt grin at the opportunity.

“You mean your professional services. Just so the fans don’t misunderstand.”

“Oh, I’m sure most CEOs I’ve been in a room with are secretly beating it to me and Jackson,” Danny commented with a confident smile - it even showed his dimples - and Matt couldn’t doubt the reality of that.

“Your filming venues must be limited with all the travelling you do,” Matt noted next, skimming through his self-picked topics with frustration over whether he would have the time to ask everything he wanted to know. This just couldn't be his only shot with his favourites! He would have to find a way to secure another interview, at least. “I mean, I can’t imagine that all hotels and tourist establishments would gladly see themselves on a porn channel. Then again, it might be a good promo.”

“Why don’t you see it for yourself?” Jackson asked all of a sudden with an excited twinkle in his eye, “Maybe you could join us on our next trip. Really see what goes on behind the scenes.”

“For real?” Matt gaped, shell-shocked and over-the-moon at such exclusive material. And it was Jackson's suggestion, on top of that!

“Yeah,” Jackson smirked, looking up at his boyfriend with the kind of impish look Matt had seen dozens of times through the screen, and then locking eyes with Matt once more when he got the other’s silent approval, “We could show you how we make our videos.”

“Wow, that’s... I don’t have words guys, except maybe FUCK YEAH!”

An hour later, Matt left the house with Danny’s number in his phone and a promise to be contacted soon. He would admit later that he was stupid back then not to realize the obvious come-on, but with his obliviousness lasting until they were all in France, shooting, it was a nice surprise to be kissed by Danny at the end of the first day and then be led back to their hotel room by Jackson, where Matt was showed exactly how the two make their explicit content. And if Matt ended up starring in the sexier parts of their new video as well, that was just a welcomed bonus.

#original: teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf rarepair #twpbingo2024 #twrp character of the month

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