#or perhaps having made the typo he didn’t notice and just counted the days forward from there

[avayarising]

Jack Seward appears to have fallen into a minor time vortex. Yesterday Renfield got out and headed next door and got hauled back again in a paroxysm of rage. Now today it’s been a week and three days since then.

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess 

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n 

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay 

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - - 

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention? 

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.) 

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely. 

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed. 

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end. 

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended. 

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right? 

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting? 

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care? 

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for. 

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating. 

“you’re staring again.” 

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything. 

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard. 

“so it makes you look creepy.” 

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.” 

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?” 

“excuse me?” 

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.” 

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics. 

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.” 

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.” 

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though? 

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur. 

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again. 

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out. 

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance. 

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him. 

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n. 

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music. 

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them. 

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all. 

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance. 

- 

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile. 

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red. 

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place. 

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.) 

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time. 

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape. 

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up. 

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up. 

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging. 

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder. 

he swung the door open, hinges crying out. 

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted. 

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.” 

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?” 

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-” 

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?” 

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-” 

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?” 

“no. shut up. i need to-” 

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?” 

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?” 

“well, you’re just being shitty.” 

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them. 

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.” 

“no.” 

“please?” 

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-” 

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?” 

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips. 

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.” 

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place. 

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?” 

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back. 

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.” 

“who the hell are you talking about?” 

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.” 

“...y/n?” 

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?” 

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.” 

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.” 

“shithead, get out of my face.” 

“you still have to go out with me.” 

“why the f-” 

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.” 

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?” 

- 

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s. 

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets. 

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the  drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door. 

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone. 

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible. 

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin. 

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more. 

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room. 

-

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways. 

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them. 

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through. 

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer. 

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him. 

“you okay?” 

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?” 

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?” 

“nothing. nothing is wrong.” 

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.” 

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.” 

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin. 

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along. 

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?” 

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.” 

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.” 

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?” 

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder. 

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable. 

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy. 

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring. 

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve. 

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough. 

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage. 

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry. 

“just running errands together.” 

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage? 

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space. 

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue. 

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist. 

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back. 

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.” 

“good.” 

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual. 

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone  with a perspective like yours to know if i do.” 

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.” 

tokage let out a low growl. 

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.” 

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from? 

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.” 

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close. 

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes. 

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this. 

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?” 

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw. 

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.” 

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face. 

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.” 

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.” 

[angelanimedesaray]

Wings in the Dark Chapter 10:  Reparations

AN:  Yaaaaaayyyyy I got this one done.  For some reason I’ve been in a weird spot where I write more on my phone and my focus is better when I write on my phone, but I’m also super vulnerable to typos because AUTOCORRECT and its just harder for me to spot on the smaller screen with the tiny text, so excuse any typos.

Characters:  Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader, Erwin, Petra, Oluo (Mentioned), Eld (Mentioned)

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings:  Language.  Ikr, we just got super tame after a wiiild ride.

Word Count:  5124

<----Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

“I’ll admit, it would have been nice to know ahead of time that you were going to hijack the interrogation like that to antagonize her.”

Levi ignored the pointed jab at his actions down in the dungeons, gaze instead roaming around and taking stock of the people they past in a surveillance instinct too ingrained into his being by now for him to shut it off even going down the street towards a tea shop.

Considering L/N could hear so far out, even when she wasn’t paying attention, Erwin and Levi had decided to leave headquarters entirely to have this conversation.  Which was why they were now headed for a tea shop instead of Erwin’s office to discuss something so confidential.  Or at least their opinions on the situation, not necessarily the information itself.

"Did you at least get what you wanted out of it?" Erwin asked as they took seats at one of the outside tables.

"I did.  Mostly.  You?"

"I was skeptical when you told me, but after that little display of hers, she's clearly not human.  Not anymore."  Erwin leaned back in his seat and appraised Levi, their conversation pausing momentarily as they placed their order with the waitress that came outside to check on them.  Once she went back inside, Erwin continued.  "If you have more questions, why didn't you ask them before we left?"

"It had nothing to do with why we were there.  Personal curiosity. And it didn't seem like the time to ask."

Especially after he'd goaded her like that, making jabs at painful memories for her until she reacted, throwing harsh accusations at her semi-blindly and seeing if anything stuck.  The last thing she would want to do would be to give clarifying details about her past traumas to satiate his curiosity.

Her tale made her origins make more sense, but there were a few details that still weren't so clear to him.

The way she explained it, she was attacked and turned by a vampire the night before--for reasons unknown, he noticed.  She hadn't said why she was turned, or by who.  She'd actually glossed over that part and moved on--and then went home, not knowing what happened to her, thinking she was sick.  Her friend came to visit her, Y/N lost control, attacked and killed her, then fled.  He was sure there were details to make the tale far more gruesome, but this was what he knew for sure without letting his imagination run wild.

But then she'd shown up dead a few days later as well.  That was the part he was trying to figure out.

“Some deaths, okay, fine, I'll come back from it.”

So, she ran away after the initial panic, and then came back solely to fake her death so they wouldn't keep looking for her.

And by fake her death, she went for a...temporary death, something she would come back from.

But why go so far as to let herself be buried?  It was a closed casket funeral, so she could have snuck out before they sealed the casket and no one would have known.  Why wait?

He hadn't forgotten the fear and trauma in her eyes when she'd mentioned being buried alive was one of her deepest fears.  And now the mental image in his mind of a woman clawing desperately at a coffin, screaming for help while no one could hear her had a face to go with it, the face of someone he knew, no less.

It was humanly impossible to break out of a grave and crawl your way out.  But if you had vampire strength, and every time you suffocated from the lack of oxygen or the dirt crushing down on you and maybe even getting into your lungs...then it was possible. So long as you died a few times on the way up.

Shit...something like that had to do some damage to a person.

Not to mention what came after.  Forty years living in the Underground, roughly.  He'd only been down there a little over half the time she had.  And he hadn't spent it like she had--skulking in the shadows killing people because what she was demanded she kill to survive no matter where she was, and she couldn't go above ground not because it was denied to her, but because if she did she would literally die.  Yeah, he'd killed plenty of people in the Underground as well, but far less, and for a reason that was entirely different even if it could be worded the same.  He killed in fights because the Underground was that dangerous, or he was protecting people he cared about.  She had to actively hunt and kill people to...feed.

If she'd been in the Underground before he was even born...he wondered if they had ever crossed paths, and he just didn't remember.

Hell, with her criteria for who she hunted and killed, he was surprised she hadn't killed Kenny in all that time with him Underground.

Or maybe she had, after Kenny left.  It wasn't like Levi would know.  Though he was fairly certain the man had gone topside, which would mean out of her reach and away from her hunting grounds.

If only there was an alternative to her diet.  She’d laid out why it couldn’t be helped, and he understood that, they were good reasons.  But still, if there was another way...

“You're thinking about something rather hard over there, Levi,” Erwin commented, and Levi realized he’d been staring intently at the table and had even failed to notice that the waitress was in the process of delivering their tea.  Erwin was also watching him, though his hands were still in motion, his analytical gaze fixated on Levi’s still form.  Shaken out of his thoughts, Levi leaned back so he wasn’t leaning forward intently anymore, picking up his teacup to start drinking before it got cold.  Erwin waited until the waitress left to continue talking.  “Is it something I should know about her?  Another hunch, maybe?  The last one was mostly right.”

Levi snorted softly at that.  Mostly right his ass.  He’d been thinking murder and treason and assassinations, someone out to get them, someone seeking to harm people in the Scouts.  Ulterior motives and selfishness, malice.

Maybe the murder hadn’t been that far off, considering her body count, if he did the math right in his head.  And maybe she had been hiding a secret.  Perhaps she was dangerous, but so was Levi.  It didn’t mean she was an enemy.

“No,” he said curtly, putting an end to Erwin thinking Levi might be holding out on him regarding his suspicions after how off they’d both been about this situation.  “Like I said, it doesn't have to do with whether or not she's trustworthy and if she should be in the Scouts.  Just personal curiosity.”

“So you believe her?  About her intentions?” Erwin asked casually before taking a sip from his cup, eyes cast down as he spoke but flickering up to gauge Levi’s reaction once he finished speaking.

Levi eyed him because of the look on his face, but answered nonetheless.  “...I do.  She was sincere down there, some would say too honest.  Most people try to hide the fact they’ve killed hundreds--thousands--of people, or that they could kill the people who didn’t trust them without blinking an eye, but she was upfront about it.  She didn’t have to be.  She’s dangerous, that’s a reality no matter how you look at it, but she’s attempting to channel that into helping instead of just causing damage.”  Levi sighed, setting down his cup.  “I assumed a lot about her intentions and where she came from, and it's going to bite me in the ass.”

And he was probably going to have to put some effort into making amends after all this--especially with how he’d antagonized her down there and clearly crossed a boundary.  Several boundaries, actually.  And now that the moment had passed, the guilt was starting to settle in.  He’d accused her about some harsh stuff, some of which she was sensitive about, given her reactions.  She was the one who had to live with what she was, so he doubted someone going after the very things you might cling to in order to retain your humanity was something anyone would take kindly to.  After she saved his life--even if it had also been her that had almost killed him to begin with--after she protected him from herself and other vampires, even if he wasn’t aware, after she’d gone out of her way to learn from and appease the entire squad, after going through years of training to get where she was now, after putting so much at risk when she could have stayed safely in the shadows, after trying so hard to find a place topside, he’d jabbed at pretty much everything.  Her basic motives, her humanity, her intentions, her personality, everything.

He had a lot of damage control to do moving forward if they were going to keep working together.  He sincerely hoped he’d only damaged the well and hadn’t poisoned the water.  A damaged well he could fix, but a poisoned water supply…

Levi’s gaze narrowed at Erwin as he realized the other man still hadn’t said anything, his suspicions solidifying.

“What about you?  Do you think she’s a risk you’re willing to take?” Levi asked, echoing her words from down in the dungeon Levi had immediately known would catch Erwin’s attention.

“I am a man who likes a good gamble,” Erwin said with a bittersweet smile, resting his cheek on his fist as he considered the situation before them.  “As long as she’s not attacking other Scouts, she’s trying to keep her bloodlust under control, she’s not causing problems for or bringing more danger upon the Scouts...I don’t see why we shouldn’t let her stay.  From the sounds of it, having a vampire willingly join our ranks wanting to use all those abilities to help our cause is a once in a lifetime chance.  She’s offering it on a silver platter.  As long as she can keep herself under control, which she’s been able to do so far, I say we take her up on her offer.”

“And if she can’t?  If something happens and she loses control?” Levi asked, eyebrows raised.  She’d said it herself, she was a threat, there was always a chance something could happen, and that shouldn’t be forgotten.  But what would they do if she did slip up with no sign of being able to correct herself before it got out of hand?

“Then she’ll be our responsibility to take care of,” Erwin said evenly, gazing at Levi in a way that made him believe Levi would be the one to take care of her if she stepped out of line.  He had the best chance, yes, but it would still be risky.  “Hopefully we won’t have to kill her if anything goes wrong, she’s valuable, and it would be a huge setback to lose her vampire abilities...but if it ever comes to that…”

“It won’t be a problem,” Levi said flatly.  He meant that in the matter of conflict of interest, not that killing her if it ever came to that wouldn’t be difficult.

Erwin nodded.  “She stays in the Scouts, then.  I’ll have to factor in all this new information about where best to put her.  She probably shouldn’t be anywhere near medical, for her sanity’s sake.  And Levi?”  Levi fixed him with a stare as if to ask what the hell was up with his change of tone, which Erwin ignored.  “Considering the strangling tension between the two of you down in the dungeon, are you going to ease up now that you have the story--for the most part--or do I need to switch her to a different squad?”

Levi scoffed.  “I’m not going to apologize for being angry about the fact that she kills people, Erwin.”

“It's not like she has much of a choice, from the sound of it.  And she’s doing rather well, given her situation.  A lot of thought had to have gone into coming topside and joining the Scouts, how to pull it off.  She was ready with those questions, and considering she wasn’t planning on us figuring out what she was, that means she already went over those questions herself.  She’s going with what she believes to be the best route, and considering she’s more of an expert on the subject than we’ll probably ever be…”

Levi waved him off--he didn’t need this explanation, he already knew this.  She wasn’t going to prey on innocent people, she couldn’t afford to downgrade her diet too much considering she needed to be in peak health and control fighting in the Scouts, and she couldn’t just stop unless she wanted to die a slow and agonizing death.

Starvation over decades, maybe even centuries…

Regular starvation was bad enough, he knew that from personal experience.  He couldn’t imagine going out like that--he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  Especially self-inflicted.

Levi’s gaze wandered to the few people in the street, moving idly from one person to the next, not really paying them any attention beyond basic people watching as he brought himself to his decision.

While he understood her position, that didn’t mean he was entirely comfortable with it.  But was he willing to try and make this work, to keep her on his squad--this time as his decision, not a decision Erwin made in the name of surveillance--and see if things could still work out despite the mess this entire ordeal had turned into that almost ended in his death.

Was it a damaged well, or poisoned water?

Was he going to cut his losses, or try to fix this?

“...Don’t put her on another squad,” he finally told Erwin.  “She’ll still have her skills put to the best use with my Squad.  I’ll figure out how to deal with...everything.”

He was going to try and make this work, despite the current friction between them.

The only question now, was how?

Erwin was the one to tell L/N that she was staying in the Scouts, of course, and by extension he was also the one to tell her she'd remain on Levi's squad, and that it was Levi's job to keep an eye on her and make sure she stayed in line.  As for Levi, it was back to business as usual while Erwin handled speaking with L/N.

And two days later, Levi abruptly decided that everyone was going to do a deep clean of HQ, assigning everyone at least one room, with L/N having two considering how fast and how well she cleaned, and himself having three so that he had plenty of time to think while he was cleaning.

Now that his concerns about betrayal and deceit had been assuaged, he could finally allow the softer sides of her he’d glimpsed to settle in his mind, too.  Between the darker side he now had a better picture of and the person he’d been seeing since she joined the Scouts, he could finally form a more complete picture of the new person on his squad and start to decide what he thought of her.

Any lingering concepts in his mind that she wasn’t up to the job went out the window--except for a general concern about her being around too much blood.  She hadn’t been in the middle of a truly hairy expedition with people dying left and right.  She’d been struggling when he was bleeding out in front of her--what would it be like when there were people dying bloody all around her?

Then again, she’d already pointed out that his blood was particularly alluring.

That was still an odd thing to think about--he was probably going to do his best not to think about it.

He wasn’t too worried about her being able to hand the more...psychological stresses of being a Scout.  If she could handle being directly responsible for death, and being around it so much after living in and hunting in the Underground, she might fare better than most in the environment.

If it hadn't been the sharper, harder edge he'd seen to her personality in the dungeon, the knowledge of the things she'd already seen and been through, he'd be worried she had too soft of a temperament and personality for the Scouts.  It had been what he'd seen from her before the whole vampire thing came out.

She was the woman who went out of her way to comfort the horses and make sure they knew they could trust her.  Who sat in the field with the horses and simply soaked in the sun's rays while drawing whatever she could see--namely horses, at least once the man who had been watching her, yet she never said a word.  She was the woman with a tea garden in a hidden corner of the Scout’s headquarters so that she could save more of her salary...and use it to shelter and provide for the parents who didn't know, and would probably never know, they're daughter was still alive.   The woman who snuck treats out to the horses from her own plate, who'd gotten at least half of Levi’s squad drinking their tea with a bit of white sage for health purposes--only Levi aware of just how much it was actually doing for them.  The one who had asked for a different kind of lesson or tutoring from each squad member so they wouldn’t feel like she was some air-headed newbie that thought she was better than everyone because she was put on a fast track to Levi’s squad fresh out of the cadets, so that they could feel like they were still teaching her something, that she was learning from them.  She was the kind of person who made little gestures like covering him with her cloak when she saw him asleep at the table without a second thought, or timing a fresh cup of black tea almost perfectly to help keep him alert when despite his insomnia he would start to feel tired in the middle of the day, who'd risked the loss of a leg to make sure Eld wouldn't get hurt even after Levi killed the Titan, and who had saved his life even though, at the time, doing so was a great risk to her, because he could put a swift end to the life she'd been trying to build above ground.

She was a good person at heart.  Complicated as hell, still dangerous and a risk, and she had her skeletons, her demons and dark secrets, her flaws...but still, a good person at heart.

He’d been watching her closely long enough to pick up on all of that and then some, even if he’d tucked most of it away for later evaluation considering at the time he was worried it might be a front for some insidious ulterior motive.

And he had to do something to try and mend the relationship they had.  They couldn't function as part of a squad with all this tension and friction, let alone as captain and subordinate, definitely not as a team.  There had to be some level of trust if they were going to be working together in the future, and right now, there was pretty much none, mostly because of him.  And he had to be the one to make a first step towards repairing the damage that he had inflicted so that they could start building at least the groundwork of a working trust in one another.  They would need it when they went out in the field, because all that raw ability meant nothing if they couldn’t function with each other.

Levi scrubbed harder at the stone floor, seeing his fingertips turn pale with the rest of his hands red from the hot soapy water and the pressure he was putting on the brush.

"Captain?"

Levi sighed, leaning back and putting the brush back into the water, turning and lowering the cloth over his face to look over at Petra standing in the doorway with a broom in hand.

"Oluo says he's done with his room, he's just waiting for your inspection," she informed him, though the look on her face was enough to tell him he'd be telling Oluo to do it all over again as soon as he saw it.

"I'll do it when I'm finished," Levi answered, raising the cloth over his face and pulling out the brush to start scrubbing again.  "Tell him to make sure he's finished while he waits."

"Yes, Captain," Petra said with a small nod, turning to leave.

"Has L/N finished with her two rooms?" Levi asked before she could leave entirely, focused on a new spot of stone as he spoke instead of looking up at her.

"Yes, sir.  She actually went outside, out front, to do some extra cleaning while she waited for you to be ready to inspect the rooms."

She was also really good at cleaning.  She had to be, right?  She'd lived below ground longer than he had, and her senses were extra sensitive.  One bad smell must be torture for her, the dust probably setting off her sensitive nose with the slightest buildup, her sight probably making it easier to pick out grime, and her speed making her a faster cleaner than anyone here--when she didn't have to slow down because she was being watched by someone who didn't know what she was.  No wonder she was so damn good at cleaning, why he hadn't found any flaws with it to date.

It almost felt like cheating to him, for some reason.

He pressed unnecessarily hard down on the brush again, feeling the bristles bend and strain slightly in the brush, his fingertips turning pale again.

"Tell her when she's finished with whatever she's doing right now to come up here," Levi told Petra, offering no more explanation as he continued scrubbing at the floor.

“Yes, sir.”

Petra left after that, and Levi focused on the room around him--his third room, mind you, and he was almost done.  His hands were red, a little raw, too, but it wasn’t anything serious.  He just kept getting lost in his thoughts while he was cleaning, and instead of calming down like he normally did when he cleaned, he’d tense up at those moments where he got lost in his thoughts.  He was going over his attempt at a peace offering over and over again, well aware that he wasn’t the best...people person, that communication on a social or emotional level was not his strong suit.  But he was hoping the intention behind the gesture would be clear.  She wasn’t an idiot--she was smart.  There was a decent chance she’d be able to see what he was trying to do.

Hopefully.

Levi was just starting to finish up, finishing with a bit of polish on the metal in the room when L/N finally made her appearance, standing in the doorway with similar cleaning additions to her uniform as him, though she had an apron on that was currently tucked up and into her straps to keep any dirt from falling onto the floor while she walked.

She must have been doing some garden and yard work, then.  Pulling weeds or something like that out front.  At least she wasn’t tracking dirt everywhere, from what he could see--and his eyes were scanning her and her surroundings carefully to make sure she wasn’t about to ruin his hard work.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” she asked formerly, keeping her gaze fixed on him instead of letting it wander around the room at anything other than him.

That was a start, at least.  He’d be worried this entire rebuilding the bridge thing wouldn’t work out well if she couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

But the tension was still there, thick and uncomfortable, enough to put even him on edge.  There was a distance in her posture, a different kind of guarded than when he’d been snooping around and watching her every move.  Like she was hyper-aware of what he was going to think of her moving forward.

He was still coming to a decision about that one, honestly.

“You’re going to start training with me,” Levi said with no lead up, causing her eyebrows to raise in surprise, opening her mouth like she was about to ask questions before she quickly closed it again, since he continued to talk as if her reaction didn’t phase him in the slightest or give him any kind of pause.  “You’ve got some things to work on before the next expedition.  Two lessons a day, sparring and ODM gear.  Make sure you make the time for it.”

“Ah, Captain...I’m not sure if I...should…” she said hesitantly, caught between obeying what was close to a command from her Captain and a reluctance to take him up on the lessons because...what, was the tension that bad for her that she didn’t think she could train with him?  Did she not want to be anywhere near him any more than she already was?  Did she think she would make him uncomfortable?  Did she not like the thought of being alone with him?

That was a viable concern, actually.

Or maybe she just thought there wasn’t anything he could teach her.

On the contrary--she’d said herself that she was having trouble with the ODM gear.  She’d said one of her risks was that she reacted too fast for the gear to keep up with her, sometimes.  That was a problem, especially in a situation where one needed to rely on instincts--how could you rely on instincts while also trying to muffle them to lower to the level of the gear, or nearby people?

She needed help finding the middle ground, or at least training herself to instinctually pace herself so she didn’t outpace the gear in an emergency.  Like she’d pointed out herself, that kind of mistake could be the difference between life and death, even for her.

As for the sparring...well, the only people here that came close to matching their skills was each other.  Who else were they going to spar besides each other?  Besides, it would be refreshing to have someone he could actually go all out on that would be a challenge for him.  He was sure the same applied for her, now that she didn’t have to hold back to keep her secret hidden.

If that had been the reason she’d thrown the fight the first time they’d sparred.

Plus, all that raw strength and speed meant nothing if she didn’t know how to use it.  He could still teach her things, show her some techniques she could use in a fight, that kind of thing.

Is offer to teach her was his way of offering an olive branch to her...and he didn’t take too kindly to her starting to turn down the offer.

Levi narrowed his eyes slightly at her as she continued to cast about for a solid excuse to turn him down.  Most people here would kill for one on one lessons from him--a fact he was well aware of.  Yet here she was, proving just how out of the ordinary she was as she seemed to be beyond just the vampire thing, trying to weasel out of it.  “What?  Don’t think you have anything to learn because you’re so naturally gifted?” he asked in a jab much softer than his accusations during their interrogation.

“No, it’s just…” she started to say with a frustrated sigh, looking over her shoulder like she was looking at someone, even though no one was there.  “Eld’s already giving me ODM gear lessons…”

Was that really it?  He doubted it.  Yes, Eld was teaching her a few things, Levi was aware, but it wasn’t the same as what Levi was offering to teach her.  And it wasn’t a reason to turn him down in the first place.  Just another excuse.  Unless she was really worried about what the others would think if she got not only one daily private lesson with Levi, but two.  As much as Levi was usually of the opinion “To hell what other people think,” this one he could see where she was coming from if it was the case.  She’d just gotten the others to warm up to her despite their grumbling and cold shoulders after the extremely green rookie got sped through all the tape and obstacles right into Levi’s Squad while they put in hard work and were hand picked by Levi after some time in the Scouts after displaying their own strengths and skills over a period of time.  It must have looked like favoritism--and Levi giving her double private lessons wasn’t going to help anything.

It didn’t change the fact that she still needed them or could benefit from them.  And that it was a way for them to start making amends...in a roundabout way.

“ODM techniques.  Special maneuvers:  team and solo, correct?” Levi asked, mostly rhetorically, though she still nodded in confirmation.  Levi moved over to the table he was keeping his cleaning supplies on, starting to pack up his things so he could leave to start doing inspections of everyone’s designated rooms.  “I’m not going to be teaching you what Eld is.  You said you were having problems with reacting too fast for the gear, right?”

Levi spoke pointedly, giving her a sidelong glance so he could gauge her reaction and she could see he was serious about this--and that he didn’t have any ulterior motives.  She didn’t protest again.  She still looked a little uncomfortable, possibly because of the bump this could cause with the others once they found out, maybe because it meant the two of them were going to be spending more time with one another and they were going to have to get over this tension between them really quickly if they didn’t want to end up at each other’s throats trying to kill each other, but she didn’t protest anymore.

“Four a.m. in the woods for hand to hand.  Two hours before dinner on the training grounds for the ODM gear.  Don’t be late,” Levi told her, taking his supplies and leaving her behind in the room as his way of dismissing her.

Now to go yell at Oluo for not getting his cleaning job done properly, most likely.

Next Chapter---->

(Strikethroughs Couldn’t Be Tagged)

Levi Tags:  @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo​ @whalerus​  @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags:  @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse @subtlepjiminie @hakunamatatayqueen​ @queenofcurse @linxiajei17 @levisbebe @toni-jones

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

<=PREV

NEXT=>

Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I  am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon* 

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that. 

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.  

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy;  he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses.  “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’ 

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

General Tag: @quoth-the-sparrow @altruistic-skittles @em-be-lievable @justisaisfine  @broadwaytheanimatedseries   @thekeytohappiness-is-you  @jynxlovesluck @queer-human-being  @phlying-squirrel @ab-artist @grey-lysander @a-valorous-choice  @xx-fandom-potato-xx  @impatentpending @book-of-charlie  @randomslasher @tinkslittlebelle @insanelycoolish @ironwoman359  @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper  @patchworkofstars @axyzel  @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah  @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox  @smokeyrutilequartz @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton  @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides  @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @unikornavenger @humbletortoise  @backatthebein @mephonic @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans  @loganberrysanders  @ierindoodles @a-new-witch-in-learning @punsterterry   @your-average-pangirl @goldteethandacurseforthistown  @dragonsight9  @gattonero17

Worst Impressions Tag:   @everphantom @wundergirllovesyou @im-awkward-go-away @reinefandoms @shadowenbynerd  @always-in-a-fandom @deadinsidebutliving  @somehowsnakesblog  @halfcrazedandrogynouswizard    @selectivereality @occasionally-pauciloquent  @donalev @princessbelix @justasadchildwithablog @megkir13 @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @karmels-stuff  @daughterofsomnus @soijusthavetoask @to-precious-to-process @kimolothecatt @gabe-killed-me-with-ace-cream @notveryglittery @loving-neko @corracii  @nerd-in-space  @absolutesandersidestrash @hanramz-the-fander  @minamishipsit-secondround  @i-read-by-lamp  @irrelevantbutsanders    @themultishipperchild @anonymous-by-design @analogical-mess  @marvelfangeek09  @incoherentfangirl  @mirror2thespirit @wherethewaterstarts-andyouend   @redundant-statements-for-400  @deathshadowrules  @basicmillennial @beach-fan  @withspaces  @cisnesincorbata  @merlybird500 @lovingcreatorstrawberry  @dante1138   @k9cat  @no-no-no-no-6   @sanderssidesvp  @sevencrashing @karmels-stuff    @kaioanxiety  @reblogged-anything @theotherella  @randomsandersides     @phantomofthesanderssides  @unisaurioamorfo     @fabulouswritingfanboyofdeath   @sniffingoutmywilltolive  @pippippippin  @shadowenbynerd   @sugarglider-s  @angels-and-dreams  @larry-angels   @hexdream18243  @itsthemoooooooooon   @ibasicallyjustreblogeverything  @stormblessedcastiel  @the-sweet-space-bi @bisexuallyinlove    @ijustreallylovesanderssides @everythings-coming-up-aces @loving-neko  @theunoriginaldaisy @dreamybluecupcake  @selectivereality    @soft-transboy  @veryvirginvirgil    @wowimsogoddamnoriginal     @shaeshaetheravenclaw @anxiousangel121 @cataclysm-al   @fanartfunart  @flufflerekt @floof-13 @mining-pup   @ofdismaldays   @b0y-guts @a-trans-ghost  @romantichopelessly @isaac-or-izzy  @quietwords-loudthoughts   @im-gonna-yeet-outta-here  @bunny222 @xxlithiumangelxx @tinyemogod  @edgy-gremlin @coloursintheblur  @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing  @damnitvirgil  @unicorndragon1-2-3 @littleladynightshade @peanut0303 @seeyoube  @why-should-i-tell-youu2  @idiot-anonymous @unicornofdarknessstuff  @winterswishing @wundergirllovesyou   @surohsopsisofclouds  @andreaissy  @neon-skates  @pumpkindotorgdotuk  @llamaly  @thetruthaboutthesun  @frankiprowsworld  @gattonero17  @kittykat3e  @i-willgo-on @theiwatobiicepic  @emiliopiccolo  @im-awkward-go-away  @singularthoughtofstatic  @notyourperfectmexicandaughter @la-dolce-vita-on-deck   @chocomiruk  @anianthe  @cause-a-gay-has-got-to-slay  @lunatatic @incoherant-ramblings  @09shell-sea09  @stormblessedcastiel  @zaisling  @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum   @r1ght-as-ra1n   @here-is-your-paper-trail-unicorn  @a-gay-treee @ambivalentanemone  @halfblood-demigods @tssidesfamily  @fightmedragonwitch  @anteonnix   @kai-the-person  @annoying-alien  @t0astyt0es   @astudyinfuckmylife  @respectmekaren @winterknight1087  @wewuzraw   @annoying-alien @dragonphantom13 @emiliopiccolo @theiwatobiicepic  @thefingergunsgirl @bluerosesbleedred 

[jokerownsmysoul]

red color soul

Summary: Arthur can’t find his blazer, once he finds out that you’re wearing it while you’re sleeping he realizes that his blazer symbolizes for both of you much more than you may think.

Content: soft, lil angst 

Warnings: heavy thoughts 

Word count: 2300

ask: one night, Arthur can't find his Joker red jacket. He's searching in the whole apartment and starts feeling grumpy because he has to go for buisness. He try to stay quiet when he come to the bedroom to continue his research, and then, he find it. Reader is sleeping in the bed, wearing his jacket

A/N: I got inspired by this ask, it turned out to be less fluff than expected, as usual lmao angst owns me

Tag list: @arthurflecksgirl​

A/N: english is not my first language so I apologize for any typos, I’m still learning.

this pic makes me feel things

Arthur couldn’t figure out how long it had been since he started looking for his red blazer, the only thing he knew was that it was late, very late, and his nightly business that night weren’t made to wait. He struggled walking around the apartment with a quick and nervous pace, little shine of sweat beaded his forehead which he kept frowned in a grumpy expression. The more he looked for his blazer, the more impossible it was to find it and the darker his mood became. He checked again in the living room for the third time and his gaze froze when he looked what time it was, again. By now he had checked everywhere and he wondered how a blazer could disappear in an apartment as small as yours. He was sure to have left it hanging it on a hanger in the living room that morning. The hanger was in the living room as he thought, but it was empty and there was no trace of his blazer.

All of a sudden it was as if someone had blown a thought into his mind just as you blow a kiss to his lips from afar when he realized that he had not yet checked in the bedroom. He opened the door, careful not to make it creak as he walked into the bedroom slowly, knowing you’d been asleep for a long time and he didn’t want to wake you. With delicate and almost imperceptible steps did he wandered around the room in search of his blazer, as much as it was possible to look for a blazer in the dense darkness of the night and with the light off.

As soon as his eyes began to get used to the darkness he continued the research as thoroughly and robustly as possible. He checked the closet, his nightstand, and literally every point of the room, panting here and there and suffocating his frustrated puff down his throat to make as little noises as possible and keep you from waking up.

He’d given up hope by now when he sat in the chair turned on you, right next to your nightstand. He put his hand on his hair nervously, making his locks bouncing on his shoulders gracefully but reflecting all the tension he was feeling at the time as he looked at an undefined point in the floor, revisiting in his mind the actions he had carried out, recreating the events of that nights and trying to figure out where he had put his blazer.

It was not a matter of blazer per se. His frustration wasn’t born from owning one blazer over another, but from what the blazer represented for him. Arthur used his red suit to protect himself from the world as if it were the armor of a knight going into battle. He used his suit to dress his pain of elegance, thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, a red blazer and a waistcoat would make his pain more elegant and beautiful to look at. He wanted to make his pain and himself beautiful because people, perhaps, in this way would drawn their attention to his pain, and maybe he would finally be seen. Arthur used his red suit as a shield necessary to face the world and was afraid that that night the world would suck him up and he wouldn’t be able to face him if he didn’t find his blazer, that damn blazer.

What would people think if they saw him without it? Would they have recognized in him The Joker with the red suit on which the citizens of Gotham had built false news and anecdotes, and an identity based on a terror and a fear that Arthur had never wanted to be related to his person and that never belonged to him? They would have pretended to respect him or, without his red blazer, they would no longer recognize in him the red personality that had been affixed to him without his consent? They would have resuming to see him only as Arthur, the unseen, the unloved, the unconsidered Arthur, who had always been and still was? He had never been seen, not even as The Joker. Actually, he had never been as unseen as he was since The Joker came out. People didn’t see him but a spooky identity built by their own hands.

Arthur felt his mind burning in a fire as it intertwined his thoughts. The only thought he could recognize was his need of you. Even when your mind wasn’t alert and you were sleeping you could still comfort him even only with your breath reminding him that you existed, and soon after, when even the last hope of using his memories to figure out where his blazer was had vanished, did he dragged towards you to watch you sleep and seeking comfort in your figure. Not even his most overwhelming state of soul would have been enough to keep him away from you and wrapped in the depths of his exhausted mind.

He stretched his arm out towards you to stroke your hair gently, savoring the softness of your hair scattered on the pillow against his slightly sweaty palm which still reflected the mark of his previous gloominess. He followed the curve of your body up to your shoulders when he froze as soon as he felt a familiar sensation against his palm and his fingers touched a fabric he knew well.

He leaned forward towards you to look closer and better at your figure wrapped in the dark as if it were a blanket and helped by the moonlight that created a white patina on the edges of your figure he noticed you were wearing nothing less than his blazer. 

It felt like as if someone had absorbed  with a sponge his heavy thoughts that he had just before, which seemed to have disappeared at the very moment when Arthur couldn’t hold a giggle at the thought that in all those hours he spent searching for his blazer it had always been there, under his eyes and worn by the most important person in his life, and as he well remembered he had never taken it off the hanger in the living room. He was surprised, in fact, as he thought that he should have searched the bedroom from the beginning.

He breathed a sigh of relief glad that he had finally stopped his nightly searches throughout the whole apartment and an ironic groan flashed into the slit of his parted lips as he realized that all those thoughts that had held his mind in a fist had been futile.

All of a sudden the rush to go out that he had until a second before seemed to have vanished into thin air. The sight of your sleepy and relaxed face as you wore his blazer was enough to erase from his soul any trace of frustration that he had just before, as it were erased the business that awaited him there very soon. He wasn’t even tired anymore. The only emotion he was composed of and felt at that moment was the most powerful feeling that he could ever live in his life, the love for you. 

The love you shared was such an intense feeling that it not only bound your hearts, but every component concerning you and on which the footprints of your souls were carved, like an ancient vase on which letters have been engraved and welded which symbolize all that the vase is and represents.

Even his fears, along with the frustration felt just before, had vanished. Going out without the red blazer for that night would not have been that bad, after all, not if it was worn by you and would have kept you company in your dreams while he was away.

Arthur didn’t like to be distinguished from the others and keep unchanged the red identity that other people had built over time in his place and that by now everyone knew. But ironically, it was only with the Joker’s bright clothes that he could blend into the world without feeling naked and vulnerable. Therefore he loved to wear the only armor he found comfort from, but more than anything else he loved you, even more than the identity that weighed on him, even more than the strength his suit gave him, more than anything.

And he loved to be loved by you, who loved him so much that you literally took every opportunity to feel him as close as possible to your body as it was to your heart. And you really did loved his red blazer as you loved to surround yourself with red color which reminded you that the love of your life lived right next to you, and that your lives were been able to weave, intertwining one another like two threads forming a knot that cannot be broken. You loved his red blazer and you would find comfort in it in many other days and nights when you knew Arthur had buisness and you needed to feel him as close to you as possible in every way you could ever find.

All that time he was sitting in the chair next to your nightstand, taking you all in. He was sure that that night, by going out without his jacket, he would still find within him the same courage that his red jacket gave him, because it was the same courage that, originally and more than anything else, you had always given him every day in the first place.

A sleepy sob came out of your lips when Arthur got up from the chair, who stood still in front of you realizing you were awake. You were so connected that even as you slept you interacted with each other through long communication between the dream world and the waking world, that’s why your body had perceived he was moving away from you. You raised your head, your look disoriented by your sleep and your ruffled hair, your lips curled in a sweet pout which made him smile. “Are you leaving?” You asked, Arthur couldn’t ignore the vague sadness that reigned in your voice. “I'll be back soon, sweetheart. Promise.” Joker’s silhouette was outlined as a black shadow a few centimeters from you, but you could distinguish through your eyes totally accustomed to the dark and through the moonlight which enlightened his body that he was wearing his classic green shirt and his unmistakable yellow waistcoat, but not his blazer.

It was at that moment by looking at his dressed figure that your mind, still wrapped in the dream you were having, regained consciousness, waking up as if until now you were still dreaming, and reminding you that his blazer was on you. “You’re forgetting your blazer, honey. I’m wearing it.” You lowered the volume of your still hoarse sleep voice by uttering the last words with a feigned childish attitude, confessing that you had worn it without him knowing it as a baby who was caught in the act and admits their faults, but still they don’t regret it at all.

You started to shake your arms and wriggle under the blanket to take off his blazer and give it back to him, but Arthur made an amused laugh as he lowered his back and placed his hands on your shoulders to relax your movements and prevent you from taking it off. “I know. Keep it.” He brought his head closer to yours to lay small and soft kisses on your forehead, one after the other and thoughtfully as a distant farewell. Every time he left the apartment those rooms were infused with melancholy, you would have preferred not to spend far apart even half of your short breaths. “I’ll be the one who dresses you very soon.”

You smiled sweetly purring inside his blazer that still smelled of him, its scent was blended with the one coming from his own body. He was the only thing you could smell and the only smell you needed to actually breathe as a human being. He laid a kiss on your lips before he moved towards the door, but you drew his attention as he was opening it and before he could leave the room. “Are you sure you don’t need it? I know how significant your blazer is to you.”

Arthur turned to you, his hand still on the wood of the door and a heartfelt smile on his face. “You need it more than me, Y/N.” He said gradually, letting those words dance in the mystery of a room darkened by night, as he turned slowly enough to notice the grateful smile on your moonlit face and fast enough for you to see his figure mingle with the darkness of the living room and see him disappear. You couldn’t wait to be dressed with his body just like his blazer was doing in that moment.

To Arthur they had never been just clothes like had never been just clothes for you. To him they symbolized the strength and worth that he had always sought and that he wanted to be able to find even with his ordinary clothes, the clothes of Arthur. To you, instead, they were the incarnation of his soul and never, never, would you have wanted to feel his soul away from yours, especially when you weren’t physically close.

It’s curious how a simple red fabric can mean so much and how it can represent two different identities, the Joker feared by Gotham and the man everlastingly loved by you, and how a simple blazer can bring relief and love just by feeling the fabric in touch with your skin.

[liliah39]

For the one shots- super fluffy wedding and honeymoon with bri? Xx

‘Till Death Do Us Part, My Love (Brian May X Reader)

Here it is!!! So proud of this. Excuse typos plzzzz~~~

Word Count: 4.7K (IKR IM SO LENGTHY)

June 21, 1980

It was a beautiful, hot summer day as you stepped into your cupcake of a wedding dress, laughing as you remembered Brian trying to guess what your dress looked like a couple weeks ago.

Liliah39 Masterlist

**3 Weeks Beforehand**

You and Brian were sitting on the couch together fantasizing of your upcoming wedding on a rainy London day. You’d just brought clarification to all the decorations and the timing of when food would be brought out at the reception. Brian never really cared to have an ornate wedding, he was fine with whatever you wanted; fine with paying for whatever you’d thought up. He just wanted to marry you. Though you felt the same way, you’d always dreamed of a fairytale wedding since you were young, so he made certain that was what you’d get. Suddenly he blurted out, 

“Y/N, did you get a dress yet?” 

He made you laugh hysterically. 

“What? What did I say that was so funny?” 

“Brian, darling. It’s three weeks before the wedding. Do you know how long it takes to get a wedding dress, and then get it altered? And that’s just for a normal dress! Freddie and I designed mine and had it specially made!”

His face went from confusion to shock. “Then where is it? Did you lose it? I can’t find it!” He blurted out. 

“Brian?!” You said, standing up and looking down at him on the couch with your hands on your hips. “You’ve been looking for my dress?!?” 

“I didn’t say that-” he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. 

“You just did! I can’t believe you! You can’t go looking for my wedding dress! You can’t see the bride’s dress before the wedding day! It’s bad luck! It’s immoral!”

Trying to recover his dignity, he said “I believe it’s actually that I just can’t see you in it, I just wanted to see the dress. Know what to expect, you know?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You laughed, still kind of mad at him as he pulled you into his arms. 

“So, did you lose it?” 

“No, Brian. I did not lose my wedding dress.” You said rolling your eyes. 

“Then why can’t I find it? Why isn’t it in any of our closets?” 

“To keep it away from prying eyes like yours!” You laughed, tapping his nose. 

“Then where is it?” 

“I’m not telling you!” 

“C’mon Love, if I paid for it I at least deserve to know where it is!” 

“Well… that’s the thing.” 

“What’s the thing?” 

“Remember how I said that Freddie helped me design my dress?” 

He nodded his head. 

“You, um. Well, Love. You didn’t pay for my dress.”

“Y/N, I told you you didn’t have to pay for any part of the wedding!” 

“I didn’t, I swear! Freddie did!”

“Freddie bought your wedding dress?” 

You nodded. “Please don’t be mad.” 

“Y/N,” he laughed. “I’m not mad at all! As long as you didn’t pay for it; that’s what matters. And besides, Freddie will look out for me. He knows what I think you look good in. But God, this dress is probably the most extravagant dress the world has ever seen if Freddie helped design it and bought it.” 

“Well something like that, yeah.” You said, blushing as you buried your face in his neck. You knew the dress was exactly the opposite of what he’d expect.

“Then if I had to guess, Fred probably has it somewhere in his house in some ornate closet of some sort. Am I right?” 

You knew he was, so you buried your face in his neck a little more, hiding behind his hair. 

 “Perhaps.” You hummed in his ear. 

“Can I keep guessing things about it?” 

“Sure, if you really want to. I’m never going to give you any hints, though.” 

“But Love, you just did. Said possibly to the dress being at Freddie’s. If it wasn’t at his place, you've said no. I know you can’t lie to me.” He smiled. 

You sighed in annoyance. “Alright then, get on with your questions.” 

“Okay. So, what’s the shape of it?” 

“Not telling you.” 

“It’s gotta be tight, right? Form fitting? If I had to guess it’s a form fitting mermaid dress with a huge train. Strapless. Loads of lace. Beading at the top.” 

He was so wrong. “Now what makes you say that?” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve written countless songs about you. One of them just happening to be called “Fat Bottomed Girls”. You always wear form fitting dresses to events just for that reason, since they’re my favourite. Don’t think I don’t notice those things.” He smirked. 

You laughed. “Well then I guess you’ll just have to see.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back to the wedding day

You’d just finished getting your enormous dress on; Freddie lacing up the back as everyone took pictures of you with your hair and makeup looking perfect. In efforts to make sure your legs weren’t killing you by the end of the day, you hadn’t put on your heels yet, so your dress was about 7 inches too long for you. You always opted to wear tall heels at fancy events to compensate for how tall Brian was. Everyone in your party had left the bridal suite for a couple minutes to give you some time to yourself as you stood on the small podium in front of three mirrors to see yourself from all angles. 

In solidarity, your wedding day jitters began to set in, however imagining Brian’s face when he saw you start to walk down the aisle made you smile. 

You knew he’d be shocked to say the least. He expected you in a tight, form fitting dress, yet in typical you fashion you always liked to surprise him, so you chose the exact opposite. He also didn’t know that you had two dresses; one to change into for the reception. That one was extremely risqué. Freddie designed that one completely on his own; said that it’d be the best gift he could give Brian on his wedding night. 

Suddenly you heard a knock at the door. Thankfully, the door was locked so no one (aka Brian) could peek in. 

“Yes?” 

“Is my beautiful bride to be in there?” Brian smiled with a jiggle of the door knob. 

“Yeah. Hi Bri.” You giggled. 

“Come let me in, Darling.” He whined. 

“Not a chance.” You laughed. 

“Could you at least open the door and just stick your hand through it so I can hold your hand? I haven’t seen you all night. Missing you terribly, My Love.”

You paused. “Fine. But no peeking.” 

“I promise, I promise. My eyes are closed.” He pleaded. 

“Alright,” You warned, going to step off the podium. The added weight of your lengthy train weighed you down, making it difficult to move because the dress was seven inches too long without your heels on. Then, the first step you tried to take sent you falling forward, tripping on your dress and hitting the ground with a loud thud. You were immediately laughing hysterically. 

“Y/N? What was that thud? Are you alright?” Brian said; worried. 

You couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I’m fine! I just can’t get up! There’s so much fabric!” 

“Can I help you?” 

“No! Get Freddie!” 

“Darling, how is he going to get in if the door is locked and you can’t get up?” 

“He has the key, now just go away!” You laughed, your hoop skirt flinging over your head. 

“Alright. Love you too!” Brian teased as he walked away. 

A minute or so later Freddie walked in with a gasp, shaking his head. “My God, Darling.” He said. “What did you do?”

~~~~~

It was that time. You’d just arrived at the outside garden and were walking up the stairs to the opening where your fairytale wedding was to take place. You held an enormous bouquet of flowers in your head, grabbing Freddie’s arm quickly before he went to walk with your bridal party to have him make sure your tiara was in place. 

It was perfect. 

It was all perfect.  

You heard the chamber group start your cue music; Pachelbel’s Cannon. You heard everyone stand from their chairs. You climbed the last couple steps, two of your bridesmaids carrying your train behind you, helping to take the weight. 

Step. One tap of your heel on the concrete slab of the walkway to the end of the isle. 

Everyone’s head turned to see a heel peeking out of a plethora of fabric. 

Tap. 

The last step up revealed your full form, everyone in the audience let out an audible gasp, but Brian’s reaction was the best by far. Though he went through all these emotions in a matter of seconds, you noticed every single one. 

At first it was shock. Then he smiled, then shocked again as the train of your dress just kept coming. And then, when the fairy lights from the trees hit your tiara, makeup, and dress just the right way, his eyes welled up with tears, wiping one away with his left eye at the vision of beauty in front of him. He was so proud he’d soon be able to call you his wife. You handed your enormous bouquet to Freddie as joined hands with Brian, your train being fanned out behind you. 

“I want to kiss you right now.” He said, still choked up. 

“Why?”

“You’re so beautiful. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Definitely surprised me with this dress, but God, I wouldn’t do anything to change it. I’ve been sent an angel from Heaven.” He smiled. 

When it came time for your vows, Brian started first. “I never thought I’d love someone as much as you. I’ll be completely candid, there were points I didn’t even know if I’d find someone I wanted to marry, but as soon as I met you all those years ago, I didn’t even know your name yet and I knew you were the one. Your beauty and kindness have always overcame me with happiness, and it seems like everyday you get more beautiful, and I love you even more. Now this isn’t in my note cards, but you look absolutely gorgeous, my Love. I knew you’d look stunning today, as you always do, but you’ve completely taken my breath away. I’m honestly the luckiest man in the world. I can’t wait to give you all of me, and share every single one of my possessions with you, because anything that’s mine I want to be yours too. I’ve written countless songs about you, and I know there’s more to come. You’re my muse. You’re my everything, Y/N. I love you more than all the moons and stars in the sky, forever and always, ‘till death do us part, my love.” He smiled, tears of happiness streaming down his face as he placed your ring on your finger. 

You were crying a little harder than he was, all happy tears of course, just overcome with emotion. You took in a deep breath of air, let it out, and began to say your vows. “You know,” you started, voice wavering, “they really should let the bride say her vows first, cuz now I’m crying and-” you were cut off as more tears needed to escape, leaving the crowd in laughter along with Brian in front of you. 

“You’ve got this.” He whispered, squeezing your hand in reassurance. One more deep breath, and you were ready to go. 

You let out a huff of air. “Wow. Okay, I’m ready now.” You smiled. “God, that‘s so hard to follow, Brian. You’re the most beautifully poetic person I know. This wasn’t planned, I promise, but this really shows how similar we are. You stole my ending, Brian. I planned to end my vows with “till death do us part, my Love” too. Really just shows how we’re meant to be together.” You smiled, family and friends “aww”ing and giggling. “Well anyways, I wanted to talk about when we first met; just in case someone didn’t know and such. I was working at the record store in London, when you entered one day. It was a slow night, and I’d just finished restocking the “Sheer Heart Attack” album, so I was bound to recognize you as soon as you walked in. “How odd?” I thought. “What is Brian May doing in my store?” I thought you’d overlooked me; that I didn’t have a chance. Until I saw you looking at me, immediately playing a game with me and grabbing a record off the shelf in front of you, putting it in front of your face, and popping out in a playful manner. I’d been a fan of your music for some time, but I fell in love with you right there.  Suddenly you weren’t just a guitarist. You were the man of my dreams. After talking for a bit, you bought a couple of  albums, and I noticed you wrote your number on my copy of the receipt. ’Course I called you right when I got home. Luckily, you answered, and the rest is history. So basically, I never thought I had a chance with you. You seemed out of my league, darling. But as soon as I stared into those hazel eyes, I knew I had found everlasting love. I knew you were supposed to be mine, and I yours. I fell for you the moment you opened up to me, and quite honestly I never want to stop. Now, not to quote him or anything because I clearly have it written on my card here: you’ll always be my everything, Brian. I can’t wait to start a family with you, and our life together henceforth. ‘Till death do us part, my Love.” Now Brian was crying as you slipped the ring on his finger, and it was pronounced, 

“I hereby pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss the bride.” 

When your lips reunited, it was like Heaven. The crowd cheered, as you and Brian smiled into the kiss, your tears of happiness mixing on your face. 

“I love you so fucking much.” He whispered, picking you up bridal style as he carried you down the aisle, your dress following behind. “God this dress weighs 100 pounds!” He laughed. 

“You’re telling me!” You said, joining his lips as he set you down at a secluded park bench to spend your first moments as husband in wife in solidarity before taking wedding photos in the garden, since the reception venue was being held in the same park in a different section. “I know my dress wasn’t what you expected, but you know how I am, queen of surprises. Do you like it?” 

“I’m completely enamored with it. Not what I expected at all, but much better than anything I could have thought up. The fact that you designed this is mind blowing.  You look absolutely stunning. My beautiful, beautiful wife. You look like a princess.” He smiled, caressing your face. 

“That’s right!” You gasped. “I get to call you my husband now!” 

He laughed at your realization. “Yes, and I get to call you Mrs. May.” He smiled. 

“God, I love the sound of that.” You hummed, leaning into a kiss. 

The two of you sat like that for a while, realizing you only had five minutes before you had to go get pictures taken. 

“You know,” you started. “After pictures I’ve got to go back to my bridal suite at the hotel in the centre of the park.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got another dress, Love.”

“Another one? They can’t possibly get much bigger than this one.” 

“No, no. Not trying to one myself up in terms of size. It’s just different. Couldn’t possibly dance in this one with such a large train! You’ll absolutely love it. Freddie designed it completely. It’s his wedding gift to you.” 

“I can’t wait.” He smiled. 

~~~~~ 

After pictures, the majority of the wedding party decided to go back with you to the hotel for dress number two. Brian’s Groom’s suite was at the opposite end of the hall from yours, so your 3 closest friends who were your bridesmaids, Freddie (who managed to make himself a member of both the bride and grooms party), Roger, and John, lined the hallway between your rooms, eagerly awaiting your outfit change. It’d be Freddie’s first time seeing you in it, and he just couldn’t hold back his excitement, so he went in to help you remove your gargantuan ball gown as the hair stylist removed the bun and styled your hair into long, soft, sparkling waves with a small tiara as the makeup artist darkened your eye look and gave you a nude lip. You stepped into the risqué dress, feeling extremely confident and sexy. Freddie could hardly control his excitement, saying you looked like a “bridal sex goddess” , which of course made you laugh. 

Freddie left to join the rest of the party in the hallway as you stepped from the podium with much more ease this time. Confidently opening for the door and strutting into the hallway as the wedding party hooped and hollered. 

“Did I do good, or did I do good?!” Freddie exclaimed. 

As you walked past Roger, he laughed in awe, pulling your shoulder to whisper in your ear, “Are you trying to give him a hard on for the night, Y/N? Embarrass him at his own wedding? Cuz with that dress it’ll sure as hell work.” He joked with you. 

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning.” John added. 

You put your hand on Brian’s doorknob. “You ready, Bri?” you seductively said. 

“Been ready, Darling. All the excitement out there only makes me more ready.” 

You started to turn the handle. “Good luck Brian!” Roger exclaimed. 

“Good luck with what?” he said back through the unopened door. 

No one knew how to phrase answer to his question.

“Er, good luck keeping it in your pants, we mean.” John shyly added. 

You stepped into the room, Brian still turned away from you as you shut the door behind you. The wedding party rushed to the door, pressing their six ears against it to hear his reaction. 

“Alright; turn around.” 

“Oh my fucking God!” He exclaimed, earning a chorus of laughter from you and your nosy friends in the hall. He rushed over to you, spinning you and pulling you close to him as he placed his hands low on your curves. 

“You look so fucking sexy.” He whispered in your ear. “Know you’ve only had it on for a couple minutes, but I’d take it off you now if we had time.” he smiled. He pulled back, taking in more of the dress. “God, it’s sheer and there’s a slit?!” He yelled. “Thank you so fucking much Freddie!” he said, making everyone laugh again. 

~~~~~ 

The rest of the night was perfect. Though there were loads of other people there, the world only revolved around you and Brian that night. Your hands were always intertwined, feeding each other cake and dancing to your heart's content. Even though choosing your first dance song was one of the only parts of your wedding that you left to Brian, after he consulted you, you’d planned to dance to Your Song by Elton John. However, when the song didn’t start playing, Brian took the microphone and said, 

“Now, dancing to a track would be fine for most people, but as the guitarist of Queen, I think I’ve got to do a little better.” He smirked. “C’mon boys. Get up there.” 

Roger, Freddie, and John climbed up to the stage as someone brought Brian out an ear microphone and took away the handheld one. 

“Ready darlings?” Freddie asked them, earning a nod from the other three, and starting his piano intro, which shocked you. 

It wasn’t what you expected in the slightest. You expected to hear Freddie play Elton’s iconic piano riff, (which would have been hilarious considering Elton was sitting at a table to your left), but he started with something else. The tune was recognizable, but you could tell the four of them had rearranged the song. Brian started to dance with you to the piano intro, making you feel on top of the world. 

*** play Fred Astaire’s version of The Way You Look Tonight***

And then Brian started singing. 

“Someday, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold, 

I will feel a glow just thinking of you. 

And the way you look tonight.” 

It immediately brought tears to your eyes, so thankful you’d met him and for where you were today. You layed your head on his shoulder as he continued to serenade you, John coming in on the string bass and Roger on the drums in the second verse. 

It was absolute bliss, the love of your life, your husband of only a couple hours and 3 of your closest friends serenading you. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

At the end of the song, he grabbed your cheeks, looking into your eyes as he sang, “Just the way you look, tonight.” 

Your lips connected, and the world seemed to pause. You’d never been happier in your life. Now, how does it get better than this? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reception ended around two in the morning, the two of you getting in Brian’s private jet at 2:30 AM to fly to Paris for three weeks. Your bags were already packed and loaded on the plane, and the two of you opted to stay in your wedding attire to take photos at the Eiffel Tower since the flight was just under an hour and fifteen minutes long. You and Brian slept for most of the flight so you weren’t completely exhausted when you got to Paris. 

Once getting there, Brian refused to set you down, carrying you to the limo and into your honeymoon suite with a perfect view of the glimmering city and the Eiffel Tower. You quickly set your bags on the dresser and touched up your hair and makeup for photos, and hurried down to the limo to the Eiffel Tower. At first, the two of you just took in its beauty, hand in hand, smiling at each other. The photographer was rapidly taking photos, eager to get some perfect unplanned photos as well. Your dress glistened in the lights. 

“It’s so beautiful.” You smiled. 

“Eh, it’s alright. Not nearly as beautiful as my wife, though.” He chuckled, the two of you joining your lips, making for a perfect picture. 

After taking thirty posed pictures, Brian tipped the photographer and limo driver 300 pounds, thanking them for coming out so late, and telling the limo driver he could leave so you two could spend some time together as husband and wife in such a romantic location, and that you’d be walking back to your hotel. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back to his chest as you rested your head back, admiring the Eiffel Tower and your first moments in true solidarity as husband and wife. You two spent a while, probably twenty minutes in silence before Brian lead you to a bench, pulling you into his lap as he said, 

“I’m so lucky.” 

“I think we both are.” You smiled. 

“Thank you for choosing me, Y/N. Really. You have no idea how much I love you.” 

You laughed. 

“Brian, I think I’m the one who should be thanking you. You could’ve had any girl in London. Someone famous, someone prettier. Yet you talked to me that night. Gave an average nobody your number. Why?” 

“Well yeah, I could’ve gone for all those other girls you mentioned, but none of them mattered to me. You’re the only one who’s gorgeous inside and out. Everyone always gave me a chance, even people who you’d consider “average” , yet didn’t want to continue a relationship. You’re the only one who’s stayed. And besides, I don’t need someone with all the movie premieres and designer gowns, granted I’ll buy you all the designer gowns you want, I just need you, Love.” 

He pressed a kiss to your lips, closing the distance between the two of you as the two of you made out for a while, lips moving in sync perfectly. As your lips parted, you asked “Are you tired?” 

He nodded. “You?” 

“Yeah.” You said, getting up as he followed quickly, hooking your arm around his and joining your hands as you started the walk back to the hotel. 

“So what’s now?” You asked.

“Whatever you want, Love. Maybe have some fun when we get back to the room, go to sleep, wake up late and order some room service, enjoy Paris for the next couple weeks. You know, whatever people do on their honeymoons.” 

“I know, I mean what’s next for us? For our lives? We already live together. We have gifts to open when we get home, but materialistically we have all we need. I mean soon you’ll be going on tour in like what, five months? Then you’ll be recording again. The Game is released in nine days, Brian. You’re bound to leave me.” 

“Well of course you can come with me, Y/N. Just like you always do. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We can get a pet if you want to stay home. Really, whatever you want.” 

“I know.” silence. “But what about our life as a couple? A family?” 

“Well I want a family.” He quickly retorted. 

“I know. Me too.” You smiled. “That’s what I'm getting at.” You seductively said. 

“Thank god.” He sighed. 

“What?” 

“I thought maybe you’d want to wait a while since we just got married, but I don’t. I want a baby while we’re still young, and then maybe more, and more.” His tone became playful as he tickled your sides, the two of you stopped in the streets by a beautiful garden as you giggled. 

“I just don’t want to go through it alone.” You confessed. “A baby needs its father. I’ll need it’s father too. Pregnancy is scary, especially for a first time mother. I want you to be there, Brian. I don’t just want my husband, the rockstar. I want my husband. The man I fell in love with, a father to be.” 

“I know. And I’ll be there, I promise. I don’t want to miss any appointments. Whenever it is that you get pregnant, you can come with me on tour, we’ll go to appointments together and such. When it gets to the time you can’t travel anymore, you’ll go home, and I’ll come visit you at least once every week. Then the last month we’ll postpone the rest of the tour and I’ll stay with you till our baby comes, then I’ll stay with you for a while in the months after the baby comes. Then you both could come with me on tour again or whatever. The guys will understand. I honestly think they’ll be quite excited too, Love. John’s babies would have a little friend.” 

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” You smiled. “I’m just happy to start our lives together.” 

“Me too. So when do you want this baby?” 

“Oh whenever. Let’s just let it happen. When Baby May comes, it comes. Let’s not plan it. Let’s just let it happen naturally. From love. I love you, Brian.” 

“I love you more.” He said as you arrived at the hotel, carrying you up to the room as you made out the entire way up. 

Once in your room, he feverishly pressed you against the door, passionately making out as you removed his suit jacket, unzipping your wedding dress and letting it fall to the floor as he picked you up and laid you on the bed which was covered in rose petals. As you each stripped each other, your lips never disconnected. With Brian left only in his boxers, he said, “You know, it would be pretty cool to say we made our baby on our wedding night in Paris, don’t you think?”

“Definitely would be something interesting to talk about.” You nodded. 

“Then let’s make that baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- Ah! I’m so happy with the way this came out! it’s so cute omg I love it. It’s long! but that’s ok! i hope you all like it!!!!! Send me more asks for one shots please!

[hoseokhearts-blog]

Bad for Me (Suga x Reader) Part 5

5] dream, reality 

- there are probably typos in this, i'll edit it later <3 -

You were completely and utterly exhausted by the time you made it home from Yoongi's competition. You and Yoongi were at the venue till nearly one am, as there were eleven other performers to go after Yoongi.

"Are you tired? I can take you home now if you want," Yoongi offered as he finally pulled away from hugging you, still barely having caught his breath.

"No, let's stay," you replied. The winners of the competition wouldn't be announced until they were put online the following day, meaning that it wasn't necessary for you and Yoongi to stay until the end of the competition. But, you could tell how much Yoongi was enjoying himself being there, and you were honestly having fun as well.

So, they two of you stayed until the very end, listening and cheering and swaying along with the rest of the crowd. There was something about the way the energy radiated off of people, the way that people vibed off of one another that made you feel incredibly content. You had nerver experienced being in a crowd and feeling all of that heavy passion at the same time. It was such an elating feeling that you could see yourself likely yearning for it later on in the future. The way you felt that night and the moments that you shared with Yoongi were once in a life time, and you knew that.

The way Yoongi was right there beside you, drawing the same emotions from the music that you were made you feel connected to him in a way that you had never been connected to another person. When he would look down and smile at you every once in a while, you could acknowledge how blatantly right the whole situation felt.

You were explicitly happy that night.

Yoongi walked you home, offering his hoodie since you were cold and he was still drying to desperately cool down.

"It might be kind of sweaty, but you can use it if you need to," he offered, chuckling a little bit. You accepted the jacket, figuring that Yoongi's sweat was already all over you anyway; you didn't want to be shivering for the remainder of the 5 block walk back to your dorm.

"Thanks again for coming tonight," Yoongi sighed out contentment, looking up at the stars in the sky as he walked alongside you on the deserted sidewalk.

"I'm glad I came. I've never been to anything like that before," You said as you pull his hoodie on. It was far too big for you, but you still found it comforting. It smelled like his cologne; some soothing cross between lavender and chamomile.

"Did you have fun?" he glanced over at you.

"To be honest, that's the most fun I've had in a while. And I really loved seeing you on stage," you admitted, somehow not feeling shy to throw out that compliment. Perhaps your new found honesty and bravery blossomed because Yoongi had been brave earlier. He was searching for you the moment he stumbled off that stage, taking you in his arms as soon as he found you. You couldn't help but wonder about that moment.

Why had he done that? Was it all because of all the adrenaline? Was it because he felt about the awkward interaction earlier that day? Or was it merely because he was proud of himself, wanted some physical contact, and you were there? Those questions bounced all over your mind, but you didn't want to ask him. In some strange way, you were almost comfortable with there being some mystery there. Either way, no matter what the real truth was, you just knew that you liked that he had done it.

"That makes me happy," Yoongi murmured simply, and nothing else was said all the way home. You and Yoongi walked shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence as you had done many nights before.

You didn't even realize until you were already in your dorm room that he hadn't asked for his hoodie back.

You slept in it that night.

|||||

Thursday, the day following the competition, you found yourself constantly checking your phone, anxious for Yoongi to forward you the results of the competition. You felt that he had outperformed several of the other rappers there, but you had to remind yourself that your opinion was rather biased.

All day, from the time you woke up, to the middle of your classes, to the walk to Youth & Impulse, and even minutes before Yoongi was supposed to show up for work, you were checking to see if you had a text from him. But, a text never came. You figured that he just hadn't received the results yet, and that's why he wasn't reaching out.

He arrived later than usual, only about ten minutes before his shift rather than the full thirty. He only nodded as he came in, not initiating any kind of conversation as he hung up his coat. After seeing how wild and different he appeared on stage, it was almost funny to you to see him back in his formal atire.

You had just started making his drink as you typically did, when he walked past the counter on his way to the piano mumbling, "No latte today." You frowned, setting down the coffee mug, watching as he sat down on the piano bench, his facial expression unreadable.

In all of the time you'd spent around Yoongi, you'd never once seen him like this. And it worried you. What had happened between one o'clock last night and 6 pm today? What had changed? He was practically floating and glowing last night he was so happy. But now, he looked detached and irritable.

You tried to shake off your bad feelings, despite the fact you were bothered about how you'd barely even gotten a chance to talk to him before the shift began. As people promptly flooded in, you did your best to maintain a friendly customer service attitude, even while you were sneeking sly glances at Yoongi.

You noticed a few small slip-ups towards the front of his performance; nothing major, just a few wrong keys pressed that he managed to recover quickly. But, as time wore on, he was messing up more and more frequently. His eyes were open, reading the sheet music this time. You had never seen him actually use the sheet music; he was usually too busy feeling and getting into the music. You had never heard him mess up like that either. You began to feel sick to your stomach, wondering what was wrong with him.

Even Stevens noticed that something was up, poking his head out from the kitchen to ask, "Is everything okay with Yoongi?"

You and Stevens gave it a little more time, but as his mistakes persisted and his entire body language was stiff and frustrated, Stevens eventually decided to step in. He approached Yoongi at the piano, whispering something in his ear. Yoongi stopped playing then as Stevens turned back to the crowd of tables.

"Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen. We will be having a short interlude with our musical talent tonight. Please, enjoy some complementary cinnamon twists that you can pick up at the front counter! They go great with all kinds of coffee and tea," Stevens smiled to the crowd, eliciting some grunts from the old ladies as they made a run (or as much of a run as they could manage) for the pastries that you were now busy handing out.

You managed to catch a glimpse of Yoongi, walking across the cafe and then exiting out the door. Your blood ran cold as you assumed the worst. Stevens had just made his way over, planning to help you out with the customers.

"Where did Yoongi go?! Did you just fire him?" You exclaimed under your breath as your back was to the customers for a short moment.

"Fire him? What are you talking about? I told him he seemed like he needed to a break so I told him to grab some fresh air," Stevens replied, attending to the customers that you were practically ignoring.

"Something's wrong with him today..." You trailed off, biting your lip as you tried to see over the crowd and to the windows. It was already dark outside though, so you knew it was really no use.

"Did everything go okay last night?" Stevens asked.

"It was great, actually. We-" You began, but then paused as you remembered what he'd been expecting all day. The competition results.

"You what?" Stevens questioned as you had stop talking mid-sentence.

"Stevens, I know we're slammed right now, but I would appreciate you forever if you would let me go out there and talk to him for a few minutes," you practically begged.

"Y/N," he started uneasily.

"Please," your eyes pleaded with his.

"Fine. Go," he sighed, and you thanked him quickly, running out from behind the counter and to the front door.

Upon making it outside, you found Yoongi sitting on the curb, a nearby street lamp glowing just enough for you to be able to make out his profile features.

"Yoongi?" You called out as you approached him. He looked up at you, but he didn't smile. Hesitantly, you sat down beside him on the curb, leaving a small gap between you and him.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, worry and fear continually rising in your chest. He was quiet for a few moments.

"I got the results back," he said finally, jaw clenching slightly. In the dim light, he almost looked mad. You waited silently, figuring it was best to just let him talk, rather than trying to pull the words out of him before he was ready.

"I placed 6th out of the 20," he sighed, head suddenly in his hands as he was rubbing his eyes.

"What's the problem them? You beat 14 people Yoongi, that's great," you said, unsure of why he seemed so down about it.

"'That's great'? 6th is not good enough. There were recruiters there, Y/N. You really think they're going to go for anybody past the top 3, top 5 maybe? I blew my chance," He said, clearly growing frustrated as he finally made eye contact with you.

"But Yoongi, you did your best, and it's so obvious that someone like you and with talent like yours belongs on a stage," you insisted, your eyebrows wrinkled up as you grew more and more confused as to why he was counting this a loss.

"Y/N, you're not listening to me. 6th is not good enough. I wasn't good enough." It wasn't until voice slightly cracked when he said "I wasn't good enough" that you realized he was beginning to tear up.

"Yoongi..." You said his name softly, heart hurting for him.

"I-I just really thought this was going to be it, you know? I thought that it was really my chance to finally make it big. And I just, I don't know, I guess I choked," he whispered, tears slowly beginning to leak out of his eyes. He swiped them away quickly, looking down as if he was embarrassed to be crying at all.

"You didn't choke, Yoongi. You did your best, and you beat 14 other very talented people. And all of those talent agency reps were there, watching you perform your heart out. After a performance like the one you gave last night, I doubt they'll be forgetting the name Min Yoongi any time soon," you reassured him gently, a hand resting on his knee now.

"I don't know...I just feel like it's all ruined now," he sniffed, facing toward you. His tears were still flowing even though he was clearly trying to very hard to fight them. You hated seeing him like that. It made your heart twist and burn in a very uncomfortable way.

"It's okay to be disappointed," you told him, another surge of confidence and bravery coming over you. You reached out with slight hesitance, gently wiping the tears off of his face. You half expected him to push your hands away, or for him to jerk away as soon as you touched his face, but he didn't.

In fact, he actually let his eyes close for a short moment, being one hundred percent and completely vunerable with you.

"It's okay to be disappointed, but your dream can still become reality. Don't give up, Min Yoongi," you whispered. He sniffled again, nodding and slowly opening his eyes.

"Thank you for building me up again," he managed as you carefully removed your hands from his face. "I feel like I've been telling you thank you a lot these days...I feel like I'm not giving enough back to you. Saying thank you just doesn't feel like enough..."

"Stop saying you aren't enough...You are," You murmured, a whirlwind of emotions filling you up.

Yoongi sighed, and in a split second, he had carefully taken the sides of your face in his hands, pulling your face slightly closer to his. With seemingly no hesitation at all, he pressed gentle, but still firm kiss upon your forehead, causing your cheeks to heat up in flames.

"Thank you...again," he almost laughed as he pulled away, looking at you with an expression you couldn't read. You were both sitting there, just looking at each other. You wondered how long you would've stayed like that if it hadn't have been for Yoongi's cell phone going off. He reached for his phone, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the screen.

"Who is it?" you asked, and he shrugged, accepting the call button.

"Yes. Speaking. Yes. Really? Of course! Thank you so much!" The entire conversation only lasted about twenty seconds, and buy the end Yoongi was grinning uncontrollably.

"Y/N, that was one of the talent agencies that was at the competition last night. BigHit Entertainment."

[dcbbw]

Timing--Part 7 (Sympathy for the Devil)

This is Part 7 of my fanfic and it’s my version of events once the gang travels to LA to find Tariq. In my version, he refuses to come forward and Riley made a painful decision. Now that Tariq has agreed to speak, what happens when Liam breaks the news to Madeleine? I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical errors. 

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: Road Head, Japanese Breakfast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpOo3gPANnw

Word Count: 3123

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @gennesaret @simsvetements @cora-nova @carabeth@hopefulmoonobject @katedrakeohd @aworldoffandoms @custaroonie @liamxs-world @lauradowning29 @speedyoperarascalparty @thequeenofcronuts

Liam X MC, Liam X Riley, Liam x Madeleine

 It was 6am, and the halls of the palace were dark and quiet. Liam made his way softly from the gym back to his chambers. His sleep, if it could be called that was fitful. When he wasn’t replaying every nuance of the conversation with Penelope and Tariq, he had images flashing through his brain. Riley’s eyes landing on Bertrand when Bastien mentioned betrayal. Tariq in Riley’s room. Drake in Riley’s room. Maxwell comforting Penelope. Riley taking Maxwell’s arm in Lythikos. Him kissing Olivia.

He finally gave up trying to sleep at 4am, and decided to start his day. First stop was the palace gymnasium to work off the restless energy. As he got out of bed, he saw the large manila envelope that had been slid under his door at some point during the night. Tariq’s statement. He would read it over before his trip to Fydelia. As he stepped out of his room, clad in a wife beater and black boxing shorts, he saw Riley’s scarf hanging on the knob of one of the double doors. She came to me last night. He did not hear her knock, and wasn’t sure he would have answered if he had. He held the scarf in his hands, lifting it to his nose to inhale her scent. He went back inside the room to lay the scarf on his bed, before heading back out and down to go a few rounds with a punching bag.

Now, as he headed back to shower, dress, and head out, he looked at the end of the hall. At Riley’s door. He missed her. He wanted to see her. He crept softly to her room, and gently turned the knob. He had considered knocking, but did not want to wake her. He tiptoed into the room, seeing her lying in bed, sleeping deeply. Moonlight poured into the room, courtesy of her never wanting to shut her curtains. It bathed her in a bluish light, but there wasn’t much to see. Just her hair which was a halo of curls on the pillow, and her face in profile and silhouette. I love you Riley. I am in love with you. I’m sorry I put you in this position. Please be here when I come back. Please still be in love with me. He left the room, as quietly as he entered.

Once he was showered and dressed, he powered his cellphone on. He had shut it off after texting Madeleine he would like to call on her the following day, probably mid-morning, to discuss an important matter with her. Madeleine texted back almost immediately. Fine. He pulled open the envelope to quickly review the statement; he made a few quick revisions, and placed it back in the envelope. He sent a text to his valet with instructions for the envelope to be returned to Bertrand, and glanced at his phone. A missed text from Riley. Sleep well, love. I may come up to tuck you in later. He smiled to himself, then called the kitchen, instructing them to send breakfast to Riley’s room in 2 hours: cronuts, fruit, cheeses, and hot cocoa.  He quickly texted back. Had I known you were offering, I would never have fallen asleep. Enjoy breakfast, and I will see you later today. Love you.

After a 2 hour drive, Liam found himself knocking on Madeleine’s front door. After knocking a second time, Madeleine flung open the doors, wearing a bright smile. “Darling!” she exclaimed. Liam looked at her, a confused look on his face. “There’s no press.” “Oh.” Madeline’s smile dropped quickly as she spun on her heel and retreated back into her estate. Liam followed. This is who I was supposed to marry? Madeleine led him to a sunny, cozy sitting room. A tray of assorted pastries, fruit, and yogurts sat on a table, along with water, and assorted fruit juices. Madeleine gestured towards the table: “Help yourself.” Liam fixed himself a small plate, and settled in at the circular dining table, across from Madeleine, who was drinking pineapple vodka on the rocks.

Liam looked at the glass, then at Madeleine, eyebrow raised.

“What? You text me last night saying you had something important to discuss this morning. I’m figuring that whatever you have to tell me is better…processed…with me not quite sober. So…talk.” Her green eyes were inquisitive but disinterested. In fact, her entire body language suggested she wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else.

“Lady Riley was going to leave me and return to America.” Liam just blurted it out. That was not the statement to lead with.

“Really?” Madeleine was definitely interested now. Her eyes were slightly widened and she leaned forward.

“Yes, as you know, we were trying to find Tariq to come forward and clear her name. He refused to at first, but relented last night. He and Lady Penelope were at the Palace yesterday evening discussing the events leading up to the photos.” 

Madeleine took a swallow of her vodka and pineapple juice. “Tariq and Penelope in the same room, attempting conversation? How much did you learn about fashion and poodles?”

“It was a bit more enlightening than that.”

“How much more? One is stupider than a box of rocks, and the other is spineless and scared shitless.”

“Tariq has given a statement that will clear Lady Riley, and he will be returning to Court.”

Madeleine felt the beginnings of uneasiness. “Well, I am happy to hear that Lady Riley’s name will be restored. As you know, I have always felt strongly about the situation, and in her favor I might add.”

Liam reached across the table to take one of Madeleine’s hands in his. His tone was apologetic, eyes downcast. “There is no easy way to say this, but we both knew it could happen.” Madeleine looked at his hand on top of hers, and snatched her hand away. She stood, drink in hand, and made her way to one of the floor to ceiling windows, her back to Liam.

“So, you’ve come to break off the engagement.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, not even a hint of a question in the statement.  

“Yes”.

She continued to stare out the window, holding her drink in her hand. Liam came to stand behind her. He went to put his hands on her shoulders, but he saw her stiffen. “Do.not.come.near.me.” Madeleine hissed through clenched teeth.

 His arms fell back to his side. “We both know there is no love lost between us, but that does not mean I do not feel badly for hurting you.”

She took a sip of her drink as she stared out the window. “My dream has been killed for a second time. More than likely, for the last time. You have more than hurt me. You and your Father have taken away my one dream.”

“I had nothing to do with my Father’s manipulations.”

“Didn’t you?” Madeleine whirled around angrily to face Liam. “The minute you accepted his arrangement, the minute you chose me, you had everything to do with it. You are the bad guy here, Liam, as much as you may try to avoid it.”

Liam looked at Madeleine. He wanted to refute the statement, but she was right. Madeleine may be a bitch, but she was an honest bitch. “You’re right”, he said quietly. “I know my apologies are inadequate, but they are sincere. I will work to find a place for you in Court.”

“Just not Queen.” Her tone was quiet, the slightest break in her voice.

Madeleine stepped forward swiftly until her face was mere inches from Liam’s. Liam reflexively took a step back as he held his hands up defensively. Madeleine huffed and rolled her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I…you…you scared me.”

She wrapped her arms across her chest. “Really, Liam?”

“Is it me?” She was closer now. She smelled of gardenias and soap.

“It is, but not in the way you think. You are not an unattractive woman, Madeleine.  But even if I felt an attraction to you, you still have history with my brother. Intimate history.”

“This isn’t about you and your attractions, Liam, and it isn’t about me fucking your brother. This is about why you feel I am unfit to be Queen.”

“Madeleine, you are not unfit to be Queen; in fact, you may be the most qualified woman in all of Cordonia to be Queen. But, you are unfit to be my wife. I need passion, spontaneity…fun. Things I did not even know I needed until I met Lady Riley. That is the difference between you and Riley….she wants to be with me. You just want to be Queen. She is in love with me.  You are in love with Cordonia. I am not Cordonia, but a mere representation of its people.”

“You know, I could’ve dealt with being married to you, even though I have absolutely no romantic feelings for you. Just because I do not love you does not mean I would not…do not care about you.”

“Madeleine,despite your protests, it sounds an awful lot like you saying you do have…feelings for me?” Liam’s voice was filled with horrified disbelief.  

“Put your eyes back in your head. Care and love are not mutually exclusive, and caring for and caring about are two different things.” She was quiet for a moment. “Tell me, do you really think marriage with me would be so horrible? “

Liam poured himself a scotch as he answered her over his shoulder. “Frankly, yes.”

He turned back around to face her, and noticed she had resumed her seat at the dining table. He joined her, bringing the bottle of scotch with him. “How did you envision being married to me to be?”

With a gentle smile on her face, she spoke. “Quiet. Perhaps a deep friendship growing. Definitely bonding over the children.” Liam looked startled. She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I should refer to them as heirs? Yes, Liam…children. A dark haired girl, and a blonde haired boy. I imagined we would learn to care for each other. Oh, I wouldn’t be the one to send you out the door in the morning with a smile on your face, or relax you at the end of a long day…but I think we could have had a tolerable union.”

Liam looked at curiously. “Don’t you want love? To have someone to be excited about? Someone you would do anything for just to see them smile?”

She toyed with her pastry, breaking off little pieces of it, watching the pieces fall onto her plate. “I have given up on love in the romantic sense….Leo took that part of me with him.”

“Do you still miss him?”

“I miss the Madeleine he took with him.”

“Leo has always been a free spirit….he has never settled into one place or one person for too long.”  Liam looked at the table. He did not know what to say after that. When Leo abdicated, everyone wondered what it meant for Cordonia, for the Crown. No one ever thought about what it meant to the woman he was supposed to marry. What it meant to her dreams, her plans.

Madeleine looked over at him, saw his brow furrowing as he bit his lip. “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her with sad eyes. “Just thinking how selfish I have been….it never crossed my mind to ask how you were doing after everything happened.”

Madeleine looked at him, her eyes softening slightly. “Women are accessories at Court. We are all pretty dresses, and pretty faces. We are often not thought of or about. Besides, the future of Cordonia was at stake. It is…understandable I would be an afterthought.”

“That isn’t right, and you know it.”

She shrugged. “It’s Court. So, tell me….how is Lady Riley taking the news?” She was obviously changing the subject, and Liam was happy to go along with that.

“I am not sure. I know she is elated that her name will be cleared, but some of what precipitated this situation was a little disturbing.  To me at least. Riley doesn’t seem affected.”

“She’s had time to process it.  She’s had to live it every day since it happened….she’s had time to come to terms with it. But wait…disturbing? Care to elaborate?” She poured them each another drink without looking at him.

Liam had no idea what to tell her, if anything. He certainly could not tell her about Constantine’s role in everything. He went to shake his head no and say it’s nothing, but what came out was, “Ever since I found out what happened, I can’t help feeling that she may have affections for someone else.”

Madeleine was in the middle of bringing her glass to her lips. She slowly put the glass down. “What the hell, Liam? You come to my home, break off our engagement, and now want to confide in me like I’m a parish priest? You have nerve, lots of it.”

“I don’t know why I told you that. Maybe…maybe in all the wrong ways, we are more similar than I care to admit, and I wanted to tell someone who would understand.”

“Who is this someone?” Madeleine was genuinely pissed, but her curiosity was stronger.

“Drake.” He saved her that night from Tariq. He saw her naked. He says he cares about her. “Maxwell.” He may be comforting her. I don’t know what they do when they’re alone. “I don’t know what I feel, or even why I am feeling it. I don’t know how to approach any of them. “

“Drake and Maxwell?” Her tone was not incredulous or mocking, but thoughtful as she mulled it over, twirling a piece of her hair.

Taking a deep breath, Madeleine took a long swallow from her glass. She then looked Liam in his eyes and told him, “You are the most oblivious asshole I have ever met.”

"You overstep, Countess Madeleine." Liam bristled.

She held up her hand to both quiet him and supplicate him.  “Liam, you do not get to do that. You do not get to ask folks to perform jobs, tasks, favors…whatever you call them…and then get angry when they actually perform the job!

You were the one who asked your hunky, ruggedly handsome friend to be Lady Riley’s bodyguard. You knew as a sponsee of House Beaumont, she would be living with Maxwell. You put everyone in a damn near constant position to possibly break your heart, and now you are allowing your insecurities and jealousies to cause an existential crisis, although it isn’t unwarranted.

“Liam, love is actions, as well as words. All you have offered Lady Riley are words that have fallen flat, and little to no action. The few actions you have shown her….”she trailed off, arching her eyebrow at him. “Look, women love the knight in shining armor. You know why? Because he shows up. Kings don’t show up…they send others to show up for them.”

“But I love her! I was willing to abdicate for her!” Liam protested.

At his words, an undefinable expression crossed Madeleine’s face, but she continued talking. “But you didn’t, did you? You chose every route but that one and lucked up that Tariq decided to come forward. And that is what this is all about. Last night, you saw the others that were showing up for the woman you love. That others were making time for Riley while you could only find time for her.

Yet, you think declarations of love, talk of evil forces keeping you apart will be enough to keep her around and enraptured with you. Until a half hour ago, you were engaged to me. You took me on a worldwide tour. What did she get? A pearl bracelet? An hour or two after midnight in Paris? And the whole time, your waterboys were playing quarterback with your love life. So no, I do not overstep…you underestimate.

Liam sat at the table, his eyes unable to leave Madeleine’s face. As angry as he was, as hurtful her words had been….he knew she was right, and he had been right to confide in her. His breathing was heavy as he processed everything she had just said.

“Well, say something”, Madeleine demanded impatiently.

“I cannot believe you are such an advocate of Lady Riley's."

“Well, I cannot believe the lovesick idiot sitting across from me is King of Cordonia…but here we are.”

Liam laughed, then laid his eyes, soft and gentle, on Madeleine’s face. “You really are something, Maddy. I am very sorry I had to be the one to break your dream.”

“I’m resilient, I will build new ones.”

“I will help. Whatever your endeavors, you have the full support of the Crown, and I will see what I can do to keep you as involved in Court as possible.” He cleared his throat. “Statements will be released to the press tomorrow. Can I…can I count on your support?”

“I will be there tomorrow. You and Bertrand will have something drafted for my review this evening?”

“Of course.”

Madeleine was staring at the table while she fiddled with her finger, removing her engagement ring. She pushed it across the table towards him. He looked at it briefly, and pushed it back towards her. “You keep it.  As a reminder of your ultimate service to Cordonia. You gave up being Queen so Cordonia’s King could have a chance at true happiness.”

A lone tear fell down her cheek as she nodded, closing her hand over the piece of jewelry.

As he stood to go, he put a hand to her cheek. “Madeleine, I don’t whether to curse you or kiss you right now. You have been….unexpected during this visit.”

“Do both.” She challenged jokingly with a small smile.

“I don’t think I can ever curse you. No matter how frustrating you can be. You have given me my future back.”

“Fine, I can do both.” Madeleine stood and pulled Liam’s face to hers. She kissed him softly and sweetly on his lips. “Fuck you, Liam. Now get the hell out of my house.”