#so spending extra love passes for more votes was for nothing?? alright

[bitchkay]

Saligia cup 2nd midway rankings

HE WENT DOWN A SPOT⁉️⁉️⁉️

[sokkisky]

~valentine’s day 2021~

Want to make a request?: https://forms.gle/NyZgUcqkCPzHRvVn6

Rating: SFW (Fluff) 

Pairings: Bakugou x Y/N, Hawks x Y/N, Deku x Y/N 

Warnings: None!. 

A/N: THE AMOUNT OF TIED VOTES IS SENDING ME! Happy Valentine's Day! We have a lot of characters today because I let you all make a poll and I said “Well if they have about 56% or more of a popular vote then we’ll use them” and you just about clicked everyone. So I took the tied votes for most wanted! I hope this is okay! 

I’m actually very very excited and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Not to mention I do hope you guys enjoyed the hotline as much as I did! It was such a fun lead up to V-Day.  

I hope you all have a very good day, this is a good day to TREAT yourself and give yourself a little extra love!

You woke up the morning of Valentine’s day knowing that you’d be waking up like it was any old day. You felt a little sad, turning to see the empty space in bed next to you. Bakugou must have already left for work. 

~~~

The two of you walked through the mall, V-Day was coming up and the stores were full of Valentines day candy and flowers. Teddy Bears, and gifts everywhere. Bakugou couldn’t help but groan at all the red material confessions and cards. He held you hand as you awed at all the cute gifts as the two of you walked through the mall. 

“Who would spend all this money for some stupid bear.” he mumbled a bit, the expensive price tag of a teddy bear catching his eye. You giggled a bit picking up the bear, “It’s not stupid Baku!” you said, looking the bear over. It was adorable, softer than all the other bears. He was a wide plush, coming with accessories as well. 

Bakugou watched you holding the bear. You’d always thought the sweet mementos of love were cute. He scoffed a bit taking your hand in his again as you set the bear back down. 

“Trust me it’s dumb.” he muttered. 

You’re heart hurt a little, the realization that he didn’t care about V-Day sinking in. It’s not like you needed anything, it didn’t matter the gift. 

You just knew you weren’t going to get to celebrate Valentine’s day with him, your someone special. 

~~~

You got out of the bed, slipping on your slippers and shuffling out of the room. You yawned a bit as you opened the bedroom door. Your eyes fluttered open and you stopped. Gasping. 

You could not believe your eyes. 

The living room was full of Valentine’s day decorations. Red rose petals and streamers around the room. Balloons and chocolates sitting on the coffee table. You looked around, a big box sitting next to the coffee table. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on Bakugou. He stood there, his clothes normal but his smile wide. 

You couldn’t help but run into his arms, holding him tightly. “Baku! This is amazing thank you!” you said happily. He held you back, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead. 

“Well come on, go open the box.” he said, turning you towards the giant box. 

You walked over excited, lifting off the lid and gasping again.

The lid held the sides of the box, the box falling open once you pulled off the lid. And there sat a giant teddy bear, almost as tall as you. His fur was fluffy and he was a light white, his nose a red heart. You squealed a bit, squeezing the bear. 

“I told you the other bear was stupid. I had to get you something special, you are my teddybear afterall.” he said with a smirk. 

“Happy Valentine’s day teddybear.” 

You held a small pink note in your hand. “Go to the kitchen, something is waiting.” you read aloud. You laughed to yourself. 

Keigo always said he’d do something special for Valentine’s day, and when you woke up this morning you didn’t see him at all. However, on the bathroom mirror you found a small pink sticky note. You sighed walking out to the kitchen, expecting to see Keigo but no. Instead there was a bouquet of pink roses and another pink sticky note. 

You palmed the note in your hand, “Where do we watch movies? Something is waiting there for you,” you read aloud. The living room? Was he saying to go to the living room.  You walked over, holding the flowers in your hand before you found a new Hawks themed tote bag. You chuckled a bit picking it up and reading the sticky note. “You’ll need this bag, go get a dressed and go out to the car”

~~~

You walked outside, seeing a sticky note on the car. Nothing but an address was written on the pink sticky note. You smiled setting the bag and flowers down in the passenger seat as you sat in the driver’s seat. You sat down beginning to drive to the location on your GPS 

~~~ 

You drove for a while. Realizing your drive was turning into a trip. You began to worry for a second, you didn’t pack anything but you kept driving. You drive for a while more until you pull up to a resort. 

The address led you to a resort. 

You got out of the car looking around. What were you supposed to do now? You took out your phone wanting to call Keigo, ask him what was going on and why you were here, all until you saw him. Your eyes landed on him as he looked back at you, grinning madly as he made his way over to you. 

You giggled a bit, seeing his cheeky grin before two passes to the resort were held in front of your face. 

“Why don’t we spend the next few days relaxing, just you and I. How does that sound lovebird?” 

You were sick. 

You sat in the bed coughing, just finishing a sneezing fit. You looked up at Izuku who sat next to you with a box of tissues and cough drops. Your eyes were teary, as you turned to him. “I’m sorry I know we were supposed to spend the day out and I-” you started but Izuku held your hand. Cupping your cheek in his right soft hand. He stared into your eyes, “Don’t worry Puppy, It’ll be alright.” he said softly. His mind seemed to wander for a bit before you could see a lightbulb click on in his mind. He hopped off the bed, kissing your forehead. 

“I’ll be right back puppy, give me a few minutes okay!” he says hurriedly grabbing his coat and kicking on his shoes. You looked at him slightly confused before he gave you one more kiss and rushed out of the door. 

~~~

You woke up after a bit, not even realizing you’d fallen asleep. You felt a little bit better though. You sat up, noticing the room was dark, only dim lighting around you. You sat up slowly, your eyes adjusting. 

Candles. 

The room was lit with candles, red flower petals on the bedroom floor. 

“Izu?” you called out, looking around. “You there?” 

The bedroom door slowly opened revealing a Izuku. He wore a deep red tux, holding two boxes of pizza in his right hand, in his left was a full plastic bag. You smiled as he walked over setting the pizza down next to you. You opened the box, it was your favorite kind, before he set the bag down in front of you. You peeked inside seeing your favorite drinks and candy, and two of your favorite movies. 

“I know we couldn’t go out for Valentine’s day, so why not bring Valentine’s to the most special girl in my life.” Izuku said softly, holding your face close to his. “I love you puppy.” he said sweetly. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

[tinyboxxtink]

"Clueless" *Part 15* (Finale)

I'll admit the last bit of this wasn't TOTALLY amazing, BUT I'm stoked to start "Black Magic", and I got the major points that I wanted in this ending. So, I hope you guys like it. 😉

[Black Magic starts tonight.]

Part 14

Gif's UNDER the cut, so there's no spoilers.

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@objection-argumentative

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@aprildecker-blog

-----

To your relief, the last two classes were Rafael free. However, that third week was the big court cases final argument finals.

To make it extra stressful, your professor had gotten permission to use a real live courtroom for you all to present your cases. And not only that, filled the gallery with judiciary members, and to your absolute horror that included the SVU squad.

When you walked into the courtroom, you were already panicking with all the spectators. But seeing the panelists standing up front, including Rafael with a smug smile, your palms began to sweat. You and Josh exchanged worried glances, but held hands and stayed strong together. You glanced over to the gallery to see Ariel giving you a thumbs up. What the…?

“What is Ariel doing here?” You whispered to Josh. “I thought only law students were allowed in here,”

“Oh I asked her to be here,” Josh smiled, waving at Ariel.

“Why…?” You gave him a confused look.

“Uh, for you obviously,” He nervously smiled. “I wanted you to have a friendly face in the audience, y’know besides me,”

“That’s really sweet babe,” You nuzzled his neck. “How’d she manage it though?”

“I’m pretty sure she paid off one of the guards,” He chuckled.

“Figures,” You rolled your eyes.

You took your seats with the rest of the class on one side of the gallery, awaiting your turns. It made you sick to your stomach to see just how happy Rafael was, why was he in such a good mood?

“Look at him, he’s such a smug bastard,” Josh whispered.

“I know right?” You scoffed back, glaring right at Rafael. But his smile didn’t dissipate, it only grew bigger. What the hell was happening?

Soon the courtroom was completely full, buzzing with conversation. Until a guard started clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Attention, the honorable Judge Walker,”

A very old, very mean looking judge came walking from his chambers and settled into his seat. Great, another thing to panic about.

“Attention, Attention, thank you all for coming today. I am very excited to see the fresh young minds of law at work, but first--” He paused and looked down at the panelists.

“Mr. Barba has asked to make an announcement to the court,”

Wait, what? What was happening? You looked at Ariel with panic, Josh squeezed your hand harder as you gave him a very worried look. You looked at Olivia, who looked uncomfortable. She didn’t know what was going on, that couldn’t be good.

“Ahem,” Rafael adjusted his jacket as he got ready to address the court.

“Ladies and gentleman; as the students here are aware, I’ve been sitting in on their classes for the last few weeks so that I could get a better, well rounded assessment of each one of them so I could go into these ‘trials’ with an idea of who I wanted to work with this summer,” He looked around at each and everyone in the court, except for you and Josh. Of course.

“...But, unfortunately, those evaluations are going to have to suffice as a suggestion to my colleagues here. As I am recusing myself from the proceedings today,”

The court began buzzing with even more conversation, you looked at Ariel who had the same stunned and confused look on her face. You glanced at the SVU squad who looked concerned. Seriously, what was happening? You looked at Josh, he was completely lost and-- worried?

“Babe...are you ok?” You whispered.

He looked at you, not being able to speak. Okay did HE have an idea what was going on?

“Order, Order!!!” The judge banged his gavel. Then he addressed Rafael: “Mr. Barba, why exactly are you recusing yourself?”

Rafael took a deep breath as he looked at the floor. After a pause, he looked back up to the court.

“Because, I could not in good conscience cast a vote when I have a conflict of interest,” He answered, the smile crossing across his face once again.

Your heart started pounding, your breath quickened. Everything went fuzzy and it suddenly felt like you were underwater.

“...And what exactly would that be?” The judge raised an eyebrow.

Your palms began to sweat, you wanted so badly to look at Ariel but you literally could not move. You couldn’t tell if Josh was still holding your hand because your whole body was numb.

Everyone in the courtroom watched Rafael with bated breath, nobody spoke, nobody breathed. Rafael finally fixed his sights right on you:

“...Because I am in love with one of the candidates,” He said with the same huge smile he had since you walked in.

Your heart COMPLETELY stopped, along with your breath. You desperately made pleadings with any higher power that you would NOT pass out in this courtroom in front of every person you admire and knew in your entire academic career.

“Oh my God…” You heard Josh mutter. Oh God, Josh. He was probably crushed right now, so humiliated. You couldn’t even look at him, all you could do was stare at Rafael. He was still beaming at you, so proud of himself. It would be extremely annoying if he hadn’t just announced to an entire room full of his colleagues that he was IN LOVE WITH YOU.

You felt yourself begin to breathe, your heartbeat began to beat, but now it was pounding out of your chest. Wait, he didn’t actually say your name. Yet…?

“Order, Order!” The judge banged his gavel once again, and you finally noticed during your little black out the entire room had erupted into even more chatter.

“Mr. Barba, you really could have just told your colleagues here your reason, there’s no need for this showboating,” He told Rafael in a very annoyed tone.

“Yes your honor, I understand,” He nodded. “But I wanted Miss Y/N to know that I am NOT ashamed of her,” Rafael looked at you once again, his smile still plastered on his face.

You couldn’t help but smile back, you were absolutely floored. Any thoughts of how Josh, Ariel, or even Olivia were reacting were out of your mind. Any panic that you wouldn’t be able to present your case now was a million miles away, all you could see was Rafael, the man who was in love with you.

“...Great. Well, I’m glad you and Miss Y/N are happy, but if you don’t mind I’d like to continue our proceedings,” He tried to speak over the crowd. “Alright maybe we need a brief recess,” He sighed, looking at Rafael exasperated. “Barba, really?”

“I’m sorry Mike, It’s a whole thing,” Rafael gave him an apologetic smile.

“Mike” The Judge, banged his gavel once again. “A 15 minute recess and then we’ll begin,”

Rafael took this moment to immediately run to you, you met him halfway. You wanted so desperately to just kiss him right there, but you were still technically in class. Even you knew you needed to stay professional right now.

“I...You...You…” You couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know,” He took your hands. “I am so sorry I left you the other night, but I knew after everything I put you through-- I needed to go big,” He gestured to the courtroom.

“I...Y-You…” Your head was reeling, thinking back to the last night you saw him. You thought for sure that it was absolutely over, and this whole time he had this huge display of an act of true love planned out.

“I love you, Y/N,” He stroked your face. “I love you and I want everyone to know it,” He stared at your lips, you knew you were both thinking the exact same thing.

“Screw it…” You grabbed his hand and pulled Rafael outside into the lobby of the courthouse. Before he could register what was happening, you grabbed him in a deep, passionate kiss. He kissed you back deeply, even more passionate than he had in his office.

“And that was…?” He gave you a weird smile.

“Well, you already announced ‘us’, I didn’t think they needed a free show on top of it,” You bit your lip with a smile.

“It probably wouldn’t have thrilled Josh,” He nodded towards the courtroom.

Crap. Josh. Your face fell, you stared back into the courtroom. As if summoned by the mention of his name, Josh came walking out of the courtroom, quickly trailed by Ariel.

“Oh God…” You muttered. Rafael took your hand gently, letting you know he was there for you. You gave him a small smile as Josh and Ariel approached you.

“Josh…” You started to talk, but Josh put a hand up.

“Wait, Y/N. Before you say anything, I need to say something,” He looked back at Ariel, who walked up next to him. You looked at Rafael with a quizzical look, he returned the look.

“The truth is, Ariel and I--” He looked at Ariel, who looked guilty. “We’ve been...spending time together,”

“What?!” You looked between the two of them, shocked.

“Nothing ever happened,” Josh put up his hands. “It was just as friends,”

“Technically,” Ariel added with a smile.

“Wow,” You muttered.

“Well that’s great news,” Rafael chimed in. “I’m very happy for you, Ariel. Josh seems like a great guy,”

“....Really?” You, Ariel AND Josh asked at the same time, in scary unison.

“Really,” He nodded. “Why do you think I hated him so much?” He looked at Josh. “In fact, I recommended you for the internship,”

“Really?” Josh’s eyes brightened. “I never thought--”

“You were a formidable opponent, sir,” Rafael held out a hand.

“Yeah well,” Josh took his hand and shook it. “I suppose you can’t really stop true love,” He nodded at you.

“Gag,” Ariel made a gagging sound, making Josh hit her. “Quiet you, or I’m going to tell you I love you,”

“Oh please don’t,” She hit him playfully. “I’ll throw up on you,”

“Oh I’ll--” He grabbed her and kissed her.

“....And I don’t think we need to be here for this,” You pulled Rafael away. You both looked at each other in absolute confusement, then both busted out laughing.

“I...I can’t even…” You gestured to your best friend and now ex boyfriend kissing in front of you and your...new boyfriend?

All of a sudden, Olivia came storming out of the courtroom.

“Here we go…” Rafael muttered softly. You began to get worried; this was the real test.

“Rafael...what do you think you’re doing?!” She cried angrily.

“Ah, Olivia,” Rafael ignored her tone. “Have you met my girlfriend, Y/N?”

He said it. He called you his girlfriend. In public. To OLIVIA BENSON.

“You…” She glanced between the two of you, you gave her a triumphant smile. “This will ruin your career,” She addressed Rafael.

“I’ll take that risk,” He took your hand, you laid your head on his shoulder. You were a united front.

“....Whatever,” She brushed both of you off and stomped back into the courtroom.

“I can’t-- You just--” You looked to where Olivia had stormed off, back to him with the smile that you decided was a permanent attribute of your face now.

“I did,” He nodded, reading your mind.

“Court will resume in one minute!” A guard came out and announced. Josh and Ariel nodded to you and Rafael as they walked back inside hand in hand.

“So…” You turned to Rafael with your excited grin. “You gonna stick around?”

“Are you kidding?” He put a thumb on your chin. “I wanna see you in action,”

“Oh God,” You bit your lip. “As if I wasn’t nervous enough,”

“Baby I’ll be right there, cheering you on,” He kissed your forehead. “Forever,”

--------------

In the end, Josh got the internship, like everyone knew he would. But you got something even better, you got the love of your life, and Ariel got herself an ACTUAL Josh.

At the end of the day, it turned out you weren’t totally clueless.

(again let's pretend the Raul kiss is the reader. )

[fancytrinkets]

Brandy in the Library (Trevelyan/Dorian)

Note: Flirting and friendship features heavily here. Content warning for excessive alcohol use. And if you’ve read it before it’s because I’m repurposing pieces of my recent fic for 30 Days of Dorian. As a courtesy for potential readers, this is probably one to avoid if you don’t want to read about a mage Inquisitor who didn’t support the mage rebellion.

On his way to see Leliana, Trevelyan passes through the library — though it's not much of one yet, stocked only with a handful of books scavenged from Haven. A team of scouts went back three days ago to sift through the rubble. They returned with whatever they could salvage.

Dorian's sitting at one of the library tables, paging through a half-scorched book. He looks up as Trevelyan approaches, and smiles in a way that makes Trevelyan's heart beat faster.

"I see you've found this place," Trevelyan says. "Have you been to the other library?"

"There's another library? Does that one have more than eight books in it?"

"In fact it does. If you're free in two hours, I have a break between meetings when I can show you."

"I have a better idea," Dorian says. "Let's make it later this evening. I hear the tavern's expecting its first shipment of supplies. I'll nick a bottle of something good. You can have a drink with me in this secret library of yours."

That same evening, he finds Dorian waiting for him in the upstairs library with a bottle of Antivan brandy in hand.

The man looks even more attractive than usual, if that's possible. He's clearly taken extra care with his hair and clothing. He's chosen robes with an uneven cut, alluringly designed to reveal the contours of his chest and shoulders. Trevelyan has to force his imagination away from its preferred course — conjuring up vivid imagery of Dorian taking off those robes and climbing into bed with him.

Instead he focuses on the brandy.

"Always a good choice. Shall we get started?"

"Lead the way," Dorian says.

Trevelyan endures a pleasant case of nerves as he takes the stairs to the cellars and unlocks the lower library. He's been looking forward to this all afternoon, and now that the moment is here, he hopes Dorian won't find fault with his choice of venue.

His worries disappear as soon as the door shuts behind them.

"Very interesting," Dorian says. "A mage's library."

He pauses at a shelf near the entryway to have a look at the spines of the nearest books.

"Old, but not ancient," he says. "I wonder who was living here several hundred years ago."

Trevelyan doesn't have answers. While Solas seems familiar with Skyhold, he doesn't speak as freely and generously about it as he does when he's asked about the Fade.

"Hard to believe we found this site just when we needed it most," Trevelyan says.

"Or you were, in fact, chosen by Andraste." Dorian doesn't sound like he's joking.

"I can't rule it out," Trevelyan says. "But I'm not claiming it either."

"Fair enough. Here."

Dorian pours for both of them and hands Trevelyan a glass. The first sip warms his throat delightfully. He takes a seat and Dorian pulls up the other chair, moving it closer to Trevelyan before he sits down.

"Here we are in a southern mage's library," Dorian says. "I think you should tell me what it's like to be a southern mage."

"What would you like to know?"

"About you? Probably everything," Dorian says. "But start with what it was like to learn magic at your Circle."

Trevelyan shares a few stories from his younger days at Ostwick — of learning magic along with his peers, and being cautioned all the time about its dangers. In contrast, Dorian offers some details about his own elite, but tempestuous magical education in Tevinter. The differences in their training are vast, and yet the more they talk, the more Trevelyan appreciates the similarities in how they both turned out.

Openly and without shame, Dorian loves being a mage. It's obvious just from watching him. He loves the way it feels to use magic — and he's exceptionally good at it. Trevelyan knows that feeling also. Not the total lack of shame, of course. But in the months since he's left the Circle, he's grown to love his own magic in a way he never truly did before. The chance to use it fully for a good cause, to push himself to the limits of his capacity, and to see, for the first time in his thirty-five years, what a powerful mage he is — it's an unparalleled experience.

One that Dorian understands.

Trevelyan reaches for the bottle and pours them both another drink. He can feel the warmth in his belly, relaxing him.

Dorian smells good, he thinks. He'd like to hold this man close — press him against the bookshelves and kiss him, perhaps — all the while breathing in deeply to appreciate his scent up close. Trevelyan is far from anything he'd find so embarrassing as being fully aroused by nothing more than conversation and fantasy — he's not a teenager, for Maker's sake. But he is aware of the early stages of that particular reaction, and his close-fitting robes don't help him. He shifts in his chair for better comfort and discretion, and tries to stop the flood of mental imagery from pouring in.

Soon enough, he and Dorian are falling back into the friendly give and take of a conversation in which they don't quite agree.

The topic is templars — more specifically, the need for the power of mages to be held in check by a group of trained professionals with the ability to suppress magic when needed. Trevelyan finds it essential, given Tevinter as the cautionary tale. Dorian finds the south to be an example of a system both poorly designed and horrifically implemented — "hence the mage rebellion, yes?"

"Well, obviously the Circles here need to change drastically," Trevelyan says.

"And yet you were loyal to yours," Dorian points out.

"It's complicated."

"How so?"

Their exchange continues over drinks refreshed a third and fourth time.

Trevelyan replies with some details about Ostwick, but witholds others. He explains it as more lenient than most, without dragging his family into it. He may be keeping things back, but it's mostly because he wants to stay on topic. He likes these conversations.

He's being pushed, yes. But in the process, he's clarifying his thoughts — revising and rethinking them. Sometimes he agrees that he's wrong, or concedes that he's too accustomed to one way of thinking to change it immediately. And Dorian takes as well he gives. He's got a certain arrogance about him, sure, but when they start talking this way, he often yields a point and backs off without rancor when he knows he's mistaken.

It's refreshing and interesting to speak so candidly.

"Alright," Dorian says after the fifth drink has been poured. "If your Circle wasn't abusive towards you, then what about your peers who voted to rebel. What did they want?"

By now Trevelyan's thoughts are feeling nicely fuzzy.

"I don't know," he says. "More from their lives? The chance to move freely, live where they choose, visit families, get married, have children, that sort of thing."

"And that didn't matter to you?"

"I agreed with them. We all deserve those chances if we want them."

"But?" Dorian asks.

"Complacency? I'd begun to accept my life for what it was. A limited one."

Dorian shakes his head, disbelieving. "You don't strike me as complacent at all."

"Oh?" Trevelyan asks. "How do I strike you?"

Dorian smiles, but doesn't answer. At least not at first. He finishes the last of his drink, holds the glass forward, and then watches as Trevelyan pours him another.

"You strike me," he says. "A lot of ways."

"Good ways, I hope."

Dorian tilts his drink until it shines with reflected candlelight. He studies it a moment, then looks at Trevelyan.

"You're not as well-read as some, but more clever than most. Good-natured, though I suspect you have a temper under there somewhere, and that's intriguing," he says.

"Also, you seem to genuinely care about everyone. Including the people you don't like — which I can't even fathom. What sort of forbidden magic granted you that ability? Please tell me so I can avoid it — it looks exhausting!"

Trevelyan laughs. "And here I was expecting insults about southern mages with our backwards ideas."

"Yes, I was getting to that part."

Drinking and laughing with Dorian is a wonderful way to spend the evening. As the haze of intoxication sets in, Trevelyan finds he's happiest to talk about the battles they've won while fighting together.

"Do you know," Dorian says, "how thoroughly I underestimated you when first we met? I thought I'd have to look after you at Redcliffe castle — get you through the ordeal with my superior knowledge and abilities."

"Hah! How altruistic of you."

"Not at all. You were very nice to look at — I considered it a pleasant burden."

"Wow, that's– I'm speechless." Trevelyan can hear the drunken slurring of his words. It only makes him giggle.

Dorian's still lost in the story.

"When you took down that first guard with one hit, I thought, alright, perhaps this one can handle himself. And that was before we stumbled into the large hall full of Venatori."

"Ugh, there were nine of them, I remember."

"Yes, and I didn't like our chances," Dorian says. "But then you said, 'You take those three, I've got the rest,' and I started to think that between the two of us, maybe I wasn't the unbearably arrogant one, after all."

"No, hold on," Trevelyan says. "Did I not get all six of them?"

He knows he did. And he's sure it doesn't count as arrogance if you're actually capable of doing the thing you claim you can. But he thinks he might have that backwards. Thoughts are increasingly difficult to keep hold of.

"You did get all six!" Dorian says, sounding delighted. "I was very impressed."

"Glad I wasn't too much of a burden for you."

"I'm honestly surprised you trusted me. I doubt I would have."

"I didn't," Trevelyan admits. "I was expecting a double cross. But I was desperate enough to risk it."

Dorian grins at him and raises his empty glass.

"Here's to desperation!"

"To being wildly desperate for things," Trevelyan says, and clinks their glasses together.

Dorian tries to drink, only to find nothing left of alcohol.

"Fuck, I'm drunk," he says.

"I'm the same. And I should go to sleep," Trevelyan says. "I have meetings in the morning."

And so the evening ends with friendly words of goodnight and a hazy walk upstairs to his quarters.

.

When Trevelyan wakes in the morning, the sunlight is painful and a headache sets in. On his way to the kitchens to grab a late breakfast, he runs into Dorian doing the same. He looks perfectly groomed, as always, but Trevelyan can see the exhaustion in his eyes.

"Didn't sleep well?"

"No," Dorian says. "And you?"

"Terribly," Trevelyan admits. "But that was fun. We should do it again some time."

"Find a strange old room that frightens other people and go there to get drunk off stolen brandy?"

"Exactly," Trevelyan says.

The hangover is worth it for the way Dorian smiles at him.

[andaleduardo]

How to Break Your Heart and Make Sure It Stays Broken

2. Send them your favorite songs through Bluetooth    

- Read on ao3

Summary:  12:28 a.m.

Spaghetti: It’s not gonna be weird today

Richie: absolutely

Spaghetti: We’re not gonna make it awkward

Richie: definitely not

Spaghetti: Yeah we got this

Everything is just fucking fine.

7th January 2011, Friday

10:30 a.m.

“Congratulations, you just called the best family in town. What can I help you with?”

“Hu-hey Richie.”

“Billy boy! Happy birthday, man!”

The sound of Bill’s chuckles turn into wind over the phone. “Thanks.”

“So, what’s up?”

“I wanted to check if you’re s-ss-still coming today?”

“Course I am, what time do you want me there?”

“Come around 3. It’s t-too cold to go out so we’re just guh-gonna stay in the attic.”

“Well alright, chap. I’ll be there.”

“And don’t forget my dad’s driving everyone home.”

Richie did, in fact, forget about that.

“Oh yeah, right.”

There’s a second of silence before Bill speaks again. “Are you okay? You huh-haven’t been online lately.”

“Just peachy. You know how it gets, holiday season, kinda busy ‘round here.”

Although Bill knows Richie usually spends the holidays with just his parents (small family’s downside) he doesn’t say anything.

“We’ll have s-some fun today, don’t worry.”

“Indeed we will. See you at 3, birthday boy.”

“See you, Rich.”

And he hangs up.

  12:28 a.m.

Spaghetti: It’s not gonna be weird today

Richie: absolutely

Spaghetti: We’re not gonna make it awkward

Richie: definitely not

Spaghetti: Yeah we got this

  Richie is absolutely exhausted.

The entire week was a failed attempt at learning how to deal with the situation.

Sleep is an utter joke with a mind that runs as if it’s training for a marathon. Looking at food makes him nauseous, not eating food makes him nauseous, but eating it makes it worse.

Perhaps it would help if he could untie the knot in his throat, but then again he can’t cry properly when his parents are always around and poking a head through his bedroom door.

He wants school to start, he doesn’t want school to start. He wants them to go back to work, he doesn’t want to be left alone with his feelings.

And on top of it all he knows he’s overreacting. Absolutely over-the-top reacting. He’s fifteen. It’s not like he knows love.

But doesn’t he?

It hurts and it’s love. It burns as it makes its way up his throat and it’s love. It was amazing while he kept his mouth shut and now everything seems to be falling on him and his chest is heavy and caving and hungrier than his stomach and he caused it and it’s love.

Unrequited love, if you will. A fancy word for a fucked up thing.

To top it off, Eddie doesn’t stop.

 January 1st, 3:45 p.m.

Spaghetti: I hate you

Spaghetti: No wait I don’t hate hate you

Spaghetti: But

Spaghetti: Ugh

Spaghetti: I’m gonna be thinking about this now!

Spaghetti: And I don’t want us to change

Spaghetti: Like, I said “I hate you” and I would never second guess that before but now I feel like I need to tell you “I don’t actually hate you” because

Spaghetti: Well

Spaghetti: I don’t know why

Richie: sorry

Spaghetti: !

Spaghetti: Stop apologizing

Richie: … i really wanna say sorry again

Spaghetti: I don’t blame you

Spaghetti: It’s not like we control our feelings

 Damn right, they don’t. Richie isn’t sure how to answer that, so he doesn’t. But Eddie brings it up again one day later.

 January 2nd, 9:10 p.m.

Spaghetti: I think I kinda knew

Richie: ??? are u serious

Spaghetti: Well yeah

Richie: am I that predictable?

Spaghetti: You’re the least predictable person in the whole world Richie

Spaghetti: Except with the mom jokes

Spaghetti: I can always see those coming

Richie: yet you walk right onto them every time

Spaghetti: Fuck you.

Spaghetti: It’s just that the others aren’t that subtle

Richie: the losers?

Spaghetti: Yeah they try too hard

Spaghetti: Tease us a lot for being close and saying things and leaving us alone everywhere

Spaghetti: Guess I kinda wondered why they did that if they didn’t know something I didn’t

Richie: uh, they kinda don’t tho

Richie: at least I never told them

Spaghetti: Wait really?

Richie: maybe they’re just bored?

Spaghetti: Oh

Spaghetti: Maybe

 It’s only been a week so far (the longest week of Richie’s life) and Eddie texts him every day with the same topic. This, as predicted, isn’t helping the situation much.

It’s Tuesday. There’s Richie, staring at his cereal while Maggie studies him from the other side of the table and surprise, a brand new text from Eddie.

It’s Wednesday. There’s Richie, staring at the news channel because he forgot to press the button on the tv remote when he sat down on the couch 6 minutes ago. And then there’s his dad, looking at him from his vintage recliner and coming up with ten different ways to start a conversation without actually starting one. The phone’s screen lights up with against his leg with a new notification. Yes, from Eddie.

Finally, it’s Friday. Out of habit, Richie leaves the phone on the bathroom countertop as he showers. It takes a lot of self-control not to pull all his hair out while washing it when the phone vibrates against the counter. Once, then twice, then thrice. And so on to make up the total of 9 new messages.

Thank God he doesn’t walk out of the shower right then to check them out of curiosity, because 10 minutes later he’s sitting on the toilet seat and staring at “I hate you” for so long his mom actually knocks on the door and asks if he died in there.

He didn’t die in there, he’s just crying. Buy hey, mom, that’s the dream!

All the messages fall in the same lines. Eddie doesn’t want this to be awkward. He doesn’t want this to be weird. He doesn’t want anything to change.

Logically, Richie draws conclusions. He fucked up big, ruined them forever and now everything is inconvenient for Eddie. It’s not that hard to get it after six variations of:

 ‘You’re not gonna be different around me now right?’

 How can he not be different around Eddie now?

What if their knees touch and Eddie thinks it’s on purpose? What if Richie smiles in his direction and Eddie takes it as flirting? Christ. Richie doesn’t even know how to flirt! Should he sit far away from him now? Should he sit by his side like always and have Eddie think he’s doing it out of interest?

Richie didn’t just make everything inconvenient for Eddie, he made everything inconvenient for himself, too.

However, it’s Bill’s birthday, and that’s more important than a broken heart.

  5:48 p.m.

 “You’re cheating!” Everyone jumps on their seats when Stan shouts and slams his hand on the coffee table. It sends all the plastic houses on the monopoly board in different directions.

“What? No I’m not!” Bev defends herself.

“Nah.” Mike crosses his arms. “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe she’s cheating?” Stan angrily inquires.

“I don’t believe she’s not cheating.” Says Mike.

“I am not fucking cheating, you guys are just awful at managing money.”

Stan’s chin drops in her direction. “You- I manage money wonderfully, thank you very much-”

While the arguing continues, Ben takes his time putting all the houses back on their places. Bill tries to make them stop fighting while Mike destroys all those attempts by teaming up with Bev and Stan alternately. Eddie furiously counts and recounts his money, being the one closest to bankrupt. And Richie silently organizes the contents of the bank. He doesn’t like monopoly that much.

“Maybe our bank over there has something to do with this?” Richie feels everyone’s eyes on him so he looks up at Mike from above his glasses.

“How could you ever think such things about me, Mikey?” He dramatically puts down the stack of property cards he had been sorting. “I do nothing but humble work for this community and this is how I’m treated. Unbelievable.”

“Richie, I swear.” Stan glares at him. “You won’t make me lose, even if you cheat.”

“How can I be cheating? I’m not even playing.”

“You’re passing Bev extra money!”

“Geez.” Eddie moans in annoyance. “We forgot Stan gets off on Monopoly.”

At that, Richie barks out a laugh, unable to keep it in but still trying to by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Okay, fine.” Stan crosses his arms. “I wasn’t even the one suggesting this game, I voted for scrabble.”

“Oh, so the only other game you get off on?” Surprisingly, it slips from Richie’s mouth. He wasn’t at all expecting jokes to be coming from him today.

It’s just wonderfully entertaining to piss off Stan. At this point, the boy’s gotten himself so worked up that his whole face is pink.

“I’m going to shove birthday cake up your a-”

“-Wow! Okay let’s all chill.” Ben kindly tries to stop them.

Richie lifts up a hand full of fake-cash and makes a jerking off motion with the other, which finally triggers Stan into motion. He manages to jump away from the table on the exact moment Stan reaches over to try and jam his hand on his weakest spot, the armpits. But in the process, his knees collide with the bottom of the coffee table and all the board pieces end up flying everywhere. Again.

Ben throws his hands up. “Thank you so very much for that.”

“We will never f-ffinish a monopoly game…”

  6:23 p.m.

“How about Uno?” Ben suggests. “You can’t cheat at Uno, right?”

After being chased by Stan around the attic everyone ended up scattered around, staring at the ceiling and discussing which game to play next. So far it’s been twenty minutes of quiet chatting.

“You can grab three cards when you get a plus four.” Richie offers. “You can also slide in a six while playing some nines, might get lucky.”

There’s a brief second of silence and contemplation.

“How you can turn Uno into a sex joke still amazes me.” Eddie frowns at the ceiling.

Richie shrugs. “I’m pretty amazing overall.” Sweat pools up on the back of his neck with the effort of trying to sound so nonchalant. Richie wants to scream at the normality of his afternoon. Why does life keep going when you’re dealing with heartache? Isn’t the world supposed to stop spinning after you get friendzoned? Show a little compassion, earth.

“I still can’t believe your mom let you keep the phone.”

At Mike’s words, Eddie flops around on his bean bag, looking like a hanged potato sack. “Right? Didn’t see that coming, either.”

“Does she really go through it, though?”

Recently, Eddie’s contact list was updated to include everyone. His mom complained that he didn’t need to be in contact with “those friends” of his any more than he already does. She’s obviously wrong.

Eddie groans in agreement. “She keeps finding the lamest excuses until I give it to her. Then she checks whatever it is she wants and gives it back.”

A wave of fear passes through Richie. Almost on cue, Eddie steals a glance at him and adds. “But I archive the stuff she doesn’t need to read. And I keep Facebook as a hidden app.” Proud of his schemes, he smirks to himself.

Richie sinks back on his bean bag, slightly relieved. The past week of awful sleep is weighting him down, tying him to his worst and holding him back from pretending to be okay a little better. With time, he hopes to learn how to put this behind his back, but right now, Eddie is right in front of him.

“Hey, by the way. Can any of you tell me how to download songs?” The boy at matter asks.

“You know thu-that’s illegal, r-right?”

“Oh.” For a moment, he stares at Bill with a conflicted expression. “Well, I still want my music.”

“Richie, don’t you have a fuck ton of songs downloaded?”

“Yup. Illegal downloads are my number one occupation, Marsh.” Then, he gets it. “Oh, you’re right. Eds, turn Bluetooth on.”

He regrets saying ‘Eds’ oh so quickly, overly nervous that he isn’t allowed to say it anymore. Not that he was ever allowed to say it before, if the way Eddie complains about it 90% of the time means anything. Quickly, Richie spirals into thoughts of their bickering coming to an end, or even worse, becoming one sided and sad if one of them doesn’t feed into it. That would leave the other one hanging, and Richie was already left hanging, Richie is still hanging and he will be hanging on these feelings, on this rejection, for life. That’s what he has to accept, that he loves the only person in the world he could ever love and they don’t love him back. That his future seems sad from the present. That Eddie might drift away when he realizes they can’t mess around like best friends anymore, even if he had said he wouldn’t do that and it wouldn’t happen. But what if he does? What if it happens? Where does that leave him? What is he supposed to-

“Don’t call me that, asshole. And how the fuck do I do that?”

Oh.

The way Eddie speaks drips of familiarity. Just the way it always was with them, just the way it will always be. Richie can’t decide if that’s good or bad, but it pulls him together enough to talk.

“See that weird looking B icon up there?” He waits for Eddie’s answer but the other boy is looking at his phone as if he could catch it on fire with just his eyes.

Richie bites the inside of his cheek, breathes in some bravery and pushes himself up from the bean bag.

“Here,” he walks over and crouches down at Eddie’s side, quickly opening the Bluetooth settings and pairing up their phones while paying too much attention to the space between their hands. Just to make sure they don’t touch. “Do you wanna pick out the songs you want?” He starts giving his phone to Eddie but gets a headshake in return.

“Uh no, that’s fine.” Eddie says, turning his head and therefore putting their faces incredibly close. Richie barely catches himself from falling on his butt right there, and Eddie leans away quickly, obviously not meaning to cause any of this. “I- uh, just chose the ones you think I’d like.”

Richie nods stupidly and rushes back to his seat. While he goes through his music library and picks off songs, all he can think about is ‘This is so hard, too hard, way more difficult than I could possibly imagine and I don’t know if I can go about my life pretending everything is fine when it all feels anything but that.’

“How about Ludo? There’s no way you can cheat at that…”

Simply as if a switch was flipped, Richie multitasks and answers Ben by listing off all the possible ways to cheat at Ludo.

And to the outsider eyes, everything is just fine.

Everything is fine as they order pizza and Richie and Eddie have to ask each other if they can still share their regular favorite, olive and pepperoni. Everything is fine while conversation flows at dinner, except Richie puts his half of the pizza on a plate instead of sharing the box between their laps, and Eddie doesn’t question it. Everything is fine as everyone watches a movie after, and there’s no one to lean his head on Richie’s shoulder, or jab an elbow in his arm when they itch to comment certain scenes.

Then Bill’s dad comes upstairs to remind them it’s time to drive everyone home. And for the first time in his life, Richie is thrilled to hear those words.

On their way home, Eddie sits in the back, earphones plugging his ears deaf to his surroundings. Richie wonders if he should have left out all the love songs, now it’s too late for that. But it’s fine, right?

Everything is just fucking fine.

 perma taglist: @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie  @reddieforlove @madi-personal  @cheekaspbrak

[akozuheiwa]

Professors Tarron and Johnson

A post-canon not-yet-AU-technically by myself, @lizzylucky, and @brising. See the long post beneath the cut.

After grad school and everything, Seamus goes on to become a professor at the same college he and Krel and everyone went to. Krel drops into class on such a regular basis that the students pretty much regard them as co-professors. At some point, the deans or whatever realise this and sort of offer Krel a position because students seem to like him. Seamus thinks it’s a great idea and that’s how Krel gets coerced into being Professor Tarron.

Krel is the cool professor who doesn’t ever want to be called professor (because Aja made fun of him for it) and tries for a solid three semesters to get his students to exclusively call him DJ Kleb. Seamus is fine being called by first name, but he’ll introduce himself and Krel as “Professors Johnson and Tarron” at the beginning of the semester. Almost always, the two co-teach lecture and then split up lab, except the one not in charge of lab always shows up anyway.

Their students love them, even if tests can occasionally be murder. Class and lab are full of super awesome experiments. Krel shows up some days with something random he invented the night before with the help of either alcohol or caffeine. He’ll take over the class and throw the syllabus to the wind to get his students to help him figure out what, exactly, he invented and how, exactly, he invented it. Some love it. Some hate it because they did the reading which is now out the window. Usually Seamus is very frustrated at first because he “had a plan for today’s lesson, we only have six weeks left in the semester”, but then he just gets super into it too and makes sure it becomes a teaching moment and nothing blows up. Students learn quickly that if you like explosions, you take lab with Krel, and if you’d rather play it safe, you take lab with Seamus.

Sometimes students also bring in things like this, although they usually try not to mention exactly what substance they were on when they created it, except for one student who walks in and shamelessly declares that that weekend she was “super fuckin’ high” and she thinks she mad something awesome but has no idea what it is, and the class spends the entire period reverse-engineering whatever it is only to find out it’s actually just a really, really weird hair-dryer. She gets extra credit just because Krel and Seamus are nostalgic and have, obviously, done the same thing multiple times in school. Unfortunately, this triggers a wave of students trying to replicate it by sleep deprivation or drugs or alcohol, which turns out some really cool class projects, but is banned after one kid passes out in the middle of class. Krel and Seamus either take back all the extra credit or just give everyone equal extra credit.

Students always find out about the Akiridion sci-fi site where all the theories about Krel and Seamus ended up, and they use it both as a forum to keep up with each other and also to speculate about their professors. Graduated seniors and anyone in the know help to make sure there’s no way to prove their favourite professors are (both?) aliens, and Krel and Seamus go through to check as well.

They give all their graduating seniors gifts, whether they were in one of their classes this year or freshman year or never but got stuck with one of them as a major advisor. If the kids were good, trustworthy kids, which most of them are, they get sworn to secrecy and get to find out that, yes, Krel’s actually from space. It’s impossible to convince them Seamus isn’t, but it amuses the two professors enough that they let it go.

They do teach a special senior seminar course that focuses on Akiridion technology, but it’s permission only and you pretty much can only get in if you’re a dedicated student of the Tarron-Johnson duo. Not to mention that the course description is misleading enough that only those students want to take it. The first day of this class is largely introducing the students to the fact that extra-terrestrials are real and that their tech is way better than Earth’s. They usually take a vote to see which of them the students think is the Akiridion, and usually the winning vote is both of them. Krel doesn’t reveal himself until the end of class so they can get through the syllabus and everything, because otherwise the class would never calm down.

The Akiridion Tech class takes two annual fields trips. One is to Akiridion-5, of course, where they get a special tour and the chance to work in what was Krel’s lab when he lived there. Aja begins looking forward to these trips because, ironically, it's one of her easiest days as Akiridion-5 Ruler. The students are always excited to meet her and the citizens are respectful and peaceful on those days. The other trip is to a planet of their choosing, which is disguised as an assignment where the class as a whole is given a bunch of data and has to determine which planets are habitable and pick one to visit. They almost always go, even if it’s not particularly habitable, just because Krel and Seamus can usually rig up safety suits. They also have a day where they study transduction technology. It’s Krel’s least favourite lesson because the students get to experiment with it on the only Akiridion available, AKA him, and so he ends up looking all sorts of crazy. Yes. Pictures get taken.

One year, after the field trip, one kid doesn’t listen and ends up accidentally bringing a skelteg back to Earth, which of course goes nuts in class. Professor Tarron goes around blasting music until they all explode. When the students find out he made the music, they go nuts. Someone finds all of his demos and shares them in the class group chat. There’s a petition for Professor Tarron’s music to be broadcasted in the dining hall. Krel signed the petition, of course. A few students form a DJ/music club and ask him to be the faculty contact for it, and of course he's thrilled and gets super into it. Really, he and Seamus go to as many of their students’ events as possible.

Some of the more internet savvy students compare them to vines on YouTube and through brief discussion decide that these trips are very Magic School Bus esque. Someone makes the mistake of bringing this up in class and introducing Krel to Magic School Bus, which is something Seamus was very specifically avoiding. All of the classes start having a lot more fun field trips after that, much to Seamus’s frustration and secret amusement. The trips very much cater to and play on the Magic School Bus jokes. One student gets them a pet lizard. It becomes the class pet. Krel takes to it immediately. Seamus gives up.

Krel won’t always focus in lecture, and he has a habit of stopping mid-sentence and leaving the room, at which Seamus just sighs and picks up where Krel left off until the Akiridion comes back with some bizarre piece of tech. He’ll wait for Seamus to finish before explaining the jump in his thought process and how it relates to his tech. Seamus has done it once or twice himself, but he usually finishes talking before adding. They’ll also completely baffle the students by stopping mid-lesson to discuss how, “Wait, didn’t we disprove this once?” or “According to Akiridion science, isn’t this wrong?” or “Well, if we did this instead I bet we could prove this wrong.” No one ever understands what they’re talking about in those instances.

Professor Johnson is the only one to have office hours (and grade stuff, usually), but if you can’t make it, you can probably find Krel somewhere on campus and ask questions. He can always answer, even if it’s about a comment Seamus made on an essay Krel didn’t grade. Half the students are convinced they have some sort of telepathy device because they can pick up each other’s thoughts mid-sentence, sometimes even when they weren’t in the room. Sometimes one of them just moves to go sit down and starts researching something on the computer while the other takes up the rest of the lesson, knowing full well that they'd had the same idea at the same time.

They tell new students the first day to “forget everything you’ve learned in any physics class not taught by one of us.” They, in fact, have a class (PHYS 351 with Lab) called “Physics is a Social Construct”. All their classes always start with a syllabus, but by the second week, Krel (and it’s always Krel) is like, “Alright, so due to unexpected circumstances, and by that I mean Seamus and I disproved three of these theories last night, we’re throwing away the syllabus!” There are days when the students are so stuffed up with questions and confusion as to what their Professors are doing that an entire class will be spent just answering their questions. Some of the students already understand some things thanks to Akiridion Science Fiction and just laugh at the younger students' questions, but then find themselves asking questions too. Questions range from “Why did Professor Tarron vanish for a week?” to “What the hell is that thing on the desk?” to “What about the syllabus?” and finally, the most common one, “But that’s not possible!” PHYS 351’s final project is to break one of the laws of physics. The Tarron-Johnson duo’s motto is that everything is possible.

Krel, surprisingly, is really bad at lab safety, in that he doesn’t do it at all. He’ll get sucked in and forget things. Seamus has to remind them all the time, things like, “Krel, please put your hair up, you’re going to catch it on fire again” or “Krel, please wear goggles, we don’t want a repeat of the junior year fiasco.” If Seamus shows up alone and starts class with, “Let’s go over lab safety”, then you know Krel did something stupid. Some days Krel will have to tell Seamus, “Do not tell them why I’m not there”, and Seamus tells them because it’s usually something really stupid, including the time he fell off a ladder.

Sometimes they bring guest speakers to class. Akiridion Tech gets the best guests, scientists from across the galaxy and usually the Queen of Akiridion-5 at least once, but even other classes get cool Earth scientists and occasionally extra-terrestrials in disguise. Apparently, Professor Tarron is good friends with a high-up military general that runs the mysterious Area 49b, so he usually visits too, and sometimes Akiridion Tech even gets a tour of the military base. Students who don’t get a tour beg for one, and Krel, certified disaster even as an adult, tells them that “it’s not that hard to break into there anyways” and that he knows someone who did it at least twice. Professor Johnson is not pleased to hear about this when he discovers students plotting to break in. General Costas is even less happy, and every semester he drags anywhere from two students to the entire class to Krel and Seamus’s house in the middle of the night after they tried to break into Area 49b. Yes, this fuels the debate about whether they’re married. No, no one is sure. Krel secretly gives them extra credit by claiming it tests their capacity to plan and also, it helps test the security of the base. Neither Costas nor Seamus like this answer.

Seamus pretty much stays in the physics and engineering departments, but Krel actually ends up branching out. He stays involved in theatre, of course, and ends up teaching a class about sci-fi theatre in which he only teaches one play from Earth, if that many, and at least two are from Akiridion-5. The others come from random planets with plays Krel likes.

Krel is also in the habit of just… walking into other classes whenever he feels like it to see what’s happening or if it’s interesting. Students not aware of Professors Tarron and Johnson assume he’s maybe an older student or a grad student or something. He almost always goes to classes that talk about space and sci-fi. The special creative writing class about writing sci-fi is something he has to see, and the professor actually thinks he’s a student who isn’t on the list because of add/drop/swap and Krel, while finding it hilarious, has to explain that, no, he’s from the physics department, he specialises in astroengineering and cool stuff like that.

They also get super into things like holidays and spirit week, and will always go all out for any costumes. They’ll set up holiday-themed projects for extra credit. Students are challenged to relate their Halloween costumes to class (so they get a lot of superheroes) and they usually reserve the unit on holograms for February to allow the students to make hologram Valentine’s cards. They try to be as inclusive as possible, and research different holidays and make sure they know what their students celebrate, especially come winter time when so many holidays come up.

TL;DR: Seamus and Krel are the best professors for so many reasons and nobody knows if they’re married or not. That’s up to you and what you ship.

[harryfreakinstyles2]

Torn (Part 4) H.S

Harry's body relaxes in the seat across from me and it makes my heart feel like it could burst in my chest.

"So, since we are friends now," I say beyond excited that I get to ask him all the questions I have been dying to know the answers to.

"Let's get to know each other." I say with a smile and his eyes widen. "How long have you been in America?" I ask him genuinely wanting to know the answer.

I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward waiting for his answer. His smile widens across his face making his deep dimples appear, and I feel like I can't breathe. This just friends thing is going to be harder than I thought if he continues to look at me like that.

"I've been here for a little over four years now. I got a scholarship to go to school here and I kind of fell in love with the area and decided to stay after I graduated this past December."

I'm slightly surprised that he came here on scholarship, but why wouldn't he. Of course, he's smart. But what surprises me more is that he already graduated. I assumed he was still in school as well.

"Oh, you already graduated? I didn't know that!" I respond genuinely surprised.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Harry says with a smirk and winks at me.

I roll my eyes at him and I try not to smile as I avoid the playful smirk he is giving me that seems to be stuck on his face today. I ignore the spark it ignites in my stomach and continue with my questions.

"So what's your degree in then?" I ask continuing the conversation.

"Business management. I would like to own or run a hotel or restaurant or something like that someday." He tells me still making too much eye contact and making me shift in my seat.

"Wow! That's cool!" I say annoyed that he is not only smart and drop dead gorgeous but he also has plans for his life. "How old are you?" I blurt our on accident.

"Twenty three, but enough about me. Tell me something about you." He says copying my position and leaning towards me with his elbows on the table and he mocks me by placing his hands under his chin with a cheeky smile. He is good I will give him that.

We are closer than two friends should be while casually talking but I can't get myself to pull away even though I know I should.

"Ummm." I stutter for a minute not being able to process my thoughts when he is so close to me. "Well, I am twenty one. I will graduate in May with my degree in English. I'd like to work for a publishing company or something along those lines for a bit or maybe become an English teacher I haven't really decided yet." I say faster than normal. I keep having to look down every few seconds because his stare keeps making me flustered.

"Hmmm a teacher huh?" Is all he says in response.

His tone sounds sarcastic and his face is hard to read and I can't tell if he means it as a joke or what. Does he think I can't be a teacher? But I am already on edge "You don't even know me," I snap defensively while leaning back in my chair.

"What? Why did you say that?" He questions me in a serious tone, catching me off guard. He's staring me down and I realize he's waiting for me to answer.

"I don't know. You sounded like you were mocking me," I say my tone sharp.

"I don't know you well, yet. But I'm trying to. I want to." He states. "I was not making fun of you. I was just joking around." He looks at me with pleading eyes. "I wish you would lighten up a little. You are so serious." He says softly and I can tell by his voice that he is being sincere even though his words piss me off I try to push my irritation aside.

"Sorry. Really." I say leaning down to meet his eyes slightly thrown by his quick change in mood. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Just a habit I guess."

Lightning flashes outside the window followed by a rolling thunder distracting both of us from our conversation. I know I need to head home before the storm hits and it is getting close to my dinner plans with Julie.

"I need to head home." I sigh grabbing my backpack and car keys not wanting to leave just yet despite the change in mood.

"Okay." Is all he says in response his eyes focused on the table.

I can feel a shift and there is an uncomfortable tension between us. I get up from the table and start making my way towards the door when I realize he has nothing else to say. A weird wave of sadness hits me at his simple response wishing he would ask me to stay longer.

"Wait," I feel his now familiar warm hand wrap around my arm stopping me before I reach the door. I turn to face him not sure what to expect but happy the conversation will not end the way I thought it was going to.

"I'll see you again soon, yeah?" He asks with a soft smile. He says it like it's a question that he needs me to confirm as he searches my eyes. And just like that, everything feels okay again.

"See you soon." I confirm with a smile and walk out the door.

*

I arrive back home just as the rain starts, making me run for the front door. Rushing inside I drop my stuff on the kitchen counter and find Julie watching tv on the couch.

"Did you get the stuff for dinner?" I ask her. We have a tradition since we moved into our apartment together last year where every other Saturday she buys the groceries and I make dinner. Then we spend the evening watching Greys Anatomy on the couch together. It gives us a chance to catch up no matter how crazy our schedules get.

"Yeah, it's all in the fridge. Did you get a lot of studying done?" She says making casual conversation without looking away from the tv.

"Uhhh yeah," I say shrugging my shoulders even though she is not looking at me. The guilt comes back but this time I know I deserve it as I choose to not tell her about Harry showing up at the coffee shop and continue the conversation. "Was this all you had planned for today?" I say gesturing to her current spot on the couch hoping to get a reaction out of her.

"Basically, I was supposed to hang out with Harry but he got called into work." She responds still not looking away from the tv and I feel panicked.

I am so thrown off by her answer that I can't think of a response. Did he tell her that he had to work so he could come see me? Is she making it up? Why would she make that up? He said he told her they were done. But why would she lie about having plans with him? Why did he lie. I have no idea what the hell is going on anymore and it is starting to give me a headache.

"Hey, I was thinking we could have a movie night here tomorrow. Is that okay with you?" Julie asks me bringing my attention back to the present as she gets off the couch and joins me in the kitchen.

"Uhh yeah sure sounds good to me," I say not really paying attention.

"Awesome! I'll text everyone. Does 8 o'clock sound good to you?" Julie asks while already typing away on her phone.

"Perfect." I agree.

The evening drags on without much conversation. Julie stays on the couch while I make dinner in the kitchen replaying my conversation with Harry over and over again. One of them is lying and I can't figure out who or more importantly why. After dinner we watch one episode of Grey's and I head to my room for the rest of the night not wanting to have forced conversation with Julie any longer. I don't like how weird things feel between us now. I know it's only me. I'm so used to being able to talk to Julie about anything.

I pass out around 11 o'clock which is early for me but the last two days have been so draining I need the sleep and as soon as my head hits the pillow I am gone.

I wake the next morning still conflicted and debating whether having Harry around is worth all this confusion and the headache that follows. I know it won't end well but I am not sure that I can stay away from him. The morning and afternoon hours blur together as I stay in bed watching tv all day, my usual Sunday routine lately.

I finally look at the clock on my nightstand telling me it's now six thirty in the evening and I have been in bed all day. My stomach grumbles reminding me I haven't had anything to eat since eleven this morning so I force myself out of bed and slip on some jeans and grab my favorite hoodie. The weather outside my window is as gloomy as yesterday the clouds are covering the whole sky, and it has been raining on and off all day adding to my own gloomy mood.

I walk out of the bedroom and find Jules in the living room bringing pillows and blankets from her bedroom to the couch.

"What are you doing?" I ask her confused.

"Bringing out extra pillows and blankets for tonight." She says looking at me like I am an idiot.

"Oh crap! I forgot about that. Did you pick a movie?" I have been so in my head I forgot about her stupid movie night here tonight. I feel like I don't have the energy or mental capacity to deal with anyone. Perfect.

"No I can't decide so I'm just going to pick two and let everyone vote." She says while still arranging pillows on the couch and floor.

"Alright, well I am going to grab some food I will be back soon. Do you need anything while I am out?" I ask her secretly hoping she will say no.

"No I'm good, I bought popcorn and some candy when I was at the store yesterday and Maya and Tabs are bringing some snacks too." She tells me.

"Okay well, I'll be back." I say while grabbing my keys and heading for the front door.

"Okay see you later." She says with a smile.

As I walk to my car I sigh with relief at being alone again even if it is only for a short while.

I run through a drive-thru and back with about fifteen minutes to spare before everyone is supposed to come over. I rush into the apartment past the kitchen and Julie's room hoping she doesn't see me. And then head straight through the living room and into my room. I change out of my jeans and into some comfy yoga pants deciding to keep my hoodie on because I don't care to make to much effort in my appearance today. I finish the rest of my food in a hurry and decide to freshen up my make up a little so I don't look like complete crap when everyone comes over. Just as I finish up I hear an array of voices enter the house. Walking out of my room and into the kitchen I find Julie with Maya, Tabs, Dylan, and Sam all talking over each other loudly. Maya is pouring chips into bowls, Julie is putting popcorn into the microwave and of course, Dylan is loading the wine and beer into the fridge. I smile at my crazy group of friends even in my exhausted state.

"Is Emily coming?" I ask the whole group while taking a seat on the empty bar stool next to Sam.

"No she had to work tonight." Tabitha informs me while stealing a chip from Maya's bowl.

"Awe alright," I say disappointed because we haven't had a chance to catch up in a few weeks. "I'm gonna grab a blanket from my room really quick, will someone get me a bowl of popcorn please!" I say as sweetly as I can as I am leaving the kitchen.

I make my way back to my room and grab a blanket and pillow, and my phone from my nightstand before hearing the group make their way into the living room. I take a deep breathe already exhausted and walk back out.

Julie, Maya, Dylan, and Sam are all squished together on the couch and Tabitha took the chair which means I am stuck on the floor alone which I am actually okay with because it means I can watch the movie and relax without distractions. Just as I am getting comfortable on the floor I hear a loud knock at the door. Everyone sits not moving and then looks at me. Everyone is here already so I have no idea who it could be.

"Don't worry everyone, I'll get." I say sarcastically groaning as I get back up off the floor and they all smile trying not to laugh at my dramatic response.

I make my way to the door and open it not sure who to expect but definitely not him.

My mouth drops open stunned, "Harry?!" I whisper yell so everyone in the living room can't hear me.

[soundofseventeen]

Home (Lee Jihoon)

Hi! Nothing to add other than I know Erin posted a Woozi thing last week, oops! Credits to the owners for the gifs! -Bee

Word count: 5819

“So, what do you think?” Jihoon asked his group mates excitedly, closing the Macbook. After spending so much time cooped up in the recording studio perfecting the album, he was finally ready to show them the track that would make their latest comeback remarkable, though that wasn’t exactly until the next month.

“Well, it’s great,” Soonyoung nodded after a moment of silence, “but do you think Getting Closer is the one to go with? I know we wanted something different but don’t you think it’s a bit...too much? I don’t mean that in a bad way, because look at the choreography we were able to come up with but I think it’s not the song to go with.”

“It’s either that or Good to Me.” The former rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I doubt we could come to an agreement on which unit song we can choose.”

“I’m sure that’s not what Hoshi hyung means,” Wonwoo interjected. “You worked hard on the song, and it deserves the recognition. I think what he was trying to say is that we’re already performing it at MAMA in Hong Kong and we should give everyone something else.” He drummed his fingers on the table fiddling with his cellphone.

“Good to Me does have potential,” Seokmin hummed, as positive as ever. “I’m all for Getting Closer too. Honestly hyung, whichever one you pick, we’ll be fine with.”

Chan, more interested, or rather annoyed, than the new pimple appearing on his cheek than the conversation, put the compact mirror down to voice his thoughts. “You’ve worked hard enough with Getting Closer and by the time we release the album completely, the Carats will be bored of what we gave them.”

“If we have to choose, I think we’d be better with Good to Me for the comeback song.” Junhui shrugged. (He was still pissy over the fact that the company had chosen for Seventeen to release a single the day after he released his own. “They could suck it,” Seungcheol consoled him, irritated at the lost battle.)

“But it also has the vibes of Getting Closer Minghao pointed out. “Similar ones at least. Since you’re asking us hyung, I don’t think you’re giving us many options to work with.”

Jihoon pursed his lips in agitation. He glanced at the time, making a face when he saw it was past midnight. “I’m not arguing with you guys tonight over what we should do. Go get some rest already. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“You’re not leaving yet?” Seungcheol furrowed his brows while he saw the 11 other boys standing up and stretching.

“Too much work to do still,” he waved him off, already opening a new tab and typing out an email to Bumzu about the possibility of using a new song. The downside of asking for 12 other opinions was that someone was bound to share a different one, and causing some sort of ruckus, like now.

“Alright,” he sighed, patting the younger’s shoulder, “just don’t pester Beomju hyung for too long. He’s a busy man. And don’t forget to call Y/N or something. Hey Mingyu, wait for me!”

However, by the time Jihoon had checked his messages he was already inside the apartment so he didn’t bother texting you back. He saw you asleep on the couch, a telltale sign that you had waited for him to come home. He felt a little guilty waking you up, but he couldn’t leave you there. “Jagiya, I’m here. You can go to bed now.” He smiled at your sleepy face, aware that you could throw something at him for waking you up, but taking the risk anyway.

You rubbed your eyes, returning the smile as his lips touched your hair. “What time is it? No, don’t answer that. Let’s just go to sleep?” Your eyelids closed involuntarily again, which your boyfriend took as a sign to guide you to the bedroom and when you climbed in, snuggled the pillow closest to you. “Aren’t you gonna get in so you can tell me about your day?”

“I just need to shower first.”

“‘Kay.”

“Are you gonna be able to stay up that long Jagiya?”

“No. Good night.” You opened one eye, still somewhat able to make him out. “I love you.”

*

“...and even though I was late, we were still able to go out for dinner,” Jihoon heard Seungkwan swoon to Mingyu the next day. “And then, we stopped by the park and played on the swings until we got kicked out by the cops. How did I get so lucky? Oh, good morning hyung!”

“Good morning.” He scratched the back of his head. “Did you guys have a good night?” He proceeded to walk in front of them which the other two took as a sign to follow him as they recounted their evening events of dinner, movies and a chase scene involving a dog, followed by the idle chatter of the boys already inside the booth.

“Have you decided on what you wanted to do?” Minghao asked after the formalities.

“I talked to Beomju hyung last night. Getting Closer will be our comeback song for both things.” He could hear the disdained huffs and sighs of annoyances. “And I had an epiphany last night. Since nothing has been recorded to perfection yet, I’d like a demo of each of you singing the entire thing again, so we can perfect this and see how we can distribute the lines. Hannie hyung, you’re up first.” He distributed 12 sheets of paper, each containing the lyrics, giving them a few minutes to more or less memorize particular lines before they scattered about, vocalizing, harmonizing, possibly rapping the suggestions, all music to Jihoon’s ears.

*

“Do that part again, but Not. So. High. And. Faster.”

“Here’s a thought: maybe I’m not cut out for this line. Give it to someone else.” Joshua, normally calm and collected, promptly removed his headphones, muttering a few choice words and walking out to catch his breath before he lost his temper. He knew when Jihoon turned into Woozi, it was best to leave everything before starting over

“If you’re gonna talk shit, at least do it in Korean!” Jihoon called him out which earned him the finger. He massaged his temples, nothing going to plan and getting ready to tell the president or whoever was in charge of their publicity to call off MAMA and get another group to do it. (Although, Seungcheol was in charge of that, but then they’d have to do a vote and things could get messy.) A knock on the door. “I’m not gonna talk to any of you right now unless you figured out how to listen to directions, so don’t bother coming in.”

“It’s me,” you called, opening the door hesitantly. “I thought you could use a lunch break. Can I come in?”

He sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood for interaction. “Just go ahead and leave the plate there. I’ll eat later.” He smiled involuntarily at seeing you come in, confusion quickly replacing his features when he saw a giant flower vase in your other hand. “Are those for me?”

“Seungkwan, actually. I was on my over here when reception asked if I could bring them to him. He’s a lucky dude, what with the way his love brings him flowers. Everyone else must be jealous.”

“I’ll make sure he gets them. Jagiya, did you wanna eat here with me?” He noticed the extra takeout box, the conclusion more probable than bringing it for one of the other boys.

“If you’re busy, I can come back later or wait until you come home. Maybe we can catch dinner or something?”

“Sure,” he waved you off, already opening his food despite his earlier protest and taking a bite. Maybe all he needed was lunch.

“I’ll see you later.” You smiled at him, trying not to let his brisk behavior affect your mood. “I love you.” He nodded in affirmation and you left as quickly as you came in.

“Oh hey, Jagi? Do you think you can pick up my suit from the dry cleaners? It’s supposed to be ready today.”

*

“How am I supposed to do it to your liking Jihoon?” Soonyoung snapped a couple of weeks later. He didn’t like facing off against his best friend, but the tensions were high and with the trip to Hong Kong around the corner, the leaders’ icy attitudes rarely diffused the situations. Being a perfectionist himself, he knew hard work and dedication, but he and they already had everything down, and wasn’t about to change the routine.

“I don’t know! You’re the choreographer, so fix it!” Though Getting Closer barely exceeded his expectations, he wasn’t about to let Soonyoung shirk that same responsibility.

“What do you want me to do? Throw Vernon on top of the boys while he does his part?”

“Perfect! If you had that thought an hour ago, we could’ve avoided this fiasco.” He turned his attention to the eldest, whose focus was on the latest recorded practice. “And you? What have you contributed lately?”

“Absolutely nothing. In fact, I feel like I’ve done so little throughout this comeback prep, I feel like I should quit. Oh wait, I can’t do that, can I because you WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HANDLE 11 OTHER BOYS NOW WOULD YOU?” He abruptly changed the video, opting to see some kind of happiness. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Look I get that you’re stressed, really I do, but if the pressure is too much, we can back out, get more time to-”

“NO. We told them we’d be ready, so now we have to be.”

“At what expense Jihoon? Because from the looks of it, you seem to be okay with pissing everyone off. God, I wonder how Y/N deals with you at home.”

“Y/N is not relevant right now; and if you don’t wanna see me pissed off, I’d recommend adjourning this stupid meeting so we can all get back to our lives. Soonyoung, I don’t care how you do that routine change, but get it done or I will. This needs to be perfect.”

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol demanded.

“I’m gonna go see what your unit is doing. They’re lagging their parts. I’m surprised you didn’t see that even though you’re the one who’s been watching the videos.” He opened the door to find you, hand balled into a fist ready to knock, holding out the cellphone he’d forgotten at home with the other hand and merely brushed passed you, calling out to the remaining members of the hiphop unit to step up their game and that Hansol better be prepared for a change in dance.

“What, are you gonna be their unit leader too?”

*

“I’m sorry I can’t make it tonight Jagi,” Jihoon explained over the phone or rather voicemail. “I promised I’d be here with them tonight. I’ll see you when we get back from China. Take care of yourself while I’m gone.” Once Jihoon clicked, he downed a shot of some tequila Minghao had imported from Mexico, making a face at the way the aftertaste managed to burn. “How do people drink this? Ugh.”

Junhui held up a key lime he’d been sucking on. “Apparently you’re supposed put that in there and maybe some salt to help.” He poured Jihoon another shot, and squeezed the remainder of the juice into it, clinking his own with it.

“Yeah, no still gross,” he commented after he finished it. What other options do we have?”

“You lived here for years and you still don’t know what we have? Get outta here dude.” A third one for both.

“I’m not trying to drink myself to oblivion, especially since we’re getting on a plane in a few hours. Lesson learned.” He shuddered from a distant memory that haunted him from to time. “Where is everyone?”

Junhui shrugged as if to say “Suit yourself” before fixing up his fourth shot. “Seungkwan said he’ll meet up with us at the airport tomorrow, Mingyu said something about a date so he’ll be back later. Jeonghan and Joshua hyungdul went to bring pizza and snacks with the money you gave Wonwoo. Hoshi hyung is looking for a movie. And here comes Minghao now. Hi Hao!” He waved happily.

Minghao gave the older Chinese boy a weird look before opening various cupboards and pantries, searching for anything that appealed to him, settling for a bag of some sour candies, an unsatisfied huff leaving his lips. “Tell me Woozi hyung. Why are you here with us and not at home with Y/N?”

“I have a lot to make up to you guys.” He grabbed a handful of the sweets, puckering when he shoved some in his mouth. “Might as well start now.”

“And Y/N is cool with that?” He raised his hand to pause the conversation, tilting his head to the side to hear the movie choice. “Soonyoung! We’re supposed to watch that together! I swear if you get ahead again, I will-” He glanced at his surroundings to finish his threat. “Shove the broomstick I have in my hands so far down your throat, you’ll have the taste of wood in your mouth for the rest of the year!” He could hear the boy in question fumbling for something and laughed. “You were saying?”

“Uhh, well...I called Y/N not too long ago, and I left a voicemail.”

“Classy move Jihoon.” With a shake of his head, Minghao stole Junhui’s shot and drank it. “Eww, you put too much salt in this. No wonder you’re not in charge of drinks.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“I’m a master chef, not a mixologist O’ Pompous Ones.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” A pat to Junhui’s shoulder. “Are you coming hyung, or are you planning to get shitfaced with this dumbass tonight?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Let’s go Jun.”

“Wait, don’t rush me. I’m not done yet.”

”Food’s here,” Jeonghan called happily through the front door and within three seconds, all 11 boys crowded around the living room, fighting for a slice and the first sip of the ice cold soda.

Jihoon smiled a little as he was squashed in the middle of the couch between Joshua and Chan. Everything he did was for them, and he hoped they knew the endless possibilities and roads that would open with You Made My Dawn.

*

“God, I already said I was sorry!” Jihoon yelled at the van, carrying his group mates, a near impossible feat that rarely happened. He slammed the door as hard as he could, his fists clenched, ready to hit the first person to piss him off further.

“You can’t fix everything with sorry!” Seokmin yelled at him. “God, I never thought I’d be glad to get rid of you.”

“Don’t come over anymore,” Wonwoo added stoically. “We’ll see you at the studio tomorrow…maybe.”

“Fine! Be there at nine sharp to film the music video! If any of you are even a minute late, I’m destroying the album and everything we worked on!”

“Oh so now you’re threatening us?” Jihoon could see Seungcheol beginning to unbuckle his seatbelt when Jeonghan stopped him and acknowledged the producer himself.

“Go fuck yourself. We��ll call you and let you know when we’ll be there. In the meantime, get your head out of your ass and remember that we’re not your circus performers and we will call out your shit. Vernon could’ve really hurt himself.” He rolled his window up and the van sped away.

“You’re all fired.” He fumbled around for his keys, muttering to himself. “After all I do for them, the least they could do is appreciate-Y/N, I’m here!” He expected you to run into his arms, and ask him how the trip was so he could vent out the frustrations, but when he saw you sitting on one side of the table, more focused on the teacup in front of you, he became anxious. Every time he’d seen you like that, no good news ever followed, but he tried to downplay it. He kissed your cheek, and headed for the kitchen, fixing himself a quick snack, deciding a peanut butter sandwich would be good.

He heard you take a deep breath and exhale. He counted 15 when you broke you broke the silence. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The knife clattered noisily on the counter. “Did I track mud in the house again? I’m sorry, I’ll get someone to come by and-”

“No. This. Us.” He could feel you staring at him, but he couldn’t face you. Not when he was hearing...this. “I’m tired Jihoon. It’s like I’m not even here unless it’s to your disposal.”

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t wanna argue with you because I love you, but just think about all the plans we made and how many you actually followed through. I get your work and Seventeen are important to you, but am I?”

“Yes!” He protested. He finally turned around, ready to bust your lie, but stopped short at seeing your wiping your eyes to hide the fact you were crying. “You mean so much to me.”

“No I don’t. I’m just someone who greets you when you come through that door and who tells you to have a good day when you walk out of it. I can’t keep living like this.”

“We can work something out can’t we?”

You shook your head. “I think that’s something only you and your schedule can answer. In the meantime, I’m gonna be staying with one of my friends.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“It’s already done. I’m sorry. I hope this won’t affect your comeback. You’ve worked too hard for it to fall to shambles now. I’ll start packing what I can.”

The, “Don’t go; please come back,” choked him and he could feel the his world crumbling around him.

*

“I’m never gonna get this done,” Jihoon groaned. He ran his hand down his face, exaggerating the movement between his eyes.

“Get what done?” You appeared behind him, making jump in his seat.

“I-yah! Hey don’t do that.” He checked his heartbeat to make sure he didn’t go into cardiac arrest. “What are you doing here?”

“Soonyoung said you were working late and that you might’ve wanted some company. So here I am. Only if I’m not a bother.” You fixed his messy hair.

He reached for you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You? Never. I hope you don’t mind waiting awhile to do something, if we even get the chance that is.”

“The exciting life and times of Lee Jihoon as a producer means being here to see his latest masterpiece.” You searched for a chair and pulled it up next to him. “Now, what are we doing?”

“Finishing line distributions. The performance unit just finished their demos for ‘Don’t Wanna Cry’ and now I’m gonna see how we can make a hit.”

You nodded. “What do you have so far?”

“Only the start of the second verse. If you listen carefully, the contrasts between Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s voices are not only necessary, but they give it...that feel, so when you transition Seungcheol’s low voice to Jeonghan’s softer tone, the smoothness is still there, but so is the rawness and confusion. Add in the fact that Soonyoung wanted them to lead in the second verse of the choreography, and you’re left with a heartbreak even the cinematics cannot create, and I’m talking a lot so I’ll shut up so I can finish. We’re gonna be here awhile.”

You held up a book. “I’m always prepared.”

He worked in silence for a couple of hours, mostly pausing to refill his coffee cup, though it didn’t do much except make him resent the coffee flavor. He asked you every so often if you were bored or tired, you could just go home and he’d call you in the morning, only for you to reassure him that you weren’t in any rush to go anywhere, which made him forget he had a deadline to beat. You continued to read in peace, only breaking your concentration whenever you heard him sigh in frustration, placing your hand over his to calm him down.

“This is never gonna work.” He removed his headphones and began looking for his eye drops to stop the burning of straining them too long. “Maybe if I quit now, I can still get by with mediocre work. And by a fun game of eenie meenie miney mo, I can decide who gets to open the song.”

“Can I hear what you have? Maybe you could use some outside perspective.” He handed you the headphones and played the rough version, deciphering your reactions from the way you tapped along. You surprised him when you started crying, the lyrics burning themselves into heart even though you hadn’t lost anyone. “Wow, that’s beautiful.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No, it’s just the right amount of sadness and regret and god Jihoon, who hurt Seungcheol? Why the pressure of everything? It’ll all come together...what? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“Because...I don’t want you to think I’m a failure.”

“Ji, look at everything you’re doing; look at the time; look where you’re at right now. You’re busting your ass off to make it the best you’ve ever done. I know you well enough. Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

“We got an invite to perform at KCON in America, so if it’s a hit, I want this to be the track we’re known for.”

“When was the last time Hansol started a song?”

“Not since he and Seokmin decided to shove straws up my nose when I was asleep, and I swore he never would again.” He squinted at you suspiciously. “Why?”

“His voice is soft enough to sing it because you don’t expect this to come from him. It’s like he’s mourning a lost love. If you hear him say ‘I love you’, it’s like he’s regretting something even though it isn’t his fault. It’s so melancholy, very different than Soonyoung who sounds hopeful, if you were to put them together that is.”

“You are brilliant! Maybe you should become my right hand producer.”

“Pass. I’m here for moral support.”

Half an hour after working out the kinks and smoothing out the rough timbres, he showed you the final effect of the song as well as the finished Al1 tracks. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be endeared when he saw you crying over Habit’s lyrics and threw his arm over you where you sobbed into his shoulder. “What’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know. You’re just really good at this and the unnecessary pressure you put on yourself sucks, and also it’s really late so I’m very sensitive at this hour and I don’t know, having you around in my life has become a habit, so if I lost you, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

In that moment, he shed a few tears because of your raw honesty affected him. He only showed you his vulnerable side, full of doubts and insecurities and the fact that you knew what to say and when to say it made him emotional, so he hugged you close and your hair, the impulse decision slipping his tongue before he could think about it. “Jagiya, if I moved out of Seventeen’s house, would you move in with me?”

*

He felt like a complete jackass. A few days had passed since his incidents and there seemed to be no sign of reconciliations anywhere, and he knew he was to blame. He pushed you away and expected too much from his best friends. No one called; no one checked in; no one asked what was gonna happen and he didn’t think he had an answer for that anyways. He fucked up and now the consequences weighed heavily upon him. He’d never been one for apologies, always felt like a guilt trip to him, but now he was alone in his studio for the nth time and no one would come running in to see why he was there and not where he belonged. He didn’t like people asking about his relationships, always seemed to invasive and an excuse for gossip over coffee with Dispatch paparazzi, but now what he wouldn’t give for direction. He did know a person, but they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment, but he had to at least try.

“What hyung?”

“Seungkwan, can you-” He sniffled inadvertently, immediately alerting the other boy on the line. “Can you please come to the studio?”

*

The moment Seungkwan found him in the recording booth, Jihoon spluttered apology after apology and spilled the heartbreak he was experiencing, trying to regain control of his emotions, stumbling a few times in the process but finally managing it. “I don’t know what to do. I lost the one person who understood me and I can’t take you guys being upset with me, but I deserve it. I treated everyone like shit. Can you forgive me?”

Seungkwan’s golden heart very rarely let him hold a grudge, so when he nodded, Jihoon sighed with relief and enveloped him in a hug. “You know you can always come to us, right? Why didn’t you?”

“I had one of those times where I felt like your careers rested in my hands and the pressure got to me.” He squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t like displaying anything for anyone to see, but he had to do it once more. “I need your help with something else, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything.” His watch beeped. “I do have to go soon though. We-I, there’s this thing with my aein.”

“That...how do you do that? How do you balance your time like that?”

“It’s simple. It’s all about priorities and where the line comes in. It’s communication and effort. It’s about little things like notes and compliments and random calls throughout the day, or even just a text. When was the last time you sent a text?” Silence. “Flowers? Lunch? A note?” Nothing. “When was the last time you got any of that?” When he shamefully opened a drawer that revealed notes, letters, and snacks that no one knew existed, Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “Hyung, forgive me for saying this, but you’re a fucking idiot. Do you even know how lucky you are...or were?”

“Don’t rub it in. How do I fix it?”

“That’s up to you to decide. Just ask yourself: what is Y/N to you?” His phone rang and he was quick to answer it. “Hi aein. I just stopped by the studio really quickly. Woozi needed me. I’ll be there soon...I love you.” When he hung up, he flashed the older boy a smile. “Good luck hyung. I really hope you can get out of this mess. You and Y/N look really happy together.” Another beep. “I really should get home. ‘Bye!”

For the first time since he felt like his life had fallen apart, his lips quirked up. “Home, huh?” He said to no one after Seungkwan showed himself out. He reached into his drawer, pulling out your letters to him throughout your time together.

*

“Gentlemen, I called you here for two reasons.” Jihoon took a deep breath, ready to swallow his pride. The meeting room seemed too warm for his liking, fanning himself lightly. Twelve pairs of eyes focused on him, some curious, some annoyed. “First, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for acting the way I did. I shouldn’t have changed the choreography during our practice. Vernon I’m sorry I pressured you to that extreme. Soonyoung, I’m sorry for exceeding your capabilities for everything. Seungcheol, I’m sorry I questioned your leadership abilities.” He rubbed his eyes. “I ah, put my relationship to the side to perfect this, but as it turns out, I fucked up both things, and badly.” He expected the jaw dropping effect, but he didn’t expect them to look at each other and hear nothing but air escape their mouths. “In case Seungkwan didn’t tell you, Y/N left.” Soonyoung immediately jumped from his spot and ran to him. He didn’t say anything, but his presence brought an odd sense of comfort to Jihoon as he laid his head on shoulder.

“I don’t expect you guys to help me, but I’m asking you if you’re willing enough to forgive me to do it. Bumzu hyung helped me with this. It’s a song and if you’d like the lyrics, I have them right here.”

The boys looked at one another and nodded. Hansol stood up and held his hand out. “We have some work to do.”

*

He didn’t know how many days had passed, but he found you at a friend’s house. He knew you weren’t expecting him, what with the way you answered the door in PJs and a book in your hand. He stopped you from closing the door. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I know I have to try. I can’t bear you walking away. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “Jihoon, no. It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just show up and expect me to come back. I- your job, the boys, obviously mean more to you. I’m sorry. Just go home.”

He grabbed your wrist. “Can I just show you something before you kick me out for good?”

Relenting, you agreed and he pulled you out and into the car, driven by Mingyu, who smiled at you, but otherwise stayed quiet, in fear of giving away what he had planned. “Where are we going?”

“Pledis. I have something for you there.”

“Jihoon, if I wanted a signed lenticular or something, I would’ve asked the boys for it.”

“It’s more personal than that. Can you just trust me?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

At that comment, his courage deflated. He earned that, but it was still a blow. For the remainder of the ride, he stayed quiet, second guessing whether this was the right thing to do. He almost told Mingyu to turn around and drop you back off at your friend’s house. Almost. Even when Mingyu parked with an, “I’ll see you inside,”, he thought about it, but you already here and outside waiting for him. He finally slid out, and led you inside.

You waved at the staff, trainees, veteran artists and everyone you recognized. You followed him into the recording room where you saw Beomju on one side and 12 boys crowded over a single microphone in another. Beomju instructed you to sit next him, and shooed Jihoon into the other. “What’s-”

“Shh, just put these on, and listen.” He pressed a button to address Seventeen. “Are you guys ready?” They nodded eagerly. “You know your cues...okay. Ready? Jun, quiet down. On my mark…” Using his fingers, he counted down, tilted his pointer, and the music began.

Upon hearing Jeonghan’s voice, you shook your head. Jihoon really knew how to play dirty, and the lyrics didn’t help. As the song progressed, your gaze flickered between them all, torn between keeping your composure because of they said, and wanting to yell at Jihoon because of how needy it made you sound. ‘Cause I’m your home? Really, was that necessary? You commended them nonetheless, once again proving Seventeen had an unrivaled soft tone to them.

“Get ready,” Beomju murmured after Mingyu’s part so softly you almost missed it.

“‘Cause I’m your home, home, home, home,” Seungkwan sang.

“‘Cause I’m your home, home, home, home,” Chan echoed and expectantly stared at Jihoon so you knew this would be good.

“Because you’re my home, home, home, ho-home,” Jihoon hiccupped, keeping his eyes on you.

And that did it. You couldn’t even look at Joshua as he finished the song because you had fallen apart. You missed everyone high fiving each other, but you heard the way they ran out of of the tiny room and whooping. Only Jihoon stayed inside the booth, placing his headphones on the microphone, making no effort to leave.

It surprised you when Minghao nudged you. “Y/N, don’t be so hard on him. He loves you a lot more than you think. He just wants what’s best for everyone.”

“We might’ve not known everything about your relationship, but we know how happy you’ve made each other,” Junhui added. “Maybe we’re overstepping our boundaries by asking you reconsider your decision, but by the looks of it, you don’t look so well either.”

Wonwoo smacked his head. “You’re not supposed to say it like that. But yeah, please talk to him at least. None of us know how long he’s been staying here since he won’t tell us, but I think this is all he’s been working on.”

Joshua gave you a tissue so you could clean your face. “We’ll support your decisions, no matter what.”

You mustered up all your courage, swallowing heavily as you stood in front of the door. You finally opened it, tentatively walking inside and letting it close behind you, the slam ricocheting in all directions, until you were close to him. You took a deep breath, anticipating the next moment. He looked you, and slowly opened his arms, which you walked into and you let him hold you. You could feel him shuddering, hear him sniffling which made you tighten your hold on him in an attempt to protect from everything that was hurting him.

“I’m sorry,” he said after awhile. “I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I guess I’m just so used to having you around, I didn’t think I’d ever push you to your limit. I’ll try to do better, I promise.” He paused. “I don’t want to do any of this without you. Please...come home.”

You pulled away from him, opting to comfort him the way he had you in the past, even though you knew that you be bawling your eyes out in seconds. You wiped his tears away, your own threatening to bubble over soon.

“Does that mean you can tell Y/N the good news?!”

“Yah, you blabbermouth! Get out of here!” Jihoon threw the microphone at Soonyoung who tried to catch it, but ended up smashing his fingers.

“What good news?” You were actually thankful that Soonyoung had broken the serious moment so you could stop yourself from crying.

“Ahh, well, the boys loved this song so much they wanna add it to the album, and actually wanna use it for the official comeback.”

“You-that’s awesome! Maybe I should break your heart more often.”

He kissed your temple. “Yeah, how about we don’t. Come on; let’s go home.”

“I’m already here.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “The Work Wife” Part 3

You’ve been working for The Joker for the past 10 years: you speak and act for him and no matter the circumstances, Y/N is always there to take care of everything he needs.  The King of Gotham might not be married, yet he has a perfect partner: his work wife.

Part 1      Part 2     (Part 3 as voted HERE)    Part 4     Part 5

5 months later

“Are you just gonna sit there the whole time?” The Joker splashes the water in the Jacuzzi while you look outside, not even hearing his words. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Oh, I’m watching everything to make sure it’s safe,” you finally pay attention and analyze the surrounding buildings from behind the smoky windows belonging to the second floor of “Serenity Day SPA”; it’s one of the businesses J owns, primarily operated for money laundering.  The rooms upstairs are never used by anybody else except him: he seldom visits and actually uses the amenities since the place is very luxurious.  

“We have 15 men with us, I think we’re OK. Come on, lose the suit and relax,” The King of Gotham requests your presence in the hot tub because you seem absent minded today.

“I’m good,” you mumble and continue to search for any signs of suspicious activity out there even if so far nothing seems out of the ordinary.

“You know how much I hate to extend my invitations twice,” he watches you take a deep breath and gaze his way.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you come up with the easy excuse and J gestures towards the variety of dressers containing bathing suits, swimming shorts, towels and fuzzy robes.

“Use theirs!”

“Ughh,” the exasperation reaches his ears and it’s not approved.

“Maybe one of these days you could just, you know, drop the attitude?! Only a mere suggestion; don’t lemme stop you from annoying me!” The Joker growls as you choose a random attire and start changing behind the panel as fast as you can, hoping he will shut up.

“Don’t lemme stop you from annoying me” speech is usually between 10--15 minutes long and you are certainly lacking any eagerness to put up with it.

“Why do I have to get in there?” you protest his orders and emerge into a floral bikini bottom with the matching bra.

“Because,” J huffs and completely lowers himself in the bubbly water for a few seconds, then gazes your way. “I must say Y/N, you look decent for a fossil.”

“I’m not a fossil!”

“You turned 36 last month. Basically ancient for my scaling system,” J taunts and smooths his wet hair, thinking that the usual extra feistiness is not present within his work wife today. You step in the Jacuzzi, half afloat until you reach his side.

“Your scaling system sucks, that’s why you don’t have a steady girlfriend,” you lift one of your eyebrows in order to underline the accurate reality.

“I only need company that takes care of my needs for the night; you take care of the rest so I’m fine,” he pauses and waits for the sour remarks to continue but they don’t.

You’re awfully quiet, definitely preoccupied by more important matters than the usual dispute he’s searching for.

“What’s the matter?” J elbows a distracted Y/N.

“Today…” and your voice cracks,” today is Kai’s birthday.”

That’s why she’s like this, he thinks and moves closer to you.

“Wow, the first snowflakes,” you sadly smile and change the subject because you feel you’re suffocating.

“Yeah, I like winter,” he adds on the topic in his usual way of dealing with things. “Much easier to get rid of dead bodies.”

“So charming,” you candidly reprimand. “That’s why women are flocking from all sides; one better than the other.”

“Precisely,” the insolent Joker is glad you’re getting absorbed into his little game; it kind of feels a major part of his daily life is missing if you two don’t clash and he’s aware he has to put in extra work today in order to obtain the desired outcome.

“Please enlighten me so I can prove a point:  when is the last time you went on a date?” you turn towards him, interested in what he has to say.

“Ummm… three nights ago,” J immediately replies.

“One night stand is not a date! As usually, I had to get rid of her in the morning and I’m getting tired of taking out the trash,” you scoff, irritated. “You should have kept the girlfriend you had two years ago; she wasn’t bad.”

“I got bored,” he dismisses your suggestion and stretches his legs under water while you have more to include on top of the earlier statement:

“It’s exciting to see you’re satisfied with bimbos that think you have a stamp collection to show them at the penthouse or drunken ones that you marry on a whim at the sham drive-thru chapels around town.”

“Yes, it is exciting indeed,” The Joker winks and Y/N is done with his crap.

“You know what J ?!!”

Oh boy, here she goes! J grins because he’s getting what he wanted:

“You know what J ”speech is usually between 8--14 minutes long and by far his favorite; you usually blur out a list of judgments about his behavior that you don’t agree with and it falls on deaf ears, yet it’s worth it.

“Mister J,” Frost suddenly knocks at the opened door. “Sorry to interrupt but the weather forecast is showing an imminent snow storm about to hit Gotham in less than 3 hours. Traffic will be hectic since everyone would want to finish what they have to do before roads are closed. Would you like to leave now in order to avoid that?”

The Clown Prince of Crime smacks his lips, debating:

“I suppose so,” then addresses you: “Hold that thought, Y/N! You know how much I love to hear your opinions,” the sarcastic smirk makes you shake your head in annoyance. “I guess is better if we bail than having to deal with the craziness on the streets. Tell the crew we’re out of here in 10!”

“Yes sir!”  Frost complies and you discern the shouted instructions on his way downstairs.

“Right when I was getting comfortable,” J sighs and sinks under the fizzy water one last time while you’re already getting out of the Jacuzzi.

“You can continue at the Penthouse,” you remind the King of Gotham he actually has the same hot tub at home.

“I guess I can,” the grouchy voice mumbles.

The Joker watches as you dry yourself with a towel, his eyes lingering on the only tattoo you have: the Japanese kanji rows inked on your back containing the phrase you’ve been using for years as an inside joke.

He stalls leaving the steamy ambience for a few more seconds before finally abandoning his temporary oasis.

You switch back to your black suit behind the bamboo panel and come out to help him finish up. The white, furry winter coat is placed on his shoulders while J elects to modify the plan:

“Y/N, I want to spend some time at my cabin instead of returning to the Penthouse.”

“Are you sure?” you start walking beside him, surprised at his choice. “With the snow storm you’ll be trapped there for days.”

“It’s fine; I’ll have you to keep me company,” J brushes off any projects you might have like he always does.

“I rather stay at my apartment.”

“No, you’re coming.”

“Seriously J, I don’t want to be dragged in the middle of nowhere. I like that place in the summer and that’s pretty much it,” you try to make him forsake his ideas and pay attention to the stairs you’re both descending.

“I’ll let you know when I give a damn,” The Joker scoffs, signaling some of the men waiting along for his passing to follow.

The door leading towards the secluded parking lot on the north side of the building is already opened and you walk outside, mad he doesn’t care you’re not in the mood to visit that accursed cottage during the crazy weather that will soon hit the area.

Two henchmen are already waiting by their cars and you slowly blink for a few seconds, feeling the snowflakes melting on your face. The faint sound of the bullet shrieks by your ear and you instinctively turn towards J, his eyes already looking down at the fresh wound that’s beginning to stain the white coat.

“What the..?!” he touches the blood in disbelief, suddenly out of breath. You are quick to push him against the nearest SUV, screaming at the others:

“Sniper!!! Get down!”

The goons already outside scatter behind the cars in the parking lot and you help The Joker sit on the ground and press on the oozing injury, the red spot exponentially growing each time he forcefully inhales.

“Shit…” he moans and you gesture at the men that didn’t make it out of the building, including Frost.

“Stay inside! There’s a sniper!!”

“What do we do?” Jonny yells and you shout back:

“Everybody regroup inside!! Stay low and sneak out through the other side of the property! Go in groups of 3 and sweep the surrounding places, maybe we can catch whoever did this! Take the rest of the team and call for reinforcements!”

“You need help?” Frost peeks from behind the curtains, ready to aid if required.

“I’m OK, I don’t need an escort!”

You open the car door and help The Joker crawl in the back seat; he’s wheezing louder and louder due to the painful lesion.

“Keep pressure on it!” you gather his coat around the wound as much as you can, this way it soaks up the blood. “I’ll take you to the doctor; just hang in there, alright?” an apparent composed Y/N creeps on the driver’s side, twisting the keys in the contact.

“It fucking hurts,” J groans and his acknowledgment makes your heart beat faster:

The Joker has a high tolerance for pain so if he says that it hurts, it means the discomfort is beyond what a normal person would be able to tolerate.  

“Hang tight!” you begin to drive, keeping close to the concrete wall enclosing the parking lot, watching him through the rear view mirror. “I’ll take the back streets,” you mumble and immediately accelerate, taking a sharp turn once the protection of the wall is over. The tires screech under the abrupt impact and you speed towards Madison Avenue, having to distance yourselves from the shooting range as soon as possible.

“How are you doing?” you gaze at him and the only answer is a growl.

The Joker’s teeth are clenched together; he couldn’t say a word even if he’d wanted to.      

You nervously squeeze the steering wheel, paying attention to the road again.  

“I think I can make it there under 40 minutes,” the affirmation makes him shiver: the pain is becoming so unbearable he feels he’s going to pass out.

Another turn on Coldwell Boulevard and the last thing J hears prior to losing consciousness is Y/N’s warning:

“Hey, don’t fall asleep!”

**************

The Joker gradually opens his eyes, trying to adjust to reality. You’re sleeping in the recliner close to his bed and the venue seems familiar: it’s the same private clinic you were taken after the unfortunate events that left such a deep scar on your cheek. He’s groggy and a bit confused, a typical secondary side effect of all the medications present in his body.

“Nurse…” J whispers and has to gather his strength to say it louder since you didn’t hear him. “Nurse! Wake up!”

This time the exhausted Y/N promptly snaps out of her troubled dreams, gasping when she realizes The King of Gotham is glaring her way.

“You’re awake,” you jump out of the recliner and move close to him, so happy to see he’s out of danger you actually smile.

A rare occurrence these days.

“Why are you wearing scrubs?” J licks his lips and you reach for the cup of iced water on the cupboard, offering some to the patient.

“We’ve been here for 2 days: it’s easier to blend in, just in case,” you explain while waiting for him to finish drinking.

“What’s the verdict?” he taps his fingers on the pillow, seeking your company for the requested briefing. You lie down next to him and relay the main points to the weakened Joker:

“By the time we arrived, you’ve already lost a lot of blood. You had a clean wound: the bullet went right through; almost pierced your kidney, only half an inch away from disaster. They couldn’t stop the bleeding and I was scared you’re not going to make it,” you gulp and touch his face, upset it was such a close call.

“Why? Were you afraid you’ll be unemployed?”

“Basically. You pay well.”

“True,” J utters. “Do we know who did it?”

You remove your hand, the immediate change in attitude making him aware you’re displeased.

“So we do know,” he figures, wondering why you look at him like that.

“Yes.”

Perfect silence; you are flustered, that’s for sure.

“Well?” J yawns, tired and drained.

“Do you remember your last flame? The one I got rid of 5 days ago?”  

No answer. Because he can kind of tell where this is heading.

“Apparently, she didn’t like that you threw her away the next morning so she did something about it. Thank God she can’t aim that well, I’m sure she tried for the head.”

J is speechless since he was expecting a different outcome.

“The Great Joker, taking down by one of his one night stands. How stupid is that?!” you hiss and try to calm down the urge to strangle him.

“That is quite stupid, my reputation would be ruined,” he tries to joke since he knows he’s going to hear about it forever. “Is it fair to assume she’s not around anymore?”

“I made sure,” you frown, scooting closer to him again. “If you were planning to sleep with her again, she’s not available.”

He grabs your waist, loving the bitter expression written all over your being.

“Any other news?” he changes the subject, delighted you’re so worked up.

You cut him some slack for the moment, sharing your observations:

“I think one of the nurses likes you. She keeps on lifting your hospital gown, checking out the area.”

“Probably to see if I need my bandages changed,” J grins, satisfied with the little confession.

“Or maybe checking out your components,” you honestly reply.

“Components!” he chuckles and regrets it the next second: the sore wound is definitely there.

The door opens and you grumble in a low voice:

“That’s her, that’s the nurse.”

“Quickly, fix my hair,” The Joker demands and you comb the green locks with the tip of your fingers. “How do I look?”

“Like crap,” you sigh, unable to repair too much due to the present misfortune.

“Dammit,” he completely covers the both of you with the sheet, shielding the intimacy of the discussion from any prying ears.

“Miss Y/N, it’s not safe to be this close to a recovering patient with a raw injury. There’s the risk of infection. Could you please go back to your recliner?” the woman requests out of concern for the medical staff’s own safety: she knows that if something happens to The Clown Prince of Crime while under their care, they will pay for the consequences.

“Make me!” you sneer from under the covers, irritated with her plea.

“Yeah, make her!” J growls also and it’s a red flag for the nurse to leave before one of you snaps. The care giver leaves some medications on the cabinet, planning to return later.

“Try not to contaminate me,” he pouts and you roll your eyes. “I already sacrificed a lady’s interest in me by siding with the competition.”

“You’re so full of it,” you kick his knee, careful not to touch the stitched laceration.

He has no clue how much it terrified you that he almost died on Kai’s birthday; it would have been unbearable to think each year at the same date about two men you care about no longer around.

*************

After 3 weeks

The Joker was released from the clinic yesterday and went straight to the cabin in the Willow Woods, hauling a vexed work wife with him against her will. You sure detest the place in the winter time; there are days it snows so much you can’t even walk to the shed to restart the generator. But he said the fresh air will make his recovery a piece of cake and for once you didn’t argue with the bullshit reason.

You are so worn out after taking care of J 24/7 that the tempest going on outside doesn’t bother you. Y/N dozed off one hour ago and the strong wind sweeping the wilderness slams branches, snow and frozen leaves against the windows.

A strand of your hair is being tugged by the crabby King of Gotham; he has insomnia and of course he sneaked into your bedroom after drinking 2 cups of chamomile tea that did absolutely nothing.

“Y/N, are you awake?”

You barely make eye contact, the brain fuzzy from all the restlessness you dealt with in the past weeks.

“My back is stiff,” The Joker indirectly implies a massage would be more than welcomed.“Did you hear me?” he pokes your shoulder when you nap again.

“Why won’t you let me rest?” you finally blur out, wishing you were at your apartment and not in the boonies at the cottage you can’t stand.

“I can’t work out for a while and my bones are cracking every move I make. Plus, I can’t sleep because your dumb tea didn’t work. Are you gonna do anything about it or not?!” he loses patience describing his hardships to the woman that should know all about them.

“Don’t nag me!” the unexpected response containing what J usually throws at you makes him search his mind for a sour admonishment.

In the meantime, you get on your knees and slap his side so he can turn face down, beginning to rub his back along the dragon tattoo since he won’t quit bugging you.

“That feels awesome,” he grunts when your hands work around the tight muscles keeping him up at this hour of the night.

“Jesus, one knot after the other!” you blur out frustrated, trying to relax the stubborn tissue under his skin.

“Told you I‘m stiff; I wasn’t lying. Keep going,” he motivates the grumpy Y/N. “Aren’t you happy that you still have a boss to take care of?”

He senses your fingers stopping, then restarting and something that sounds like sniffling.

“Are you crying?” the muffled question arises from under the pillows.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your fleece pajamas, watching the flames in the fireplace crackling in the darkness. The Joker reaches his left hand backwards and grabs yours, pulling you next to him again. There’s no resistance from your part and his face moves on top of the cushions again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” you bite your cheek and refuse to say more on the topic.

You don’t really have to though; The Clown Prince of Crime is neither stupid or blind.

“I’m still here old girl,” he emphasizes due to his twisted desire to get you out of your misery while still being a jerk.

“I’m not old,” you defend your 36 years of existence like you always do.

“According to my standards you are,” the silver teeth maliciously glisten 2 inches away from Y/N’s lips.

“Your standards are pure crap,” you sulk and he wraps your arms around his neck, compromising at last:

“Probably…” and your sudden kiss takes him by surprise and in the same time it doesn’t.

That’s new, The Joker thinks and enjoys the opportunity of making out with the feisty Y/N that clings to him so tight he cannot move.

“I think I’m still out of commission,” he purrs in between kisses and you couldn’t care less.

“That’s fine,” you smile and give him a second to catch his breath.

“Wait…Wait…” J carefully debates. “Ummm…On the brighter side, I believe we might be in luck but you’ll have to do the hard work giving my present situation.”

“That’s fine too,” you accept his proposal and lean over to whisper:

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

**************  

7 months later

“Did you get what I asked for?” The Joker barks at the smuggler that’s taking too long searching the metal crates from the last shipment received yesterday.

“Yes, Mister Joker, just one moment. I know it’s in here, I saw it myself.”

“I don’t have a moment!” the impatient King of Gotham retaliates and the dealer picks up the pace, relieved to finally discover the item buried inside the box.

“Here you go Mister Joker,” something resembling a booklet is being handed to J.

The opulent wedding ring beaded with purple and green diamonds stands out on The Joker’s finger and the smuggler’s eyes get big.

“Oh, you got married Mister Joker?!”

“Yeah, two days ago,” he gets ready to bail since he’s late for his own honeymoon trip to Las Vegas.

“Congratulations!” the guy has nothing better to do than offer his best wishes.

“Why??” J’s mood switches for the worse. “You think I got a good bargain out of it?! I didn’t !! She’s been nagging me for 11 years; I just made it official !”

“I’m sorry Mister Joker,” another wrong reply escapes the dealer’s lips.

“Why are you sorry, hm?” the pissed Prince of Crime raises his voice. “You think I can’t handle my own wife?!”

You are waiting for J next to your car, playing with the bottom of your short summer dress. There was certainly a commotion going on until a few moments ago when the noises stopped; you’re about to check on it but J is coming out of the building, brushing pieces of glass off his clothes.

“What happened?” you inquire.

“I got you a present,” he avoids replying and gives you the booklet.

“What is this?” you open it, confused. Nothing but a bunch of stamps neatly organized inside.

“A stamp collection, Y/N! You always complained that when I brought girls at the Penthouse I said I have a stamp collection to show them when in the matter of fact I didn’t. So I fixed the issue: these are actual stamps I can show them; very valuable: I paid one hundred thousand dollars!” he boasts in front of an annoyed Mrs. Joker.

“No girls, no stamps!” you flip the expensive collection straight into the trash can near you.

“Wha’… What are you doing?!”

“No girls, no stamps!” you repeat, urging him to get in the vehicle.

“How dare you?!“ he has an outburst that you don’t pay attention to. “You’re fired!”

“No I’m not,” you calmly go around the car since you’re the designated driver for the vacation. “Come on, get in,” you reach from the driver’s side to open the other door for him. ”Traffic will be horrible across the Bridge of Angels. We have to leave,” you pat the passenger’s seat and J is hesitating. “You really don’t need that stamp collection; you have me.”

“Pfft,” he huffs and enters the car, not wanting to admit to himself that his work wife is right.

Actually work wife and wife.

No matter what anyone says, now there’s finally no difference.

Also read: MASTERLIST

AO3 account - same blog name: DiYunho

[painfullythickimagines]

Better Left Unsaid

Y’all. @winterysoldiery wrote this at my request, and even based Y/N on MEEEE :’D You’ll see why I’m so excited once you read it - I’m so in love. Enjoy!!

A Bucky Barnes one-shot, based on two prompt lines: “Another bad date?“ & “Here, I’m going to make you some tea and we’ll watch a movie. That sound good?”

Warnings: Mild cursing. Bit of fluff. That’s all.

Word Count: 2,200~

It was a hard job, yes, but it was worth the ass-kicking she got every single day.

(Y/n) worked with the Avengers directly, being a combat trainer and keeping them at their finest physically and even emotionally sometimes. Because yes, even the Avengers shed a tear or two every once in a while. Mostly because they tended to party often and had to pay with sweat and extra push-ups for it.

(Y/n) was a listener. She was more than just a physical trainer, she also seemed to have a gift in making people feel understood and more focused; soon she became the person they all came to, when they found themselves in trouble or at emotional crossroads. She always had a word of advice for each one, and the team adored her, for she never judged them, and only saw them for the individuals they were, as unusual and powerful, they were still human at the end of the day. Well, most of them.

She loved to spend time with them whenever they had any time to spare, and they truly enjoyed her company as well. However, since Bucky joined the team, Steve insisted that he trained with him and (Y/n), mainly because he needed to trust people more, and he knew Bucky would learn to let people in if he only shared a word with her; that’s how much Steve had come to trust her. So he did. (Y/n) suggested a few solo workout sessions, only her and Bucky, and even though he put up a fight against it at first, she was determined. She would not take a “no” for an answer, and he learned it the hard way. Eventually, he too became close friends with her. To everyone’s surprise, he seemed more open and less heavy after every session. And of course, Clint thought there was something else going on. And so did Nat, and even Tony.

“You going out?” Steve asked, leaning against the door frame of her room, making her jump out of her chair. She was doing her makeup, keeping the focus on the wing of her eyeliner that was now smudged.

“Don’t you ever do that again!! Please knock or make some other noise before speaking, you just scared the shit out of me and now this is ruined!!” (Y/n) grunted in frustration; she would have to start over with the meticulous task.

“Alright, alright, I promise! Jeez, everyone’s so sensitive today. Where are you going, by the way? I mean, if you even want to share,” the Captain shrugged, as if trying to persuade her to spill the beans. He too knew Bucky had a thing for her; the whole team knew, even her.

(Y/n) liked him too, but she tried so hard to hide it. Useless, because the team also knew this. They all had started placing bets on who would make the first move and when, but it was already taking forever. Steve, Peter, Tony, Nat and Clint were certain she would be the one to do it, whereas Wanda, Scott, Rhodey and Sam voted on Bucky. Vision and Bruce decided to stay out of it, if only to avoid trouble. 

“Well, I have a date. Someone I met the other day. Why, you got a problem with that?” Her tone was a bit sharper than usual, but that might have been the stress of having to retouch her makeup with such little notice, in very little time.

“Wow, okay, I won’t ask any further questions, ma'am. I was just passing by to see if you were busy. The guys are going for a few drinks and they wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come. I guess it’ll be some other time?“ 

“Yes, sorry. Next time, I’ll join you. Not tonight though, I’m looking forward to this. He seems nice, I just hope it’s not another disappointment.”

“Well, it’s not like you can’t defend yourself if something goes wrong, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I just want to have a good time, you know?“ 

"If you want to have a good time, you should come with us, then!! Promise you’ll have a great time. Plus, I know for sure we’re better looking than whoever is your date tonight!” He winked and smirked, hoping to convince her.

“I really appreciate it, Steve. Thank you. But I already have plans and I don’t like canceling at the last minute. Where will you be going? Maybe I can join you guys later?”

“Same old, same old. You know the spot. Call if you’re going, text if you’re coming back home.”

“Sure. Thanks again!!" 

Steve waved goodbye to (Y/n) and disappeared into the hall. She continued fixing her makeup and she was done within a couple of minutes. She left the building for her date, blissfully unaware of Bucky’s presence in the living room while she walked past it. His eyes scanned her whole figure, the lovely mauve dress she was wearing looked like it was perfectly sewn to fit her, accentuating every beautiful curve of her body. The rushing image in front of him was driving him crazy. Her self confidence was the only accessory she needed, and that most women would kill for. She looked absolutely stunning, from the way her curled hair fell over her shoulders to the matching heels she wore that made her legs look longer and even more toned.

"What a goddess,” Bucky thought, unable to gather up the courage to be the one who would take her out on a date. He believed she wouldn’t accept anyway, even if he did ask her out.

He watched her leave the living room and let out a sigh. Biting his lip out of habit, he closed his eyes, trying to hold the image of her just a little longer in his mind. (Y/n) came back home a bit too early, roughly an hour after she left. All of the Avengers had gone out for drinks as Steve had let her know. All of them, except one.

“Another bad date?” Bucky asked, still sitting in the same spot he was when she left. The TV was on, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. He had been lost in his thoughts since she walked past him before leaving, going over and over the million excuses he made up for himself, all of them irrational, apparently. He had wasted enough time thinking about it already, but he was deeply afraid of (Y/n) rejecting him. Oddly enough, the same banter went on inside her brain, but she decided to fight against it and let life happen instead. 

“Yeah. This whole town is full of douchebags, apparently. I’m so tired, honestly. Think I’ll be going celibate, it’s easier that way,” she joked. She started making herself comfortable, taking off her enormous high heels and jewellery. 

Bucky sighed once more, desperate to show her that he could treat her right, like she deserved. He knew she didn’t mean it, he had learned to differentiate the way her words came out of her mouth, depending on her mood and tone of voice. It’s something he learned about her, and also something that made him fall even harder for her.

She leaned against the wall where the TV was placed, so she was now facing Bucky. 

“Weren’t you going to go with the guys? Steve asked me if I wanted to go but I had this… thing. Well, I could’ve joined them but I didn’t feel like it. How about you?” She offered him a warming smile, doing her best not to confess to him she was glad she wasn’t alone in that moment. 

“Didn’t feel like it either. They get too loud and stupid when they drink. I’m not in the mood for that." 

"Can’t blame you. Don’t worry, I’ll make them pay in the morning. Pull ups. They hate those.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, although those are nothing to me,” he bragged.

“Oh, really? Well, let’s see. You’re going down with them too, and we’ll see how tough Mister Sober really is!!” She laughed, causing him to release a chuckle that made his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way. 

“I didn’t do a damn thing and I’m paying too? So unfair.” He clicked his tongue. 

“I know you can do it, I trust you.” She smiled and winked playfully at him.

(Y/n) headed for her room, shoes and accessories on hand, when Bucky got up from his seat as he locked his eyes on hers. She felt a weird sensation inside her, like a flower blossoming in her stomach. Probably the early stages of hunger, since she didn’t stay for dinner with her date. They were there, staring into each other’s eyes for what seemed like ages, until she motioned for the hallway.

“I’m… sorry, I’m… I’m going to change,” she mumbled. 

Bucky nodded, jaw clenched. Another missed opportunity. He reached for her hand before she ran away.

“Here, I’m going to make you some tea and we’ll watch a movie. That sound good?”

Her smile softened, her fingers curling against his. From the way they were still gazing into each other’s eyes, they hoped the other one knew how they felt.

“Sounds good.” Her smile widened, before she continued, “but you know what sounds better? Beer and pizza. I’m starving. Could you order some while I go put on something more comfortable?

Bucky couldn’t resist that smile. It was as genuine as her person, and he loved it more because it made him smile too.

"Sure. I’ll even let you choose the movie if you hurry!!” He yelled at her while she rushed down the hallway and into her room. (Y/n) came back in a matter of minutes dressed in her favorite pajamas, makeup already off and a pair of bottles in her hands.

“Where did you get those?“

"I have my own stash. I know everyone’s got a little stash of something somewhere in their rooms, this is mine. And I like you enough to share it with you.” She handed him one of the beer bottles, her favorite. She offered to open it and opened hers after.“Wow, I’m flattered. Maybe I’ll share something of mine with you too,” Bucky suggested, “only if you make me suffer less than the guys!!”

“And show favoritism? No way. You have no idea how it would turn out for the both of us.” She took a sip from the bottle, then set it on the table.

“Right…” He reflected on the way she had said “the both of us”, but tried to brush it off.  The elevator doors opened, and one of the guards entered carrying two pizza boxes. Bucky rushed to him, taking the boxes and handing him the money for them. He rushed back into the living room, set the boxes on the table in front of the sofa and motioned for her to sit down by his side.

“Cheers!!” She said when she opened the box on top and grabbed a slice. He did as well, and each took a bite.“You know, fair is fair. I’m paying for this tomorrow too. Push ups, pull ups, sit ups and all. But this is so good, it’s worth it!” She moaned as she took another bite.

“I’ll pay with you. Fair is fair!!” He winked at her, biting once again from his slice.

They fell asleep while the movie was still playing, their heads resting against each other’s, their fingers intertwined in a lazy embrace when the team got back.

It was Nat who entered first. She noticed the pair cuddling on the sofa and made gestures to the drunk people behind her not to make a sound.

“Guys, guys!!” She whispered, “they did it!!”

“Did what? Who?” Clint almost jumped over her to find out what she was talking about. The rest of them tried to silently approach the scene, but they kept stumbling against each other.

“FRIDAY, tell us who did it first, who confessed their undying love for the other first!!” Tony said in the lowest tone possible, trying not to wake the lovebirds.

“I’m afraid neither of them made any romantic confessions, sir. They only ordered dinner and watched a film.”

“Guess the bet still stands, right?” Steve said, more as a statement than a question.“Of course it is!!” Everyone exclaimed at the same time, a little too loud this time, but the pair on the couch did not move.

“Alright, let’s clear the room, we’ve got a hangover waiting for us in the morning. Well, you guys.” Steve scoffed.

Natasha rolled her eyes and motioned for everyone to go to their rooms. When they were alone once more, (Y/n) shifted to make herself more comfortable, which caused Bucky to wake up. “Don’t worry, I know that you know, and I’m sure you know too. Just don’t tell them, I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.”“Agree. Now let’s get you to bed.” He got up slowly, taking her hand and leading her into her room.

“Stay with me tonight?” Her sleepy smile was beyond adorable and irresistible.

“Of course. We’ll meet hell in the morning, but it’s worth it.” 

[pikapegasus]

Can u do 80, 28, and 1 with Starlord, Gamora and Baby Groot going on a road trip?

1. “Pull over. Let me drive for a while.” // 28. “Drive safely.” // 80. “Is your seatbelt on?”

omg this one turned out super long, hope you enjoy it!!!

send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!

“Ha! Did’ya see that guy’s face when I hit him overth’head?” Rocket barks out a laugh, looking up at Drax. “He looked so stupid!”

“He was not expecting your attack,” Drax replies, just asjoyous.

“Oh, oh, or how about when…”

Peter tunes out Rocket and Drax’s conversation as theyreturn to the Milano. Though Rocket’s boasting tends to include exaggeratedsummaries of the events of their missions, this assignment had proven to be abig win for the team. They’d successfully apprehended some of Thanos’ goons for a bounty placed on them by the planet’s government without any major problemsor explosions (Peter is especiallygrateful for that one) in half the time they’d expected the operation to take.

“An’ now we got all this extra downtime and extra money!”Rocket yells, bringing Peter’s attention back to him and the others.

“I am Groot!” Groot cheers from his place on Rocket’s shoulder.

“We should take advantage of this,” Drax suggests. “It isnot often we finish a mission this prosperously.”

“I think we can afford to take a short break,” Gamoraagrees, looking to Peter for approval. She’s become something like asecond-in-command (or, really, honestly,his co-leader of the team) lately.

Anyway, they’ve been working a little harder than usuallately, trying to get back into the groove of things since everything with Egoand Yondu happened a couple months prior. The idea of some vacation time honestly sounds like a godsend to Peter.

“Alright, let’s take a few days, maybe three or four, tops,”Peter decides, looking at each of his friends. “I think if we stayed on theMilano or the Quadrant any longer, we’d go stir-crazy.”

“I vote we put the extra money to good use at the nearestbar,” Rocket says, lifting his paw.

“You’re going to spend your entire break at a bar?” Gamoraraises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not the entirebreak, maybe just a li’l part of every day,” Rocket insists.

“I am Groot!” Groot looks up at everyone hopefully.

“What the hell? No,you cannot come with us to a bar!” Rocket declares, looking at Groot indisbelief. “You’re too young!”

“A bar is not a suitable place for a child,” Drax sayssolemnly.

“I am Groot…”

“One of us will stay with you while the others go out, stopmopin’, Groot,” Rocket says.

Groot frowns.

“I’ll stay with you, Groot,” Gamora says, crouching down toRocket’s height. Groot jumps from Rocket’s shoulder to Gamora’s outreachedhand, looking up at her. “I, personally, don’t want to spend three days in arow at a bar.”

“Everyone can do whatever they want, so long as it’s legal,”Peter announces, trying to placate everyone. “The bar isn’t mandatory.”

“Suit yourself.” Rocket shrugs. “Drax?”

“I’ll accompany you, creature.”

And that settles things. Within ten minutes, Rocket and Draxexit the Milano in search of the nearest bar. Peter watches them as they leave.Gamora, with Groot sitting on her shoulder, comes to stand beside him.

“You’re not going with them?” she inquires.

“Nah,” he says. “I’m not really in a bar mood. More in arelaxing mood, y’know?”

“This planet is far too beautiful to spend all our time onit inside of a bar,” she says. Though they’ve never traveled here before,Peter’s often heard of its amazing sights, which reminded him of theNational Parks like Yosemite back on Earth.

“Yeah.” Peter sighs. “I heard there’s a nice beach only acouple hours away from here, too. If only we had…”

Gamora looks up at him in an are-you-serious way.

“Wait. We do havetime!”

“You did declaretime for a vacation for the team,” she reminds him.

“Right, right…Okay, it’s settled.” Peter nods. “Road trip,first thing tomorrow!”

As he celebrates the idea with a loud, “Wooohooo!”, Gamoralooks to Groot and asks, “What’s a road trip?”

“Please don’t kill Groot with your driving,” is Rocket’s wayof seeing them off the next morning.

“Gee, how about a ‘drive safely,’ or, ‘I’ll miss you guys,’or, ‘can’t wait until you come back,’?” Peter retorts, rolling his eyes as hefinishes packing. He slings his backpack over his shoulders.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, that was impolite of me,” Rocketsays, though Peter knows not to expect much from his tone. “What I meant wasplease feel free not to come back for a week so we can have a longer break.”

“I am Groot,” Groot insists from where he’s sitting onGamora’s bag, off to the side.

“I would not getlonely!” Rocket insists.

“I am Groot.”

“Y’know what? I take it back. Quill, please kill Groot withyour driving.”

“No one’s killing anyone with their driving,” Gamora says asshe enters the room, holding up her communication device. “I’ll have this withme so you and Drax can contact us in case anything happens.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Rocket insists.

“The last time you said that, something blew up,” Petersays.

“That was onetime!” Rocket protests.

“You nearly got into a fight at the bar last night,” Draxrecalls. “You told a man his head was shaped like a fruit, and then he—“

“Ugh, fine, we’llbe good!” Rocket cuts him off. “Now just leave already, ya two love birds.”

“Gladly,” Peter says, picking up Groot, who climbs up ontohis shoulder. Gamora picks up her bag and comes to stand beside him.

“Please stay outof trouble, seriously,” shepractically begs Drax and Rocket.“And call us if anything—“

“—happens, yes, I know, I’ll let ya know if Ronan comes backfrom the flarkin’ dead to get revenge,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes. “Drivesafe, or whatever.”

“Drive safely,” Drax echoes more earnestly, placing a handon Peter’s shoulder.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Peter says, nodding. “We should be backin two days.”

The cars on this planet remind Peter of the ones back onEarth, but more hi-tech. Though he never learned how to drive there (hissixteenth birthday was spent very far away from Earth, after all), he’s learnedenough from his time on different planets over the years.

So after about five minutes of bickering over who has moredriving experience, which led to asking Groot to choose who should drive forthem, they’re on the road, Peter behind the wheel and Gamora in the passengerseat with Groot perched on her shoulder, mesmerized while watching the quicklypassing scenery out the window.

A new song comes on the car’s stereo from his Zune, whichPeter had managed to hook up via a cord he found lying around the Milano (thismust be what everyone on Earth uses to play music now in the car, he thinks).

Gamora looks over at him. “What’s this song?”

“’Tiny Dancer,’ Elton John, 1971,” Peter recites. “My momand I didn’t listen to it much, but it’s a pretty cool song.”

It fits their current setting, in a way. Something about thesong just fits with driving on what’s basically a freeway.

“Back on Terra, we’d drive to get everywhere,” he suddenlysays, thinking of the days spent just driving down the rural roads of Missouriwith his mom, singing along to every song on the radio. Though she’d bedriving, she often danced, too, which isn’t the safest thing to do when driving (well, technically, you shouldn’tbe doing anything else besides driving while driving, Peter figures), but theroads never had too much traffic for it to be a problem. “Everyone would learnto drive when they’re a teenager. Or, well, that part of life when you aren’tquite an adult, but you’re not a kid anymore, either.”

“Which is why you never properly learned.”

“Learn by doing, as they say.”

She smiles at that, looking out at the road in front ofthem. “I didn’t travel much as a child,” she says. “On my home planet,everything we needed was in walking distance.”

“I’m jealous,” he admits. “I’d much rather have walked toschool than take the bus every day. It was basically this really big car thatcould fit a bunch of kids, so it would pick up all the kids at different placesto take us all to school. Kids on there could really be assholes.”

“I struck fear into bullies’ hearts,” she says proudly.

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

Their conversation mainly consists of childhood memories anddiscourse on whatever song came on via his Zune’s shuffle. Some they’drecognize instantly, and brought to mind specific memories of time spent withthe Guardians, while others are judged for whether or not they’d dance to it.

(More often than not, the answer is yes.)

“I like this U2,” Gamora says after another U2 songfinishes.

“Yeah, they were just getting big around the timeYondu picked me up,” Peter says, checking over his shoulder before changinglanes. “I wonder whatever happened to them.”

She studies him for a moment. “Have you ever thought aboutreturning to Terra?”

He’s caught off guard by her question. Of course, it’dcrossed his mind more often than not over the years, especially in the timejust after Yondu first grabbed him. But, as time faded, and the grief over hismother’s death set in more permanently within him, he found himself preferringouter space.

“I used to a lot when I was a kid,” he finally answers. “Notso much anymore. It just kinda pales in comparison to other planets, y’know?”

“Even though it’s your heritage?”

Months ago, he would’ve gotten defensive over questioninglike this coming from anyone, evenGamora. But now?

He glances over at her, meeting her eyes for a moment.There’s no judgment there—after all, he actually has a home planet to go backto, while he’s well aware of the state of Gamora’s former home and lack of lifeleft on it, so it’d make sense for Gamora to envy him or just feel hostile toward him, in a way. But there’snone of that; she’s simply curious, in a way that he knows is out of her own concernfor him.

He turns his eyes back to the road ahead of them with ashrug. “It’s still my heritage, but shit happened there that just kinda spoiledit forever. I mean, maybe I’ll changemy mind and return someday, but for now…”

She nods, accepting his answer. “I’ll support you eitherway.”

Of course she will, because she’s Gamora. Peter smiles at her. “Thanks.”

She points to a place where they can exit the road ahead.“Pull over. Let me drive for a while. We should be halfway there by now.”

Following her gaze, he spots what appears to be theequivalent of a freeway exit, with a rest stop and a place to eat. “You sure? Ican keep driving, I don’t mind.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says before Gamora can reply. His eyesare on the front windshield now, rather than the passenger side window, and hepoints a finger toward the exit.

“You’re hungry?” Peter asks for confirmation. “Still don’t understand how trees get hungry…or can digest food.”

Groot nods.

“Well, guess we’re stopping either way.”

Stomachs filled, they pile back into the car, this time withGamora behind the wheel and Peter in the passenger seat. Groot settles into hisusual spot on Peter’s shoulder.

“If you get tired you can sit on my leg,” Peter remindsGroot, making eye contact with him in the side mirror. “Or the cup holder, Iguess.”

“I am Groot.”

“Okay, no cup holder then, that’s fine.”

“Is your seatbelt on?” Gamora asks absentmindedly whilebuckling in herself.

“Was that directed at me or Groot?” Peter jokes.

“Both.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He buckles in.

“Good.” She starts driving then, pulling out of the parkinglot.

“T-minus two hours until we get to our destination,” Peterannounces, plugging his Zune back in and scrolling through the songs. “Anymusic requests?”

“You pick,” she says, picking up speed as they’re back onthe freeway-road-thing.

He smirks, halting his scrolling as he comes across just theright song. He clicks on it, and as the familiar chords fill the car, Gamoraactually laughs and Peter’s convincedit’s the most precious thing he’s ever heard.

“Are you trying to tell me something with this song,Star-Lord?” she teases.

“What can I say?” he says, all too casually. “I fooledaround and fell in love, after all.”

I wanted to add in some team fam love by having rocket and drax say “drive safely” and gamora partially directing “is your seatbelt on?” to groot ;))) also, snuck in a reference to my fav band in there, heh

send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!!

[batwynn]

Sibylline Song

[chaswrittenramblings]

Cinderella Prompt (for funsies)

The best night of Abigail's life started with the dress she was wearing; every time she moved, the bouffant skirt shimmered a fading and brightening purple. The sleeves glittered, and the cut off at the shoulders shaped her perfectly. Her hair had also been braided to perfection by Carla, her bed mate, and she had arrived to the ball in the most comfiest of shoes, her own, as the orphanage could afford nothing more. She was grateful she was even attending the ball, as the invitation had been made into something of a lottery by The Governess. They could only afford to send one girl, and that girl had to be over 18 and fit the size of whatever dress was chosen. After that, the winning girl would be chosen through a diplomatic vote by the whole house, and not everyone in the house was very friendly. Abigail wasn't thin by any means, so when the rules were announced, she didn't want to try her luck, but Carla convinced her otherwise, "This opportunity is a gift...and think, maybe the Prince likes curvy girls." Thankfully she had turned 19 two days before, and there were only ten others who were about the same age. All they had to do was wait for The Governess to bring back a dress, they hoped, she chose at random; Madame Gertrude was strict, but they found, at times, that she wasn't completely cruel. Back she came the most beautiful gown, the house wondered how they could afford it. The Governess explained it was a borrowed number from her niece, who had no interest in the dress for the one night. One by one, the ten girls tried on the gown, Abigail unfortunately the last in line. She watched as some of her sisters were hopelessly laced up into a dress that was too big for their thin frames. This gave Carla hope for her friend, which sank into Abi when she shook her in delight. Three girls managed to fit the dress before her, but finally it was her turn. Carla helped her lace up and when Abigail looked in the mirror, the gown fit like a glove. She had never felt as pretty or as beautiful as she did in that short moment before she was forced to take it off. Madame Gertrude locked up the dress for the night, saying the vote would take place on the day of the Ball. It was an agonizing wait for everyone, after being so close to a winner. Now a vote would decide... Abigail knew she'd been fair to her fellow sisters in the orphanage. On certain occasions, she'd even shield them from the unfair punishments Madame Gertrude sometimes gave them...but would any of them want her to go to the ball? Or, would they be jealous she was one of the lucky ones? Finally the vote came. The Governess took them all for a walk in the back gardens and had the candidates stand in a row, ordering anyone who wished to vote for them to stand behind them in a line. It felt like a miracle she had gotten the most people standing behind her, and she hugged and thanked everyone of them that did. Now she was here, at the Prince's masked Ball; still an orphan, but just as pretty as any other Lady or Duchess in the room. It was all a dream come true. There was so much food, so many guests and so much dancing. A man asked her to dance and she was transported through a sea of colorful gowns as she twirled, swapping partners in a new dance called The Escapade. She caught onto the steps very quickly, until one of her partners led her away from the music. "You, are an excellent dancer." He remarked. She blushed under her mask, her animal of choice a purple owl to match her dress. In response she curtsied, "I dance a lot at home. It's how me and my friends stay entertained." "Well, it has certainly paid off." She took note of his bright white teeth when he smiled, his mask covering the rest of his face quite fully; It was that of a silver fox. "Would you like some wine?" "Yes, please." He led her over to a table and passed her a dark glass. "Its so lovely to be here, isn't it?" She gushed, "At the Prince's Ball." "I'd say yes, only not to damper your enthusiasm, but he does have them very often. I always have to go." "But not not ones open to the public, and not so hastily prepared." The Fox leaned forward, "There's a rumour about that." "Ooh, do tell." She giggled, and his smile grew brighter. "It seems the King wants the Prince to marry as soon as possible. This Ball was their compromise to see if he could find love." She was taken aback,"That's unfortunate." "How so?" "One night is not nearly enough time to find love. A nice looking jovial companion maybe, but not love." The Fox burst out laughing, "Jovial?!" "And while I do appreciate his lack of prejudice towards those of lower class being allowed to attend, we are still wearing masks. What rules must the Prince follow in this arrangement? Say he finds his love, then finds out that she's just an orphan with no family or title...would he still be allowed to marry for love? I feel like the King would greatly object. Would the Prince fight to marry her?" "Yes." His answer came without hesitation and was very direct. She questioned his response, "Do you know the Prince that well?" "I have been to enough Balls to know, that the Prince is headstrong and wishes not to be judged by his title or what his father wants him to do. He knows he will be King, and the responsibility that holds, but he also wants to know the values of his people and be closer to them." "And he thinks a lowly born wife can give him this?" Her partner offered a hand to head back to the dance, "He does." They danced a while in each others company before he brought her in close again, "Why do you think he will fail at accomplishing this in one night? It's his only chance." She looked around the room, "Does everyone know of this rumour you speak of?" "Word travels fast. If they didn't before, they do now." "So how then will the Prince know if this girl is true, or if she only wants his power?" "Ah, he has plans for that." He dipped her into his arms, "He will speak with her family. See where they live, how they act around him and he will see who is superficial and who is not." "We're slipping back into prejudices again." She warned, extending an arm for him to pull her back. He laughed his loud laugh once again, "Alright then, what would you have him do?" "Go through with the engagement, but take as long as possible to plan the wedding. In that time, get to know the one you plan to marry. His father will still think he's getting married, while he will have the time to see the brides true colours show." The fox stopped dancing, and they were left in the middle of the ballroom. "That's a good plan, if he can stall for time, but I hear the king is an impatient man. How long would he have to wait? And if he did find out she wasn't right, how would he then break off the engagement? He made a promise to his father." "Well I don't have all the answers." She laughed nervously. He smiled, "It feels like you do." Something caught his attention behind her and his smile slowly disappeared. "I'm sorry miss, it has been lovely talking and dancing with you, but unfortunately I must mix with the other guests. Enjoy the rest of your night." "Of course." Abigail curtsied and he bowed in return. She watched him rise and then set off through the other dancers towards the Royal Stage. In awe, she saw him converse with and then sit down right next to the King. With despair she realised she'd been talking to the Prince himself...and she'd called him prejudiced. She had to find Madame Gertrude quickly and tell her they had to leave. In her rush, she bumped into a newcomer, her blue dress almost similar to Abi's. She curtsied and apologised, "I'm so sorry." "Don't worry, it was a mistake." The girl curtsied in return, her blonde falling in her eyes and the two broke away. Later that night it would be said that the Prince spent a long time talking to a girl in a wonderful dress. Some say it was purple, while others say blue. Despite asking if they could leave, The Governess refused, instead spending extra time speaking to her sister, Lady Tremaine, about her two daughters, on the far side of the room. Abigail wouldn't hear anything about the lucky girl until a Royal Guard showed up at the orphanage, and asked her to try on a shoe; a shoe that fit the girl the Prince was going to marry ...and with all the luck Abi seemed to be having lately, this shoe fit, and it was very uncomfortable.