#the next chapter/part/whatever will probably be delayed

[ckret2]

Chapter 58 of human Bill Cipher in a quantum uncertainty state between being and not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Everything you've wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

Let's rewind a couple of days.

####

Friday, 11:00 p.m.

"Welp," Mabel said, "I've got the rest of summer to try to get the whole story out of him! Goodnight, Dipper!"

Dipper's stomach flipped with guilt. "Yeah." The rest of summer. Mabel left for Portland in the morning. "Goodnight."

He lay down, pulled his sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling.

####

Friday, 11:04 p.m.

It took less than five minutes before the guilt won.

Yeah, no, nope, nuh-uh, Dipper couldn't do this. Not to his sister. He rolled over and hissed, "Psss, hey. Mabel."

"Hm?"

"Listen," Dipper said. "I hate Bill, okay, but I care about you, and also I think Bill might be part of a prophecy, so, because of that—I... There's something I need to tell you."

####

11:15 p.m.

Bill hadn't even had time to start dreaming before something dragged his mind back into the waking world.

There were white points of light as he passed through the hazy twilight of half-sleep. Those lights were his eyes. Lately, every time he started to wake up, he'd been seeing his eyes in the distance.

This time, there was one right in front of him, so bright it almost blinded him. He thought he could see something in the light.

He touched it.

And then he woke up, laying on his cushion bed as usual, watching as Mabel slid out of her room, crept near, and knelt beside him. She shook his shoulder. "Hey, Bill. Wake up."

And then he woke up—which was strange, considering he'd just done that—and stared at the dark inside of his hoodie.

He pushed back his hood. There was Mabel, crouched next to him, just like he'd "dreamed." Huh. Well done, Cipher, it seems you've just learned a new trick.

He tamped down his excitement; he could figure out what to do with this trick later. For now, he had a higher priority. "'Sup, kid?" He pushed himself up on an elbow, roughly flipping his hair out of his hood so it wouldn't keep tickling and choking around his neck. "It's the middle of the night." He yawned and mumbled, "Not that it makes a difference to me, but..."

"Shhh! We've gotta stay quiet," Mabel whispered. "I need to get you out of here. They're gonna kill you."

He sat bolt upright. "All right," he said. "You have my attention."

####

Dipper refused to say how, but according to him they'd synthesized just enough fuel for one shot with their fancy quantum whatever gun, and they couldn't make any more. They planned to execute Bill once Mabel was gone.

Mabel could just open a door for Bill and let him escape in the middle of the night—but that had dangers of its own. Bill would have to travel to a hiding place on foot—and his shoes were crap for hiking—his feet were also crap for hiking—and he'd only have until the adults started waking up and realized he was gone. Even if he kept moving all night, the adults would probably be able to cover the same amount of ground in a couple of hours, he'd probably inadvertently leave a trail a mile wide, and the forest's local supernatural population would definitely snitch if one of the Stans asked if they'd seen anything.

Plus, it wouldn't be very hard for the adults to figure out that Dipper had cracked and Mabel had helped Bill escape, and then everyone was in hot water.

They needed a way to cover Bill's escape to make it harder for the adults to pick up his trail, to give him as much time as possible to get some distance from the shack, and to delay Mabel getting in trouble. ("And Dipper," Mabel said. "Sure," Bill said unenthusiastically.)

But if they could, it would be best if they found a way to ensure the adults never even thought to look for Bill, Mabel never got in trouble at all, and the Quantum Destabilizer could never be fired again.

It was possible, Bill said. It wasn't guaranteed, but it was possible. They had a good chance. A very good chance. In fact, never mind, he'd decided it was guaranteed, they'd pull this off easily.

All they had to do was fake his death.

He knew a way.

####

11:45 p.m.

Dipper was stirred out of a drowsy near-sleep by the door creaking open and a couple sets of footsteps shuffling in. He rolled over and squinted across the room.

Mabel was quietly collecting craft supplies—pens, papers, her small starter sewing kit she used for repairs. Bill climbed into the loft to grab some musty pillows and blankets that had been stored for years in a cardboard box.

"Mabel?" Dipper mumbled.

Mabel put a finger over her lips. "Hey Dipper," she whispered. "You can go back to sleep, we'll be up in the loft."

"Doing what?"

"Scheme-y stuff. Don't worry about it." She flung her arms around Dipper, whispered, "Thank you," and ran across the room to grab her backpack and the height-altering flashlight.

Dipper glanced toward the loft. Bill was waiting at the top of the ladder, a dark vaguely-triangular silhouette, only his eyes visible as they reflected the dim light like a cat's. Dipper had had more nightmares than he could remember about waking to find Bill hovering in the dark above him.

Bill's gaze flicked from watching Mabel to staring at Dipper. They made eye contact. Bill didn't say anything.

Then Mabel climbed up the ladder, supply-stuffed backpack slung over her shoulders. Bill gave Dipper one last silent look, then turned away to follow Mabel to the back of the loft.

Dipper rolled over and tried to fall back asleep.

####

The plan was to create a dummy that looked like Bill to take the Quantum Destabilizer's shot in his place, while the real Bill got as far from the shack as the weirdness barrier around town would allow.

Bill told Mabel that the dummy didn't need to be complicated: he had an enchantment that could make it completely convincing. All he had to do was write out a spell and leave the paper over the dummy, and anyone who looked at it would be convinced it was really him in the flesh.

Similarly, sneaking Bill out of the shack didn't need to be complicated. They could shrink Bill down and stick him in Mabel's backpack, and all she'd have to do was come up with an excuse to get out of the car and set him free before they left town. 

The hard part would be the choreography of the whole thing. They needed Bill to put in an appearance that morning, to prove it really was him walking around; and then go somewhere that Mabel could hide him away without anybody noticing; and then ensure that nobody would see the Bill dummy until they were safely out of range, just in case. "The enchantment's pretty good," Bill said, "but the more people see it and the longer they get to look at it, the less potent it gets. And all it'll do is make the dummy look like me—it won't be able to walk and talk. It's best if the only person who gets a good look at it is my executioner."

The word executioner made Mabel shudder. It would probably be Ford, wouldn't it? She knew he thought he was doing the right thing. She knew it wasn't the first time he'd tried to destroy Bill. She knew she'd been fine with it last summer. She even knew that Bill would be okay. But all the same, she wasn't sure how she'd look at Ford the same way.

Once they had the dummy set up somewhere away from the family's prying eyes, they had to discourage everyone from trying to approach "Bill" until they were ready to kill him. And, ideally—just in case the executioner tried to speak to Bill or the enchantment otherwise failed—they should stage it all in a way so that no one would think Mabel had been involved in the escape plan.

The solution was obvious.

"I live to cause drama for no reason," Bill said. "I upset mortals recreationally. Can you act?"

"Can I act? Pshhh!" Mabel flipped a hand dismissively. "Maybe you were too busy badly impersonating my brother to watch, but last year I kind of staged an entire puppet show performing and singing as every character."

So it was a plan: they would stage a fight.

They were sitting in the very back of the attic loft, behind stacks of forgotten boxes and abandoned junk, beneath the meager light of the loft's window. Bill didn't need the light. He had a pen and paper and was writing out his enchantment's spell while they talked, long lines of inscrutable text. It was so dark that Mabel couldn't even see what language he was writing in, but that was fine; Bill had said that if she read his spell—if anyone read it—it would break the enchantment.

"Whoops," Bill said, "yeah, afraid I missed your whole show! I was too busy backstage trying to avoid your friends and looking for a way onto the catwalk."

Mabel shook her head in disapproval. "You would have liked it. There were live pyrotechnics and lasers and fog machines and a giant tentacle monster war and seventy-four songs and puppets!"

"I'll admit, sounds like a killer show. How about gore?"

"There was a whole song about my love interest getting his legs chewed off in the war," Mabel said. "The sock puppets don't have legs, but everyone knows your own imagination is a lot scarier than anything you actually see."

This kid could have a brilliant artistic career as a serial killer. "That's familiar. Is this war based on that 'cats versus the giant octopus' dream you keep having?"

"Yeah, and you'd have known that if you'd actually watched the opera! Too bad you missed the whole thing," Mabel said. "I guess you were just too busy being evil to appreciate the simple joys of a good, clean, non-villainous puppet show."

"Oh no, I can't believe my actions have consequences," Bill said flatly. "What would I ever have done if you hadn't enlightened me."

"Died, probably."

Bill glared.

"You know! Like you did last summer? As a consequence of your—"

"You shush."

Bill shoved Mabel away when she started to laugh, and held the enchantment up between their faces so he didn't have to look at her. He read his work over, then folded the paper in half and half again. "Hey, maybe you can put on an encore presentation sometime." Bill carefully inscribed four symbols in a square on the folded paper. "I promise I'll laugh at the jokes and fake cry at the sad parts."

Mabel shuddered. "No way. I'm never touching that show again. Too many bad memories."

"Awww, how come?"

Mabel stared at Bill.

Bill said, "Oh, right."

"Yeah," Mabel said coldly. "Thanks."

Bill shrank back. He leaned against a cardboard box, not sure where to look, drumming his fingers self consciously on the floorboards. Trying to figure out the right thing to say to make it better.

"Hey," he said. "If you ever change your mind about reviving the show... can I play the reverend again?" He grinned.

Mabel wadded up a paper and chucked it at Bill's face.

####

They agreed that scripting out every bit of the argument would make it sound too fakey; and anyway they were going to do this on no sleep and with no time to practice, if one of them forgot a line mid-argument it would ruin their entire plan. Bill said he was great at improvisational acting (which Mabel suspected was his way of trying to make "great at lying on the spot" sound good), and Mabel was a pro at getting into character for pretend games, so this should be easy. They just needed to choose a few topics they could realistically argue about.

So they started making a list of things that would totally infuriate each other.

"I can't think of anything that would make me furious," Bill said. "Outside of something serious like a murder attempt, anyway. I'm an even-tempered triangle! I don't sweat the small things!"

"You got sooo mad when I forgot to tell you about my Summerween plans."

Bill grimaced. "Right," he muttered. "That." 

Teasingly, Mabel asked, "Are you still grumpy I made plans?"

"I was not grumpy you made plans. I wasn't grumpy at all! I just would have appreciated if I'd known sooner, I planned my whole evening assuming I'd have somebody around to open doors—"

He saw Mabel's increasingly amused smirk, stopped himself, held up a hand, and said, "I'll save it for tomorrow morning."

Mabel wrote down the idea beneath four ideas she'd already scratched out. She'd temporarily removed the crystal from the height-altering flashlight so she could illuminate her paper while she wrote. "The concert will definitely come up tomorrow morning! And you can act like that's the first time you heard about it."

"Sure, no problem. We haven't talked about the concert where your uncles could overhear, have we?"

"I don't think so."

"Then that's perfect. I can pretend to be mad you didn't tell me." Bill forced a smile. "All right, your turn." He rested his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his fist. "I realize that, apart from the unfortunate meat suit, I'm the most flawless person you've ever seen—" he ignored Mabel's raspberry, "—but for the sake of argument, just imagine something you might get mad at me for."

"Um... insulting Dipper?"

"Now that sounds fun. But no, can't risk it, he'd be too tempted to jump into the argument," Bill said. "Besides, what if I said something you agreed with?"

"What! Why would I agree if you insulted my brother?"

"He smells like a sweaty ferret and when he has a crush he turns into a creepy little stalker."

Mabel laughed. "Yeah, he does. Okay, um..." She went silent for a moment, tapping the butt of her marker on the paper. 

She stopped tapping; and then quietly said, "I'd be so mad if I thought you were trying to keep me from hanging out with my friends."

"Oh, I could do that easily." Bill reviewed his wording, decided a human could take that as a threat, and quickly amended himself, "Could pretend that I'm trying to do that easily. You know I'd never, but hey, the adults here are ready to believe the worst about me—"

"You promise?"

"Sure I promise!" He processed the question after he'd already answered it. "Hold on—you think I'm the kind of person who would do that?" He was, but he didn't want her to see him that way.

She shrugged, looking down at her idea list again. "You've done it to other people."

"Name one!"

"Grunkle Ford and Old Man McGucket."

Oh, of course. That snitch of a backstabbing ungrateful ex-student, bane of Bill's entire miserable postmortem existence. Had to find as many ways as possible to make Bill look bad, didn't he. "All I did was tell Stanford that hick was a coward and a flake. I didn't make him do anything! If he agreed with me, that's on him." Bill crossed his arms irritably. "And Specs was a coward and a flake. Is it a crime to be right?"

"But you ruined their friendship on purpose, didn't you."

Bill tried to find a graceful way to wriggle around the direct accusation that excused his actions without contradicting whatever she might already know. "Did not," he said.

Mabel frowned at him.

Bill averted his gaze. "So! That's great. Trying to keep you away from your friends. Something I've never done to you but would be a really good thing to fight about. What else."

Mabel sighed and looked over her list again. She wrote something, scratched it out; started another line and scribbled it out; and then said in exasperation, "Your morals are terrible."

Bill had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep his sudden laugh from waking Dipper. "You've got too many morals, it's your biggest character flaw. How many does one person really need, two or three? That's an easy topic, arguments about morality can drag out for hours!"

"We probably only need to fight for like ten minutes, right?"

"Sure. List done! That's everything we need."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. She read over the list, glanced at the flashlight she was reading with, and said, "I should get extra batteries. It'd be the worst if we got you way out of the shack and then the batteries died while you were still small."

Bill wasn't sure about that. Being so tall for weeks on end felt awkward and wrong. His limbs were always in the way. He bumped into things he should have been able to slide between. The more time he spent in this body, the more he wanted to spend a month at the size and thickness of a greeting card. He joked, "Hey, I don't know; it'd be easier to hide..."

"Yeah, and easier to get squarshed." Mabel turned off the flashlight and picked up her backpack. "I'm getting batteries."

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill picked up her list to see what topics they'd found to argue about so far:

Weirdmaged

Making me think you were Blendin to get the

Kitten fists meow meow

Almost killing me

Not sharing Summerween plans

Trying to make me kill myself by

Ruining Glove Story

Insulting Dipper

Insulting Waddles??? (too lovable!)

Weirdm

Mabeland Isolating me from everyone

Spray painting your eyeball

Weir YOU'RE TOO EVIL!!

I'M TOO NICE!!! ♡

He reread the list, feeling his guts writhe and twist involuntarily.

Yeah. Those were all the things he'd decided not to bring up, too.

At least they were in agreement on what they didn't want to talk about. That was true friendship, right? Friendship didn't mean never hurting each other; it meant mutually agreeing never to talk about it again.

He read the list a third time.

####

A spare pair of Bill's black leggings and a pair of black socks would serve as half of the decoy body, stuffed with old bedsheets and half a pillow that Mabel had sized up with the flashlight so it was closer to Bill's actual torso size. For the time being, the top half of the decoy was constructed out of a flannel shirt; Bill would have to put in an appearance downstairs in his hoodie, and then they could quickly go upstairs and put it on the decoy to complete the look.

He'd miss that hoodie almost as much as he missed his own face. But it was a small price to pay for his life.

"I don't know," Mabel whispered, inspecting the dummy with the flashlight from near the edge of the loft. "It doesn't look super convincing. It's kind of lumpy all wrong." She knelt by it and tried to poke the fake thigh into a slightly more convincing shape.

"Don't worry about it," Bill whispered, waving the folded paper with the secret spell written inside. "The enchantment will hide all that. As long as the dummy looks mostly human at a glance, no one will notice anything."

Mabel gave it one last worried look, but nodded and turned off the flashlight.

####

Mabel crept out of the office and eased the door shut. "Got it," she whispered, holding up a faded black umbrella. "Are you sure you don't want a better umbrella, though? Some of the spikes are broken and I think it's supposed to rain today."

"The other humans will be less likely to notice a broken umbrella going missing," Bill said. "Anyway, this one saved my life once. I'll take it."

"Then that's the last supply we needed to pack," Mabel said, sighing in relief. "It's still a couple hours until morning. Should we get some sleep?"

Bill considered it, and shook his head. "No. Better not."

Sleep scared him. Sure, he endured it when he had to—he had no choice—and, under the circumstances, although it was a close call, he grudgingly preferred sleeping to dying of sleep deprivation; but he kept it at bay as long as he could, sleeping irregularly, infrequently, and briefly. Knowing it was necessary didn't make the fear go away.

It was the helplessness of the whole thing—knowing that, once his mind had shut off, anything could happen around him, anything could happen to his body—and not only was he ignorant and defenseless, but he was also powerless to wake himself up any sooner than his tyrannical circadian rhythm dictated. He lacked even the power to think about waking.

If Mabel hadn't woken him tonight, he might have slept through his own death. 

He continued, "What if we sleep in and don't have time for the fight? I'd be doomed." Bill didn't even have the luxury of an alarm clock.

"Oh—good point," Mabel said. "So we should probably do something to keep us awake."

"Right," Bill said, wracking his exhausted brain for an idea. "Overdose on caffeine?"

Mabel was quiet for a moment. "If this works, it might be a long time before we see each other again," she said. "You'll probably have to keep hiding until Grunkle Ford and Grunkle Stan leave town in the fall. And by then summer will be over, and I'll be back in California..."

She was right. If they pulled off this plan, he might never see Mabel again. It wouldn't exactly be safe to ring up the Mystery Shack. Sure, sooner or later he'd find a way to restart Weirdmageddon, and then he could invite her into his gang... And she'd join, wouldn't she? Of course she would. He just needed a chance to talk to her about it away from the closed-minded killjoys in her family that were holding her back. But until then...

She groped through the dark to grab at Bill's sleeve. "Dance party? While we still can?"

"Sure, star girl." Where had this lump in his throat come from? "Sounds fun. Dance party."

####

5:30 a.m.

It was the first time Bill had danced since his death.

All Mabel had to offer was Sev'ral Times, upbeat kid's show soundtracks, unlistenable synthesized junk, and whatever was playing before dawn on the radio stations that could reach Gravity Falls; the stained yellow shag carpet and homely plaid wallpaper made him miss the dark smoky rooms and strobing multicolor lights of a real club; he couldn't risk drinking this early in the morning if he wanted to have a head clear enough for escape; and he never forgot that, outside of the living room, the halls were empty and silent.

But he'd danced to music that made his eye bleed and his memories howl and he'd danced to no music at all; he'd danced in millions of crummy makeshift dance halls and night clubs and dive bars that had tumbled into or been cobbled together in the Nightmare Realm; he'd danced when he was so brutally sober that time in all its sharp cruel clarity seemed to have frozen to turn a spotlight on him; he'd danced with his worst enemies and he'd danced all alone; and there wasn't any force on this planet that would stop him from dancing now.

After spending four songs in a row making fun of Bill for attempting to figure out how to puppet a human body into some approximation of a dance, Mabel asked, "What were dances like on Flatworld?" It made Bill internally wince each time he heard it called that.

But he welcomed the opportunity for a break; he leaned back to half sit against the living room table, breathing heavily, arms trembling. "Dif—difficult question." He had to pause to catch his breath. His lungs and muscles couldn't keep up with him; this body was too hard to keep moving, so inefficient, 90% of the fuel that went into it was wasted uselessly. It was already beginning to atrophy in the few short weeks he'd had it, muscles withering from days stuck indoors with nothing to do but sit and stare out the window. He'd been made of pure energy for so long that maintaining all the little systems to keep a flesh body energized—food, water, sleep, exercise, not too much exercise, oxygen—felt like a Sisyphean torture. "S'like asking—'what're human dances like'? There's a—lot of variety."

"You know what I mean!" Mabel was still half dancing, bouncing from foot to foot. Bill wanted that kind of energy. "How do you dance?"

Bill shut his eyes, seeing colors flash behind his eyes—gyroscopic, kaleidoscopic, shapes spinning and whirling in spirals. "I'd show you, but there's not enough room in here for me to do a cartwheel."

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being serious! Plus I can't float. It wouldn't look right in a human body." It would look better if he cut his silhouette out of a piece of paper, taped it over a flashlight, and projected the shape onto the wall. "Tell you what—as soon as I'm back in my real body, I'll show you how I dance, all right?"

"Come on, Bill! You're just trying to wiggle out of—"

"Mabel," Bill said, "I can't do those dances in this body."

Mabel's teasing smile faded. "Really?"

"Unless you know a way to dislocate my shoulder so I can slide my entire arm from one hip over my head and down to the other."

"Ew." Mabel grimaced.

"It looks cooler on a triangle." Bill smiled wanly. "But hey, I spent all day yesterday teaching you everything I know—you can teach me something. I haven't used a human body in thirty years! What dances are popular these days, I haven't learned anything new since the moonwalk."

Mabel's eyes widened. "You know how to moonwalk?"

"Sure! It's easy. I figured it out in Stanford's body."

"I don't believe you. Prove it."

Bill pushed off the table. "Oh, yeah? Are you ready to look stupid?" He effortlessly glided backwards across the floorboards. He pointed at Mabel's gaping face as he passed. "What do you think of that?"

"Show me how to do that and I'll teach you every dance I know."

Bill grinned. He loved deals that were unfairly biased in his favor, and he loved it more when he didn't even have to propose them himself. "You've got yourself a deal, Shooting Star." It would keep them occupied for the next hour.

####

6:32 a.m.

About fifteen minutes ago, Bill had warned Mabel that he'd just glimpsed the beforeimage of Ford crossing the living room in the future; and then they'd kept partying, wanting to get in every last second of joy they could before he arrived in the present.

But once Ford was no longer approaching but actually there, seeing his face was like a bullet to the head. Bill had been having so much fun, for a few minutes he'd almost forgotten that today was execution day. 

And it wouldn't be execution day if he had anything to say about it.

Bill demanded, "What's with the sour face?" (Ford's eyes were so dull, his expression so heavy; Bill had never seen him wear that look, not even any of the previous times he'd tried to murder Bill.) "Hey, am I not allowed to dance now?" He squeezed Mabel's hands tighter.

Ford just gave a tiny shake to his head and hurried past them, not even deigning to look at Bill, as though he were telling himself he'd only imagined he'd heard the voice of a ghost.

I know what you're up to, Bill thought at top volume silently in his head. But you won't do it. You won't do it.

He met Mabel's gaze. She gave him a tiny nod. Party was over. Time to get to work.

####

6:36 a.m.

Over the course of the night, Dipper had been woken twice by bursts of quickly-hushed laughter; three times by random bumps and thuds; once by Bill falling off the loft and Mabel's squeal of alarm; and several times by Mabel waking Dipper to ask if it was okay if she gave Bill Dipper's old shoes (so Bill could finally walk in the woods properly), his sleeping bag (so Bill didn't have to sleep on hard rocks under a single sad Pony Heist bedsheet), his "Edible Plants of Oregon's Blue Mountains" booklet (self-explanatory), and several other things he also said "yes" to without hearing properly. It had better be one heck of a prophecy that Bill was involved in, because Dipper was this close to just murdering Bill himself.

When Dipper went downstairs, he couldn't even look at Mabel and Bill—terrified something in his gaze would give the whole conspiracy away. He didn't even know what they were planning. Was dancing in the living room part of it? Was it some distraction? He'd hoped Bill would already be gone by now.

He couldn't meet Ford's eyes either, for the guilt of betraying his trust. He didn't deserve these scrambled eggs.

He couldn't meet anyone's gaze.

He really, really hoped Mabel and Bill had a plan. He hoped it was a good plan. Because whatever the heck they were up to—Dipper was afraid it was on him to prevent Ford and Stan from intervening too soon and finding out.

####

6:49 a.m.

After they'd escaped the kitchen, Bill glanced over his shoulder toward the stairs before Mabel got the attic door closed. "Do you think Ford noticed something?"

Mabel was already running across the room, retrieving her phone charger and phone to stuff in her backpack and pocket, making sure she'd packed everything she needed for her trip—everything except for Bill. "I wasn't looking. Did he?"

"I don't know." Bill flashed one last worried look at the door; but he couldn't afford to slow down, he had a dummy to finish. He hurried up the ladder, took off his hoodie, pulled on a tank top, tried to fish his pre-written enchantment out of his pocket in the same movement, and fumbled and dropped the paper over the edge of the loft.

Mabel had been checking her bag for the concert tickets when a paper fluttered down on her hair. She instinctively grabbed it and unfolded it before she registered the four sigils written on the outside and realized this was the enchantment Bill had said would stop working if anyone read it. She'd reflexively read the first few lines before she could stop herself. She froze. Her gaze jerked up to Bill, eyes wide.

Bill dropped down the ladder, snatched the paper out of her hand so quickly it almost tore, and immediately climbed back up. "I told you not to look." He carefully refolded it.

"Is that...?"

"It'll work," Bill hissed, with an insistence that said he wasn't sure it would work at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" He held up the dummy's pillow torso and yanked the hoodie on top of it.

When Mabel didn't say anything, Bill sighed. "Even if it doesn't—this only needs to work until we're on the road. They can't stop us then."

"Bill—"

He shakily inhaled, and then he raised his voice loud enough he'd be heard downstairs. "What do you need to spend all that time around those two brats for, anyway?! What, am I not good enough company for you?!"

They didn't have time to adjust the plan. They were in the middle of it, right now, and the guys expected to hear an argument. Mabel swallowed hard and raised her voice as well. "Not when you're acting like this, you aren't! You're a bigger brat than—than both of—and my friends aren't brats!"

Bill bit his lip, brows drawn in pain, eye squeezed shut, trying not to laugh.

Mabel chucked a sock at him, don't you dare. "You can't say I can't hang out with my friends, that's stupid!"

"I never said you can't!" Bill held the folded paper a foot above the completed dummy, the square of symbols face up, and tapped it twice so it hovered in place when he let go. "Hang out with your stupid friends, I don't care! But two whole days is ridiculous—!"

####

7:02 a.m.

"I THOUGHT you were my FRIEND!"

All three eavesdroppers cringed—Dipper hardest of all. His heart was hammering out of his chest and his t-shirt was at least 50% sweat by volume. Was this part of the plan? It sounded like an insane plan. This couldn't be the plan. It had to be the plan. He'd already prevented Ford from intervening, what if they were really fighting? But what if this really was the plan? 

"WELL! If you're gonna act like this just because I wondered what you're up to, maybe NOT! What kind of fun are you good for, you wouldn't even be into burning a house down!"

Dipper messed up. He'd actually ruined their friendship right before Bill was about to die and Mabel would be miserableand it was all his fault. This fight was real. They were furious. They hated each other—

####

7:03 a.m.

"OH YEAH, WELL—" Mabel faltered as she struggled to think of a fitting retort. "YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE INTO—into—n-NOT BURNING A HOUSE DOWN!" She cringed at herself, struggling not to laugh.

Bill had been fighting the urge to laugh so hard that his face was turning red. "OHHH WOW, GREAT COMEBACK."

Mabel's voice went shrill with suppressed hysterics. "SHUT UP!" Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she socked Bill's arm. If he made her lose it when everyone was outside listening—

The door opened. "Hey—!"

They both rounded on Stan. "STAY OUT OF IT!" Mabel snatched up a discarded sweater. Stan shut the door just before the sweater hit it.

Mabel quietly wheezed, "Do you think he saw anything?"

"No, n—" Bill had to clap both hands over his mouth and nose to keep silent. Mabel wrapped her arms around him and smushed her face against his chest to muffle herself. They stood there, shaking, until the hysterics passed.

The stress was getting to them.

####

7:06 a.m.

"Fine!!" Mabel lifted the height-altering flashlight. "Then you can just stay here all weekend!"

Bill had on his backpack (Dipper had "agreed" Bill could take his) and was clutching his umbrella. He gave her a thumbs up; ready. "FINE!"

"FINE!" Mabel turned on the flashlight. When Bill was around four inches tall, she turned it off, knelt down, and offered her hand for him to climb on. She stuffed the flashlight in her backpack, carefully set Bill in a sweater nest (how had Gideon flung her and Dipper in a jar so cavalierly? she was terrified of snapping Bill's bones like toothpicks), zipped the backpack and gingerly put it on; and then Mabel was storming out of the room.

"Leave him in there," Mabel snapped, pointing at the door. She was shaking with fear. "He's in TIME OUT."

Dipper glanced nervously at the door, "Um..." He looked so worried. She hadn't had a chance to explain the plan to him.

Mabel glared into his eyes. She summoned up all her mostly placebic Twin Empathy Powers to beam her thoughts into Dipper's brain. Don't. Please don't. If you say anything you'll ruin it.

He raised his hands. "Okay, fine."

Mabel rushed past him to the stairs, trying to escape as fast as possible without jostling her backpack.

####

7:08 a.m.

Buckled into Mrs. Grendinator's car, voice shaking, Mabel said, "Can we just go? Please?" Now, before someone ran out of the shack and waved them down to demand Mabel explain where Bill had gone. Her hands were trembling in fear, clutched protectively around her backpack with its secret cargo. One of her best friends was in there. She couldn't let anything happen to him.

Mrs. Grendinator nodded. "Of course."

As they pulled around the Mystery Shack and toward the road, Mabel glanced toward the attic bedroom window, afraid the adults might have already gone in and discovered their trick; but no one looked back.

Now all she could do was hope the paper Bill had left floating over the dummy would do its job.

####

(Shoutout to the one person who theorized the size changing flashlight could be involved, I'd @ you but I don't want you to see this before you read the chapter. You may claim credit in the notes. Based on the messages I received, one person guessed Mabel got involved halfway through the fight, no one guessed she was in it from the start, and NOBODY guessed Dipper got involved.

For a fun time, go back and read last chapter and this one in chronological order via the timestamps!

But first I wanna hear all your thoughts.)

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 10

˗ˏˋ slow dancing ˎˊ˗

"Late night melodies have a way of slipping past your defenses. And maybe that's why he chose 2AM to show you a side of him you weren't supposed to see."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 4.5k

content: electric guitar discussions, griffin being a crackhead like his dad, tiny moments, late night melodies, comfortable silence

✧ author's note ✧

FIRST OF ALL! I CREATED A PLAYLIST OF SONGS FMU!JUNGKOOK PLAYS ON HIS ELECTRIC GUITAR to make him feel more human and lived in. Go check it out! You can play it whenever he’s playing the guitar.

Hello everyone! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Currently writing this from the past since I'm scheduled to be stuffing my face with gyros in Greece right now. Which, honestly? Living my best tourist life with my partner. (๑˃��˂)ﻭ

I know I said chapter 10 might be delayed because of the trip BUT Wednesday night hit different and suddenly my brain went feral. You know how it is - either write nothing for weeks or channel an entire novel in one sitting. There is no in-between. (；一_一)

Here's the thing about this chapter though - I'm actually proud of it? Which never happens, so cherish this moment. It's finally time to plant some seeds (about time, right?). ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

Listen, I know I'm absolutely unhinged about slow burn. Like, genuinely concerning levels of commitment to dragging out emotional development. I kept second-guessing if 50k words in was too early for their first Moment™, but you know what? They deserve this tiny crumb of softness. (`･ω･´)

Before you get too excited - remember who's writing this. Your resident slow burn demon. What I consider a huge development, you'll probably read and go "... that's it?" (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But I promise, if you pay attention to the vibes, there's something special here.

Quick question! I've sprinkled about three of Jungkook's trauma events throughout the story so far. Any theories? Some of you perceptive souls (looking at you, Koopsy) have probably figured them out, but I'm curious what everyone else thinks! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

See you next weekend! Mwah!

P.S. Written at 5AM running on spite and caffeine. If you spot typos, no you didn't. (￣▽￣*)ゞ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I am sorry but listening to THIS on the second part is MANDATORY. It’s the song Jungkook’s playing. So, you better listen to it or I’ll get mad and stop breathing and there will be no more fuck me up for you bitches. 😤😤😤

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Your hair's a fucking mess and it's all his fault.

You tug at your oversized pajama shirt as you emerge from your room, trying to look less... well. Less like you just had your roommate's tongue down your throat.

The living room's exactly as you left it, except now Jungkook's manspreading in the armchair like he owns it, arguing with Yeji about—wait, what?

"—can't seriously think the Stratocaster is better for metal," he's saying, gesturing with those stupidly nice hands of his. "The humbucker pickups alone—"

"The clarity though?" Yeji cuts in, looking personally offended. You've seen that look before—usually right before she launches into a thirty-minute rant about music theory. "You get way better note definition with single coils, especially for complex riffs—"

"Yeah, if you want it to sound like a tin can—"

"Excuse me?" 

God. Two guitar nerds in one room. This is literally your worst nightmare.

Irya's sitting between them on the couch looking thoroughly entertained, phone in hand. "Jimin!" she calls out suddenly. "Check the one I just sent you!"

Jimin glances up from his own phone, that soft smile playing on his lips. He's claimed the other end of the couch, as far from the guitar debate as possible. Smart man.

The doorbell rings, and before you can even think about moving, Jungkook launches himself out of the armchair like an overcaffeinated jackrabbit.

"I got it!" He's already halfway to the door, and you roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck.

"Whatever." You grab one of the bean bags from near the big window, dragging it to the other side of the coffee table. As far from the armchair as possible, because you know exactly where he's going to sit when he gets back.

"Just saying," Yeji continues like the pizza interruption never happened, "if you're going to shit-talk Fender, at least have a decent argument."

"Oh, I've got arguments." You can hear Jungkook fumbling with his wallet at the door. "Want me to grab my guitar? I can demonstrate—"

"Please, god, no," you mutter, dropping onto the bean bag. The last thing you need is an impromptu concert from either of them.

"Pizzaaaa," he announces, kicking the door shut behind him. He's somehow managing to balance four boxes, and you definitely don't notice the way his arms flex under the weight. "Who's hungry?"

You end up sharing your calabrese with Jimin because he's literally the only person in this room with taste. Plus, watching him take small, careful bites makes you feel better about the way you just inhaled your first slice like some kind of starved animal.

Everyone else claimed their own pizza—Yeji's practically mainlining her extra spicy diavola, Irya's defending her hawaiian from Yeji's judgmental looks, and Jungkook...

God. Jungkook.

He's sprawled in that armchair like it's a throne, one leg thrown over the armrest, decimating his meat lovers' like he's getting paid for it. And it's annoying. Everything about him is annoying. The way he tears into the crust with those stupidly white teeth. The way his throat works when he swallows. The little appreciative sounds he makes that are way too similar to—nope.

Not going there.

"Want some?" He catches you staring and holds out a slice, cheese stretching obscenely. "Since you keep looking over here."

"I'm not—" You break off as a string of cheese snaps. "I was judging your eating habits."

"Uh-huh." He takes another bite, and you hate that you notice the way his lips curve. "Sure, phoenix."

"Fuck off."

"Make me."

Yeji makes a gagging sound. "Do you two ever stop?"

No. You don't. That's the problem. Whether it's fighting or fucking or whatever the hell happened in your room twenty minutes ago, you just... don't stop. Can't stop. Won't stop.

And maybe that should worry you more than it does.

"Pass me a napkin?" Jimin asks quietly, and you grab one gratefully. Away from thoughts of Jungkook's mouth and what it was doing to you earlier and—focus. Pizza. Friends. Normal things that don't involve your roommate's tongue.

Except he's right there, existing in your peripheral vision like some kind of extremely annoying sun. Being all... present. With his hair still messed up from your hands and that mark on his neck that your friends definitely haven't noticed but you know is there and—

"Phoenix." His voice cuts through your spiral. "You're staring again."

"I'm plotting your murder."

He grins, slow and knowing. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He's still chewing. Like, unnecessarily loud? Who taught this man table manners, a pack of wolves? 

You watch him demolish another slice with the same energy your mom attacks Facebook conspiracy theories. It's giving feral raccoon energy. No, worse—it's giving mukbang YouTuber who's about to get canceled for something weird. The way he's manspreading in that chair like he's about to start a podcast about cryptocurrency—

And then you see it. Griffin, the little menace, has somehow gotten onto the coffee table (again) and he's sniffing at—fuck, is that garlic bread?

You're out of the bean bag before you can think, nearly falling on your face in your haste. "Griffin, no—"

But Jungkook's already moving too, pizza forgotten, practically launching himself out of the chair. "G, don't—"

You snatch Griffin away from the bread just as Jungkook reaches for him, and for a second you're both frozen there—you with an armful of disgruntled cat, him with his hands outstretched and something raw and panicked in his eyes that makes your chest tight.

"He can't have garlic," you explain, which is stupid because obviously Jungkook knows this, it's his cat. "It's toxic for—"

"Yeah." His voice is rough. He swallows, hands falling to his sides. "Yeah, I know."

The silence stretches for a beat too long. 

Something's off about his reaction—it's just bread, right? 

But there's tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before.

"He's got this thing about human food," he says finally, aiming for casual but missing by a mile. His laugh sounds hollow. "Always goes for the stuff that'll fuck him up."

You raise an eyebrow, absently scratching under Griffin's chin. "What, like a death wish?"

"More like bad judgment." He reaches for Griffin, and you notice his hands aren't quite steady. "Likes the wrong stuff. Just like his dad. Don't you, buddy?"

Griffin just purrs, completely unbothered by all the drama he just caused. Jungkook checks him over anyway, like he might have somehow eaten the entire loaf in the two seconds you weren't looking.

"Devil cat," you mutter, but you find yourself reaching out to scratch Griffin's ears anyway. "Always trying to unalive himself with human food."

Jungkook's quiet for a moment, just watching you pet Griffin. 

Then, so soft you almost miss it: "Thanks."

You blink. "For what?"

"For—" He cuts himself off, nonchalance sliding back into place. "For not letting him add 'bread thief' to his criminal record."

But there's something in his voice, in the way his fingers keep checking Griffin like he needs to make sure he's still there—

"Yo," Yeji cuts in, "can someone please explain to my girlfriend why pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity?"

"It's not a crime," Irya's saying, waving her slice of hawaiian like a weapon. "It's culinary innovation."

"It's fruit on pizza." Yeji looks personally wounded. "That's like putting ketchup in coffee."

"Don't give him ideas," you mutter, watching Jungkook from the corner of your eye. He's settled back in the armchair with Griffin, but something's... off. The casual sprawl looks forced now, mechanical. His phone's out, thumb scrolling without really seeing.

Weird. 

"Some people actually do that," Jimin offers quietly. "The ketchup thing."

"Those people need therapy." Yeji steals a piece of pineapple off Irya's slice, examining it like it's evidence in a crime scene. "Like, immediately."

You should probably join in. Make some quip about food crimes or Yeji's weird vendetta against fruit. But you keep getting distracted by the way Jungkook's shoulders are still tight, how his other hand hasn't stopped checking Griffin. Like he needs to make sure he's still there.

Doesn't make sense. He was fine ten minutes ago, being all loud and annoying about guitars. What changed?

"Speaking of crimes against humanity—" Irya starts.

"We are not discussing the mint chocolate incident again."

"It was one time!"

Griffin shifts in Jungkook's lap, and you catch the slight flinch in his fingers. The way his eyes snap to check what the cat's doing. It's so different from his usual careless energy, from the way he usually lets Griffin do whatever the fuck he wants.

"Phoenix." His voice makes you jump. Caught staring. Fuck. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

The words are right—that usual cocky bullshit—but the delivery's wrong. Flat. Like he's reading from a script of himself.

"What, and boost your ego more?" Keep it casual. Normal. Whatever's happening, he clearly doesn't want to talk about it. "Pretty sure that's like, directly against the Geneva Convention."

He tries for a smirk, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Didn't know you were so concerned about war crimes."

"Only the ones happening in my living room."

A ghost of his usual grin, there and gone. Then he's back to his phone, shoulders a hard line under his t-shirt. You watch him tap the screen exactly four times, precise and measured. Since when does he do anything precise?

"Y/N?" Jimin touches your arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just..." You gesture vaguely at your half-eaten slice. "Food coma."

But you keep watching. Can't help it. The way his jaw clenches every few seconds. How he's barely touched his pizza since the Griffin thing. The slight tremor in his fingers when he scratches behind the cat's ears.

He just... trusts the wrong people sometimes, you know?

What the fuck was that about?

"Earth to Y/N!" Yeji's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Back me up here. Pineapple on pizza—yes or no?"

"What? Oh, uh." You force yourself to look away from Jungkook. "Definitely no."

"Thank you!"

"Traitor," Irya accuses, but she's grinning. "I trusted you."

Trust. There's that word again. You glance back at Jungkook, but he's not even pretending to listen anymore. Just staring at his phone, one hand buried in Griffin's fur like an anchor.

Something happened here. Something you're missing. But the more you try to piece it together, the less sense it makes. It's just bread, right? Just Griffin being his usual chaos gremlin self. So why does Jungkook look like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop?

"Hey." Jimin's voice is soft. Private. "Sure you're okay?"

No. Yes. Maybe. You don't know why you're so fixated on this, why you can't just let it go. It's not like you care. It's not like—

"I'm fine." You reach for another slice. "Just tired."

But you can't quite shake the image of his face when you caught Griffin. That raw panic, like he was seeing something else entirely. Someone else.

“Alright I’m so done with this. We are watching Love Island.” Yeji jumps in.

“Since when do you like reality shows?” Jimin asks, smiling.

“Since, uh, never.” She replies, defensively. “I just like seeing stupid people doing stupid shit.”

And that’s how you end up watching Love Island reruns, because apparently that's what your life has devolved into. Jungkook disappeared to his room twenty minutes ago, taking Griffin and his weird mood with him, and you're trying very hard not to think about either of them.

You're failing spectacularly, but whatever.

"You good?" Yeji nudges you with her foot. "You've been weird since the whole bread thing."

"M'fine." You bat her foot away. "Just tired."

She gives you that look, the one that says she knows you're full of shit, but before she can call you out on it, the front door opens.

Yoongi trudges in looking like he's been through seven circles of hell and maybe a Walmart on Black Friday. His beanie's askew, dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual—classic post-studio energy. He stops dead when he sees your little gathering, letting out the longest, most defeated sigh you've ever heard.

Then he takes off his beanie, hanging his keys, and—

"You're fucking joking." 

Yeji practically launches herself off the couch, dislodging Irya from where she was curled into her shoulder. What the—

Yoongi freezes. Turns. Very. Slowly.

"........."

"Mint????" Yeji's voice hits a pitch that probably only dogs can hear. "What the actual fuck?"

Yoongi closes his eyes like he's praying for strength. "Please god, no."

Hold up.

You look between them—Yeji vibrating with chaotic energy, Yoongi looking like he wants to evaporate on the spot. Since when does your anti-establishment new possibly best friend know your lowkey famous producer roommate?

"Wait." You sit up straighter. "You know Yoongi?"

"Know him?" Yeji's still staring at Yoongi like he's either Jesus or a sleep-deprived hallucination. "He produced my track six months ago and then ghosted everyone like—"

"I didn't ghost." He dumps his bag on the counter with maybe more force than necessary. "I was working."

"For six months?"

"Yes."

You regard both of them slowly. Because yeah, you knew Yoongi was Mint—Hoseok had dropped that bomb like it wasn't a whole thing. But Yeji? Your anarchist, fight-the-system best friend worked with him? 

"Hold up." Irya's sitting up now too, eyes wide. "You're telling me this is the guy? The one who made that track that almost got you banned from three venues?"

"It was one track." Yoongi's already heading for his room, clearly done with this conversation. "Six months ago."

"It was fire though!" Yeji calls after him. "Could've been more if you hadn't—"

The door closes with a very pointed click.

"Well." Irya breaks the silence. "That was fun."

Another door opens and Jungkook peers out, probably drawn by all the noise. "Was that Yoongi? What's with all the—"

"Did you know Yeji worked with him?" you demand, because apparently this is your life now. Finding out your friend and your roommate have secret music history.

He blinks. "With who?"

"Our roommate? Mint PD? Ring any bells in that empty head of yours?"

"Oh." He shrugs, leaning against his doorframe. "Yeah, but I didn't know it was your Yeji."

"She's not my—wait." You narrow your eyes. "How many Yejis do you know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, phoenix?"

"It’s not like Yeji is a super common name in New York." 

His grin is insufferable. "Sure about that?"

"God, do you ever shut up?"

"Only when I'm sleeping." He stretches, all casual arrogance. "Sometimes not even then."

"Gross." You turn to your friends. "You guys don't have to leave just because he's being... himself."

But Yeji's already getting up, collecting their stuff. "Nah, it's late. Plus, I need to process the whole Mint thing. That was weird as fuck."

"Text me the story later?" Irya asks, helping gather the pizza boxes. "I want to know everything about this track that got you banned."

"It wasn't banned," Yeji protests. "Just... strongly discouraged from ever being played again."

Jimin helps clean because he's literally an angel walking among mere mortals. You walk them to the door, hyperaware of Jungkook still hovering in his doorway like the creep he is.

"Text me," Yeji mutters as she hugs you goodbye. 

The door closes behind them. When you turn around, Jungkook's gone, door clicking shut like he was never there.

Typical.

You stare at his closed door for a moment, thinking about garlic bread and panic and things that don't make sense.

Whatever. Not your problem.

You're going to commit a murder tonight.

Your friends left hours ago, and you've been trying to wind down—reading, scrolling through TikTok, attempting to be a functional human being who sleeps before their 8AM class. But someone apparently decided 2AM was the perfect time to practice his goddamn electric guitar.

The electric guitar riffs pierce through your wall for the hundredth time, each note a personal attack on your sanity.

Who the fuck plays at 2AM? Who? What kind of sociopath—

Another chord progression. Louder this time.

You grab your pillow, smothering a scream into it as your nails dig into the fabric. Eight AM class tomorrow. Eight. Fucking. AM. And this absolute waste of oxygen is out there having his main character moment like he's the star of some teen angst movie.

Fuck him. Actually fuck him. And fuck past you for fucking him in the first place. Yeah, okay, he's hot. Fine. But does that really balance out this? The constant noise and the attitude and the way he acts like the whole world revolves around him? 

The guitar gets louder, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Pain in the ass doesn't even cover it. Pain in places that don't have medical names yet. Pain in the fucking soul.

You snatch your phone off the nightstand, fingers flying over the keyboard:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝟾𝚊𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 🖕🏻

The guitar stops. Thank god. Thank every possible—

A low chuckle filters through the wall.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞

Your blood pressure spikes.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚗 𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞,𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑

A pause. Then:

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚢 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

You actually growl.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢 🙄

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝟷𝟸??

Another chord rings out. Deliberately slow. Testing.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗?

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛? You: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢?

The guitar stops. Complete silence. Maybe you went too far, bringing up—

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚖

Your heart definitely doesn't skip. Absolutely does not.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛? 🙄

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍

You stare at your phone. At the wall separating your rooms. At your reflection in the dark window, hair a mess and eyes too bright.

This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞𝚑 𝚑𝚞𝚑

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍

Fuck.

Fuck.

Your feet hit the floor before you can think better of it. And isn't that just the whole problem? You never think better of it. Not with him.

So yeah, you make it to his room. Where the devil sleeps.

Your eyes sweep over his walls, taking in all the black and red and—yep, exactly what you expected. Some alt-boy Pinterest board threw up in here. Black wooden bed with those lumberjack pattern sheets, gaming setup that probably cost more than your tuition, wardrobe that's definitely hiding at least three identical black hoodies.

No windows. Makes sense. Vampires and all that.

He's sprawled on the bed like some renaissance painting gone wrong, all long limbs and messy hair like he's been rolling around like a dog marking its territory. The guitar sits easy in his lap, familiar. Natural. 

Not that you notice. Or care.

His eyes flick to you, that insufferable smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He doesn't stop playing, just watches as you hover in his doorway like—nope. Not finishing that thought.

"Didn't think you'd actually come."

"Didn't think you'd actually know how to play." You step into his space, ignoring how the air feels different in here. Heavier. "Yet here we are, disappointing each other."

He snorts, fingers still moving over the strings. Something slower now, almost melodic. "Always so sweet, phoenix."

"Always so annoying, rogue."

But you find yourself moving closer, drawn by the way the notes fill the space between you. It's... not terrible. Actually kind of good, if you're being honest. Which you're not. Obviously.

"What?" He catches you watching his hands. "Surprised I can do something besides annoy you?"

"Mostly surprised you can do anything besides game and be a pain in my ass."

His grin turns wicked. "Pretty sure I do more than that to your—"

"Finish that sentence and die."

He laughs, low and warm, but goes back to playing. Something different now. Softer. You hate that you want to ask what it is.

"Didn't take you for a musician." The words slip out before you can stop them.

His fingers stutter on the strings. Just for a second, barely noticeable. But you notice.

"No?" His voice is carefully casual. Too casual. "What did you take me for?"

"I don't know. Professional asshole? Chief Expert in Being Insufferable?" You comment, flicking a small plushie on his bed. "First Chair Fuck-Up?"

He huffs a laugh, but something's off about it. Like earlier with Griffin. That same weird tension.

"Used to play in a band," he says after a moment. Still not looking at you. "Back in high school."

"Let me guess—My Chemical Romance covers?"

"Nah." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Original stuff. Mostly."

You wait for more, but he just keeps playing. That same soft melody, over and over. Like he's trying to get it right. Or trying to forget something else.

"It's good."

The words surprise you both. His hands freeze on the strings, eyes snapping to yours.

"The song," you clarify, because apparently your mouth's just doing whatever it wants now. "It's... not horrible."

He stares at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression—that cocky mask slipping just slightly. Then:

"Want to hear the whole thing?"

And maybe it's the late hour. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you, all quiet uncertainty beneath that usual swagger. Maybe you're just fucking tired.

"Yeah." You slide down to sit on his floor, back against the bed. "Show me what you got, rogue."

He starts playing something different. Not that angry teenage angst from earlier—this is... softer. More careful. Like he's showing you something he doesn't usually let people see.

Not that you care. Obviously.

The melody wraps around the room, settling into the spaces between your breaths. Your eyes track his hands, the way his fingers move over the strings with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. It's... nice. Which is annoying. Everything about him is annoying, including the way he makes this look so effortless, the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates—

Wait.

You know this song.

The notes hit something in your chest—a memory you didn't know you still had.

Your mom's old radio, the one she kept in the garden.

This exact song came on while you were planting flame lilies along the back fence. Then the storm hit—one of those sudden summer downpours that turns the whole world grey.

But instead of running inside like a normal person, your mom just... laughed. Turned the radio up louder, John Mayer's voice competing with the thunder. Grabbed your hands, still covered in dirt, and pulled you into a clumsy dance right there in the rain.

We're slow dancing in a burning room...

You'd both ended up soaked, mud-splattered, spinning in circles while the rain poured down. She'd sung along, completely off-key but not caring. Just you and her and this song, the rest of the world washed away in the storm.

The memory feels wrong now. Too bright. Too clean. Like looking at an old photograph and realizing all the edges have been carefully trimmed, the shadows cropped out.

Because that was before, wasn't it? Before the schedules and the expectations and the constant, crushing weight of—

"Is that—" You cut yourself off, but it's too late. He glances up, catches you staring.

"What?"

You blink. Jungkook's watching you, hands paused on the strings.

"Nothing."

His fingers hover over the guitar. "No, what were you gonna say?"

"Just..." Fuck it. "Pretty sure that's 'Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.' Right?"

Something flickers across his face. "You know Mayer?"

"Unfortunately." You pick at a loose thread on your sleep shorts. "My playlist's not just WAP and Carpool Karaoke, contrary to what you probably think."

He huffs a laugh, but it sounds different. Less cocky asshole, more... something else. His fingers start moving again, picking up where he left off. The notes fill the silence between you, and it's... peaceful? Is that the word? No, that can't be right. Nothing about him is peaceful.

And yet.

"Do you sing too?"

His hands freeze on the strings. Just for a second, but you catch it. The way his shoulders tense, how his jaw ticks slightly before he forces that easy smile back.

"Nah." He starts playing again, but it's different now. Mechanical. "That's... that'd be embarrassing."

There's something in his voice. Something raw that makes you think of earlier, of his panic over Griffin and bread. But before you can chase that thought, he's already shifting gears.

"What, you offering voice lessons, phoenix?"

"As if." You roll your eyes, but you clock the way his fingers are slightly less sure on the strings now. "Just thought maybe you'd want to torture me with your whole package of terrible talents."

"Oh, I've got plenty of talents to torture you with."

"Gross."

But he's relaxing again, that weird tension leaving his shoulders as the conversation drifts back to familiar territory. Safe territory. He keeps playing, and you definitely don't notice how the melody gets smoother, more confident, like maybe he needed the distraction of your bickering to find his rhythm again.

Speaking of distractions—you glance around the room, frowning. "Where's Griffin?"

"Thought he was with you."

"What?" You blink at him. "You never let him sleep with anyone else."

"Well." He sets the guitar aside, stretches like some oversized cat. "You can now."

"I can... what?"

"Have him." He shrugs, but there's something careful in the movement. "For the night. If you want."

You stare at him. He stares back, that almost-smile still playing at his lips.

What the actual fuck is happening right now?

"Who are you and what have you done with my asshole roommate?"

He laughs, and just like that, the weird tension breaks. "Aw, you think I'm yours? That's cute, phoenix."

"I think you're a pain in my ass," you correct, but it lacks heat. Maybe because you're tired. Maybe because he just played something beautiful and shared his cat and you don't know what to do with any of it.

"Only sometimes." He stretches again, shirt riding up. You definitely don't look. "Other times I'm a pain somewhere else—"

You throw the nearest object (a pencil) at his head. "And we're back to normal."

His laugh follows you as you leave, hunting for Griffin. You tell yourself the warm feeling in your chest is just satisfaction at finding new ammunition for future arguments.

He's actually good at something. Who knew?

And if you catch yourself humming "Slow Dancing" as you search for the cat... well. 

Nobody has to know.

next | index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[thornrings]

imagine, if you will, a chapter of deltarune that takes place in ICE-E's P"E"ZZA. the dark fountain and such is there, burgerpants may or may not be the knight, whatever it doesn't matter. kris and susie and noelle were going to meet and get pizza, perhaps to explain dark worlds to her. this is a plan they had before the fountain appeared. kris and susie were, of course, late, because they were fucking around in hometown and susie was nervous and whatnot. they get there and noelle was early and they're late and the fountain is there. they go in. they go in and it's FNAF.

it's FNAF dark world. confirming their suspicions, they can hear noelle screaming!! there's no time to wait for ralsei, they cannot AFFORD to delay, at least in susie's mind. they have to save noelle as SOON AS POSSIBLE. they spawn in at parts & service, and since at this point they've gleaned that there is Animatronic Fuckery about, they come to the conclusion that their best course of action is to play dress up and sneak around. susie gets an ambiguous legally distinct purple dinosaur costume, and kris gets the legally distinct--but still recognizable--marionette. unfortunately, the animatronics aren't their only obstacle. the doors keep closing in front of them for some reason! weird!

eventually, once they start closing in on noelle's location, they hear a music box, and... kris climbs into a box, much to susie's dismay! "KRIS," she scream whispers, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" they do not answer, and exit the box after some time has passed.

they spend the next six hours or so roleplaying five nights at freddy's i mean five nights at ice-e's with noelle, and eventually kris gets in and jumpscares her and it's over. the point is, noelle is like REALLY good at fnaf. if it wasn't for kris and susie's unique high-jinks she probably would have never lost. she really did not need saving in this situation.

they proceed to the fountain and ralsei appears behind them, unseen prior to this point. he explains that two animatronics (the ones kris and susie relieved of their duty) had essentially kidnapped him, at which point he used his signature MERCY on them, they accepted him as one of their own, and they had a fun party where ralsei made them cake and sang songs and was generally a nice boy. he got out as soon as he could, he swears!! they go and seal the fountain and it's all in good fun. what a nice dark world adventure.

then three other lightners and burgerpants show up and they start making fountains all over the place and kris turns to the camera and says

"wow... this really was, five knights at ICE-E'S..."

[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[suzukiblu]

Dude I get paid tomorrow, how much to bribe you to edit the next chapter of think pink???

. . . . . . honestly I don't know if I've really been asked about my editing rates/prioritizing rates before, haha, but thank you, mysterious stranger, I'm glad you like the fic that much! ❤️ So if you're seriously inquiring after that, I'd be willing to do a conversion on my usual Ko-fi tier thank-yous to move editing the chapter higher up my to-do list with my sub tier thank-yous, as opposed to down near the bottom where it admittedly currently dwells.

The main delay right now is I gotta reread the previous three chapters to make sure I don't fuck anything up in the continuity/conversation, and then it's roughly 24k to edit after that. There shouldn't be any MAJOR edits or rewrites, fingers crossed, but it's still a pretty decent chunk to read and correct, which is part of why I haven't made much progress on it. So I'd probably say I'd be willing to move it up the list into more immediately active editing as opposed to "I'll get there when I get there" editing at half my usual "tier thank-you"s rate, so like . . . 5 USD per 1k words' worth of editing, let's say?

So basically, if that's something you'd want to pursue, I'm open to it! If you'd be interested in that, you can dono whatever you like to my Ko-fi and just put "think pink edits" in the message, and I'll bump the equivalent amount of editing up my to-do list/writing schedule.

[mychoombatheroomba]

Compartmentalization

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 23

“How much do you think they know?” he asked when you were out of earshot of the buildings and the guard posts, looking over at you. “About the bioweapons, Umbrella . . . all of it.”

“I don’t know. Probably not as much as they should.”

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Over the next few days, Leon could see the knowledge that you and he gave to Krauser being put to use. There was more running. More hand to hand. He paired people up in groups of four for sparring. One versus three. Whoever was the lone combatant finished the day with fresh bruises, and by the end of the week, everyone was painted with blues, greens, and purples. The Major had the squad spend many long hours at the shooting range, where he would accept nothing less than perfectly emptying the magazine of a gun into the designated target. 

No matter how far down range Krauser set them up, no matter if they were moving or not, that target was always the head.

“The things you’re going to be facing won’t go down from anything less. And some of them . . . not even then,” Krauser had said, and Leon saw the news unsettle the squad standing at attention around him.

But he didn’t go into detail describing what everyone would be up against. Instead, he just told the squad how you would be in for difficult fights. How you would all have to use whatever was at your disposal.

Pistols, rifles, shotguns . . . 

Krauser didn’t seem to care about running up a munitions tab, because if anyone missed a shot, then he would make them start over with another mag, once theirs ran out. He would keep them after hours, if they couldn’t do it. Some of them even found themselves putting in overtime, staying at the range when they should have been getting lunch. 

You and Leon were almost always putting in overtime. 

Not because you were terrible shots. Far from it. But because, once Leon figured out that Krauser didn’t care about how much ammunition was being lost, he would miss on purpose. One or two shots every mag, Leon would intentionally aim just a little far off. Just enough that Krauser made him stay. Sometimes he would miss naturally, of course, but a lot of the time, he remained at the range of his own accord. Because the more practice he got, the better. The more prepared he was, the better. 

And you . . . well, you’d seen him shoot. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was throwing on purpose, but when Krauser handed him another mag, both you and the Major shared a look of suspicion. 

Only you received the little grin Leon gave you after, though. 

And just like that, you were miraculously missing shots, too. Not enough to stick out, necessarily, but enough to give you both a few extra minutes of practice. Then one of you would get your perfect round, and the other would delay a few minutes longer and do the same. 

If Krauser suspected anything - which Leon imagined he did - he said nothing to stop it. Just his usual disappointed jabs, and then he would send you and Leon off to a late lunch when you two decided you had enough.

You would meet up back at lunch later, sitting with Williams and Alenko, who you started training with during off hours as well. And when Valeria joined the group, for training and lunch both, Leon was hardly surprised. You’d told him about the deal you’d struck, and how she’d bloodied your nose in your sparring match, but you’d kicked her ass in the end. 

He wished he could have seen that victory, but when Valeria trained with you all, he got a close enough approximation. 

What did surprise Leon about Valeria was that, for the most part, she was restrained enough when it came to poking fun at his relationship with you. He’d expected every other word out of her mouth to tie to some innuendo or implication. And those remarks certainly came, but mostly she was focused on practicing. On fighting. 

As for Williams . . . the tall woman seemed pretty keen to focus on other things. Namely, Valeria. 

Leon smiled when he first noticed it. Wondered if that was how he’d looked in those early days when he watched you fight. 

Hell, he probably still looked that way, he knew. 

But then, even you looked at him with that longing expression sometimes. He caught you when you thought he wasn’t looking, every so often. 

Amidst all the pains of training, all the nightmares and worries, it felt good to be wanted. To be valued and cared for by someone. Even if it was just in little heartbeats of stolen affection. Even if he wished things could be different, sometimes. 

But for what this life was, it wasn’t so bad when the two of you were together. 

Even if those moments were few and far between, in an effort to keep this going. And in those next few days, Leon had precious few moments where the two of you could really be what you wanted to be for each other. He stole kisses from you every so often, always in the evening when no one was looking. He would nip at your neck and press against you for just a moment. Sometimes you would pull him into the shadows and do the same. But there was nothing more. Not yet. Leon knew it was because, frankly, the two of you were still spooked by the whole ordeal with Valeria and Krauser. True to the agreement the two of you had made, you were trying to be cautious. 

And besides, as much as he wanted you, the conversation with Krauser had reminded him well enough of the stakes of the fight you were all preparing for. And more than he wanted you in those brief moments of bliss, he wanted you safe. 

Leon would train hard for that fight. 

He pushed himself hard, thinking of racing through the streets of Raccoon City as he ran the base, or went through the obstacle course. Imagining that each shot he missed was an opportunity for the undead to tear into him. Or someone he was protecting. Each rep of weight training that he pushed through, he thought of needing to be strong enough to face down the inhuman monsters waiting for them. He pushed himself just as you did, and Krauser pushed hardest of all. 

Leon couldn’t say he liked much about the Major, but it was good to see that he was actually, genuinely trying to prepare you all. That you and Leon having to relive part of the worst nights of your lives wasn’t for nothing. 

But still, the Major didn’t tell the rest what they would be facing. Not exactly. There was no debrief where he went into detail about the monsters that Umbrella had made. No preparing the others for skinless horrors, or too-big men that seemed to never die.

Just more training.

And Krauser wasn't stopping at marksmanship and close quarters combat. He taught you all how to choose targets in a group. Covering retreats, moving in to help a wounded comrade. A week in, a truck arrived, and the squad worked together unloading and cataloging it all. It held guns. Sniper rifles, grenade launchers . . . all heavier ordinance than what you’d all been training with so far. There were even some bows, all made of carbon fiber and with mechanical arms. 

“If you can learn to aim a bow, aiming a gun will be no problem,” Krauser said on their first day working with the bows, and then had far too much fun watching you all struggle with the new weapon. 

Not that arrows would be better against the undead than bullets, but Leon knew it wasn’t just about learning how to shoot a bow. It was prep work for the sniper rifles that went untouched, getting them all used to the concept of measuring distance and factoring in wind, gravity, and movement. And suddenly, you and Leon didn’t have to fake missing to spend longer on the range anymore. 

Leon was all too grateful now for pushing himself when it came to strength training, because pulling back that bowstring over and over, knowing he was going to miss and need to start over again, was making his arms shake. On that first day, the entire squad was held up, and you were all sent to the mess hall with only fifteen minutes left of lunch. And by the time they got there, after hours of drawing back a sixty-pound bowstring, in addition to all the heavy-lifting everyone was already doing, most everyone could only barely carry their trays to the tables. 

It made the close quarters combat drills later in the day particularly interesting. Or sad, Leon supposed, because no one put up a good fight. 

But you and Leon, as ever, met after dinner in the training yard. 

Williams and Alenko accompanied you, and Valeria made it clear that she wasn’t going to participate in the sparring, but she was going to watch. And she got a kick out of the sluggish attacks and redirects that you all put on display, each of you too exhausted to fight at the speed you normally would. But you were all still fighting. Williams and Alenko might not have known the extent of the bioweapons under Umbrella’s control - if they knew anything beyond vague concepts at all - but they were training hard. 

And it made Leon ponder something - something he brought up to you when the two of you found a moment alone.   

“How much do you think they know?” he asked when you were out of earshot of the buildings and the guard posts, looking over at you. “About the bioweapons, Umbrella . . . all of it.” 

“I don’t know. Probably not as much as they should.” You answered quickly. Like you’d been thinking about it, too. All the intel the two of you had given Krauser, all the specifics, and he still hadn’t told anyone at large. He’d adjusted his training structure, true, but he hadn’t sat the squad down to tell them exactly what they might be up against. 

And it was weighing on Leon, because he didn’t see how the government could train people to take down Umbrella if they didn’t show those people what they were up against. 

“Do you think Krauser’s gonna tell them?” he asked, looking over at you, seeing you deep in thought. 

“He knows more than the government wants him to,” you say after a moment. “If he tells everyone on base, they’ll go for him. For us, too.” It made sense. The Major knew things he shouldn’t have, and there were only two places on base he could have gotten that information from. Two people. 

But still . . . “Does that matter?” Leon asked, his brows cinching together, his gaze fixed on you through the darkness. “So what if they get mad at him, or at us? If they’re gonna throw us at these things, the people we’re fighting with deserve to know what they’re facing.” 

You frowned, your eyes trailing off somewhere. You stopped walking, shaking your head. “He’s not gonna let us go blind. He’ll tell them.” 

“Then why hasn’t he already? It’s been a week. The longer he waits, the less prepared everyone is.” He could feel himself getting heated, his frustration with Krauser, but here it was, bleeding into this interaction with you. 

And you met it with frustration of your own. “He’s got to have reasons. He’s got reasons for everything he does-” 

“Like putting edged knives in our hands and making us think we’re going to fight with them?” He wasn’t quite sure where the words came from. One minute he was thinking of the need to prepare his fellow recruits for what’s out there, and the next, all he could do was remember the cruelty of that lesson. The way the Major had intentionally faced you against something that had traumatized you - even if Leon knew you would loathe that description of what had happened to you. 

“We’re not going to be using training knives out in the field-” 

“But he didn’t have to do that. It was fucked-”

“Leon, all of the shit we’re going to be fighting out there is fucked-”

“I know that!” Leon hissed, shaking his head. “And if he can make us think we’re going to make each other bleed for a training exercise, then he can fucking tell them what they’re up against.” 

The longer-lasting light of spring let Leon see the way your eyes flashed, but whatever reply you were going to give was swallowed down after a moment, and you looked away. Like you we’re sorting out your thoughts, and Leon knew it was because you agreed with him - but you also trusted Krauser. That was what made you repeat yourself when you looked back up at him a few seconds later. “You’re right,” you nodded, saying it through tight lips. “But he wouldn’t have asked us for all of that info if he didn’t plan on relaying it. He’ll tell them.”

But Leon wasn’t convinced. Not entirely. “You put a lot of faith in him.” 

You pursed your lips, and for the first time, Leon thought he saw some give. Like you were more conflicted about Krauser’s actions than you let on. Even so, there was conviction there, too. “He saved my life, once,” you said eventually, your voice quiet. 

And Leon, after a moment, nodded. “The night in Finland. I know.” He supposed it was time to come clean about that. 

A look of surprise pinched your brows together and your eyes widened a touch. “I didn’t tell you that,” you said, and then your expression changed, because you realized who had told Leon. 

“Krauser did,” Leon admitted. 

You stared at him for a moment, and Leon worried that you might have been angry. Not necessarily at him, but at the Major. Even if he thought Krauser was an asshole, even if Leon disagreed with half of his methods, he didn’t want to compromise a trust you’d built. 

But then you forced out a breath of a laugh, rolling your eyes. “See? Guess you don’t have to worry about Krauser keeping information to himself.” 

Leon cracked a smile then, shifting his weight onto one leg, feeling tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying fade. “Maybe not.” 

“What the hell made him tell you that?” you asked, threading your thumbs in the belt loops of your fatigue pants, looking at him in confusion. 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he’d had that conversation with the Major after that first kiss. When you’d asked for space and Leon had dealt with it by throwing himself head-first into training. Let alone that Krauser had, in essence, told Leon that you and he needed to get each other off your asses and deal with the shit that had been haunting you. “He told me that you and I had a lot in common,” Leon eventually settled on that explanation. “That we both needed to get past what happened and focus on the here and now.” 

That incredulous look on your face only grew, then, but it was soon replaced by amusement. “Funny. He’s said something similar to me.” 

Leon smiles a little, then. “Easier said than done, I guess.” 

“Easier said than done,” you agreed, looking down for a moment before going on. “Hard to focus on the present when you’re training to fight the things that keep you awake at night, I guess.” 

The air between the two of you grew heavy, as it always did when your past or his came up. And it was easier to bear its weight when there were two of you. But Leon could tell that something still troubled you. He didn’t have to wait long to learn what it was. 

“How much did Krauser tell you? About the base?” 

And then, Leon felt his throat constrict, remembering the few details that Krauser had given him about Finland and about the base you’d been stationed at. “Not much. Just that it was burned down. And that . . .” he didn’t want to say it aloud, but whether it went unspoken or not wouldn’t change the fact of the matter. “And that you were the only survivor.” He wasn’t sure what his expression might be conveying, then. Only that he watched you for your reaction carefully, never taking his eyes off you. 

And he wanted to reach for you when he saw the pain in your eyes. 

You nodded; your jaw set tight as it so often was when you were upset. But when you blinked, Leon could see resolve there, not just pain. “And we weren’t even up against all the shit you saw,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I don’t want that to happen again.” You stepped closer to Leon but looked back at the base. Towards where the barracks were. “I do believe that Krauser’s going to tell them what they’re up against, but if you’re worried, then talk to him. And if for some reason, he’s not planning on telling them . . .”

“Then we will,” Leon nodded. You didn’t argue. 

You did offer him a small smile, though, as the two of you continued your walk. “We’re on a fast-track to getting court-martialed, you and me.” 

Leon chuckled. “Didn’t peg you for being such a troublemaker.” 

“You should have seen me when I first enlisted. I was a pain in the ass.” 

“But you still made Sergeant.” He looked over at you, his hair brushing against his eyelashes on the one side. He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his gaze, even if it maybe wasn’t his pride to give. 

It made you smile, and that was all that mattered. 

“I was lucky my Captain was forgiving of my bullshit,” you shrugged, a fond smile curling your lips. And then, that smile turned to something else. Something distant. Mournful. 

“He sounds like a good man.” 

“He was.”

And Leon knew then that your Captain had been among the dead in Finland. That he was one of your ghosts. 

And then he remembered that third dog tag around your neck. The one he’d glimpsed in those early days. And he wondered what name it was, stamped in the metal. He wondered which of your ghost's names you wore in silver. 

“I’ll tell you about him, some day.” Your words were almost wistful. A promise that he didn’t need you to make, but one he valued anyway. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Leon nodded. 

It was a risk, you both knew it, but you took his hand for a moment as you walked back to the barracks, squeezing tight. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Hey gang sorry for the delay!

[sl-walker]

Preview...

...from the next yet-unposted chapter of Stardust.

--

“I could eat at least three horses right now,” Booster said, looking over his array of plates and bowls, completely undeterred by the fact that it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet and the only people as awake and ready to go as him were the various geriatrics in the IHOP getting an early-bird special.  The way he saw it, caffeine existed for a glorious purpose and while he hadn’t needed any to get moving today, he had been in an insomnia-hangover himself a worrying number of times and therefore he held no mercy (and only conditional compassion) for those who were dawdling on waking up. “Maybe three and a half.”

“Oh no, Secretariat goes cannibal and destroys his brethren in his haste to fill the empty pit of his stomach,” Ted fired back, though it was with laughter in his voice as he clutched his mug of coffee like he’d shank whoever might try to take it. “Thoroughbreds everywhere react to the scandal tonight on CLTV in a stunning exposé!”

Brenda, Paco and Jaime were all nodding over their plates, looking like they hadn’t even actually woken up to roll out of bed.  Even then, Brenda picked her head up and squinted blearily at Ted. “Aren’t thoroughbreds the high-strung horses that keel over if you look at them cross-eyed?” she asked.

“I literally just asked that myself yesterday!” Booster said, pointing at her with his fork and well-speared sausage.  “Gotta say, I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a critter that dies so easily.”  He was, however, a little more worried that the ‘high-strung’ part might be too on-target for his comfort.

“S’okay, I might have to kill you for being so awake right now,” Jaime mumbled, teetering over sideways until he was tucked halfway between Booster’s shoulder and the back of the curved booth. “And so happy about it.”

“It’s not my fault you stayed out so late.”  Still, Booster set his fork down long enough to reach across himself and lightly ruffle Jaime’s hair in something like a mixed apology and commiseration. “C’mon, today’s gonna be great.”

“You were out running by 5:30, ese, humans don’t do that,” Paco said, before shoving his plate of bacon and eggs away so he could fold his arms on the table and drop his head down onto them.  “Not normal, sane humans.”

All things being equal, Booster was an early-riser by nature, if not always factually; that he’d slept as well as he had the night before meant he felt pretty amazing right now, though. “In fairness, Paco, you were still awake when I left to go running.”

Paco groaned and shook his head against his arms. “Only ‘cause you were channeling Maria von Trapp in the kitchen.”

Booster opened his mouth to ask who the hell that was, but Ted shook his head with a grin and held up a finger before pulling his phone out and aiming at them.  When Booster raised his eyebrows in question, Ted mouthed, ‘Bianca,’ then took a shot of him and Jaime, the latter of whom might have fallen back asleep in the less-than-a-minute since he’d last spoken.  Booster made sure to beam for the camera, though, because he knew it would make a funny contrast to the probably-asleep teenager using him as a blackout blind and pillow.

Whatever Bianca texted back must have made Ted happy, because he smiled.

“Who’s Maria von Trapp?” Booster asked, before diving back into his breakfast.

Brenda finally managed to rally enough to drag her coffee close and start into her pancakes. “Who hasn’t seen the Sound of Music?”

“I don’t think they have whimsical anti-Nazi musicals in his time,” Ted said, sliding his phone over, presumably so Booster could both see the picture and Bianca’s response.

Booster dropped his fork again just to snatch it; the picture was admittedly very cute.  Bianca’s string of emojis in answer was every bit as cute.  Booster quickly sent the picture to his own phone and then slid Ted’s back to him. “I wouldn’t be against watching some whimsical anti-Nazi musical,” he said, on a delay.

“If you show him that, we are never, ever, ever getting back together,” Paco said, rolling his head to the side towards his-- maybe girlfriend?  Ex?  Who even knew, Booster couldn’t keep up with it, it seemed to change by the day.  “We would never stop hearing it.”

“Oooh, incentive,” Brenda snarked back.  Then, casual as can be, she wet a fingertip in her mouth and stuck it, wiggling, into Paco’s ear.

The subsequent shriek made every single person in the vicinity -- regardless of their hearing aids or lack thereof -- jump half out of their skin.  A line cook in the back swore something that sounded Eastern European in origin.  Jaime jolted out of his hiding spot and Booster was certain the reason the kid didn’t armor up and have a cannon cycling, ready to go, was because both Booster and Ted immediately reassured him that it was safe.

Brenda had turned fire-engine red.  Paco was glaring at her while swiping at his ear.  Jaime was looking around with his mouth hanging open, clearly having lost the plot.

Ted chewed his bottom lip, obviously about to bust up, even as someone managerial-looking started in their direction, IHOP nametag glinting menacingly in the sun.

Booster put on his most charming smile and said, “Perfect timing!  Can we get the check?  And some boxes?”

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chapter 2

round one

2 september 1995

Mattheo's POV

I'm late. Second class of the term and I'm already late. Not that anything important is done in the first lesson of term, just lectures about O.W.L.s and starting to make something of ourselves. Personally, I'll pass.

I move leisurely through the now empty corridors of Hogwarts as I make my way to McGonagall's class room. Some first year runs past me, probably lost, and I sigh. Everyone is always so happy to come back to the castle in the fall. Sure Hogwarts is better than being at home but I'm still counting down the days until I'm completely free. I reach the doors to the Transfiguration classroom and check my watch, 5 minutes late. I shoulder open the door and step into the classroom. At the noise, everyone's heads turn to me.

"Mr. Riddle! You are late. 5 points from Slytherin," McGonagall's voice cuts through the air.

"Apologies, Professor," I say dryly, kicking the door closed behind me and scan the room for empty seats.

"Well come in, let's not delay any further. There is an empty seat up here next to Miss Potter," McGonagall says, turning back to the papers in her hand. My eyes find the empty seat right next to Miss Perfect herself. I sigh and drop into the seat next to her, eyeing her carefully. Her jaw is clenches and her shoulders tight, clearly making an effort to ignore my presence.

Euphemia Potter. Gryffindor Princess and Little Miss Perfect. She and her brother are the most self righteous people I've ever met. When the Potters break rules, they win house points, awards and are called heroes; when Slytherins break the same rules, we lose house points and get our arses thrown in detention. Euphemia spends her free time running around with the Weasley Twins, setting pranks and causing havoc for the rest of the student body, in particular Slytherins. But the princess never gets caught and if she does, she just bats her eyelashes, tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder and is off the hook. Her brother isn't any better. I spent most of last term being blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets (which I had never heard of in my life) but innocent little Harry Potter just happens to actually find it, kill a basilisk out of pure luck and starts telling everyone he saw the ghost of a young Tom Riddle, my late father. All just in time for the end of term. Two words: Dragon Shit.

I look at Euphemia out of the corner of my eye, watching her studiously listen to whatever McGonagall is droning on about. The worst part of Euphemia? She's drop dead gorgeous. Most of the guys in this school want her and she fucking knows it. And no matter how much I hate her, I can't deny that the curve of her figure, the fullness of her lips, and the way her auburn hair highlights the bright green of her eyes is about as perfect of an appearance as you can get. As she listens to the lecture, she fiddles with the ring on her left pointer finer and I catch a glimpse of the infamous lighting scar on her wrist, the one she shares with her brother. Although I don't understand why his is on his forehead and hers is on my wrist.

Euphemia and I have been at odds since our third year. Before that, she was quiet and more shy; preferring to study in the library and read more than anything else. I didn't like her then, but she was tolerable. She and her friends stayed out of my way and we minded our own business. Third year rolls around, however, and Harry comes to Hogwarts and all anyone can talk about is the Potter siblings. That year, Euphemia went from a quiet and studious person, to the bane of my existence. She'd joined the Quidditch team, quickly becoming an impressive chaser, and come out of her shell over the summer and suddenly guys wanted her and girls wanted to be her. Me? I just wanted to kill her. She got it into her head that I was the one trying to get some magic stone Dumbledore had hidden in the castle to bring back my father, as if I want that, and basically threatened me. 

Yes my father was Voldemort and yes, sometimes I use that fact to my advantage to get my way but I don't buy into any of the shit my father stood for. I may not remember him, but the scars on my mother's back tell me all I need to know about the piece of shit. I don't really care about blood purity or any of that crap but to have any kind of power in Slytherin, you better at least act like you do. Especially if your last name is Riddle.

Euphemia turns her head suddenly, eyes meeting mine as she raises her eyebrow at me. Shit, she caught me staring. I hold her eyes for a moment before turning back to McGonagall. She turns back to front too and sighs slightly, as if me looking at her actually bothers her.

After a very long and dry lecture by McGonagall about her expectations and plan for the year, the period ends. Euphemia stands quickly, moving to stand with her groupies. The Weasley twins-- I couldn't tell them apart if my life depended on it and they are equally irritating so really what's the point--stare daggers at me before they turn to leave the classroom with Potter. I sigh and roll my eyes, turning to my friends, gathered out in the hall. Elladora, Evan, and Theo are out in the hall. I make eye contact with Theo and give him and nod as I approach.

"Oh!" Elladora exclaims as she pretends to faint into Evan's arms. Evan and Ella laugh loudly. Ever since hearing the rumor that both the Potters fainted on the train yesterday began circulating, Ella has been relentless. She despises Euphemia more than anyone. "Salazar! How could anyone be so pathetic?" Ella turns to face Euphemia, whose face is stoic although her eyes are fiery. She levels Ella with a defiant stare and turns away rolling her eyes, seemingly unaffected.

"Aw you hurt the princess' feelings," Evan laughs cruelly, nudging Ella with his shoulder as we start making out way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Good! She's so pathetic. Can you imagine fainting because you're too afraid of a dementor? Big and scary Potter is finally showing her true colors," Ella continues, laughing maniacally.

"Ella, stop! Dementors are horrid no matter how brave you are," Astoria pipes up, joining us in the hall. Astoria, unlike the rest of us, is friends with Potter and often defends her to the rest of us. 

"Still, it is kinda funny," Theo adds as we sit down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

"You don't even know if its true," Astoria argues.

"So what? As long as it gets under the princess' skin!" Ella laughs with Evan.

"Get's under who's skin?" Lorenzo asks, taking a seat next to me.

"Don't ask," I grumble, not wanting Euphemia Potter to infiltrate my brain anymore than necessary.

"Euphemia Potter," Theo supplies to Enzo before turning his gaze to me as I grab some food from the center of the table. "What's got your wand in a knot? Sitting next to the hottest girl in school messing with your head already?"

I flip Theo off and take a bit of my apple.

"You're sitting next to her now?" Enzo asks, trying to hide his surprise.

"I got to class late. Only desk open."

"Matt, you're already gathering tardies? We've had two classes!" Astoria exclaims, looking at me disappointedly.

"Sorry, Mum," I retort sarcastically.

"So not only are you going to be doing rounds with Potter twice a week, but you're sitting next to her in classes now too?" Evan smirks, probably concocting a little story to entertain himself.

"He's going soft," coos Ella mockingly.

"Fuck off, Ella," I say, my temper starting to rise causing me to grind my teeth.

"They're gonna fuck!" Evan pronounces, causing Enzo and Theo to laugh.

"HA! I'll take that bet," Enzo laughs though a bite of food. I level Enzo with a glare, causing him to raise his hands in mock surrender.

"C'mon Matt, you can't deny you want a piece of that!" Evan outlines the shape of a woman with his hands, making lewd faces as he does.

"She's not a pie and you're disgusting," Astoria deadpans.

"Euphemia Potter is nothing but a spoiled brat. You can have my piece, Ev," I grumble, grabbing my bag and standing. I've had enough tormenting for one day and I still have to deal with prefect rounds tonight. I need some quiet. 

✦                                                                                         ✦                                                                                            ✦

Later that evening, I emerge from my room, needing to meet Euphemia for our first prefect rounds. I ignore someone calling my name as I make my way through the common room and push my way through the Slytherin dorm entrance. Standing, directly on the other side of the corridor, is Euphemia Potter. "Good let's go," I say curtly and continue walking down the hall. The first hour passes agonizingly slow. A part from a few words from Potter and some grunts of acknowledgement, we pass the time in tense silence. I watch the girl from the side of my eye. At some point during the day, she pulled her long auburn hair back from her face and into a ponytail but her uniform is as prim and perfect as it was this morning. 

"Stop staring at me," she says suddenly, not turning to look at me.

"I wasn't," I grumble. 

"Oh good, you can still speak. I was getting worried you had lost your command of the English language," she says, her tone haunty as her eyes flick to me for a moment. 

"Just not willing to share my talents with the likes of you." She rolls her eyes in response and turns away, peering down a dark corridor as we pass by. "Did you really faint?" I say suddenly and, to be honest, I'm not really sure why. She keeps walking but her posture stiffens as if readying for a blow. 

"You've barely made a sound all night and you open with that? What, have you been working up the nerve to ask?" 

"Did you?" I press. While I admit I do enjoy riling Potter up, there's a genuine curiosity there too. 

"Why are you asking?" She asks, stopping to turn to face me, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks up at me, her expression guarded and defiant. 

"Why are are you avoiding the question?" I challenge. Her jaw flexes as her eyes search my face and she takes a measured breath. 

"Yes, I did and I'm not ashamed. And no matter how much you and your friends try to make me feel ashamed I won't." Euphemia speaks quickly. I didn't actually think she'd admit it and I can't hide the smirk forming on my face. 

"Never seen you admit a weakness before, Princess," I chuckle, continuing our walk of the corridors. 

"Don't call me princess!" She snaps after me, trailing along in my wake. "And it is not a weakness." 

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, princess," I retort, enjoying the reaction I'm getting. 

"Did you even see the dementor? I bet it didn't even come close to you," she grumbles, catching up to me. I don't respond. Truthfully, my friends and I didn't see it and didn't even know why the train had stopped until we were almost at the station but I'll be cursed before I tell her that. "You didn't did you?" Euphemia continues to press, chuckling when I don't respond. "Godric, that is so typical of you lot. Making fun of things you know nothing about. Do you ever-" 

"Shut up, Potter. You don't know anything about me!" I snap, grinding my teeth. 

"Oh yes, and you know all about me, right? You know everything. The great Mattheo Riddle, who is smarter and better than everyone else. No one else could possible suffer because you have the monopoly on pain!" She rants, sarcasm and disdain leaking into her tone. 

"Oh like you know pain," I snap, "The Perfect Potters have it so hard! Everyone loves you and lets you do whatever you want." 

"You don't know anything about me or what I've been through!" She yells, turning to face me, anger and fire in her eyes. 

"Please! Don't give me the whole orphan act, I bet you don't even remember any of it!" I yell back. I raise my hand, waving it through the air as if to brush her off, but as I do, the perfect and fearless Euphemia Potter does something I don't expect. She flinches. 

Just a for a second, her shoulders tighten and she stiffens, as if preparing for a blow, and fear flashes in her eyes. But then its gone, hidden back under the mask of anger and loathing. I lower my hand slowly, examining her face. We watch each other for a long moment before she takes a step towards me, glaring up at me defiantly. "I remember plenty." 

She holds my gaze for a long moment before turning away and continuing down the hall. We walk in tense silence for the rest of our shift. As round the last corner, Potter turns to head up the flight of stairs on our left. "Meet me outside Gryffindor Common Room on Thursday," she calls over her shoulder as she stars up the stairs, not sparing a glance back my way as she walks out of sight.  

[ageofbajabule]

Roommates | Chapter 5

picture creds to samsfallingsky on ig.

Danny x F! Reader

Word Count: Roughly 5.3k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of cheating, some Violence, Alcohol

If you haven’t read part 4

If you want to join my taglist fill this form out🫶🏻

Author’s Note: Hello everyone!! Chapter 5 is finally here! I’m so sorry for the delay! And I hope you all enjoy this, and Roommates is soon coming to an end…🥹🩵

Her POV

After shutting the door you sat on the couch crying to yourself after hearing Danny say that. You had thought he had changed, but you were proven wrong again. Would he ever change? Or would he constantly give you the hot and cold effect.

Who cares, you’re here to work. Not to make a relationship work, this should strictly be professional. But you couldn’t help but think at the idea of being with Danny. Sure he was an asshole, but deep down you knew the real Danny was in there somewhere buried and asking for help. But how would you get that Danny back?

Danny’s POV

Once you heard the door click shut you knew you were done for. She had heard what you said, but it wasn’t true… She wasn’t a quick fuck. She was more than that, but she wouldn’t believe a word out of you now.

“So, Texas is next up?” You asked Sam, “Yeah, Fort Worth. It’s like a 9 hour drive I think. So plenty of sleep on the bus.” He chuckled softly, walking Rose to the tour bus. “Yeah…” You sighed softly stepping onto the tour bus. You shuffled your way to your bunk bed, placing your shoes by the small table on the bus. You slid into your bunk, closing the curtain getting under the blankets letting sleep overcome you.

Her POV

You finished making sure everything was stored away, before heading onto your tour bus with some of the crew immediately going to bed.

The drive to the next state was a bit bumpy. Considering you’ve never really been on a tour bus before. But you also didn’t sleep much after hearing those words from Danny. After all if he truly thought you were a quick fuck, you could always talk to Gabe. Since he wouldn’t leave you alone last night, two can play at that game.

If there was one thing you could do, it was to piss Danny off. And what better than to piss him off with some guy you truly weren’t interested in.

The buses had rolled up to the hotel, you had gathered your things making way into the main lobby. Communicating with the receptionist on getting everyone’s room keys ready.

The guys had come stumbling into the hotel, groggy and sleepy. “Morning guys.” You smiled softly at them, as you gathered their room keys. “So we have two days off until the show. I know today you guys have free will to do whatever your heart desires. But I do know there is dinner tonight with the crew and everyone. Then tomorrow you guys have an interview in the morning, and a small photoshoot in the afternoon. Soundcheck will be the morning of the show as usual.”

The guys had all nodded. “Great work Y/N! I don't think we've ever had a more prepared worker.” Jake had chuckled lightly, smiling at you. “I’m just doing my job. And don’t want to mess anything up.” You laughed lightly, seeing Danny steal a glance at you. You looked away for a moment. “Uh, so here are your guy’s keys to your rooms. You are all on the same floor, it should be like that for this whole tour, and then I will be in a room at the end of the hall.” You passed each of them their room keys.

Once you got to Danny you handed it to him slowly then turned away. “I’m sure you guys want to freshen up and such before heading out for the day. There is a zoo that I figured everyone would probably like to check out then. So, once you’re all ready just text the group chat and we’ll meet up in the lobby.” You smiled softly, “Oh I hope this zoo has penguins!” Josh said excitedly. You giggled softly, smiling at him. “I’m sure they do, but for now I’m gonna go freshen up.” You parted ways from the guys.

As you walked away with your bag, you felt like a set of eyes were burning through you. And sure enough when you entered the elevator, as you turned around you caught Danny staring. You looked off to the side, pressing the button on the elevator to take you to your floor.

➳

It was around 3 in the afternoon. The guys had messaged the group chat that they were ready to head to the zoo. In which everyone met in the lobby. Josh is wearing a brown jumpsuit with his new society symbol. Along with Jake wearing his go to button up shirt, with very few buttons buttoned, and a pair of worn jeans. Sam wore a very mismatched outfit, and Danny opted to wear black jeans and a yellow muscle tee. You couldn’t help but look at him, he was still undeniably attractive even after what he said to you…

“Ready to go?” You smiled at them, they all nodded piling into the van. You opted in sitting between Jake and Josh, letting Danny and Sam sit next to each other. You striked a conversation with the twins immediately, talking about the upcoming outfits for this tour and the ideas they had in mind.

While Danny tried to have a conversation with Sam about something back home. Danny would try to steal glances at you, but you just ignored him as much as you could by engaging in conversation with the twins more.

Once you all had arrived you exited the car, and Gabe had come to the zoo from another van with the rest of the crew. “Hey Y/N!” He had walked up to you, “Hey Gabe…” You shot a smile at him, deciding to head up to the entrance you had all paid your admission to get into the zoo. “What are you most excited to see?” You smiled while keeping a conversation going with Gabe.

“Um, I think the giraffe’s.” He chuckled softly, walking close by your side. You knew this would definitely set Danny off.

The rest of the day in the zoo was spent pretty much with Gabe, however you noticed Danny had been lingering behind the two of you with Sam beside him. You had opted to use the restroom breaking off from the group saying you’d catch up with them later.

Once you used the restroom you had come out, to find Danny waiting outside. “Hi Danny.” You said in an annoyed tone. “Y/N let me ex-“ “No Danny. There is nothing to explain. I think you’ve pretty much made it clear last night that I’m just an easy fuck.” You yelled at him, but only loud enough between the two of you.

“But you’re not!” He threw his hands up. “Really? Cause it sure as hell seemed like it? Why would you say that if you truly don’t mean it?” You put your hands on your hips. “It’s not as easy as you might think.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Let me guess, is it ‘Bro Code’” You looked at him, and he looked back. “You can’t be serious Daniel.”

You laughed nervously shaking your head. “Wow, really living up to the fuck boy type aren’t ya?” You walked up to him, “In case you haven’t noticed, that’s not gonna fly with me. I know you’re better than that, Josie even said so.” You scoffed walking away, feeling him pull your wrist to pull you to him.

“I can show you I’m not like the rest of them…” He held your face close to his. “Danny…” You looked down, but he tilted your chin up to face him. “Give me a chance.” He had pleading eyes. “Danny… I can’t. You’ve already hurt me so much…” You felt the tears burning your eyes. “So you would rather run to Gabe…” He scoffed, pulling away from you.

“It’s not like that Danny.” You looked at him. “Then what’s it like? Cause to me it seems like you have some sort of interest in him.” He chuckled, “Gabe is just a friend. Nothing more. I don’t even find him-“ “Find him attractive or find him interesting? It’s because you want me…” Danny pulled you to him. “Please. Give me a chance.” You pushed him away slowly, “I think you need to work on yourself before trying to make something work between us…” You sniffled, feeling your tears fall.

You felt him let go of you. “I’m sorry…” You wiped your tears walking away from him, going to an exhibit of Wolves. You found Josh looking out at them, you made yourself not look like a crying mess before clearing your throat letting Josh know you were there.

“Oh, Hi Y/N.” He smiled softly, “Hi Josh…” You stood next to him. “I’m assuming you and Daniel finished talking”, he shifted his gaze towards you. “How did-“ “It’s honestly not hard to tell when your brother is in love with someone, and they love them back…” He chuckled softly. “What is it?” He smiled softly, “I’m all ears.”

You let out a small sigh, “It’s just. One minute he is this sweet amazing guy, and then he just becomes cold… Like as if I’m nothing to him, but just another girl in his eyes?” You sat on the bench, as Josh then sat next to you.

“I’m not excusing his actions… By any means. But, Daniel has… He’s been through the ringer, with his last relationship especially.” He scratched the back of his head. “Josie didn’t particularly fill me in, not that she needs to. But Daniel just…” You put your head down.

“You remember Jasmine?” Josh put a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, nodding slowly. “Heard of her…” You made a half smile.

“Well, the reason Danny is the way he is. Is all because of her. She filled all these thoughts of lies into his head. Trying to make him the villain… But in the end it was all her…” He spoke softly, “Did she…” “Did she cheat? Is that what you are asking?” He looked at you, you nodded. “Yes… And tried to say that it was because he didn’t give her enough attention… That all he cared about was the music and the boys… But Danny really did balance out his every day to day life. He gave her everything he could.” He sighed softly.

You looked at Josh, “So… Danny. Has been beating himself up ever since?” Josh nodded at you, you felt your heart drop. “Josh… I.” He shook his head, “There was no way you could’ve ever known… Danny doesn’t like to talk about her. And I understand why. But… He needs to move past it.” He sighed softly, you nodded. “If you wanna know more… Maybe you should talk to Danny. I think he’s scared of loving you. As you can tell, last time didn’t go so well.”

“Come on. We should get going, we have dinner reservations tonight. And should head back to freshen up.” He stood up offering a hand for you to get up.

You took it standing up, “Thank you, Josh…” You smiled at him as he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “Of course.” You smiled softly, hugging him tightly before letting him go.

➳

Dinner was at a secluded yet expensive restaurant. The boys insisted on dining here to have a relaxing night, and to treat their crew to a well deserved dinner as they claimed. You had opted into wearing a sleek black dress with an open back. Fitting all of your curves, and opted to wear red strappy heels to pop out the outfit.

You had went in a separate van from the guys arriving with other crew mates filing into the building as you were guided to the table you would be dining at. You heard someone clear their throat and saw Danny’s head snap up to look at you, you caught a glimpse of his eyes blushing and looking away for a mere moment to try and avoid eye contact.

Then Josh chimed in, “Y/N you can sit next to me.” You smiled softly, mentally thanking him and sat down next to him which was a couple seats away from Danny. You adjusted yourself in your seat, looking down at Danny, catching him staring at you again. You shot your eyes back to look at Jake across from you. “So Jake, did you enjoy the zoo today?” You smiled softly engaging in small talk.

“Yeah, it was nice to see so many animals.” He chuckled softly, “Although I do feel quite bad for some of them… Some should just be left in their natural habitat. But I can understand why some are there, better taken care of?” He shook his head, “Sorry I’m rambling…” You shook your head, “It’s quite alright Jake.” You smiled softly.

Gabe had taken a seat next to Jake, which you looked up at him smiling softly. “Nice of you to join us, Gabe.” He nodded, smiling at everyone. “Wouldn’t miss it.” You heard a chair move on the floor, indicating someone was getting up. You looked up to find Danny standing up and walking away, “What’s his issue?” You heard Jake ask, and Josh looked over at Sam raising his hands. “He said he had an important phone call to take.” Sam shrugged, you knew Danny didn’t have an important phone call. He was just pissed to see you interacting with Gabe.

You leaned over to whisper in Josh’s ear. “I think it’s because of Gabe…” You pulled back to see Josh nod his head and motion for you to go. You sighed softly, standing up from your seat. “Going to use the ladies room.” You smiled softly, walking away from the table making way towards the hallway of the restrooms to find Danny standing at the end of the hallway.

He in fact did have a phone call. One hand in his hair pulling it nervously, his back was facing you. He hadn’t known you were there yet. “Josie… I fucked up. I don’t know what to do.” He sighed, “I mean. I didn’t do anything to entirely fuck it up, but I just keep fucking up. And I’m trying not to.” You heard him mumble some ‘okays’ and ‘yeah’ then he finally said his goodbyes and thanked his sister before getting off the phone.

You played it off that you had just made your way to the hallway. “Danny?” You called his name just above a whisper. He turned on his heels, “Look, I’m not entirely sure it's smart for us to have another conversation. Especially after how today went…” He looked down at you.

“Well we need to have a conversation. Maybe not here, but some time and some where…” You played with your hands. “Y/N…” “Danny. Please.” You looked up at him, pulling his hand into yours. “We can’t keep doing this…” He caressed your cheek. “I want you to be happy, and I’m scared I can’t do that for you.” He looked at you with hurt in his eyes.

“Danny… I-“ He pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips softly. You wrapped your small hands around his, kissing him back softly then pulled away. “Tomorrow. We will talk. I don’t want alcohol to have an influence in any of this conversation…” He rested his forehead against yours. You nodded slowly, “Tomorrow. Breakfast after your interview?” You giggled softly. He nodded, “Sounds like a plan darling.” He kissed your forehead softly, “We should probably head back.” He chuckled and walked away first, you gave it a little bit of time then made your way back sitting next to Josh again.

“So…?” Josh leaned over to your ear. “Tomorrow he and I will talk…” You whispered back, smiling softly. He smiled softly, “See. It’ll work out.” He chuckled softly.

For the rest of dinner you kept stealing glances with Danny, shooting a smile and blushing from the small acts. After a couple glasses of wine, everyone was ready to head back to the hotel. Josh suggested you rode back with them. You had sat in the back between Danny and Sam. Sam was busy talking on the phone with his girlfriend Natalie, while the twins had their own small talk. Danny played your hand that rested on your thigh.

Intertwining your fingers together, he rubbed his thumb across your hand. You looked down at your hand then back at him, smiling softly. Then Sam had finished his phone conversation which made Danny and you slip your hands away. Your heart ached, longing to be able to show your love for him… But you understood why.

➳

Next morning came. The day was filled with two interviews in the morning. Leaving some time for the guys, before their photoshoot in the afternoon.

You had done a check-up on them making sure they were awake. You had knocked on their doors earning very quick responses that they were in fact awake and ready for the day. Lastly you had come up to Danny’s room, when he answered he was just finishing getting ready. “Morning, beautiful.” He smiled softly, “Morning…” You couldn’t stop yourself from blushing. “Just checking that you are all ready to go. Van will be here in a few minutes to take you guys over to some radio station I believe it is. For your interview as a band, and then a short one with Jake.” You smiled softly.

“Don’t forget our breakfast together then…” He smiled softly, you nodded your head. “Trust me, I didn’t forget. Could hardly sleep last night because of the nerves.” You giggled softly. He pulled you in closely to kiss your lips softly. You kissed him back, then slowly pulled away. “Listen we can’t let anybody see us until this is all figured out…” You sighed softly with a little bit of hurt. You wanted to express how you felt to Danny in front of everyone. But you wanted to make sure you heard everything before biting the bullet.

“Yeah… I’m sorry.” He put his head down scratching the back of his neck. “It's okay, I just don't want to be a secret is all.” She rubbed his cheek with her hand. He nodded, “Well I should probably head out, before I get yelled at for being late.” He chuckled softly, you nodded. Just let me know when you’re back and we’ll go for our breakfast.” You smiled softly, walking back towards your room.

➳

The early morning of the guys' events went by rather quickly. Danny had sent you a text signaling he was waiting in the hotel lobby for you. You fixed your outfit, and adjusted your hair before heading out to meet him in the lobby. That’s when you bumped into Gabe. “Oh shit, sorry…” You looked up at him apologetically. “Oh it’s alright. Hey, um did you want to go out tonight?” You looked at him and gave a light smile. “I’m sorry Gabe… Not tonight. I think the guys had made plans and asked me to join them.” They hadn’t but you needed something to go with.

“Oh, alright. Well if plans don’t turn out, I’m here.” He chuckled lightly walking away. You nodded and made way to the lobby, walking up to Danny as he waved you down. “Sorry, I bumped into Gabe on the way down here…” You sighed softly. “Is he still trying to make moves on my girl?”

You blushed at ‘my girl’, “I’m sorry, my what now?” You giggled softly. Danny wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close. “My girl…”

“Come on lover boy, I’m starving.” You swatted his arm playfully. He chuckled following behind you. Luckily there was a breakfast joint not too far from the hotel. It was within walking distance, you both decided to sit on the little balcony outside. It was only you two seated out there.

“This is a cute little place.” You smiled softly. “Not as cute as you.” He smirked, looking over at you. You scoffed playfully, “Good one…” You shook your head giggling softly as you blushed.

“Alright. So, what do you want to know?” He opened the menu, observing it and deciding on what he wanted to order. “I want to know about her…” You looked up at him with soft eyes. He met yours, his body tensed a little bit. “What is there to know…” He closed the menu, fidgeting with the edges. “Well Josh told me the basics… But said I should talk to you more about it. I know she hurt you… And filled your head with lies…” You put your hand across the table to grab his. He pulled his hand back slowly.

“Danny…” “Y/N… She is in the past for a fucking reason.” He said through gritted teeth. “Daniel, I’m just trying to figure out why you’ve been acting like you have been towards me.” You snapped at him. “I’ve been acting towards you?” He smirked, “Yeah, you’ve been acting like an asshole!”

“I have?” You watched as Danny sucked in a breath, his eyes looked tortured. Almost as if he was having a battle within himself. “It’s not that easy to explain.” He looks at you with hurt in his eyes. “Well I’m all ears. You said we were gonna talk. So let’s talk, let me in Danny…” You sighed softly, reaching for his hand again. He sighed deeply, holding your hand in his.

“Jasmine was… She was my everything. And then… she just broke my heart and tried to say it was my fault…” He had tears forming. “But all I ever did was give her everything I had to offer… But it just wasn’t enough.” He sighed, you rubbed his hand softly with your thumb. “Danny…” “And the worst part is, she slept with the proclaimed guy she told me not to worry about…” He sniffled as tears fell.

“Tried accusing me that I was sleeping around when I was on tour, I invited her to join us all the time. But she always turned it down saying she couldn’t because of work… Even though Jita takes some time off to join Jake for a few weeks or so. And anytime I planned a nice trip together she would make a fit, and shut it down immediately. So then I would just go with the guys or play my drums figuring out different sounds and techniques for new music. And she swore up and down all I cared about was myself, the music and the guys…” He let out a small cry. “I saw a future with her, and she just tore me down… And I guess I’ve just reflected on the words she left me with and acted on it…” He looked up at you with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Danny… I’m so sorry.” You put your other hand around his, kissing it softly. “You’re not a bad guy. You’re a great guy who got his heart broken by an ungrateful bitch.” You bit your tongue. “Sorry…” “No it’s okay… she was a bitch.” He chuckled softly, “I just. Was scared I was going to hurt you. I mean, I kind of already did with being a dick towards you… And I really am sorry for that.” He looked into your eyes. You smiled softly, looking into his eyes.

“Y/N, I just… What I’m saying is.” He blushed, putting his head down. “I want you in my life… And I know I’ve been an asshole to you for the past two months going on almost 3 months. I just want to start fresh, and treat you the way you deserve.” You felt a few tears threatening to spill, “Danny… All I ever wanted was an explanation and you… Did more than that.” You sighed contently, “Danny I’ve been crazy about you ever since we first met. As silly as that sounds.” You giggled softly, and he laughed softly. “Funny thing is, I was too. Josie even told me to make a move… I was just, I don’t know.”

You smiled at him, “Josh told me that you were scared to love again. I think that’s what was holding you back… And I completely understand, after going through a breakup like that… It’s hard to come back from.” You looked into his eyes lovingly, he nodded watching you.

“So, why don’t we start fresh? I’m sure the guys would be happy that we’re not at each other's throats.” You giggled softly, “Yeah I like the sound of that.” Danny chuckled, smiling softly. “But with one exception?” You looked at Danny with a questionable look, “What exception?”

“Be mine? And only mine. I want you to be my girl. And I want you and only you…” He held both of your hands. You looked into his eyes, nodding your head. “Yes… I- I will Danny…” He smiled leaning over the table kissing your lips softly, as you kissed him back.

“Oh thank god, I thought I was going to walk out of here a lonely man…” He chuckled softly, you shot a glare. “You’re on thin ice… So I'd watch it.” You giggled softly. “I think I’ve learned from my mistakes, I don’t want to lose you…” He smiled softly.

“Alright, let’s order. I’m starving and you still have a photoshoot to attend after this.” He nodded signaling the waiter over to place your orders. “But then I have you for the rest of the day right?” He smiled at you softly, “As long as your schedule stays clear after the photoshoot, then yes.” You smirked at him. “Oh I’ll make sure it stays clear.” He chuckled softly.

➳

Breakfast with Danny was wonderful, you got to know a lot more about him and his family. Along with him learning about yours. And how the two of you lived so close to one another but never crossed paths before.

Danny insisted on you joining the guys on their photoshoot, but you wanted to stay behind and catch up on some work for tomorrow’s busy day leading into Friday.

You decided to head down to the hotel’s bar. Sitting at a small booth, texting Danny to let him know where you were when the guys came back in case they wanted to join you.

A few hours had passed and you were only 2 tequila soda’s in. It was around 6pm and Danny had sent a text signaling he would be down soon. And the guys would join later. You smiled, sending a response back, before finishing up your work and putting it away in your bag waiting for him to arrive.

You had seen Gabe walking into the hotel’s bar. You caught eye contact with him, groaning quietly to yourself. Will this guy ever get the hint? You’re clearly not interested in him. He made his way over to you, “Hey Y/N!” He smiled softly, “Hi Gabe…” You gave a half smile. “Are you alone? Mind if I join?” He smiled, “Uh, Danny is actually meeting me here soon. And the others will be joining…” You took a sip of your drink.

“Well would they mind that I join?” He smiled softly, you thought to yourself. Danny would mind, in fact it would set Danny off you thought. “Uh, sure why not.” You smiled softly, regretting letting him join. You weren’t sure how Danny would react, and of course Gabe sat next to you, and quite close actually. “So, what have you been up to?” He asked taking a sip of his beer. “Oh just finishing up some work for tomorrow’s show and Friday’s show.” You nodded, “What about you?” You tried to keep the conversation simple or to a minimum until Danny arrived.

And of course, Danny was taking a little longer. “Talking to the crew about how insane the new set up is on this tour. I mean Nashville was just an insane evening, it turned out amazing.” He chuckled softly, and you nodded. You caught Danny coming in hot out of the corner of your eye. He raised an eyebrow at you motioning towards Gabe, you gave him a defeated look while shrugging.

“Danny! So glad you joined us.” Gabe smiled at him, Danny smiled back sitting across from you, “The others will be here in the next half hour. I thought you’d be the only one here Y/N…” He said a little annoyed. “Gabe decided to join, he saw I was alone and well…” You gave Danny an apologetic look. “Can’t leave a woman alone by herself in a bar these days anymore…” Gabe chuckled softly, you felt uneasy around him. And Danny could pick up the vibes.

Gabe continued to talk about the stage techniques and set up with Danny while you chewed on the inside of your cheek, waiting for the others to join. And finally the three Kiszka boys piled in. You tapped Gabe on the shoulder, “I’m gonna get a refill, you guys want the same?” Danny and Gabe nodded. “I’ll be back.” You smiled as Gabe let you slip out, and followed behind you.

“You know… You really are beautiful…” You could hear the sultry tone to his voice making you cringe. “Gabe… We’ve already had this conversation.” You went up to the bar placing an order for everyone. “Y/N, come on. Give me a chance… So what if we work together?” He chuckled softly, grabbing at your waist. “Gabe, I said I wasn’t interested.” You shoved his hands away. “And don’t touch me.” You looked at him with angry eyes.

“Woah, hey now… No need to get angry. I’m just-“ “You were just leaving.” Danny spoke up startling Gabe. “Hey man… It’s not-“ Danny grabbed him by the shirt. “It's not what it looks like? It sure did though man. How about you leave my girl alone. And get the fuck out of here…” Danny was beyond pissed, you could see the rage in his eyes.

“Your girl…” He scoffed looking over at you. “You’ll fuck the rockstar, but not me. Fucking easy skank…” He smirked, your eyes went wide. Then Danny’s fist met Gabe’s jaw, knocking him down. “Don’t you ever call her a skank!” Danny gripped his shirt, holding him to the ground. “Come on man, I’m sure she’s an easy lay.” He chuckled, and Danny clocked him again. As the guys rushed over to pull him off of Gabe.

“Danny! We can’t cause a fucking scene in here.” Josh snapped at him, as Sam picked Gabe up walking out of the bar, Jake was checking on you making sure you were alright. “You think I’m gonna let him talk about Y/N like that?” He was angry, and looked over at you with concerning eyes. “Are you okay baby?” He walked up to you, caressing your cheek. You nodded, “I’ll be alright… I just didn’t think that would happen.” You let out a shaky breath.

“Wait, baby?” Josh and Jake looked over at the two of you. “Are we missing something here?” Jake chuckled softly, waiting for a response.

“Well, uh…” Danny smirked, looking between all of you. Sam joined the group again, “Alright he’s being sent off. Got him fired for sexual harassment… What did I miss?” He looked around. “Daniel was getting ready to fill us in on something rather important.” Josh said with a smirk.

“Oh, well what is it Daniel?” Sam questioned him.

“Y/N and I are dating…” He smiled, pulling you close to him.

.

.

.

.

to be continued…

Taglist -

@laneygvf @lyndszee @fkfearandliveyourlegend @starcatcherry

[hail-brod]

A Chance and Beyond (5)

Previous chapter: (Chapter 4)

Next chapter: (Chapter 6)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Loki x FReader

A/N: AAA. Sorry for the 2 weeks delay. Busy sched and all that college stress honking at me. Just glad finally had the time to write!

Warning/s: Light angst?, light cusses, mentions of a home's destruction, nothing else probably (please tell me if I missed something!)

WC: 4.4k

You go to a trip with your sorcerer friend and also visit your other sorcerer...friend? Whatever he is to you, you just can't keep him away on your mind. Simp. And it seems like, you're getting quite attached to where you are. Bad. Very bad. Or is it?

As soon as you and Strange made your move to walk towards a road, you had come to realize that the people rounding and helping around the said 'Norway', we're dressed like....asgardians.

All with the females' flowy skirts and the males' simple tunic beneath their worn out cloaks, that feels like it has been drastically changed. It has been far from what you've always seen, far from the bright and luscious colors that everyone delighted in. Each and every one of them was adorned with a somber hue that even their countenance could match.

There's a pit in your stomach that uneased you so as you flew your eyes amongst the people you pass by. Some of the houses we're nearly finished while the others we're just being started. Tents we're also given afoot at a separate side of the field where the remaining people stayed idle for rest. Some peering eyes turn to you and Strange, no doubt more curious at the man in a bright red cloak.

You though, you peered right back in question and in concern.

"This is still Midgard?" you lowly asked, turning to your sorcerer friend. "Earth?"

"Yes."

When he turns to you, there's not much answer you could get from his expression. His inexpressible stare greeted you but it cracks with something else that unnerves you more.

He turns away, staring forward. "If you still need that grimoire, I'm afraid we'll have no luck getting it anymore."

You feel yourself slowly stop beside him. There's that growing hopelessness in your eyes, baring at his back as he continued, not noticing your halt. You glance around one more time.

You know what he meant. And it adds to the pile of needles piercing through your heart. Part of it was your lowered chances to travel back to the TVA, but what overrides it is knowing that there's a reality where Asgard have met it's terrible fate. Knowing that these people we're forced to leave their home-world because of it. And there's no doubt many we're also perished.

At this point, you're being used to the downing weight on your chest. You try to breathe deeply.

"You alright?" you snap your head towards Strange, who has stopped walking and now looking at you. He seems firm but he eyes you gently.

"What happened?" you almost ask in a whisper.

"I can't...tell you what exactly occurred. I don't know much about it..." he says. He turns his head somewhere and when you did the same, you see an unfamiliar sky-blue spacecraft parked far in the distance. "All I know is that, your crown prince and everyone else fought to save your people's lives."

There's a pause of the moment.

You couldn't say anything after that, so you continued to follow Strange. You feel proud knowing that Thor still has the determination to save others, as a hero and as a prince. Basking at the sight of a few asgardians with melancholic smiles, still finding hope amongst their families and friends—you know that Thor had done his best to protect everyone else.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

You also wonder if Loki did the same. You doubt he wouldn't be affected by all of this.

After a few turns and questions from your companion, asking where Thor might be to the passing asgardians, you're led to a crowded area situated near a harbor.

Resources of woods we're being hauled and carried by people, probably for construction of the houses. Others talked and yelled orders, throwing baskets over their shoulders, there's nets, and other supplies being given to mothers, fathers—everyone. They we're all busy.

"I didn't know asgardians we're this...cooperative." Strange mentions next to you.

You strained a smile. "We've had many wars." you say. "I'd wager it's the same here. We make sure our allies are always taken care of, especially their honor in battle."

When you finally spot some people bowing their heads to a gathering little circle as they walked past them in the distance, you and Strange paced up your steps.

You recognized two people conversing with someone unfamiliar to you. You see Thor's form and in front of him was a woman with intricate braids adorning her hair. And at their sides, was the raven haired god that you just realized you aren't prepared to see again.

He was talking to them, probably discussing a plan or an idea as the other two listened to him. You hesitated to follow your cloaked companion who's heading towards them as you tried to blend in with the busy crowds. Although, before you could decide to brave yourself up and walk forward again, he met your eyes.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

Why, just before you we're adamant when interacting with him. Maybe you we're just fooling yourself.

When he saw you, he stopped moving his mouth to talk as he gradually widened his eyes. It wasn't long before Thor and the woman turned their heads towards Loki's line of sight, landing on you. You briefly stiffed.

But Thor immediately broke out into a grin when he realized who caught his brother's attention. "My lady! What brings you here?" then he sees Strange. "And Doctor, of course."

"You sound disappointed." Strange gave him unamused look.

"What, me? Nooo." Thor tries to pat him on the back, but Strange's cloak slaps his hand away. The god frowns at the garment.

"Don't even attempt it."

Just as Strange arrived at their sides, with a courage you forced yourself to pick up, you followed suit. You try to sneak a glance at the god who's now directly in front of you. Loki looks down on you with no more than a brief stare and immediately flickered it between the other two men.

"Who's this?" the woman with the braids suddenly asks, attention on you.

"Oh, this is..." Thor says your name—which you certainly know he wasn't supposed to when Loki points him a dead look. It went unnoticed by his older brother. "A fellow asgardian! Not from around here but I won't disclose furthermore on that."

She raised a questioning look at Thor. "Really?" she says, eyeing you. "You don't look like it. I'm Brunnhilde."

You nodded, quite hesitant to meet anyone's eyes lest you might accidentally find yourself in Loki's cerulean ones. "Pleasure to meet you." you say with a polite smile.

She quirked a brow and grinned. "And a noble at that. The pleasure is all mine." she adds playfully. You confusingly blinked.

"Why, yes..." Thor's chuckle booms. "..how'd you know that?" his expression contorts, looking at her as if she just crossed him unmistakably.

"I've spent enough time with dickhead nobles to know which ones can run their pouty mouths to pray dumb orders." she darts her eyes to Thor then turns to you with a crank of her head. "Don't worry, you're not one of them."

You like her already.

This Brunnhilde woman seems like a very laidback person. Well, not so much if you consider her hardened muscles and confident stance. Someone who's likely a trained warrior.

"What about me?" Thor asks Brunnhilde. She turns to him and gave him a stare for a second, then shrugs. She eventually bid her goodbyes to the princes and you, mentioning along the lines of being needed for escorting newly imported goods at the pier.

"What did she mean-" Thor imitates Brunnhilde's shrug, eyeing the direction she left with irritation. "Sometimes I feel like she keeps insulting me."

She probably was.

"Enough of that, we came here for something." Strange suddenly says, turning to you then back at the princes. "We had already tried to use the Time stone and I'm afraid we need some alternatives."

This peaks Loki's interest, quirking up a brow. "And you need us to...what?"

Strange slowly shrugs as he tilted his head to you. "I believe this would be asgardian matters."

All eyes turned to you. You blinked and took a deep breath, unsure of what to say. It's not fair that he could just avert the attention to you the least you expect it.

"First of all, Asgard..." you paused. "I need something from there, but now I suppose that would be....unattainable." you lightly bared your eyes on the two princes, expecting them to say something. Though, your eyes dances around the other asgardians, scurrying about and making this place their new home.

Thor immediately tensed up, a sudden sadness visible in his eyes. "My lady, if you must know..." he starts, stepping closer to bring a hand on your shoulder and utters lowly. "we can have a chat somewhere else so you can prepare yourself with my...tale.."

His voice trails off but you reply. There's a feeling in you that doesn't want to know what happened; it might as well affect you more than it should. "No, it is fine. Your people have clearly seen the hardships. I can only imagine what truly happened. Honestly, I don't even want to imagine..." you gently inclined.

You feel the change in you to know what caused this. Maybe fear is running its way to your mind; another breaking point daring to burst you. In another time, maybe you want to know. Just...not right now.

Thor gives you a sympathetic look and nods, hands falling from your shoulder. "Alright then. Asgard is...gone, but our people will find their safe haven here. As you can already see," he lifts his palm up to present his surroundings, but he suddenly turns grim. "And what you seek to retrieve in Asgard, no doubt, has met the same fate. The realm itself is..."

"I understand." you say, the weight in you threatens to crash.

You breathed in. What now?

If the grimoire itself is gone, what other options do you have? There's not a single alternative that would be able to tell you how to conjure that command within the infinity stone. Not a single spell that would be able to link with it; no compatibility to successfully activate the magic.

Are you truly stuck here? It seems like the Norns have turned a blind eye on you—more than ever.

"What do you even intend to retrieve in Asgard?"

Your thoughts break as you turn to look at the voice. A voice you can never forget. When you finally dart your eyes on him, he had crossed his arms, eyes firm on you. But you know that isn't the firmest look he can give.

Loki raises a brow, awaiting your answer. You dazed off for a bit, rethinking if you should say it. Any asgardian sorcerer would know how absurd it is to consider something so dangerous. "The grimoire of Banna Fróðleikr." you almost muttered in shame.

The moment his firmness faded, you knew he's heard of it. He frowned but you didn't miss the brief concern laced in his expression. "Why in the Hels would you want to use it?"

"The 'Banana' what?" Thor snoops in, confused.

Loki ignores him as he takes a few steps closer to you. Your heart raced. You wanted to back up but your feet grounds you down. You soon noticed his movement was hesitant. "I believe you know what that grimoire holds; how dangerous the spells are contained there." he says, expecting you to elaborate.

It was clear he was questioning why you needed such a thing. And it doesn't really help that you we're already subjected as a suspicious stranger by his 'comrades', or even him. You know how dangerous it is. But you've experienced far worse fates. The spell is your last option and the only option you can think of, and you're willing to risk it if the chance is still presented.

"One spell." you say, clearing it. "That's all I ask from it, not with something ominous nor malicious. I don't intend to use it that way."

He momentarily creases his brow. Any lie that he had probably try to pick up from you was nonexistent. "It's still a big risk. Actually, it depends on how much risk the spell can do."

You see him soften but he immediately puts on his mask. A sudden feeling of belonging churns in you when you took a moment scanning his face, but you shook it away with a blink. "Well...does it matter now?"

He lingers his eyes on you—much more intently. As if digging through your memories and memorizing every detail on your face. You know he's trying to look for any hidden intent.

Then he breaks it with a faint sigh. "I have it."

Huh?

"You have...what?" you say, stunned.

Strange looks at him with a huffs. "You just can't get your hands off of anything, can you?"

That earns him a glare from the god. But you only blink several times as Loki turns to the others with irritation. That served you a chance to observe him furthermore. The opportunity to have him there just a few steps away from you, made you feel surreal. You start to realize how mature he looks. That he's slightly taller than you're used to, while his black locks seemed even more refined with more curls.

And the last time you held them, you we're worried sick on the ground as he rested his head on your lap, bleeding. He wasn't even grunting in pain but chuckling as he stared up on you. At some point, you would've thought he was a bloody masochist.

Alas, you stopped yourself. You hear Thor say something scoldingly at his brother. You bring yourself back in the chatter and remembered why you we're momentarily taken. You still have some things to address.

"Will you both shut up? And stop antagonizing me, I only have the copy; not the real thing." Loki bites back.

"That doesn't make any difference." his brother remarked.

The grimoire. You have a chance.

"Wait," you jump in. "wait, that's...that's great. Good great." you tried to say. You feel the relief washing through you. When Loki turns to you, you realized your eyes never left his form. He almost took your breathe away.

Oh, by the Þrír Wells of Yggdrasil. Why do you keep getting distracted?

The said god raised a brow, seemingly judging you for sounding too chirpy at the revelation of a dangerous item. "Is it now?"

"W-Well, I mean..."

As you tried to redeem yourself, you can't help but be sidetracked when he slightly tilted his head to the side with a quaint smug look.

All words die on your throat.

It hurts when you see your Loki in him, but at the same time, it swells that you're witnessing him all over again. Right here—in front of you.

"Danger is hardly great," Strange declares. "but fine. Whatever spell you want to do, it'd better be worth all the risk." you hurried your attention towards him and eventually notice his uneasiness, eyes darting here and there.

"Of course..." you trail, concerned. Why is he now worried over the plan? "I can't promise anything but the odds can be on our side." you try to reassure.

As you debated in your head to ask whether the midgardian sorcerer is having second thoughts, an asgardian bellows mirthful words to Thor. The man informs him of something about a preparation for a bonfire feast, which also inspirited the other asgardians into a cheer.

That brings a ghost of a smile on your lips. It has been tough yet they still manage to see light through these times.

Thor brings out a baritone laugh, hands on his hips. "Never thought they'd be this eager to have a brief feast. Then again, asgardians are never brought down that easily." he says, a bittersweet gentleness in his tone.

"I just hope you're not going to let them consume our food supplies in one night." Loki declaimed in feign annoyance.

"Oh, you worry too much brother. Hmm, perhaps that is why you're my wingman." this time, he tries to pat Loki in the back which earned him an eyeroll.

"Or more like a babysitter." you hear him mutter under his breath as Thor turns away, addressing cheerful words at his people. You couldn't help but huff out a light laugh, that being not unheard from Loki's ears as he points you a look. One that he tries to hide as he stands up straight, authoritatively.

Well, isn't he tough?

Before you could forget about your mission, your cloaked friend calls your name.

But Thor interrupts him. "Why don't you join us for tonight?" he stares at you and then hesitantly at Strange, as if he didn't want him to accept. "Only if you are not busy of course. You and your- " he lightly waved his hands around. "silly sorcery stuffs."

"Oh. I don't..." I don't know. Should you? There's no arguing you're tempted to. Looking around....these are the people you're fighting with fate to see again.

Only for a brief moment. Only for one night. Maybe you deserve it.

Do you?

You glanced at Loki who's eyes away from you yet you know he's listening. With him again—just for a little while...

You then fly your eyes at Strange, but oddly, he wasn't paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he was frowning into nothingness—as if there was a presence he was trying to detect. It was your turn to call his name.

All the other eyes turn to him, wondering the same thing. This brought the cloaked sorcerer out from his troubles and immediately replies, stern. "Let's resume tomorrow. I have some business in the sanctum." he says to you, turning to his side. There's a sense of rush in his movements yet he still manages to sound composed. Before you can follow him with questions, he continues. "You can stay here if you want. I can come back here tomorrow morning."

You were taken aback, gears turning to immediately decide. "Is that really fine?" you stall, not sure if you should assist with what's bothering him or just be selfish and stay.

He quips you a look. "I know you want to stay." he opens a portal and you're left grounded on your spot. He gives you one last look and points a glance behind you with a low whisper. "And it seems like they do too."

You don't know what to say to that. You never expected you'd be in this situation given that you had been thinking a lot more about getting out of this place. And now you're faced with what you've always wanted, but at the same time, this isn't where you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be acting; to move out where you have stuck yourself in.

But are you really stuck right now? To you, it feels like there's already roots growing underneath you.

When he entered, he didn't waste a second closing it, knowing that you already made up your mind.

"That settles it then." Thor's voice booms behind you. Even if you can't see him, there's no doubt he's grinning widely.

When you turned, you weren't mistaken.

Your heart was running fast.

You didn't even run, not so much as a jog. And yet, as you walk beside the young prince, you couldn't calm yourself down. By the Hels, you know you were nervous...and more conscious. What could've probably caused that? Your first few interactions with him we're adequately placed within meters away, and just right before your not very pleasant morning.

Now, you we're inches beside him. Of course you had to peek glances—and he certainly looks like he wants to avoid you.

That made you even more nervous.

Had you said or done anything wrong? We're you acting too odd for a stranger and he sees you strange? Had you made yourself a fool in front of him?

Maybe, you had been too straightforward the last time you talked. That explains it.

When Thor proceeded to lead you both to the site of the bonfire feast, he had placed himself ahead of you, giving his regards to his people with encouragements. While you and Loki trailed behind him quite meekly; although, having his chin up makes him look more confident and high in power compared to you—who looks tense and far from his confident aura.

But said aura hides something underneath it.

You start to wonder if his people also treat him differently for being...him. You can't be too sure if circumstances are alike than the ones that you've known...but you already had your fair share of witnessing the other people's distrust against him.

A certain blond soldier comes to mind. Well, not just him. You're quite certain there's a lot more people, more than the Avengers, that are not in favor of his character.

It proved to be right when a few asgardians hesitantly bow their heads with a strained smile towards the young prince as they scurry away with not so much a glance. A big contrast to when they greet Thor; a warm smile and a tone of cheeriness, matching even his bright demeanor.

Some things do never change.

But it was also quite...new. Or different.

Sure, in your timeline your people would always regard him with a fearful and scornful stare, but never in a way that seems like they're trying to...see him. In this timeline, their hesitancy almost feels like a test of the waters, testing if they'll burn themselves or freeze in fear of his wrath—or if the chance serves it, maybe neither of those. There's a hiding trepidation in their eyes, but their intention for genuineness wishes to push it far out of their heads.

And when you witnessed Loki's attempt at a polite nod on every bow he receives, you know he's doing the same.

You know there's a mask hovering over his guarded demeanor, but you also know he's capable of being genuine. You hadn't realize your tensed form have downgraded to little abnormal heart beats when Loki himself caught your attention on him.

"Distracted once again now, are we?"

Screw it, you're tense again.

He stares down at you as he says it, but there's an implied teasing on his tone. He's clearly remembered your last conversation.

"No, no." you try to laugh it out. "I'm nowhere close to being famished at all."

"Shame. Considering that you've been invited to a feast, you'd at least have more room for a banquet meal." he says, looking ahead.

"Is that an offer?"

He narrows his brows and lightly snaps his eyes on you. What?

As if he heard your thought of confusion, his expression fades out into a softer manner. You realized he was observing you and somehow, whatever it is he saw, brought his guard down.

Maybe because this time, you didn't hide your intentions with a teasing grin. We all know what would've happen if you did. It could be you this time and not the meal.

"You're bold," he starts. "considering the forbidden book as your way out of here. Not many would dare attempt to read such destructive texts, especially amateurs." he averts the subject.

You lightly scrunched your nose. He continues before you could say anything. "But, you are no amateur, I can admit that. You're...well-versed..in the least I could say. Undoing my disguise spell work is undeniably no easy feat." he admits. You can feel that he's limiting himself for any more words that he could give, possibly because he doesn't want to flatter you too much.

He's definitely acknowledged your sorceress might.

"That is actually high...coming from you." you say. You try to hide your swelling pride as you looked away. "I'm honored."

He stays silent for awhile before replying. "You...think highly of me?"

There's a hint of disbelief in his tone when he asks. "Well, yes." you simply answer, though you can't help but feel your heart swell for being quite forward. Still, you know it's the truth. "I don't see why I shouldn't think so."

You leave it at that as you pondered for awhile. You've definitely let yourself become an open book.

Admittedly, he pokes unto it. "Do you, perhaps, idolize your second prince in your timeline, girl?" he teasingly says.

You didn't reply, cheeks daring to flush.

You've definitely had an ounce of respect for the prince especially at sorcery, but to idolize him? You wonder.

You couldn't seem to bring out a valid answer, or a decent one at that. Maybe a sensible or a non-superfluous information that will ultimately sound too despicable for his ears. If you lie now, he'd know.

Though, you don't really have much of a choice. So you just keep stalling. "Isn't idolizing too much?"

"Is worshipping a god not so?"

Ah, fair. He's a god and a prince, and as an asgardian you're very much inclined to worship your gods and obey His Highness. Not something out of practice at all.

When you kept quiet, he added more. "Still, if not idolization then maybe something...far lighter, I garner?"

"Admiration?" you instinctively answer.

"Well, yes..." he points you a quick stare, one that seemed cautious. "...admiration...?" he eventually questions, as if it just had caught up to him and frowns at you.

Just when you we're about to take your words back, or try to justify yourself, Thor bellows yours and Loki's name far ahead. You hadn't noticed how far he had gone and how different the surroundings looked. There we're no more houses mingled together, instead, you we're far much closer to the sea. You we're atop a grassy cliff stretched to the far side and it's edges seem to bend slightly upright, as if forming a some sort fence. It makes the land feel much more like a larger cockpit but in a cozy way.

And the ocean's view is just...breathtaking.

Somewhere in the center of the place was the unlit bonfire; the woods we're piled up together like a massive tent and around it, people placed boulders and more sets of woods to sit on.

Evidently, night was nearing as the sun slowly sets down, bearing witness to everyone preparing the feast.

It's been awhile since you've been to a bonfire feast, especially not with this amount of people. But you know how right this feels.

For once, you don't feel out of place.

Previous chapter: (Chapter 4)

Next chapter: (Chapter 6)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

'A Chance and Beyond' taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @lcolumbia1988

Ko-fi?

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Request Statuses

Okay, said I’d do this yesterday, so here it is. I’m not naming who made what specific request here, whether anonymous or not. Just dropping them here so everyone can check on the status of their request.

If you don’t see your request here for whatever reason, please let me know!! I haven’t deleted any since I joined Tumblr, so there is always a chance that it didn’t go through.

I will update this regularly as statuses change; and when I update it, I will update the date next to the link in my Masterpost.

Created 30 Oct 2023

Updated 2 Dec 2023

Tongue Ring (Sanji x Reader)

Status: Accepted, actively in-progress

Only One Bed (Mihawk x Reader)

Status: Accepted, outlining, definitely NSFW and it’s also going to be hilarious

Marine!Reader x whomever of your favorite pirates would be more likely to seduce her to the dark-side.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, definitely going to be Shanks because he absolutely would a thousand times over.

Sanji x picky eater!reader x (possibly) Zoro

Status: Accepted, brainstorming may be more than one part but probably no more than three, definitely going the love triange route and including Zoro.

“Tell them you’re pregnant” story with Ace and/or Sabo

Status: Accepted, but delayed until I get further in the manga, bear with me on that. I will definitely be writing Ace once I re-familiarize with him. This is the first time I’ve reread the manga in probably ten years. I barely scratched the surface with Sabo last time I read, mostly only flashbacks, so I’m not yet familiar with him at ALL.

Headcanons: How the Straw Hats (East Blue crew in particular help each individual member cope/recover when something triggers them.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, may be a few

Sanji x secretly-a-princess!Reader

Status: Accepted, outlining, in development, will be multi-chapter, and there’s going to be a puppy for some reason.

Sanji x curvy!Reader headcanon

Status: Accepted, not yet in development

Too small, oneshot fic(s), Shanks x Reader and possibly others, NSFW

Status: Accepted, in development for Shanks, may or may not do Mihawk as well

Sanji x Reader with eating disorder

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, also researching because it's a subject that deserves to be depicted realistically

OPLA character x S/O!Reader who looks cute and bubbly but is actually quite strong.

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, leaning strongly toward Zoro because I love the idea of him with a bubbly lil s/o

Headcanons (inspo from Because I Got High) where reader either gets too messed up from smoke/alcohol or side effects from something like anxiety meds, and character has to comfort/calm them down

Status: Accepted, planning to do Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, and Buggy, got a little of it drafted out for Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk

OPLA!Sanji and/or Zoro x Reader; drabble on a reader who is older than them (mid 30s), who thinks she is “too old”

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, I’m in my early 30s so heavy relate

Mihawk x Reader; he meets a singer at Baratie and falls for her (likely being in denial over it)

Status: Accepted, not yet in development. Probably going to be a two parter at least, and also shamelessly throwing my own flair in because I sing/play guitar, so reader’s probably going to be a guitarist as well, as long as that’s cool.

General Mishanks request:

Status: Tentatively accepted, probably going to aim toward younger Mishanks (early 20s). I’ve only done one Mishanks headcanon re:how they first met/became rivals, so this is a little out of my ballpark, but I’m willing to give it a try. If I feel I can’t write it in a way that I’m satisfied with, I will let you know.

Comedic NSFW, Mihawk x Reader

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, already cackling like a witch standing over a cauldron over this one

IMihawk x Reader request, fluffy, Mihawk needing a bit of reassurance because he's a bit insecure of how tight Reader's friendship with shanks is becoming

Status: Accepted, brainstorming, will probably start outlining soon. Actually going have something akin to this a bit in my Mihawk x OC fic, Hearing Problems, but it's still going to be a couple chapters down the road before I get there, so this would be a good way to explore the idea.

Headcanons request for Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Mihawk and Buggy taking Reader to a masquerade ball

Status: Accepted, going to have to study the fundamentals of masquerade balls a lil and decide how I want to go about this exactly. If it's okay a couple of the scenarios may be them meeting Reader AT the ball. Because I feel like Shanks would probably just gatecrash for the hell of it (he heard there was an open bar and just went for it); and the thought of Zoro getting lost and accidentally stumbling into a masquerade ball with no idea what's going on has got me 🤭

Shanks x Reader x Buggy, age gap, Shanks and Buggy get isekai'd into our world, Halloween vibes, further details here

Status: Accepted, early brainstorming stages, this just seems like it would be so much fun thank you 🙏

Mihawk x Reader, proposal

Status: Accepted, will be treated as a sequel to YSAM and Ten Years, details here

[pepperonijem]

vi. silly things & sensible people || all my love

"Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way." - Emma; Jane Austen

Summary: sometimes all anyone needs is a gentle nudge in the right direction Pairing: high school!bucky x f!reader Warnings: food mentions Word Count: 3.1k A/N: we all need a friend like wanda <3 || sorry for the delay! I had a job interview this week that I spent all weekend prepping for... i passed! (i'm moving to korea this summer lol)

previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

Wanda opened her notes app and started a new note, titling it with the date and began her weekly letter to her pen pal, wanting to update them on her life... or mostly her best friend's life.

You will NEVER guess what’s been happening this semester. Did you guess? Well whatever you guessed is probably wrong… unless you guessed that my best friend just confessed to her crush without TELLING me about it first. 

It was absolutely insane, I was getting out of class and on my way to find her and Steve for lunch when I saw a HUGE crowd by Steve’s class and right at the center of it all was Bucky Barnes and the only girl crazy enough to give him a handwritten note in the middle of passing period. I only saw the end of it, but it was… brutal. I’ve known Bucky long enough to know he isn’t the friendliest person out there but even for him… it made me so upset. He didn’t even take her card, can you believe it? 

Honestly, this whole time I didn’t realize she actually liked him enough to confess to him. I always thought it was a passing crush, but I guess I was wrong. She was pretty badass for that. But obviously Steve didn’t think so. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so dejected. I wonder if he’ll ever work himself up to do the same thing.

OH. But the craziest part is that a week after she confessed to him, she ended up moving into his house. Turns out her dad and Bucky’s dad were college besties. Isn’t that insane? It’s just like this anime Natasha made me watch with her once. We were in tears the whole time but uh, that’s a story for another day. Or a story for never. She swore me to secrecy after that night.

We actually didn’t realize that she had moved in with him until after the big exam we took when Bucky stormed in and she handed him a picture of the two of them asleep together at the dining table. 

Then that night, she ended up spraining her ankle and Bucky had to take her home so he didn’t get to go to IHOP with us. Sad for him, that was a fun night. Not for Steve… again. By the end of the night he was crying to Sam’s rendition of an ABBA song and chugging down strawberry milkshakes. He’s lactose intolerant and he slept over at my house that night. So… not much fun for me either. I–

“Wanda, get off your damn phone and help us move the couch.” Wanda looked up from her notes app to see Natasha, Tony and Scott waiting for her to grab onto the fourth corner of the loveseat.

“Sorry, sorry,” Wanda apologized before rushing to help them move the couch to the opposite end of the room. “Why are we doing this again?”

Natasha let out a grunt as they dropped the couch ungracefully onto the floor. “Scott thought it would be cool to have a pillow fort.”

“We’re doing this for a pillow fort?” Tony asked in shock. “I thought Scott’s mom just wanted us to redecorate.”

“Tony, why would his mom want both of the couches facing the walls on opposite ends of the room?” Natasha asked with a roll of her eyes. Tony shrugged his shoulders and plopped himself down on the couch. 

Natasha dropped down beside him with a sigh. “When is everyone else gonna get here?” she asked.

“Well Steve had to pick up Sam, but he should be here soon.” Wanda looked down at her watch at the time to compare it against the ETA Steve had sent earlier.

Tony checked his phone as he leaned over the back of one couch. “Rhodey just texted. He just parked outside.”

“What about Bucky?” Scott asked. 

Natasha shrugged as the doorbell rang and Wanda went to answer it, letting Rhodey in. “Sorry, I had to pick up the kid,” Peter walked into the kitchen with a proud grin as Rhodey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah but we brought food,” Peter exclaimed as he placed a brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. 

“You brought your Chipotle,” Rhodey clarified as he walked to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of water. 

Scott laughed and shook his head as he took the bag and handed it to Rhodey to stick in the fridge. “Did you guys happen to get Bucky too?” 

Rhodey shook his head in response. “I offered him a ride, but he said he had plans.”

“Plans?” Scott echoed. “We are his plans. He’s never missed a board game night.” Wanda could hear the pout in his voice. 

“He didn’t give me any details but I think it has to do with his roomie.” Rhodey commented, checking through his text messages to see if he left any details out. “He said he’ll be busy all day.”

“His roomie, huh?” Tony repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Have you guys noticed he’s been weird lately?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied. “Last week I asked him if he liked her–”

Before Natasha could continue, Tony walked toward the group gathered by the island, eager to join the gossip. “Yes!” He exclaimed. “Bucky always sends these weird memes that no one gets exam days, but last week, we had a literature exam and guess what?”

“What?” Rhodey asked flatly. Natasha nudged him in response, reminding him to be polite.

“He didn’t send anything,” Tony noted. “When I asked him what happened, he told me he was up the night before studying… but Bucky never studies for literature exams because he’s a nerd who already read the books.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the doorbell rang and in came Steve and Sam. “Hey,” Sam greeted. “What did we miss? We bought drinks.”

Wanda looked over at Natasha as Steve walked in, silently begging her not to finish her sentence from earlier around Steve. Natasha gave her a subtle nod as she attempted to shift the attention to the newcomers.

“Where’s the rest?” Natasha asked as Sam set down his drink on the counter while Steve found a spot beside Wanda.

“Oh,” Sam replied. “I meant we stopped over to buy ourselves drinks from Starbucks. That’s why we’re late.”

“Remind me to start being more specific when I tell  you guys to bring things,” Scott replied with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Anyway, what else were you saying, Tony?”

Tony thought for a second, remembering his train of thought. “Right, so I did some more investigating,” he continued. “And when we were getting into groups for our Shakespeare analysis – I swear I’ve never seen him move this fast, not even at a football game – I saw him join his roomie’s group. He even smiled when she waved at him. I’ve never seen him smile at anyone.” 

“He’s not exaggerating,” Natasha confirmed with an eager nod of her head. “I didn’t even realize they were friends, but it seems like lately they’ve been besties or something. Isn’t she supposed to be your best friend, Steve?”

Steve put his hands up in defense before speaking, his voice just a little too loud and too high to sound calm and collected. “She can do whatever she wants,” he said. 

Although the other boys couldn’t tell, Wanda knew Steve didn’t fully believe the spite in his own words. So coming to her friend’s defense, she joined in. “Yeah, but isn’t Bucky yours?” She asked Natasha, turning the question back to her.

“Chill out,” Natasha shrugged her shoulders. “I was just curious to see if you guys knew anything else.”

“We don’t,” Steve said flatly. “Are we going to play or what?” Natasha and Wanda shared a look, realizing that Steve was feeling a lot more than he was willing to let on, so they accepted his change of subject. The others rushed into the living room as Wanda and Steve stayed behind.

Wanda watched as Steve leaned against the counter, pushing his forehead into his palms as he let out a sigh. Wanda stood beside him facing the opposite way, her elbows leaning against the countertop. Her heart felt heavy at the sight of her distraught best friend.

“Steve,” Wanda began gently but firmly. Steve shook his head, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “Salad. Now.”

Steve let out another sigh, running a hand through his golden hair, and Wanda wasn’t sure if he would answer her, but after a beat, he finally lifted his head. “Lettuce… I’m sad. Chicken… I’m mad. Mostly at myself,” he confessed.

“Why?” Wanda asked quietly.

“For never being brave enough to say anything,” He admitted to Wanda, hanging his head. “It’s just… we have something so good and I didn’t want to lose that. But sometimes…” he trailed off.

“Sometimes what?” Wanda pushed.

“It’s just,” Steve sighed. “Do you remember that time in the eighth grade when the three of us got in that huge fight?”

Wanda let out a dry laugh. “The one where you thought the two of us were dating behind your back because we went to a movie together?”

Steve grew a small but sad smile. “Not just any movie,” he clarified. “You watched The Hunger Games without me. It was my favorite book.”

Wanda nudged him playfully. “Steve, you had the flu,” she reminded him. “We wanted to take you but your mom said if she found out you snuck out and we got the flu from you she would stop making us that sponge cake we like. That would’ve been the end of our 14-year old lives.”

Steve let out a chuckle as he nodded at the memory. “I know,” he continued. “But for a week after that, I felt so left out. Like suddenly you were her best friend and she was yours, and I was the odd one out.”

“Is that why you ghosted us for a whole month?” Wanda asked, eyes wide with surprise as Steve nodded in shame. 

“It was dumb, I know,” he cringed at the memories of that time. “But I think I was jealous. Of you.” 

Wanda snorted a laugh at his comment. “Of me? Oh buddy,” she laughed as she pat Steve on the shoulder.

“I know, I know,” Steve ran his hand through his hair again. “But anyway, I think that’s kind of how I feel right now. Like she’s everything to me… but I’m not to her. And it’s not like she owes me anything… I think I just keep thinking, what could I have done differently?”

Wanda thought through her next words carefully, letting silence rest between the two of them. Well, silence was relative. The others were in the next room arguing about whether or not it was fair to let Peter choose to be Colonel Mustard when he doesn’t know how to play Clue.

 “I can’t say I know what you’re feeling,” Wanda began. “But for me, I think that when I start focusing on things like that, my mind gets stormy. I stop seeing things clearly, and I start doubting myself and the way I fit into my friendships. But then you two always remind me that’s not real. What is real is that I would give everything for the two of you, and if I needed it, both of you would do the same for me. It’s one of the most stable truths of the universe. 

At the same time, I also know that both of you would want me to be happy, and to choose what makes me happy. The same thing I would do for you. And I will always help you to figure out what that is when you can’t see it, like you do for me. When I remember that, the skies clear a little, and I see the sunshine again. I see you guys.”

Wanda turned to Steve, who wiped at a tear forming in the corner of his eye. She gave him a gentle pat on the back and turned to leave him to his own thoughts for a bit. 

Honestly, she was a bit surprised at her own wisdom. She wasn’t usually the friend people came to for advice, but maybe they should start, she thought. She hoped her words got through to Steve, as seeing her best friend hurting was weighing heavily on her as well. She was, however, very excited to tell her pen pal about this situation.

After she made her way into the living room, Natasha moved to sit beside her on the couch, now turned to face the television. “Is he okay?” she asked, nodding towards the kitchen where Steve still stood by himself.

“Yeah, he’s just raiding the leftovers,” Wanda joked. She was lying, but she felt that Steve wouldn’t want to explain to everyone else what had him so emotional.

Natasha nodded, not fully believing her words, but accepting them nonetheless. “Do you wanna play the next round?” She asked instead. 

“Nah,” Wanda pulled out her phone. “I have to work on my letter.”

“Oh to your pen pal right?” Natasha asked. “I can’t believe you’ve been writing to each other since middle school. Why don’t you just ask for his number?” She attempted to look over Wanda’s hands to see what she was writing down.

“Yeah, ask for his number and invite her to the winter formal,” Sam chimed in. “Unless he’s catfishing you.” The group laughed and Wanda laughed along.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes and continued typing in her note from earlier, updating her letter with the most recent events. However she didn’t get very far before she got a call from Bucky. “Bucky’s calling me?” She asked aloud in surprise.

“Answer him!” They all called in unison, as they looked away from the game to flock towards Wanda, even Steve, who walked in from the kitchen. Wanda looked over to him and he responded with a small smile and a nod, encouraging her to answer the phone.

“Wanda,” Bucky’s voice filled the room from Wanda’s phone speaker. “I need your help.” The group gathered around Wanda all looked at her with wide eyes as they tried to contain their curiosity. However it was Scott who couldn’t hide his gasp, even as Sam slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Hey guys,” Bucky sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t make it but I really need to borrow Wanda for a second.” 

Wanda chuckled as she watched the group disperse with disappointed looks and resume playing their game. She walked back over to the kitchen, and Steve headed for the living room to give her privacy. 

“What’s up Buck?” Wanda asked when she was finally alone.

“Uh,” Bucky sounded like he was thinking about what to say. “How do you feel about a road trip?” 

Wanda couldn’t hide her surprise at the question. “Road trip?” She repeated.

“I can give you the details later,” Bucky said. “But just tell me you’ll come with me.”

“When?” Wanda questioned. “And why me?” 

“Tonight. Right now even,” He sounded panicked and Wanda was beginning to feel the same. “I called you because Natasha already said no.” As if on cue, Natasha had popped her head into the kitchen and Wanda waved her over. 

“Nat,” Wanda began. “Why the hell is Bucky asking me to go on a road trip with him right now?”

Natasha let out a chuckle. “Just hear the poor boy out,” she suggested as Wanda looked at her suspiciously.

“I need to pick up your friend’s dad,” Bucky explained. “Long story short, she was upset he couldn’t make it to the awards, so I reached out to him and basically now he agreed to be here for one night, and his flight is landing soon and the airport is over an hour away and I don’t want to drive alone, but I can’t bring her with me because it’s a surprise and –”

“Woah,” Wanda stopped his rambling with a chuckle. “Long story long, more like.” She looked back at Natasha who raised her eyebrow as if to say See now? Wanda nodded back to her as she let out a hum of thought before an idea popped in her head.

“I’ll come,” Wanda said with a mischievous smile that was hidden by her gentle voice. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, and Wanda could hear his shoulders relax. “But you have to come pick me up from Scott’s house, since I left my car at home.”

“Sure, yeah,” Bucky agreed desperately to her condition. “Thank you so much.”

Twenty minutes later, when the doorbell rang, Wanda almost felt guilty for what she was about to do. But when she thought about it some more, she reminded himself of what she told Bucky just earlier, and her conscience clears just in time for her to open the door to see a panicked Bucky, dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie, and mismatched socks.

Someone will thank me later, she thinks to herself as she pretends to double over in pain. “Wanda?” Bucky asked in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I ate someone’s leftovers,” she pretended to let out a grunt of pain. “And it’s really not agreeing with me,” she cursed under her breath. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can come with you.” She apologized.

“No, no,” Bucky dismissed her. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He walked in and shut the door, leading Wanda to sit down at the dining table as Natasha walked over with a medicine tablet and a glass of water. 

“Here,” she handed them to Wanda. “Don’t worry Bucky, we’ll find someone to fill in.” Before Bucky could protest, Natasha had walked to the living room and came back with a confused and annoyed looking Steve.

“Steve said he’d be glad to go with you,” Natasha beamed. He very much did not look like he was glad to go with Bucky.

“Uh…” Steve began before Natasha nudged him from behind. “Yep, yeah, I’d be happy to… sit in a car with you for an hour and a half… to pick up my best friend’s dad…”

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but after looking down to see the time, his eyes widened in worry. “Okay, perfect,” he said instead. “Let’s go before we’re late. Bye you guys, tell the guys I said hey.” and he grabbed Steve’s wrist and headed out the door.

Wanda and Natasha followed behind them, Wanda now forgetting about her act and leaning against the post on the front steps.

“Do you think they’ll hate us?” Wanda asked Natasha as they watched the two boys get into Bucky’s car from the front porch.

“Oh absolutely. For a month at least.”

[the-era-of-shadow]

Hi, I think it's about time I give you another update

The last one was in December 2023, I think? New Year's Eve.

Most of what I described in that post has come and gone - and then some, and other stuff mentioned more vaguely is more near future than distant, and I can be more direct!

But first, I wanna bring up the video that's meant to go with Musings. The big one that I said would cost me some to have what I need for it. It's still in production! It's just. A lot. I'm hoping for it to come out within the year. I bet that makes it clear as to just how much I've taken on. Whoops-

In the meantime, I do have a LOT more of a simplistic video in the works that ties into Musings less directly! And also the next part of Vanilla's Self Reports should be coming soon too!

But now, onto the fics!

The pinned post has been updated a few times between these two updates - but I'd like to point out that it was updated again today! I think I mentioned it before in December's update, but I have a schedule that goes all the way to the end of Arc 2 - and I am slowly drip feeding it to you! - Here's today's rations :]

[MINI FIC] What is Paradise? - Release: June 30th

[FULL FICS] Mission: FOX FRENZY & Mimicry of A Rivalry - Dual Release! Release Date has been internally decided, but I'm not gonna put that info out publicly just yet - just in case I have to delay for whatever reason

[MINI (probably?) FIC] This is Who We Are - Release Date Unknown - will be after MFF & MoaR

[MULTI CHAPTER] The Day The Moon Died Act 2 Case 02: The Report of An Unreliable Narrator - Release Date(s) Unknown - Will be after TiWWA

Also, make sure to stay tuned into the @violet-hill-saga blog~

That's all I needed to say for now! I'll try to make these updates more frequent, I swear ^^

[nero-draco]

My thoughts about this event:

Pretty good event. The writing is pretty strong given I quite invested right away instead of where I usually just press view dialogue and skim through the beginning. Probably helped since this event series is nearing its endgame so the tension is there right at the start.

Vane was pretty great in this event and really shows he is the heart of this series event. From his trying his best to be the vice captain that can protect everyone, to his pep talk with Arthur, a boy whose world around him changing so fast for him to properly adapt, to him talking about how Lancelot needs time to grieve over the loss of loved ones until he himself realize he is the one who want to cry the most and need time to grieve. All pretty well done.

Mordred is solid in this event, his friendship with Cruz is very good and his determination to find out the truth is nice. I'm curious what happened to Cruz. Some theory says that he transformed into Griffith, if so could Morgan used him to blackmail Mordred to do what he says? Like "Only I can turn him back to normal, if you want that to happen do what I say".

Merlin is more sinister than I thought, given his original idea to use Mordred to resurrect his king. Like is the king gonna be puppet or something? Cause I don't think the king will be happy with Mordred being sacrificed. Unless it doesn't require sacrifice and only needed Mordred to awaken his sheath power. Which probably the case since Uther is shown to be resurrected at the end of event.

Sylph corruption and the people being maddened into revolt is the only thing I'm groaned at in this event. Mainly cause it comes out of nowhere. To reader the war just happened in span of few chapters and its hard to buy things went so bad for the citizen like that. At least it helped somewhat that the ancient miasma magic bs is part of the reason.

Wales fall is a big surprise. I wonder what happened to Percy and Aglo. Did they or one of them get captured, or they both managed to get away? Regardless Wales fall is a good momentum to break the status quo and increase the tension to the final saga.

I think we do have good momentum to make the next anniv event the Dragon Knight/Arthur event, but I wonder if we can still have one more chain event before concluding it all in anniv event, which would mean to delay DK anniv event to next next year. I say this because we have like 3 antagonist which is Merlin, Morgan, and Beast of Calamity. And there's also need to integrate Lamorak and Gawain into the story. Which could fit into 3 part of Anniv event, but I feel like the story gonna be rushed into "Complete the checklist" rather than have the story flows naturally. Whatever it be hopefully Cygames do the best option.

Been a while since I do long post on Cygames event but DK is one of things I'm invested in GBF.

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Posting Update!!

TW: mentions of weight loss (positive) and body dysmorphia, past trauma non-specific just mentioned, personal junk rant under the cut, above is general information about the posting update

Hello hello! I have finally returned for an update! Things have been crazy for me recently, so I apologize for the delay in the new chapters, but they are still being worked on! I don't have a definite posting date for anything yet, but I'm shooting to have something out by next week! If you would like to hear a little bit more about what's been going on in my life that's below! Just under the cut so no one is caught off guard by the TW's above, it's also a little long because I'm a rambler lol, but overall a lot of exciting stuff is happening on my end!

I go to see Powerwolf in 3 days, which as some, if not most, of you probably know if you've been around here for a while, is my favorite band of all time. That, paired with the fact that this is the first big event I'll be going to since I started my hot girl glow up last year has been making me a little insane lol.

August 19th, 2023, I saw Ghost live, which absolutely changed my life. I remember vividly I had just recently found out I was the heaviest I had ever been in my life, and as someone who's constantly had to deal with body dysmorphia for as long as I can remember, it really made my self esteem take a huge hit. I had this whole plan to dress up and be all hot and sexy for the concert, which I did, but all I could focus on was how much weight I had put on, it was super frustrating and if I hadn't gotten VIP passes I honestly might have gone home because I was just not feeling it. But, we went, I made it all the way up to the barrier. I had an amazing time flirting with Phantom and Sodo (I'm sure they weren't flirting back but I like to let my delusional little brain believe lol) and throughout the night my heart felt so full, it was amazing. There was one point Papa came out singing He Is (my personal favorite) and, again probably delusional but whatever, there was one point where he walked over to my side of the stage, and I was reaching out for him and our eyes met, he reached his hand back out to me and something in my head clicked... This man preaches about acceptance, treating others with kindness, would Papa treat me the same way I treated myself? The answer was absolutely the fuck not. So, from that point forward, I made a conscious decision to treat myself better, I wanted to become so hauntingly beautiful that I would be able to catch Papa's attention if I ever make it back to the barrier for one of their shows lol. That really started to ramp up when PW announced their US tour.

I bought these tickets in February, I fully stopped in the middle of whatever I was doing at the gym to go camp out in the locker room for the pre sale at like 9 in the morning, got the tickets for the front floor because my friends and I are once again trying to make it to the barrier, and went of my fucking God, Falk. In my mind, I had an end goal now.

From that point forward The Hot Girl Glow Up truly began. I'm down 40 lbs, I've put on a shit load of muscle from going to the gym a few times a week, I've recently picked up yoga and I LOVE IT! But, it went so much farther than just the weight loss. I've been a lot kinder to myself, I have a lot of things that happened to me in the past I still need to heal from, and that scared, hurt younger version of me is still trying to find a soft place to land in my mind so she can rest. And a big part of my journey so far is really getting to the root of why I'm holding all of these bad feelings towards myself, which has been its own web that needs to be carefully unwound. Because getting healthy and losing weight is great, but I don't want to get there by bullying myself. The body heals through compassion and stillness, we cannot heal a body we hate. That's something I picked up in yoga the other night, think I'm gunna keep that in my pocket for a bit.

I know I don't owe anyone any explanation for why it takes me so long to get updates out, but I'm not posting updates not because I don't want to, that's the farthest thing from the truth. To put it simply, I give a shit about myself now. I can't spend all day sitting in front of my computer, staring a blank screen, waiting for the ideas to come while I shove nothing but fast food in my face and don't take care of myself physically, mentally, or emotionally, that's where I was at before all of this. So, I do apologize for the lack of updates, I promise just because I've slowed down doesn't mean I'm stopping any time soon lol.

Hopefully after PW I'll be back to a more consistent schedule. Between all of my classes, and the gym, and work, and trying to sew the last part of my concert outfit and make jewelry, and do practice makeup, and hair trials, and meeting up with my friends to plan their outfits and makeup and so we can go shopping for all of this, I've just been very busy lol. But, the update is still coming, we just gotta get there!

[carmenized-onions]

Okay it’s been for fucking ever since I promised a p2

But

not ‘I love you’. Because saying I love you would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon.

so so cute they’re such nerdsssss

Him avoiding Dee Dee so reall

Also Carmy finally paying himself so tony can join and him wanting the white apron for her wanting her to be his team and her with the blue so so cute

CARMY WATCHING RAT CHEF MIVIE AND BEING GRUMPY ABOUT FIVE STARS

Alsoooo the Faks just being there so hilarious.

RICHIE CALLING CHIP TO BUG THEM!!!! And being giggly coz they’ll pick up (the am I dead drama was hilarious)

squid and inks chat too>>>>> ong they’re bestiesssss

AND THE SHOPPING ADVENTURE AHHHHH FEELS LIKE A BONUS CHRISMAS SITCOM EP

PART 2222222~~ Listen never apologize for a delay anymore. i'm the king of delays.

But anyways. I think I did really consider naming this chapter 'Weird and Bad' before settling on Don't Say It. Should I be admitting that. I thought it would be extremely funny and to be fair it would, but it probably would've taken away from the romance so i steered away

LISTEN IF MAN DOES IT TO HIS PHONE I THINK HE'S GONNA IGNORE HER IRL TOOOOOOOOOOO, thankfully everyone gets it in this moment lmao

I personally believe, let's talk S4 theories bro, that Carmen has not been paying himself. That's like his excuse for spending 13k on fucking butter. Is that he's not getting a paycheck. And I think he's on the brink of getting evicted as a result! But in CK canon, I had to deviate, because Chip was smart!!! if you wanna be my lover, you gotta not be some FUCKING BUM!!!!!!!

i'm still mad about the five stars. IT WOULD'VE BEEN SO MUCH MORE DRAMATIC IF THEY WENT FROM 3 TO 1. LIKE COME ON. COME ONNNNNNN whatever. i love my petit chef nonetheless

love to use my comic relief faks that also help move plot along. thank you for your service Matter of Fak

as we know, this fic has always really been more about RiChip and SquidInk than THIS CARMTONY BULLSHIT, IT'S ALL ABOUT THEIR FRIENDSHIPSSSSSS RAAHHH

especially next chapter tbh. it's such a not carmen chapter. so far at least. maybe the final scene will shake things up but i am currently taking a break before writing the last 2.5 scenes because my brain is exploding. maybe something this weekend though? no promises.