Dan Howell referencing the Kit Connor situation in his new video on parasocial relationships seems appropriate considering how much it reminded me of the toxic side of the phandom.

I remember when Dan and Phil were criticized for “queer-baiting” I’m happy the phandom isn’t like that anymore but the heartstopper fandom (at least on twitter) still has a ways to go

Start of Something New- Jeongin Imagine

Pairing: non!idol yang jeongin x fem!reader

Genre: stangers to lovers, fluffy

Synopsis: yang jeongin has had a rough year. could things turn out to be different for 2024 at a karaoke club?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: alcohol consumption

A/N: happy new years everyone!! let's be happy and healthy in the new year! (also not proof read or edited bc i'm lazy tonight lol)

“Aaaand that was Bang Chan with Die For You by The Weekend!” 

It’s New Year's Eve in Seoul. The evening sky was lit by the bright lights of the skyscrapers. The roads are filled with people: friends who are bar hopping, couples finding a sweet spot to share an intimate moment with one another, families eating together, and the hustle and bustle of the busy city. Jeongin was with his friends Chan, Hyunjin, and Seungmin. They decided to end the year at a Karaoke Club. 

“Nice job Bang!” Hyunjin says, patting his friend on the back. They were sitting at the bar watching Chan sing his heart out on stage. 

“Ahh it was nothing,” Chan brushes off Hyunjin before taking a swig of his lukewarm beer. “I need a new drink. Anyone want anything?” 

Seungmin leans back from his stool, “I’ll take another shot of Tequila, please.” 

Chan nods at his friend's requests and asks the bartender for another round of shots. 

“You’ve barely touched your beer, Jeongin,” Hyunjin says, lifting the can to feel how full it is. 

Jeongin shrugs and takes a sip, “I don’t want to get wasted tonight.” 

It had been a difficult year for Jeongin. He didn’t want to drown his sorrows into alcohol like he did for most of this year. College at JYPU was becoming more difficult as he was getting into harder classes, his girlfriend of a year and a half cheated on him, and he couldn’t keep a job to save his life. Truth be told, 2023 was not his year. 

“Come on Innie,” Seungmin says, handing the youngest a shot. “Screw 2023!” 

Jeongin scoffs at his friend and accepts the shot he was given. He welcomed the burning sensation going down his throat. “Who’s going to sing next?”

“I don’t think I could read the screen properly,” Hyunjin laughs. 

“I’m not about to embarrass myself out there. I have a reputation I need to hold up for law school,” Seungmin says, fiddling with his drink. 

“We come to a Karaoke bar, and you aren’t going to sing?” Jeongin questions. 

“Exactly!” Seungmin turns around. “We come here to watch drunk people attempt at even holding the microphone.” 

Next thing they know, the strobe lights were flashing around them, signaling the announcer was about to speak. “Aaaaall right, everyone. It’s time for Popcorn Tiiiimee!!!”

The four boys looked at one another. Popcorn Time was just as scary as popcorn reading in school! A person at random will be chosen to sing, and they don’t really have a chance to turn it down. The only good side to Popcorn Time is getting a free drink for being brave enough to sing with a stranger. 

“Let’s get the spotlights going!”

Two spotlights turn on; one pink, one blue. They start going around the audience, fishing to see who they will pick. Next thing they know, the blue spotlight landed on none other than Yang Jeongin. He sighs defeated. Thankfully, he is a music major, so he has something underneath his belt. Chan squealed in his ear as Hyunjin pushed him to go up to the stage. “Come on over young man!”

Jeongin looks at the crowd as the pink spotlight is still going around finding someone. As soon as he reaches the stage, the pink light stops on a girl sitting with her friends. They all freakout as the girl is also pushed to go up to the stage. 

The two strangers are now standing side by side, microphones placed in front of them. “And what are your guys’ names?” 

“Hi. I am Yang Jeongin, 22, student at JYUP.”

“Hello, I’m Y/l Y/n, 21, also a student at JYUP.”

The crowd cheers for the brave souls who are about to sing a song with one another. “And what do you guys want to sing?” 

The two meet each other's eyes for the first time, both unsure of what to sing. She shrugs her shoulders and leans out a hand for Jeongin to pick. “Uh, do you know the movie Tangled?” he asks. Y/n nods her head, eyes shine at the mention of the movie. “I See the Light?” 

The crowd “Awwws” at the song suggestion. “Quite a romantic song for two people who have just met. Let’s do it!” Just as the announcer starts to leave, he says one more thing for just the two of you to hear, “Someday you will thank me for this… or not.” 

He exits the stage, leaving Jeongin and Y/N together. The crowd goes quiet, knowing it’s a softer song for a club. The screen turns on with the song title on display. Jeongin just realized that there were hundreds of people here and he was about to sing in front of them. His hands started to feel a little clammy. He didn’t even realize that song had started until Y/n started to sing. 

All those days watching from the windows

All those years outside looking in

His head snaps in her direction. What looks to be this shy girl had a beautiful voice beneath her. His breath was taken away. He hadn’t heard anything so beautiful before. 

All that time never even knowing

Just how blind I've been

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight

Now I'm here, suddenly I see

She turns her head towards Jeongin, who hasn’t stopped looking at her while she was singing. 

Standing here, it's all so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be

She was serenading him as if she was putting him in a trance. 

And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

Jeongin snapped out of the trance he was in, breaking eye contact with Y/n, realizing that his part is coming up. He grabbed the microphone so he could hold it in his hand instead of his being on the stand. 

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything looks different

Now that I see you

The crowd applauded and cheered for Y/n’s verse. It made Jeongin’s ears ring a little bit. Thankfully, there is a minor music break between their verses. He scanned the crowd to find his friends. He could see the bright, blonde haired Hyunjin who was standing up. He gave Jeongin a thumbs up, encouraging him that he was going to do great.

All those days chasing down a daydream

All those years living in a blur

All that time, never truly seeing

Things the way they were

The verse he was singing was almost ironic. Truthfully, he didn’t have a good year. There were so many lows that it outweighed the highs. But he had his friends and family by his side the whole time. He was never alone. 

Now she's here, shining in the starlight

Now she's here, suddenly I know

Then there’s Y/n. A complete stranger who has one of the most beautiful voices he had ever heard singing with him. He glanced at her, and she was already looking at him. Maybe the end of the year could turn the new year around.

If she's here, it's crystal clear

I'm where I'm meant to go

Y/n leans into her microphone to sing with Jeongin.

And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once, everything is different

Now that I see you

Jeongin takes a step towards Y/n, grabbing her hand before singing the next verse. 

Now that I see you

He gets lost in her star-lit eyes. His heart is beating a million miles a minute. The scariest thing he could have experienced ended up being the greatest thing he has ever done. What he doesn’t notice is the screaming, applause, and whistles cheering for the two on stage. They look towards the crowd, bowing, and exiting the stage hand in hand. 

Jeongin pulls Y/n into a more private area so he could talk to her better. “You were incredible!”

“Me?!” she exclaims. “Did you hear yourself out there?! You were amazing! Great song choice, by the way!”

Jeongin blushes, “Oh, thanks. It was the first duet that came to mind. Not really one for a club, but it seems like they liked it.”

“Yeah, I think they did..” 

A comfortable silence came between the two new acquaintances. Jeongin looks up to find a clock. 11:59PM. “It’s almost the New Year.”

Y/n turns to glance at the clock he is looking at, “Oh yeah, it is.” 

“Do you want to watch the fireworks with me?” he asks. 

Y/n looks back at the handsome boy. Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes crinkle from the smile forming on her face. “I would love to.”

They walk to the balcony, still hand in hand. The air was brisk and cold, but Jeongin’s heart was warm. The countdown to the New Year began, waiting for this year to end. 

“5!”

“Thanks for singing with me,” Jeongin says. 

“4!”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” Y/n teases. 

“3!” 

“Maybe, but I’m glad I got to sing with you.”

“2!”

“Me too.”

“1!”

“Happy New Year, Y/n,” Jeongin smiles.

“Happy New Year, Jeongin.” 

The start of the new year wasn’t so bad. Maybe 2024 can be the start of something new?

I’ll Always Protect You

florence pugh x fem!reader

warnings: mention of death threats.

word count: 1.7k

summary: you and florence had been dating for a while. when she posts you on her Instagram, you receive a bunch of hate comments and florence defends you and your relationship.

request from @the-loving-quotes​

Dating Florence Pugh has been one of the greatest decisions you have ever made in your life. You both have managed to keep your relationship lowkey until she randomly posts you on her Instagram. It was a photo of you looking at this mountain view at sunset from the balcony. She captioned it “My happy place.” 

Your heart started to race as soon as you saw a photo of yourself on her Instagram-- and the fact that she tagged you almost made you pass out.

You looked through her comments and let’s just say most of it wasn't what you would have expected. Some were positive-- for example, there were comments that read:

“OH MY GOSH IT CONFIRMED! I'M SO HAPPY”

“I’m so proud of you <3”

“You guys are the absolute cutest!”

Then, there were comments that weren’t so positive. It was a mixture of homophobic comments and comments that said “Florence deserves better.”

Of course, they hurt, but you didn’t mind at first and chose to focus on the more positive comments. 

-

A couple days pass and you also decide to post Florence on your Instagram. As you hit “post,” your phone instantly started buzzing with notifications. Again, the comments were all a mixture of the positives and the negatives. However, you wanted to focus on the positive side and ignored the comments.

-

You posted Florence on your Instagram story, and you received a lot of DM’s. Although you don’t open your DM’s, you decided to check just for the hell of it. As soon as you swiped to your message requests, you instantly regretted swiping. 

“Kill yourself. You don’t deserve Florence.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away when you heard Florence come into the living room.

“Dinner’s ready, darling,” she says, holding a wooden spoon.

“Hm? Oh, right. I’ll be there in a sec,” you respond.

“Is everything alright, love?” she walks towards you with a concerned look on her face.

You take a deep breath. “Yes, everything’s fine.” You clench your jaw hoping Florence would drop the subject.

She pouts and looks at you with worry. Florence knows every little detail about you. She knows that nothing is ever “fine,” when it follows with you clenching your jaw. However, Florence doesn’t like to overstep on your boundaries, so she drops the subject and figures she’ll ask you later. 

“Alright, love. C’mon, let's eat. I’ve made your favorite,” she says, giving you a soft smile.

-

You loved Florence’s cooking and you always made sure to compliment her dishes whenever she cooked. However, tonight was quiet. The two of you sat in silence, quietly eating your dinner. 

You were grateful that Florence knew to get off your back whenever you were in a mood. That’s one of the things that you appreciated most about her, her ability to understand your emotions and how you cope with them. 

You knew that she would eventually ask you what happened as you have both communicated that suffering in silence wasn’t healthy.

You finished dinner early and asked yourself to be excused. You headed to bed as soon as you finished your meal. Florence stayed in the kitchen to tidy up and to give you some more space.

-

Laying on your side, you couldn’t help but to grab your phone and scroll through your notifications. As hurt as you were already, you were too stubborn to gain some self-control. As terrible as that message was, your comment section got even worse. Not only was it filled with homophobic comments, but you were also getting sent death threats. You had checked Florence’s account and pressed on your photo. You noticed that she turned off the comments.

You felt the bed behind you dip as an arm wrapped around your torso.

“Hi,” Florence whispers, and she rests her chin on your shoulder.

“Hi,” you weakly respond. You sigh as you turn your phone off and place it on the bedside table. You turn around in Florence’s arm and face her.

Florence gave you a worried smile and she wiped the tears on your face. You were so busy scrolling through the hate comments that you hadn’t noticed that tears were falling from your eyes.

“Oh, my love.” Florence places a gentle kiss on your forehead. She then looks at you with worry in her eyes. Florence couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind.

“I know you saw the comments,” she begins, “I saw them too. As soon as I saw the hate comments, I immediately turned them off.”

You sniffled and took a deep breath. “I got death threats,” you say, your voice breaking.

“What?” Florence says, appalled. Florence could feel her heart race and feel herself be filled with rage.

“That’s it, I’m making a post, this is unbelievable,” Florence says getting up to get her phone.

“No, please, you don’t have to,” you plead, “it’ll only make things worse.”

“No it won’t, Y/n, I promise you,” Florence says, already typing in her notes.

“You can’t promise me something that you have no control over,” you say coldly.

Florence pauses. She looks over at you, takes a deep breath and pouts. She stares at you for a while, studying your face. Florence is the type of person to defend the people she loves and doesn’t care if it will give her a bad rep. You just so happen to be one of the people that Florence loves, and she will do whatever it takes to defend you and her love for you.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that someone I love is being sent death threats, so please, let me say something,” she says, reaching for your hand.

“I really don’t deserve you,” you sigh.

“You do Y/n, you deserve every bit of me as much as I deserve every bit of you,” Florence says, caressing your cheek. 

-

A few days passed and Florence posted a video on her Instagram regarding the hate you had been receiving. 

“To my “fans,” who have sent a tremendous amount of hate to my girlfriend, Y/n, kindly unfollow me. I do not need your negativity towards my relationship with her. The hate you throw at her is hate you throw at me. The death threats you throw at her, are also death threats you throw at me. It is not your place to tell me who I should and should not love, nor is it any of your business. I do not appreciate the comments you have thrown at her. She does not deserve it, and nor do I. I am happy with Y/n. She makes me a better person. So please, leave my relationship alone and stop sending my girlfriend death threats. I will not ask again.”

After watching the video, you were in shock. Even if you had talked about it a couple days prior, you still didn’t expect that she would actually post it. Florence kept the comments on and fortunately, it was filled with massive support from other celebrities. You were grateful.

-

Florence had an interview with Jimmy Kimmel this week to discuss her recent and future projects. Of course, her video regarding your relationship was a topic of discussion. You stayed backstage and watched Florence’s interview from her dressing room.

“Okay, I think everyone here has seen the video that you had recently posted regarding your relationship,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Florence chuckles nervously.

“So tell me, if you’re comfortable, why you had said what you needed to say?” he asks.

“Did you watch the video?” Florence says sarcastically, earning a couple laughs from the crowd. “Um, I figured that I needed to. I mean my girlfriend was getting sent death threats for no apparent reason and it needed to stop.” This earned Florence a clap from the audience.

“That’s fair. God, the internet is so toxic, isn’t it?” Jimmy complains.

“Yeah,” Florence agreed. “Y/n and I had been dating for a while now and we’d managed to keep it lowkey. I just thought that when I’d finally posted her that I wouldn’t receive such horrid comments. Which is why I felt the need to address this because I hate seeing the people I love get hurt.”

A couple people from the crowd “Awwed”

“So, tell me what it is about Y/n that just makes you so in love with her?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Florence smiled as she thought about the things that she loved most about you. “Her smile was something that caught my eyes right off the bat. She has such a kind smile and I would do everything just to keep her smiling.”

The crowd “Awwed” again.

“Also, Y/n is so loving. She won’t admit it because she likes to be that “tough” person on the outside, but inside she’s a big softie. She gives the best cuddles. I also love how she makes me tea every time I come home from filming.”

“Aww, that must be nice. I think we all need a Y/n in our life, right?” Jimmy says.

The camera pans to the crowd who was cheering and nodding their heads.

“Well, too bad, Y/n is only one person and I’m the lucky girl who has her,” Florence says wittily. 

The crowd laughed and clapped.

“Alright, well it was lovely having you, Florence,” Jimmy says, shaking Florence’s hand. “And that’s all for tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

-

On the ride home, you rested your head on Florence’s shoulders.

“You really had to call me out, didn’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah, maybe just a little,” Florence says, making a gesture.

You chuckle and look at her. “Did I ever tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on?”

“Yes, Y/n, you tell me everyday,” she says, grabbing your cheek.

You smile and close the gap between you. Florence melts into the kiss and moves her hand to the back of your head, running her hands through your hair. You pull away to catch some air and Florence rests her forehead against yours.

“I love you, Flo. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Y/n. and don’t thank me, you know I’ll always protect you.”

The End

"Hey, Renny?"

"Mm?" Ren didn't turn from his position of cutting potatoes for tonight's meal. His childhood friend, Nora was tapping two meat tenderizers together, pretending they were lovers. She did this often in the stone kitchen, especially when the other servants were elsewhere in the castle.

"Do you think Jauney is happy?"

Ren blinked, then set down the knife. He turned to face her. Nora was sitting on the ground, wearing her black Ursa pelt over her shoulders, two meat tenderizers in her calloused hands. "What do you mean, Nora?"

"I mean, ever since Pyrrha," Nora made an uncomfortable face, "you know, Jauney has been really grumpy. Our fights aren't as fun anymore, he doesn't laugh at my jokes, and he's been especially angry at the people at his royal court."

Ren sighed. "Lord Arc has been under a lot of stress, Nora. He is the lord of these lands, and he doesn't have as much time to enjoy himself since winter is due in only a few months."

"Hm..." Nora tapped her chin in thought. "What if we buy him a whore?"

Ren blinked, then returned to his potatoes. "...No."

"Well, I'm stumped!" Nora stood as she exclaimed. "He has all this stress, but he can't get it out. It's not healthy!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Nora. The harvest festival will be soon, Lord Arc will find have fun, and he will go back to his usual self." Ren grabbed the good potato slices from the cutting board and placed them in the pot of water. He slid the rest into a separate bowl with his knife.

Nora set the meat tenderizers on the stone counter. "Okay, but if he's still grouchy after the festival, I'm buying him the best whore lien can buy!"

"You're going to buy who what?"

Ren froze in place as the familiar voice spoke. He turned, facing the lord if this castle and his employer. He looked the same as he did when they first met; deep, blue eyes, under a mop of shaggy, golden hair and above a chin of golden stubble, and wearing a black Beowolf hide over his shoulders, hiding his muscular.

"Oh, hi, Jauney!" Nora jumped with joy.

"L-Lord Arc!" Ren gave a deep bow, hiding his blush from being embarrassed. "What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe this honor?"

Jaune passed a glance between the two, silently judging them. He then smirked, reminding Ren that, though he was his lord, he was also a cherished friend. "What's this about buying a whore?"

Ren's face continued to flare. How much of the conversation did he hear? Ren lifted his head to face his lord, and saw his amused grin. Ren sighed before speaking once more. "We were just discussing our shared concern for your well-being, Lord Arc. Nora was simply providing a solution for your stress."

"By buying me a whore?"

"Yes!" Nora proudly exclaimed.

"N-No, my lord!" Ren countered.

Jaune simply laughed. "So which is it? Am I getting a whore or not?"

"I-" Ren choked out.

"Lord Arc," came a cry from another room, "are you here, sire?!"

Jaune sighed. "Sounds like more bad news. Before I leave, what do you think it might be?"

Nora answered before Ren could speak. "Maybe one of those creeps are coming for a visit again."

"Now, Nora," Jaune chided, "just because Queen Salem's Inner Circle are unlike us, it doesn't mean that they are to be treated any less than us."

"But they are creepy! Especially that stinger-guy!"

Jaune was silent for a moment of thought. "I suppose you're not wrong there."

"Perhaps, Lord Arc, the whores have caught wind of our plans?" Ren asked with a small smile.

Jaune barked a laugh. "Maybe they did!" He sighed before stepping towards the exit. "I'll go see about the shouting." He suddenly stopped a few steps from the door. "Oh, but before I leave, what is tonight's supper?"

"Tonight, you are having chicken stew with carrots, potatoes, and onions." Ren answered, filled with the confidence fitting of the Lord Arc's personal cook.

"Sounds good! Nora, are you coming with?"

"On my way, Jauney!" Nora skipped to Ren and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Renny! Jauney and I are gonna go get bad news!" Nora then skipped out of the kitchen, following her lord.

Ren sighed and returned to his task. One day, someone's going to have a problem with Nora's casual attitude. Until then, however, Ren would mind to his cooking.

Jaune made his way to the main hall, where the shouting was coming from. He walked in and found his messenger, Russel open his mouth to shout once more, only to shut it upon seeing his lord. The young man was wearing an undecorated black Grimm pelt, a sign showing that though he was a member of lord Arc's defense, he had yet to prove himself worthy of any notable position.

"Yeah, I heard you. Are we under attack?"

"Have the whores caught wind?" Nora asked as she stepped in.

"I- what?" Russel asked in confusion. He then shook his head. "No, my lord, I have just recieved word of a small force on their way to the castle."

"How small?" Jaune asked.

"Just three; a man and two women."

Nora scoffed. "Just two women? Please! I'm ten times worth any woman!"

"Y-Yes, but there's more."

"More?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, my lord. You see, the woman leading them is described as a raven-haired maiden in a red dress."

Jaune clenched his teeth, and felt his breath grow shallower. "What color were here eyes?"

Russel swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "From whatever men survived their encounter with her, described her as a witch with amber eyes."

"Jaune-"

"Nora," Jaune interrupted, "alert the rest of the castle. I want everyone ready for whatever happens next."

Nora nodded. "Yes, my lord!" Russel paled further. When dame Nora, the most crass of Jaune's closest charges and his right hand, spoke formally to lord Arc, he knew the danger was real.

"Russel," Jaune spoke, breaking the messenger out of his stupor. "What did you mean by, 'whatever men survived their encounter'?"

Cinder yawned as she passed through the hamlet on her steed. The black beast bellowed smoke from it's ember-lit maw as it trudged forward. Emerald glanced between her lady and the people who cowered in their houses. Mercury grinned with delight as he watched people flinched at meeting his gaze.

When he saw a pretty girl, his grin shifted to a wide, predatory smile. They would weep at the sight of this, hiding behind their husbands, fathers, and brothers with the same amount of fear. He chuckled every time.

"Mercury," Cinder spoke, "what do you think you're doing?" She didn't meet his eyes when he looked up. She faced forward, her face as indifferent as it was when they entered the hamlet.

"I'm just having fun." He defended.

"Your 'fun' is upsetting our beast. Continue," her gaze finally met his, amber eyes alight with wrath, "and I will have my fun with you." Mercury flinched and faced forward. "Besides, you'll have plenty of time for fun once we reach Arc's hovel."

"Does he know we're coming, ma'am?" Emerald asked.

"I have sent more than enough messages to ensure that he will greet us personally."

"And if he doesn't?"

Cinder looked around. Every door was shut. Every window filled with at least one person. Every home with a family as small as two people or as big as four generations. She smiled.

"Then I'll just have to send a bigger message."

Nora stood outside the gates, the cold autumn wind biting her skin. She liked this, though. It reminded her that she was hardy, tougher than the supposed "ladies" who would rather hide and let someone else fight their battles.

She looked up and saw gray clouds combining, gathering together to choke out whatever blue and light remained in the sky. It was going to rain soon, but again, she didn't care. If she became sick, she would just power through it, like she did all things. Plus, Ren would wait on her, hand and foot, as he always did before. She smiled at the thought.

The sound of running footsteps returned her focus to the road leading to the castle. Another messenger showed up, this time with singed clothes. What was his name again? Duck?

"Reports from the nearby village; two-"

"Women and one man are approaching the castle." Nora interrupted. "Yeah, we heard."

"The woman leading them was also riding a black monster we've never seen before! What do we do?"

Nora looked him up and down. He was pudgy, kind of short compared to Ren and Jaune. He wore an unmarked Grimm pelt like the other one, except his was burnt, and slightly smoldering. She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Go inside, get cleaned up, and get ready to fight."

"Yes, dame!" He rushed past her after giving a salute. She hated formality, especially getting them.

It has been three years since the day she "earned" her title. She remembers because it was given to her by the Black Queen herself as a reward for turning her back on everything she cared for. Two nights after she and Jaune surrendered to her after that monster murdered her best friend, Pyrrha.

Nora pulled out a spyglass and peered down the road. No one was approaching. Nora began grinding her teeth. She put away the spyglass and turned towards the castle.

"Looking for someone?"

Nora turned towards the voice. The voice of the murderer from that night. Atop a Grimm twice her size, sat Lady Cinder Fall in her red dress with golden accents. She had a wry smile on her face, like a tyrant out of a fairy tale after telling them their hero had died. Like she had after slaughtering her friends.

"No." Nora answered, glaring at the murderer. "I was looking for something, and then you showed up."

"Referring to a lady as a thing?" The assassin to Cinder's right said. "Sounds like treason if you ask me."

"No one asked you. Besides, what I was going to ask you was, 'how's your knees?' You know, after I broke them?" Mercury stepped forward, but a snap of Cinder's fingers brought him to heel.

The woman stepped forward instead. "We request-"

"Demand, Emerald." Cinder corrected.

"-Demand an audience with Lord Jaune Arc. Is he available?"

Nora eyed the woman carefully. She didn't remember seeing her. Was she there that night, or did she join after that? "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Emerald repeated.

"Uh-huh."

Cinder slid from her steed and stepped towards Nora. "There's no need to be rude." She checked her fingernails. "After all, we're all on the same side, right? We both pledged our loyalty to Queen Salem, no?" She lowered her head to be level with Nora's, smiling. "I mean, unless you feel another example should be made."

"Like burning more of our messengers?"

"Like burning another champion."

Nora reeled back a fist. Mercury crouched like a wound spring, while Emerald drew her twin, curved blades. As the Grimm began salivating a glowing red liquid from it's maw, Nora swung forward.

And Cinder kept smiling.

"Lady Fall!" A voice called from behind, stopping Nora from connecting her punch. Nora turned and saw Jaune walking out from the castle gates, arms wide open and a smile on his face. "I wish you had contacted sooner! The castle is an absolute mess, and there's only enough food for one helping for the four of us."

Cinder stepped around Nora and approached Jaune with the same gesture. Nora watched as they hugged. "I do apologize, Lord Arc, but our matter was so urgent, it had to be done without much warning. Why, I recieved the news before the crow of this morning's rooster!" The two shared a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner, we won't be long."

Jaune wrapped an arm around Cinder's shoulder and guided her inside. "And send you home on empty stomachs? Oh, no! I insist! Come, my cook was preparing a delicious chicken stew."

"Can you stew a chicken, Lord Arc?"

"I can't, but my cook can!" The laughter echoed from inside.

"Don't wait up." Mercury taunted as he stepped past. Emerald followed quietly. Nora eyed the Grimm as it stood there. She turned and walked inside.

She hated formalities, but she hated this even more.

Lady Cinder Fall, protege and student of Black Queen Salem, was impressed by the dinner. The dining hall itself, though not as large as her majesty's, was certainly large enough to house an army. And based on the large number of occupants currently eating before her, it did.

Cinder sat at a long table next to Lord Arc, her other side occupied by Emerald and Mercury, and Lord Arc's side occupied by his two lackeys, the girl from outside and some burly meathead he never met. In front of her were rows of soldiers, messengers, guards, and castle staff eating from their plates and bowls.

"More wine?" The young man in a green robe asked, holding a bottle of red wine. He looked as young as Lord Arc, and had a pink strip of hair in his bangs.

"No, thank you." Cinder presented a soft smile.

"I'll have some!" Mercury said, shaking his empty glass.

Cinder rolled her eyes and turned to Lord Arc. He sat quietly, looking out to his subjects with smile. His glass and bowl were empty, save for a few drops remaining of his wine and soup. "Lord Arc," Cinder began, immediately getting his attention, "regarding the important business we must discuss."

"Oh, of course. But can it wait until after dinner?" Lord Arc asked. "It's like my father once said; 'politics only aid indigestion.' And considering this is urgent news from her majesty herself, it could only be something political, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Her majesty, Black Queen Salem, has tasked me to deliver a message for you."

"Oh? And what might this message entail?"

"Queen Salem requests to know your intentions as Lord of the eastern coast."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand the question." Lord Arc grew tense, she could tell. She could also see how close his protectors were listening in. "When Queen Salem graced me with the task of acting as lord of Vale's eastern coast, I thought I was to simply act as she would have me."

"Yes, but she's curious as to your endgame. Surely, you don't intend to simply live the rest of your life alone with no legacy; no songs of great deeds left to outlast you twice over?"

"...Lady Fall, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm just not ready for your proposal to wed."

Cinder laughed. It was fake, but she tried to make it sound genuine. "Oh no, Lord Arc! This isn't a marriage proposal. But her majesty is concerned you may not be... up to the task."

"Is this a question of my loyalty?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, "but I feel a test is more appropriate."

The sound of liquid splashing suddenly caught Lord Arc's attention. He stood over Cinder and he gritted his teeth. Wearing her smile, she turned to watch as Mercury poured a third bottle of wine onto the servant's head. His hair was soaked and matted as he continued to bow.

"Damn, out again." Mercury said in a bored tone. "What was this wine called again?"

"The Rouge Rogue, sir." The servant replied. "Aged for twenty years from the-"

"Boring!" Mercury cracked the bottle over the servant's head. He fell with a thump, the bottle shattering and cutting his scalp.

"REN!" The girl screamed as she rose, unknowingly signaling the rest of the castle to not only rise as well, but rise with weapons in their hands. The soldiers and guards rose with swords and axes, while the servants, both too young to speak clearly and too old to stand without a cane, held forks and knives in their hands. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SONUVA-!"

"SILENCE!"

Everyone froze in place and stared as Lord Arc, master of this castle, roared his prominence. His face was red with rage, but his hands, held aloft, were stiff. The crowd was silent, save for Mercury, who just laughed. Jaune stepped from the table and approached him.

"Clean that up."

"Is this guy serious?" Mercury said. "I'm an agent of Black Queen Salem, the most powerful creature who ever lived, and he thinks he can give me orders?" He then spit on Lord Arc's face. "Touch me, and I'll burn this whole damn castle to the ground. Hell, might have some fun doing it, too!"

Lord Arc turned towards Cinder. She continued to smile. "Don't look at me, Lord Arc. It's as he says; he's an agent of Salem. Harming him will have consequences from her majesty herself."

Lord Arc faced Mercury once more. "Is that true? You serve only Salem?"

"Pfft!" Mercury scoffed. "No shit, dumbass! I don't serve 'Lady' Cinder, or you! The only person I answer to is Black Queen Salem herself."

"I see. That will make this so much easier."

"Make what easier?"

"This." Lord Arc backhanded Mercury and sent him sprawling to the ground. He spit out a tooth as he got to his hands and knees. "Apologize."

"Y-You can't hit me!" Mercury staggered to his feet. "I serve-!"

Lord Arc backhanded him again, this time sending him over the table. The servant named Ren stood by the table and watched silently, his hand covering his bleeding scalp. Lord Arc glanced to him. "Take some servants and return to the kitchen. Have your wounds tended."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The wounded servant signaled to the other servants and five of then set down their utensils to before rushing to tend to his wounds.

Lord Arc returned his attention to Mercury. "Apologize." Mercury murmured as he rose to his knees. "Apologize." Lord Arc repeated sternly.

Mercury Black kneeled before Lord Jaune Arc, his head bowed. "I am sorry, my lord. I repent and beg that you forgive me."

"You are a murderer and coward. You attacked my castle, murdered my subjects, and aided in the assassination of my fiancee. I can't remember how many times I hit you that night, but it was never enough to make you stop. And now you come to my home again to commit the same crimes, only to bend your knee at only two strikes."

Cinder's smile had grown to a predatory grin as she watched Lord Arc pass judgement on Mercury. Her keen eyes saw what led to this moment as well. This was what she came here to see.

"Mercury Black, in your path of bloodshed to your current standing as an agent of the Black Queen, you have proven that you have only grown more cowardly and pathetic in your services." Lord Arc grabbed Mercury by his hair. "Return to Salem, and tell her of your failures. Only then will you be forgiven." He then pushed Mercury away, tears streaming down the assassin's face. He looked to Cinder. "I believe it would be best for you to leave."

"Must we, though?" Cinder replied. "You would send is back in the middle of the night, storm clouds brewing above as we speak, with only myself and Emerald capable of fending for ourselves?"

Lord Arc held a pained face of guilt. Good. That will make things much easier.

Jaune stood on his balcony and watched as the storm clouds rolled across the sky. As Lady- No, as Cinder predicted, the sky was black, with no moon or stars to shine. Thunder bellowed in the distance as lightning flashed in the clouds. No rain, though.

He sighed and looked to his land. Everything was dark, so he could not see far, but what he could see pained him. He saw the tree where he would spend his summer days napping. The same tree where he met her.

He stepped away from the balcony and into his chambers. He walked to his bed and glanced at his weapon to it's side. He nodded to it's presence and sat on his bed. He replayed the night's events in his head.

He started from checking on his longtime friend in the kitchen. His wounds were cleaned and treated. All that was left was for time to heal. When Nora stomped in full of rage, Ren calmed her as best as he could. He felt guilty allowing his friends to suffer as they had, even when Ren noticed and told him not to.

Before that, he had to see to his guest's quarters. Mercury had not yet broken from his adjustment, which Jaune felt neither pity nor shame. Perhaps the punishment will be enough to change him for the better. Cinder and her fellow female companion aided in bringing him to their room. What was her name? She was so quiet at dinner, but she was close enough to Cinder to sit next to her at dinner.

Regardless, Cinder stated the quarters were satisfactory for the night. Once confident in their comfort, Jaune exited to allow them to rest. He didn't care for their company, but as Lord of the castle, he would serve only to anger his queen by leaving her inner circle to fend for themselves in the storm and darkness.

A knock on his chamber door awoke him from his reminiscing. He hurried to the door and opened it, finding an unexpected visitor.

"G-Good evening, Lord Arc." The young woman of green hair from before spoke nervously in her white nightgown. Perhaps his display earlier had frightened her, or maybe his very presence simply put her on edge. Nonetheless, he greeted her kindly.

"Good evening," he replied. "I apologize, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"My name is Emerald. Emerald Sustrai, Lord Arc." She was nervous. Though, with Summer's End so close, it would not be surprising that she was cold as well. "I wished to have a word with you."

"This couldn't wait until morning? It's late, and it has been a long day for us both, I'm sure."

"Yes, but I wished to discuss what happened today with you, if you don't mind." Jaune looked around the corners, seeing no guards. Only torches lit along the walls. "May I come in?"

Jaune rubbed his chin, and felt stubble. He hummed to himself a little at the feeling. Had it really been so long since he last shaved. He then sighed, remembering his guest, and stepped aside, gesturing with an arm for her to enter. As she entered, Jaune caught a faint scent of lavender from her. He hummed once more, then shut the door.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jaune asked as casually as possible. It would be best to keep her at ease. "Your trip, your mission, or-"

"I wanted to ask about your semblance."

Jaune blinked. "My semblance?"

"Y-Yes. You used your semblance on Merc earlier, and I wanted to know how it worked."

"To find a weakness?" Jaune asked with caution. He stepped towards his bed, not revealing his back to her once.

"No! It's just..." Emerald gulped. Was she sent to spy on him?

"Just what?" Jaune repeated. "The only times people want to know about the abilities of another is to either gloat their superiority, or to exploit a weakness from a gullible opponent."

"W-What if I told you mine? Just to make us even?" Jaune seated himself on his bed. He then waved for Emerald to continue with his hand. Emerald sighed and held out her hand. Her eyes focused on it. Suddenly, as though from nowhere, a flower grew from her palm. It was a small lavender, in size and shape, but it casted no shadow as Jaune watched. Emerald stepped forward and help the delicate plant in front him. Jaune tried to pluck it, but it died in his fingers, fading away as he touched it.

"Illusion." Jaune stated. "Your semblance tricks a foe with an illusion you desire them to see." He chuckled. "It's certainly impressive, but judging by your breathing, it requires a lot of concentration to maintain."

"And... what of yours, Lord Arc?" She said, still catching her breath. "That was... no illusion... that made Merc bow to you."

"Supremacy." Jaune answered. "When I strike an opponent's aura, their will ebbs away, eventually forcing them to submit to me. Depending on how strong one's will is, I will either have to hit them once, or multiple times."

Emerald gulped. "I... I see."

"Now that I've answered your question, I have a question for you." Jaune stood, his frame towering over Emerald, his blue eyes squinting. "What are you doing in my room so late in the night, Emerald Sustrai?"

Emerald didn't speak. She didn't dare look in his eyes. Was her plan found out? It was supposed to be a simple in and out reconnaissance mission. All she had to do was get information on Lord Arc's semblance and report back to Cinder. She wasn't prepared to fight; she left her weapons in her room, concerned she wouldn't have been able to hide them from the man. Now, she was vulnerable.

"Are you going to answer me?" Emerald remained frozen, like a rabbit in a tiger's cage. "Would you like for me to answer for you? Nod if you do."

Emerald wanted to shake her head, if only to be given more time to think of a lie. But she didn't. Like a fool, she nodded.

Lord Arc circled around her. "I'll bet you thought you were clever. Sneaking in, taking what you came for, and then retreating to celebrate your conquest." He stopped in front of her. "But you made one mistake in coming here." Emerald shut her eyes, expecting the worst.

She heard the bed squeak. "I'm just not in the mood." Emerald opened her eyes and saw Lord Arc lounging back on his bed. "Don't get me wrong; you're certainly beautiful, and on almost any other night, I would have ravaged you until all I could think was lavender, but I'm just not interested."

Emerald stood there, blinking. "Er, so you're saying I'm here to...?"

"Are you not a whore?"

Emerald's cheeks flushed. "Wh- No!" She didn't mean to scream, but she couldn't control herself due to the indignity of it. True, she is a liar, a thief, and, in some instances, a murderer, but never a streetwalker. "I'm not a whore!"

Lord Arc sat up. "Then why are you here?"

Emerald cursed herself. Her pride got the better of her. She coughed into her fist as she spoke again. "W-What I mean is, I don't think of myself as a whore. I prefer the term... escort."

Lord Arc's cheeks flushed. "Oh, I am so sorry! I... I had always heard it spoken as- W-Well, in any case, I humbly apologize."

Emerald saw an opportunity. "W-Well, you should! I can't believe your friends paid me so well to 'entertain' you, only for you to insult me!" She turned her back to him and stepped towards the chamber door.

"Wait," Lord Arc called out, "before you go, allow me to apologize in full." Lord Arc reached into a location she didn't see and heard him walk behind her with a jingle in his hands. He placed a hand on her left shoulder and moved his right hand to in front of her, a hefty bag of coins in his palm. "I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness."

Emerald took the coins. "Hm, I'll consider it." She then kissed his cheek. "But only because you're so kind." She then stepped out of his chambers and down the hall, sashaying her behind for show, certain his eyes were on her until she turned the corner. She then sighed in relief.

"This better be worth the trouble." She whispered to no one.

♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan 

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass.  Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn  Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground.  Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot  lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two  from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it  clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this.  You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy​ @parkersbliss​ that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly. 

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh. 

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-" 

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do. 

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@adriannajackson123​ @theamazingtomholland​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @andycanbeemotional​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @jeezkiddo​ @a-singleboat​ @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1​ @ellyseveronica​ @inthecornerchair​ @harishaanne​ @anjalika03​ @lozzypoz321​ @mendes-marvel​ @sovereignparker​ @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl 

 MARVEL ACTORS 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @frustratingpaperclip​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

HOLLAND & CO. 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @zeusmyster​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @joyleenl​ @quaksonhehe​ @clara-licht​ @frustratingpaperclip​  @tutuabby28​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

LGBTQ+ 

@quaksonhehe​ 

Omg thank you so much for writing my request for tom :) Can I ask for a part two where you try not to read the comments, but end up doing so, and most are good, so it's fine. Until you post a picture of you on your account, and tom's fans start calling you names, and tom's so tired of all that happening that he posts on his account a whole paragraph about how his personal life it's no one's business?

Posted

This is part two, find the first part here

Summary | previously Tom had accidentally posted a picture of the two of you, exposing your relationship. And so, you decide to purposely do the same on your Instagram, though the response is much different than what his post had received.

Warnings | hate comments, some angst, swear and demeaning words

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Tom was asleep beside you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, you were able to feel his gentle, slumbering breathing against your skin, and it caused goose bumps to prickle upon the outer layer of your flesh.

The two of you had vastly fallen asleep upon the couch, and your phone was on the coffee table, and to say that you were itchy to reach for it was an understatement. There would be comments on the picture that Tom accidentally put online, and you were hungry to see them, whilst simultaneously nervous.

Tom was a big actor, known for his presence in the marvel cinematic universe upon many other projects, and some of his fans, whilst proven during Comic-Con panels, were borderline crazy. They’d snap if they even so much as saw something that they didn’t like, and this time, you would be on the receiving end of it.

Being motionlessly captured, with your face on show, was certain to bring much attention. You too were within the acting department, but there had been no correlation between the pair of you until now, most of the world weren’t even aware that you knew each other. And not to mention, your span of reaching an audience was smaller, although, certainly not non existent.

You had reprised fame during your appearance on Modern Family, as the friendly neighbour of Phil and Claire, and a classmate of their eldest daughter, and not to mention Luke was crushing hard on the character you played, though, with that said, your character laughed his efforts off due to the age difference, yet still found his pining weird and often uncomfortable.

Another role that you were becoming known for was your character in Netflix’s Irregulars, where you met Harrison Osterfield, Tom’s best friend. Through filming the show, you were introduced to the Spider-Man actor, and the pair of you had hit it off almost instantly, if you didn’t include Tom keeping his amorous distance, wary just in case there was something going on between you and your mutual friend. To his relief, there wasn’t.

And thus, when he received that confirmation, he was far more forward, yet respectful at the same time with his intentions. That was how you had ended up here, as he half used you as a pillow, his arms wrapped around his ribs, and his soft peaceful snores filling the void in the air.

Stretching your arm at its furthest length, your fingertips wrestled with the side of your phone, padding it closer to yourself, so that you could slide it across the small living room table, and closer to yourself. You were victorious in your efforts, and so on you unlocked your screen, going to your camera app, and leaning sideways so that you could snap a few pictures of your predicament with your loving and sweet boyfriend.

Looking at the images that you had captured, a smile arose upon your face; you truly did love this man, and you wanted the whole world to know how much you adored him. You wanted them to see that you cared about him, and that he was in good hands with you, to cool off any of his fans that were processing their hurt feelings for seeing Tom with another woman, show him that he was getting the love that he deserved.

Extreme courage coursed through your veins, focusing within your fingertips as you opened insta, gulping as you readied to post the image. There was no editing required, it was perfect just like him. And so, the caption was something to think about, you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you were dating as the online community already assumed, the priority was to show them that you cared about him.

‘He’s taking a nap, and crushing my hip a little, but I don’t mind 😌’ you typed, your finger hovering over the post button as you chewed your lip. It was easy to press your digit down, and so, taking a breath, you did just that, encouraged by the previous and kind comments on Tom’s earlier post.

Within a matter of minutes, your phone was blowing up, and you were too tempted not to glance at the growing comment section. There were various accounts, some supporting your confidence to show such a domestic version of yourself with Tom, you assumed that they were your followers, and the ones that weren’t so light hearted were those that intently watched anything on the media that involved Tom.

‘He’s too good looking for her, she should be dating someone within her league. Tom is clearly taking pity on this hoe.’

‘Aw look at him, and ew, look at the state of her. He could do sm better 😔’

‘Why doesn’t she look like his exes, they were hot af, and now he’s with some rando that is after his fame and money. Maybe she should just take better roles if she wants to get noticed so bad.’

Your eyes kept reeling through the intentionally hateful words that continued to come through beneath the image. Tears began to fall from your eyes as you tried to stifle the movements and the sound of your gentle sobbing, as to not wake Tom. Quickly, your fingers raced through the social media, and you, knowing that there would still be presence of the image somewhere online, you deleted it, muting notifications and shuffled back into Tom.

The man stirred, tugging you closer by your waist, pressing a kiss to your locks as he awoke. He noticed however the way that you refused to face him, and so he rolled you over with a gentle grip on your shoulder, frowning when he saw the recognisable redness beneath your eyes, and the sad expression floating within your eyes.

“Princess, what’s going on?” He wiped his thumb beneath your bottom lashes, collecting your tears as he worriedly looked down at you. His brown eyes searched every inch of your face for an idea, but found nothing but your broken hearted expression.

“It’s nothing Tommy.” You tried and failed to convince the man, wincing half heartedly as he sat back on his thighs, gripping your hips so that he could pull you up with him, giving him a clearer view of your face. It was clear that he did not believe you, and he hummed, trying to make you give in. Eventually, after much concerned staring, you gave in, slumping your shoulders as you tucked your arms around the back of his neck. “I posted a picture of us, the response wasn’t great.”

Instantly, Tom’s brows uplifted, surprised by your action, though he had a strong inkling of a feeling that the reaction that you had earned was not complimentary. These were not tears of joy, instead they were stricken rivers of anguish and insecurity running down the length of your face.

“Let me see.” He spoke, softly to you, but his intents towards defending you strong. You shook your head lightly, tracing circles upon his knees as you gulped, flickering your guilty gaze up to his watchful eyes.

“I deleted it. I just couldn’t deal with knowing that the longer that it was up, the more hate would be directed at me. I’m sorry.” Tom grasped your face by your tense jaw, his fingers stroking your chin as he sadly stared at you.

“Never be sorry. Now send me the picture you used so that I can give everyone a piece of my mind.” Reaching for your phone, you sent the image to him, and in a second his device pinged, revealing that it had successfully sent to him.

“Cute.” He described the picture, his hands furiously typing away on his phone, his constant unsettling of his rabidly moving fingers drawing anxiousness from you. “And some.” Tom finally breathed, closing his phone as you went to his account, checking what he had posted publicly.

‘This may concern some people, who keep sticking their noses in where it does not involve them. I appreciate you all, the support, the love, everything. But one thing that I do not stand for is people coming at my girlfriend just because they don’t approve of our relationship. If you check mate, I never asked for your opinion, I love y/n, and some online hate, that needs to stop otherwise you are not someone I want to be calling themselves a fan of me, needs to stop. It makes no one happy or feel healthy with spreading such toxicity around the internet, if you don’t like something, then keep your blood mouths shut, this has nothing to do with you, it is just me and my girlfriend. I’d think you’d want me to be happy, because I want the same for all of you, so can people please give my partner some respect, she’s done nothing wrong but bravely chose to reach out to you all, and she had that spat back in her face. It’s not on, and I want this to stop now.’

“Tom...” you were shocked by the paragraph, it came across as aggressive, and very over protective. His action, that could affect how he was cried by people that put him on a pedestal, and that made you feel guilty that he had reached out to them in such a way.

“It’s okay baby, I’d do anything for you, and you know that. No one messes with my girl.” He put his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you close placing a kiss upon your forehead. Not only was he your boyfriend, but he was your protector, your knight on a shining cell phone.

Mod I have a question and would like an honest answer. are you not disappointed in Harry career decisions? Harry seriously disappointed me but I still want to feel like you that just because holivia is PR you continue to support him unconditionally and enjoy him as an artist but I can't because I think he has no integrity, ethics or believes in his talent but you and anon still feel that hype as a fan that makes me sad bc I can't to feel this way and I think I no longer belong to this fandom.

this is definitely one of those questions that will really get you thinking 😂 this is probably going to be a long response so i apologize in advance for that!

first things first, i completely understand how you feel. there is no need to be upset or sad for not feeling the hype as a fan. if that is how you feel then the best thing to do is take a step back, that’s it. i’d rather you do that than continue to force yourself to feel like you should support someone who you aren’t necessarily proud to be a fan of.

for me, personally, i do not see anything wrong with what he is doing. the thing is with harry, he has been placed on this throne - this throne of “goods.” this means that his fans see him as the most innocent, perfect person in the world. the most genuine celebrity who isn’t like others. a celebrity who could never do anything wrong. he has been placed on this throne for years. that is why we, as fans, feel disappointed in his recent behavior: because it goes against this fake image of him that we imagine in our heads.

truth is, harry is just like every other celebrity in the world. the sooner you realize that, everything will make sense. his decisions will make sense, his behavior will make sense. trust me, i’ve felt the same as you did. i used to be one of those people who would refuse to believe that harry would ever do PR or he would never behave a certain way but once i stopped fantasizing about this fake image that was created by fans and planted onto him, everything made sense to me. that’s why i’m not upset with him nor do i really care.

at the end of the day, he’s a celebrity. he’s a business man. he’s going to do what he needs to in order to better his career. i know it’s weird and doesn’t make sense to us but that’s the truth. there’s nothing more to it. there’s no real explanation other than he’s a normal celebrity. he’s not any different from the others.

like take a second and imagine another celebrity behaving this way (PR relationship, releasing a celebrity brand, hanging out with industry friends) we wouldn’t care as much. we’d see it as a normal thing for them to do because, you know, they’re a celebrity. it’s not any different when it comes to harry. the reason why we don’t feel right about it is because, like i said, this fake image that was created by fans and planted onto him. this throne that the fans have placed him on, that’s it. if it wasn’t for any of that, we wouldn’t be so shocked or upset with his recent behavior.

he’s just doing what celebrities do. that’s why it’s not that shocking to me. i also have experience in business, so i know exactly what people need to do in order to expand their careers to reach that broader audience and gain more attention. he’s not going to please everyone and that’s okay. if you are upset with him, take a break! it’s okay to feel that way but it’s not healthy to continue to force yourself to be a fan when you don’t feel that happiness.

at the end of the day, i’m a fan. i’m here to support his music and his acting careers, i’m not here to criticize his career decisions. it’s not hurting me in anyway. i get that it could come off as him lacking morals but again, he can’t please everyone. he’s not perfect. i know that the decisions he is making are to help himself and his career. like he can’t check in with fans every time he makes a career decision and ask if they’d be okay with it. like the fans don’t know much about the industry unless they work in it themselves or know someone who does.

he knows what he needs to do in order to help himself, he knows more than we do. it may seem upsetting to us, i get that, but it’s not our career. it’s his. we’re just fans. it’s up to you on whether or not you want to support him.

thank you to @sparkexplosive and @vs-redemption for beta reading it for me! merry christmas & happy holidays everyone ♥️

➽ synopsis: being a member of the royal guard is a grueling and thankless job, so you decide to remind katsuki a little of what it’s like to be young again—what better way to do that than with some healthy competition.

➽ word count: 1.7k

➽ tags: fluff, budding romance, royalty au, childhood friends

➽ author’s note: i had a ton of fun participating in my first ever secret santa!! this is my gift-fic to the lovely @katsushimaa​ hope you enjoy, yssa!

"So, this is where the hell you've been hiding?"

His voice tore through the midday stillness like a blade, equal parts raspy and gruff. He sounded irritated and mildly fatigued. Not that Katsuki Bakugou would ever admit to being anything less than a hundred and ten percent. He climbed off his steed, heavy boots crunching under the weight of his feet, and secured his horse against the stump you were leaning on.

You flipped the page of your book, not sparing the man even a cursory glance. You would prefer to keep your attention occupied by fictitious worlds, warriors, and battles fought in the name of love and justice.

It was much easier to allow yourself to become the bearer of fictional hardships, because at least they could be solved through a well-constructed plot with each turn of a page, as opposed to the realities of your actual life, a slow spiraling disaster in comparison.

Bakugou stood in front of you, vein ticking on his throat with every clench of his jaw. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, red gaze pinned on your hunched form. He wasn't at all the kind of person anyone could easily ignore. His very presence demanded attention and drew eyes like a magnet.

Case in point, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, you simply couldn’t.

"Please tell me you aren't going to stand there the entire time. Take a hint will you." You went to turn another page, but Bakugou reached over and snatched the book from your hands with deft fingers and speed you couldn't hope to match.

"Give. It. Back."

"Nah, I don't think I will just yet." He sneered, thumbing through the pages. "I was told to bring your dumbass back to the estate, so that's exactly what the hell I'm 'bout to do."

You blew a puff of air from your lips, eyes blazing with a kind of defiance that only burned harder the more you glared at him. "Then I guess you'll just have to drag me back kicking and screaming."

Bakugou only smirked, teeth spread in a feral grin that sent a chill down your spine.

That had always been his intention.

Almost an hour later, you stood before your parents, clothes dusty, creased, and smudged from having been manhandled like a sack of flour before promptly dumped in front of your waiting audience.

A frown marred your delicate features as they began their lecture.

Your mind drifted elsewhere the more they reminded you of your lineage and that you were royalty and how it was imperative you behave as such. You’d heard it all before, known this for as long as you could remember. As the King and Queen of your home country, your parents never failed to emphasize the importance of keeping your every move in check because of the reputation you had to uphold.

Katsuki stood somewhere behind you, and although he stayed mostly silent, you could almost hear him grinding away at his molars. The King and Queen were taking turns subtly digging into him as well, implying that his incompetence was a stain upon the royal guard perfect record of achievements. If he couldn't keep you in line, what was the point of holding rank?

They annoyed him way more than they did you, but he dare not voice it, not if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. Far be it from him to send himself to the guillotine

You both were in for a long night.

“Honestly, this kind of behavior is unbecoming of someone of your status. What will our countrymen think if they see you roaming about unattended like a vagabond?” Your father stroked his beard as if waiting for a response. But everyone in the room knew he really just liked to hear himself talk.

He was no better than a machiavellian swindler in expensive robes. A puppet if you would.

The real leader of the land was your mother. After all, she had only married into the family, having been the daughter of a mere advisor with no royal blood. She spoke little, but her glare was more than enough to convey just what she was thinking.

By the end of the lecture, you felt like all of your energy had been sapped from you, but thankfully your parents left you to retreat into your bedroom for the remainder of the day. Bakugou escorted you, following close behind.

“You’re gonna do it again, aren’t ya?”

You paused, foot nearly catching against the carpeted floors of your bedroom. Fiddling with a piece of your hair, you shrugged. “...maybe.”

“You’re a huge idiot.” Bakugou shook his head with a low laugh.

A tiny smidgen of a grin danced on your lips as you considered him. He was your childhood friend. No one knew you better than he did. And he was also the guard most assigned to watch over you and keep you safe from harm.

Despite that, you’d come to notice how much he’d changed. He wasn’t the same Katsuki you grew up knowing and you missed him dearly. Occasions like this, where a part of his guard was let down, were becoming few and far between. There had to be something you could do.

“Let’s make a wager. If you can manage to find me, I’ll do one thing at your command.”

“Challenge accepted.” He reached into the folds of his uniform, pulled out your little novel, and slapped it right into your open palm. "No matter where you run off to, I'll find ya. Trust me on that, princess."

His eyes were like candles in the night, ignited by a spark of passion. Not a single lie could be detected.

"I won't make it easy on you, Katsuki, just so you know."

"Heh, you better not." He sniffed, tucking his hands into his uniform pockets. And with a final half-wave, he was gone.

In and around the capital city, winter had completely lost it's bite. The weather was tepid, swinging a mild breeze that coasted through the countryside. It was the sort of winter where one felt as if woolen clothing were worn more for comfort than necessity. In what should have been the chilliest part of the year, Bakugou found himself traversing one of the many beaches that hedged the southern peninsula.

After a full week following the challenge issued in your bedroom, Bakugou realized you were entirely too good at evading him or any of the other guards at the kingdom’s disposal, for that matter.

Day in and day out, he spent his shifts searching tirelessly for you, just to stumble upon you in the most random of places and only when you had wanted him to find you. The running score was six to five in your favor, but he was determined not to lose to you again.

And there you were, standing at the very edge of the shore, as if a mere thought had manifested you right before his very eyes. Your loose billowing dress of soft satin waved to him like a white flag of surrender in the air. He'd finally found you.

"Not gonna run off this time?"

"Nope! You won this round." Your cheeks creased in a smile.

Given the boots he'd worn, it was no surprise that his feet kept sinking into the sand. You said nothing as he toed off his shoes and socks, bare feet settling into the depths of warm, grainy sand.

He couldn’t help but feel more relaxed. Over the past few months, he’d found himself losing sight of his goals, caught in the dredges of the mundane and routine.

The cool waters lapped at both his and your feet, fizzing and bubbling, leaving behind traces of salt. You went further into the water’s touch, your back to him as the tides licked at the your calves. Even he had to admit, the view was a beautiful one, possibly even more so with you against the backdrop.

“I’m glad you found me,” you called over the cry of seagulls. “For a second, I was worried you’d lose this round.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Tch, as if I’d ever lose to you, princess.”

“Naturally.” You laughed.

“What the hell are we doing out here anyway?”

He knelt to roll up his pants, a mere moment away from following after you like always.

“I... really just wanted to show you the view. Do you remember when we used to come down here as kids? Remember how we used to dare each other to see who could go the farthest into the ocean?”

Of course he remembered. Those were some of his most cherished memories of his time spent with you before duty to the kingdom took precedent.

You reached a hand out to him, an open invitation. “I just thought you needed a little reminder of what that was like.”

For some reason, Katsuki was determined not to meet your gaze, scowling at some point on the horizon, until you came over and nudged him with your elbow. “It wouldn’t kill you to admit that I’m right.”

With a sigh, he reached over and tugged you into a hug. You snuggled close to his chest, gripping the back on his uniform. It may have been your imagination but you could’ve sworn you felt the soft press of lips against your temple.

“Thanks... you know... for everything.”

Beaming, you leaned back to get the full view of his heated cheeks.

“Of course, of course.”

There was something earnest in his eyes that told you no matter how far you went, or however far you traveled, he’d always be a step behind you. It sent your heart hammering in your ribcage. You were suddenly all too aware of the way he held you secure against him like he would never let go.

“What are you thinking, princess?”

You blinked owlishly, taken over by your feelings and mumbling a hushed. “Oh, nothing.” The two of you were just a royal and a guard, bound to one another by duty.

If there could be anything more than that...well, only time would tell.

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Part XV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII, part XIII and part XIV.

Being Sebastian's boyfriend really isn't that much different from being his friend. They do a lot of the same things, and talk about the same stuff, only now there's hand-holding and kissing and cuddling with it. Apart from the touching though? Nothing really changes much.

Which kind of makes it sound like how it was with Blaine.

It's not though.

Sebastian will hold his hand in the hallway without worrying about being seen. And yes, Dalton is different from McKinley – so, so much different, and safer – but Blaine even hesitated to hold Kurt's hand in the choir room, surrounded by friends.

Sebastian kisses him in a way that never leaves Kurt doubting there's attraction, and has to stop his hands from wandering too far on a regular basis – yet never making Kurt worry he won't stop.

Sebastian makes Kurt have to stop himself, both from allowing it and from doing his own wandering. They're still too new to go there, no matter how much Kurt's hormones sit up and beg every time Sebastian touches him. (They'll get there, Kurt's sure, just... Step by step, and not yet.)

Sebastian reaches out for Kurt without looking – sometimes seemingly without thinking – to pull him close, and always makes a space for him.

And when Sebastian sings, it's with Kurt, or for him, not at him.

It's a far cry from scheduled make-outs and avoiding even PG13 levels of PDA and being made to feel like his boyfriend is more interested in his own hand than in Kurt.

It's amazing.

There's a rainbow rose hanging on Kurt's door on Valentine's day. He and Sebastian have been dating for two days – a day and a half, if he was to be picky – and Kurt knows from last year's insanity that there's not a flower shop within two hours of Vesterville that carries rainbow roses. They have to be ordered special, and with a lot more warning than two days.

Kurt's not the least bit ashamed about how he squeals, or how he turns on his heel and kisses his boyfriend (!) for long enough to be a little dizzy afterwards.

This isn't to say that Sebastian is a perfect boyfriend. He's not. Then again, neither is Kurt. He's working from romantic movies and the examples from the New directions, and of course from his time with Blaine. Neither is a good road map. Romantic movies have so many flaws Kurt don't really want to examine, and a lot of his favorites are set too far back in time to be useful as guidelines. The loves lives of his old glee mates are...well. They're flawed too, when seen without rose-colored glasses and envy.

As for his relationship with Blaine... Even if he's not counting how it ended that relationship was so very less than perfect, and honestly it was both their faults. Kurt's not without blame, he knows that and can admit it without somehow pretending what Blaine did wrong never happened.

So he's trying to learn from his mistakes, and other people's mistakes, and he does his best to communicate with Sebastian – who does the same in return.

Also, no one can say that they don't argue. They definitely do. They have from the beginning, and they're both opinionated passionate people, so why should they stop now? Their relationship has changed – they themselves haven't.

It's just that they manage to argue in a way that works. That doesn't makes Kurt pull out his claws to eviscerate Sebastian, that doesn't scare Kurt, or make him give in to “preserve the peace”. That, right there, was one of the things that had sent his relationship with Blaine down the wrong turn. When he'd first told his dad that he'd begun dating Blaine Burt Hummel had told him never to go to bed angry with his partner. He'd meant to sort out arguments and disagreements, but Kurt had interpreted it as needing to back down and push down his anger or hurt. With Sebastian he doesn't.

They argue, because that's who – and how – they are, but they do it in as mature and healthy way as they are able to, being teenagers. And they apologize if they step over the line. Not Kurt apologizes, regardless, with Sebastian pouting until he does, but both of them.

If Kurt had to, he'd call it damned near perfect. Instead he'll just say it's good, and he's happy.

That's never something to look down on.

The week of Regionals is weird. Kurt's never felt as prepared or as calm with a competition approaching, which is rather telling. The rest of the Warblers are a different story though. Kurt has made it clear that his primary goal is to beat the Troubletones, and his friends are feeling the pressure. They even ask if Kurt and Sebastian won't reconsider singing 'Human Nature'.

“Look, guys, I'm honored, really, that you would trust me, us like that. But I want to win more than I want that solo. And even if we ignore the fact that Ohio doesn't seem ready for a gay duet, I really do think the setlist we have is stronger as is. The Troubletones have a great presence, and both Mercedes and Santana are awesomely talented. However, everything about the Troubletones are built around them. The rest of the girls are background and dancing. If we go on with a number that's the same they are going to win, for no other reason than that most people find girls prettier and nicer to look at.

“But if we go on as an actual choir, for a show choir competition? We'll win. I'm sure of it. We've worked so hard with our songs, and I wouldn't change a thing about our setlist.”

And it's true. They have an amazing setlist, and everything flows in a way that makes Kurt feel practically professional, and he's not giving that – and its chance to win – up to stare longingly at Sebastian while singing a song that exposes them to the core.

No. Kurt's going to have quite a lot more time in the spotlight than he'd expected when turning down a proper solo. He's going to sing with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he's going to show McKinley what it means to be a team onstage.

The Troubletones are just as amazing onstage as Kurt thought. They've done a good job picking their songs, and Mercedes still has the best voice he's ever heard live. Santana's not quite as talented, but give her the right song – which these are – and she'll blow your mind. Their choreography showcases the girls poached from the Cheerios without making Mercedes look too far behind, and their clothes look good.

Kurt would vote for them any day, even with Rachel being given a place in the background, except this one. This is going to be his day. He meets Sebastians eyes as they line up and nods.

Showtime.

'I want You Back' does exactly what it's meant to, namely getting the audience in a party mood. As the last notes flows into the first from 'Man in the Mirror' the mood shifts and Kurt feels his own shift with it. His solo feels a little raw, because in no way can he sing those lines without being reminded of all the crap he's gone through over the past 6 months.

“...a willow deeply scared, somebody's broken heart and a washed out dream...”

Well. His heart might have been broken, and his dreams about Blaine did wash out. But he's got new dreams, and his hearts healed, and no matter the scars he's whole where it matters. And even if he wasn't? He's looking in the mirror, and he's changing.

They bring the party back with their last song, giving their all transforming the sounds of 'Beat It' to sounds that can be reproduced by the human throat. The dancing is the most demanding Kurt's ever done onstage, and he knows he will definitely be beat after. But they look and sound awesome, and that's all that matters.

Or maybe not, he ruefully thinks as he sees Finn on his feet, jumping up and down and whooping as the Warblers are proclaimed the winners and Rachel looks like she's been pelted with eggs again.

“You stole our songs!”

Of course. All Kurt wants to do is get on the bus, go back to Dalton and celebrate. Okay, shower, then celebrate. So naturally Rachel is waiting to ambush him. Well, that's not going to go the way she's probably thinking.

“Really? Really Rachel, you're going there? You know very well that we didn't steal anything. Oh, I know that there was a suggestion that the New Directions do Michael for Sectionals, but I also know that you were the one who refused to accept it.

“You really blew it there. Michael is a great choice for Sectionals or Regionals, what with the Ohio mindset, and I'm pretty sure you would have won with the setlist the guys suggested. I'm not surprised you put a stop to it though.”

Rachel draws back, looking first shocked, then insulted, then finally like an angry goose, complete with hissing sound. He's not letting it touch him though, lets it run over him, one might say, like water over a goose.

“There are no songs in Michael Jacksons discography that's a given for you, no certainty that you'll be featured. And in the end, that's what mattered, wasn't it? Not that the New Directions won, but that you won. You wanted to beat the Troubletones, didn't you? Wanted to show that you were better than Mercedes, wanted to prove that her beating you when auditioning for Maria was just a fluke. Wanted to prove what everyone knows, that's she's every bit as good as you, and sometimes better, is wrong.

“Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted in terms of the setlist and the spotlight, but you fucked up everything else. And not just for you, but for everyone.”

An expression of pain flies across Rachel's face, and he pushes the knife in a little bit further.

“We weren't as blind though. The minute Finn told me about the Michael setlist I knew it was a winner. As did the other Warblers. I asked Finn first, and Sam and Puck. They didn't think we needed their permission, as you didn't use the songs, but they gave it any way.”

Kurt looks at Rachel, looks at the way she's still fuming, still refusing to see any other side than her own. It won't matter what he says – she'll keep ignoring any and all arguments against her. Once he might have tried harder to make her understand, but as things are he just wants to leave. His boyfriend's waiting and that makes Kurt out of time to spend on his former friend.

“Your loss, our gain.”

He starts to leave, but thinks better of it. He's got one more jab in him.

“Oh, and Rachel? Don't worry. Going to Nationals is a privilege, and we won't waste it. We've already gotten started on a setlist.”

It's petty, but. So's she.

That evening the Warblers celebrate as thoroughly as a bunch of uniformed boys in a well-staffed boarding school can. This means that it's late when Kurt drags Sebastian to his room (unlike him Sebastian's in a single), but neither of them is under the influence of anything but happiness.

That's important to Kurt as they tumble into Sebastian's bed while kissing, because he doesn't want there to be any doubt in Sebastian's mind that when Kurt pulls off his shirt and then goes for his fly it's because he wants to.

Having Sebastian stop him is frustrating, to say the very least.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It's only the fact that it's Sebastian, and that he's shown himself trustworthy in so many ways over the past months that stops Kurt from storming out.

“I thought we... You know?”

It's so hard to say, to open himself up like this, years of being told he's a predator, or ugly, or plain wrong getting just as much in his way as the fact that he's never done this, and the only time he's been even close wasn't even about him.

Apparently he's going to have to use his words regardless, because Sebastian's not taking the opening.

“I thought we could have sex.” There. Words. Consent. Door wide open.

And yet Sebastian's still not taking the opening.

“What's the hurry?”

Kurt pulls back a little, hurt blooming.

“No, no, don't. Talk to me, okay? I'm a bit surprised I guess. We haven't even been dating for two months yet, and I know this is new for you.”

“So? It's not like I'm waiting for marriage.”

Kurt knows he sounds a bit snippy, and he has sort of been waiting – not for marriage, but for something, some feeling of more. He's got that feeling with Sebastian, so what's the point of waiting any longer? Everyone else his age (or so it feels) is having sex so why can't he?

Some of it must bleed through because Sebastian gets that “aha” look, and nods a bit.

“Look, regardless of what I might have said or implied when chasing Blaine, I'm actually not the whore of Babylon. I have, however, rounded a few bases and enjoyed them. I think you'd enjoy them too, and I would love to find out first hand. But that doesn't have to mean we go straight to fucking.” Kurt blushes, because he might be ready to do it, but those words...

“So. I'm not going to push, and I'm not going to rush. I am more than interested though, I'm just happy to take it a bit slow. To build up to every step. As far as I'm concerned you've earned that.”

Sebastian's looking so earnest it kills Kurt annoyance, and then lightning-quick it's replaced by a vicked look than makes him shiver all over.

“I wouldn't mind showing you the first of many, many bases now though. How about it, babe?”

Kurt doesn't mind either, neither then nor the next day.

March comes in like a lion, it's Portrayal of toxic & healthy relationship and how to compares rivamika + Ereh

Que the longest title everr 😌✨

So before I start on the actual analysis, I recently started watching March comes in like a lion instead of doing my assignments and I half way through season 2. For those of you who haven't watched it, it might be a spoilers so beware of that.

In this analysis I'll be comparing the similarities I found between Rei, Hina and Kyoko.

So watching any anime after being do emotionally attached to rivamika it's only natural that I compare them to the characters with even the tiniest bit similarities in their dynamic but Rei and hina's relationship jump in episode 4 of season 2 really caught me off guard and I was like omg?? Rivamika?? How do I make this about them 😩

Anyway so a little background on Rei's relationship with both girls Kyoko and Hina ( Hinata ). Firstly, i subconsciously placed Rei has Mikasa, kyoko has Eren and Hina as Levi, why? You will know on a minute. Rei is a depressed kid who has known only one way of life and that's through shogi games and after his parents death ( cough cough ) he was taken in by a old friend ( I think ) of his dad's who was also obsessed with shogi. Kyoko is the biological daughter of this man who has "adopted" Rei and later on Rei was came to know Hina and her sisters, they were super supportive of him from the start and having lost family members themselves they related to him on a personal level.

So you see why Eren and mikasa's dynamic matches with Rei and Kyoko and not only as "step siblings" it's also the fact that Rei became somewhat obsessed with her through the time he had spent over at their house, it's toxic and it's been showcased that way ever since kyoko was introduced into the series. Rei thought of her when he heard the word "love" and he even admitted to the fact that having her around is toxic and yet he can't push her away. He said he does not want to stop hearing her voice even tho she , herself is in love with a much older man who is married. Everytime she showed up to his bedroom uninvited and slept next to him my mind went "he is in love with her and their relationship is so toxic why does the author keep bringing her into his life?" Or "girl get the fuck away from him".

Without even thinking too much deep into their physical connection I already knew I would be able to related this dynamic to Eren and Mikasa. Although this series gives us much more depth into the main characters views since it's narrated from his own perspective, and the fact that he metaphorically compared his feelings of being lost and sadness helps me as an audience to understand what's happening much much easier than attack on titan. I personally feel like this kind of series are usually short ( idk how long this is) because it feels like the author knows exactly what he is going for, everything is set in stone.

Going back to Rei's ( mikasa's) relationship with kyoko ( Eren ) it's much much clear how toxic it had become for him in more than just one way. And the show isn't denying Rei of his feelings towards Kyoko and it's not even attempting to distant him from her and yet you just knew there had to be someone better right? That's when they introduced Hina and Kyoko in the same episode, meeting each other and a sense of invisible rivalry gushed over them, especially Hina. She is a happy go lucky girl and extremely sensitive to things to the point it kinda annoys me everytime she bursts out crying ( but hey you can't hate a genuinely good character ).

That's where things get interesting for me maybe because I am on that Levi X Mikasa agenda all the time but just like rivamika their relationship has been portrayed as platonic for the longest time in the seaosns. If I didn't go out of way to search up who Rei falls in love with and it didn't say hina's name I probably wouldn't be making this comparison right now because who wants to have their heart broken for the 2nd time in the same fucking month 🙄.

Anyway so in this one episode Hina comes home crying because of bullying issue at school and as she runs off into the dark streets Rei chases her and eventually catching up to her takes her hand and being able to relate to her problems, comparing his younger self to her present Rei reaches out his hand and God fucking damn it he says "you saved my life..I promise I'll stay with you" ofc I'm making this post now you know the real reason 🤡.

The unseen build up that happen between them reminds me of rivamika, the Portrayal of healthy relationship is rivamika. Hina (in our case Levi ) to Rei is the voice of emotion, she speaks out the feelings that Rei has been surpassing all these years inside of him. Just like how we talked about Levi is the voice of reason, while Mikasa has the impulsive urge to act up. Just like how Levi became the perosn who reasonably always took mikasa's side, he gave her personal reasons to take Erens side everytime have an actual meaning towards the scouts / everyone , he then became someone Mikasa was able to object & voice out her opinion towards because she knew that he would response and guide her the right way and finally he became someone she was able to fully trust.

Much like Hina and Rei, when Hina cried out her heart and Rei couldn't help but go back to his past self and imagine Hina coming to him and giving him a hand, being his saviour. It's much like how Levi saw his past self in Mikasa present ( S1 ), Levi gave Mikasa the hand she needed when she didn't know she needed.

Hina despite being much younger than him, was able to make him realise that he too was shutting out his emotions and was able to let himself be free through Hina when she cried, expressing her frustrations and very human like emotions. In the forest of the giant trees when Mikasa and Levi saved Eren for the first time he told her " we got your precious friend, didn't we?" A slight wake up call he had given her for the very first time, an attack on Mikasa's ego and evoking a different emotions within her. Like telling her it's not only about Eren and getting revenge, risking your life so easily, Levi had lost his entire squad in order to protect Eren so now that he is safe they better leave now.

So the question is did Levi and Mikasa save each other?

What can I say that I haven't said already in here about these two?

"you saved my life" Rei says to Hina as he reached out her hand and the beauty of that scene was the fact that it was delicate and soft despite it not being anything romantic. Remind me of that panel of Mikasa touching Levi's shoulder. How ironic is the fact that I'm comparing Hina, a openly emotional character to Levi who is said to be the most emotional inside?

Levi physically saved Mikasa a lot of the time however emotionally Levi saved Mikasa from being selfish and from herself. What if I said and ignoring 139, that Levi was one of of the biggest reasons Mikasa took the initiative and decapitated Eren that day?

Wait why does it feel like I already said it before lol

Through Levi, Mikasa learnt to trust more, learnt that even though they gave difference not only in height, age and in how they treat Eren ( Levi with force and Mikasa with care ), Mikasa still came in terms with Levi and relied on him, shared her burden with him. I think that's the biggest character twist Mikasa had, the fact that she was ready to draw sword at anyone who treated Eren wrong and everyone was scared of her and then came the grumpy shorty who beat her beloved brother right in front of her but eventually he became the biggest form of support she had in the end. I just can not help but laugh at all the unseen development this ship has had and all the implication of Futher interaction after season 3 between them, it's really obvious they had something going on because imagine you don't talk to someone for like 3 years and suddenly when you engage in battle against , paired up with them suddenly you become the strongest duo known to humanity. +?)!#)# make it make sense.

Sooo now you see the that having toxic relationship with a partner is only natural and inevitable but growing from that, opening your eyes to those who actually care there for you is rather healthy. So moral of the story is guys make sure stick with those who tells you to stay with them, the end.

Omg guys this turned out so much longer than I intended, anyway hopefully y'all liked it. I know it's not the strongest comparison or analysis but I feel like I'm running out of words for what I want to say about rivamika it feels like I'm recycling my sentences from previous analysis over and over again because ✨ lack of content ✨ and my inability to think of something new.

Please ignore all my spelling mistakes I have decided to embrace my mistakes instead of fixing them simply because I'm too lazy 😉

💜💜💜

How do you deal with the hate comments you get?? (Not that I think the last ask was particularly hate or anything) but I never see hate stuff on your blog or in your comment sections either. I feel like I see tend to get them a lot abd sometimes I don't know how to handle them :( love your work!!! Sorry if this is rude to ask...

Not rude at all - but there's a lot to unpack here, so I’m really sorry if I ramble or go off on a few tangents in my answer!

The short answer is: I don't deal with hate comments.

The medium answer is: It depends on the type of 'hate' that I’m receiving.

The longer answer is this:

I have been really lucky (I think) to have been able to grow a little community on this blog of similar, like-minded people who enjoy the same things that I do (Tsundere characters, characters that can help show more representation in the Alphabet Mafia community, dumb boys who deserve to just be dumb boys, etc). I've rarely received any hate comments since my time here on Tumblr, and I think there's a lot of reasons for this.

1.) If someone comes rearing into my Ask box just LOOKING for a fight (ie, random death threats from Anons, homophobic comments, an obvious attempt to bait me into some kind of long-winded debate, etc) I simply just do not deal with it. Those people (especially Anons) are just looking for a reaction out of you. They want you to get upset, to post some long rambling defense, to be snarky and rude back to them, that's what they want.

But at the end of the day, I don't owe any of them a response. Hell, I don't owe anyone a response if I don't want to answer something.

But I answer Asks because I like talking with people, and getting all amped up and excited over the same things, that's part of the fun of creating and sharing that creative work online and being an active part of the fandom. I LOVE hearing from the people that follow this blog (even if I don't always get the chance to respond to all of them) because I know that they're happy or excited enough to hit that Ask button and send me a message, and that makes me feel good to know that I was able to get them so pumped up!

But those Anons aren't looking for that kind of connection. Most of the time, they’re not even looking to have a mature discussion, even if that’s how they come across at first. They're looking to hurt. To ridicule and make fun of, to make me and my followers feel bad or low. And, most of the time, the people who are sending that hate are young. So young. Like... way younger than what you might be picturing in your head right now.

So when I get the really bad hate - the hate that makes your skin feel hot, the hate that spikes your blood pressure, the hate that makes you start typing in a blind rage because you want to hurt them just as much as they've just hurt you - then they've already won. And I'll be damned if I let myself be led by the hand right into a losing battle.

So I simply do not engage. I don't reply with some snarky comment thinking I'm oh-so clever, I don’t reply in a holier-than-thou manner because I think I’m just so much better than them, and I don't reply with a long rambling post about why they're wrong and why they're childish and why they're hateful because that in itself is a hateful act, and I have far more important things to be spending my time and my energy on than fighting with a random on the internet and fueling that (quite frankly, pointless) hatred.

When I don't respond, the anon grows bored. Why send hateful things into someone's Asks if they aren’t even going to showcase it to all of their loyal followers? The reason you don't see hate on this blog is because I simply do not allow them to sink their roots into this soil. I pull them out like weeds and refuse to let them grow here.

I also don't respond because, while I may be able to take a death threat or a homophobic slur with gritted teeth and a roll of the eyes and keep on going about my day, some of my followers may not be mentally or psychologically equipped to see such rude backlash. They range from pre-teens to adults, and when they choose to follow me and my blog, I see it as a responsibility on my end to shield them from that unnecessary hatred. There's no need for them to see such toxicity, and so I act as a stubborn guard blocking the front gates. This temple is for relaxation, for laughter and excitement and love, and I'll protect it until the day that I decide to send that last post and go off to do something else with my life.

2.) Another reason that I believe that I don’t get much hate on this blog is because I don’t cross-platform my content. Does this lower the visibility of my work? Sure. I don’t have a Twitter, or a Youtube, or a TikTok, or an Instagram. This blog is just that - this blog on Tumblr, with a link to my AO3 for my writing. And while that limits my audience and perhaps bottlenecks my views, the safeguard it brings from distancing from toxic mindsets that tend to leak into the more problematic social media sites is well worth it, in my opinion.

I don’t write these stories for kudos and hits. I don’t write these stories to push out as much content as possible, to gain a following as quickly as I can, to reach the entirety of the fandom. I don’t want that. I want to write stories to get better at writing, I want to write about the boys because I crave more gay representation and quite frankly I am obsessed with Bakugou as a character and how much fun it is to write from a Tsundere mindset.

If other people happen to find my work and they like it too, then that’s so awesome! But the extent of my dedication to this blog is just that, my own dedication to something I love and something that brings me joy.

3.) The final reason that I think why I don’t get a lot of hate comments or hurtful asks is because I put a lot of pride and effort into my fics. When I write a piece of work that contains heavy levels of smut, I work really hard to make them realistic, to make the characters motives and emotions clear and concise, to showcase a healthy depiction of what it means to be sexually attracted to and/or engage in sexual activity with someone that a person cares very deeply about.

I see a lot of smut centered around the bnha fandom, and there’s nothing particularly wrong with that, in my opinion, but sometimes I do see things that I personally feel are a little tactless. They’re not handled well, or they promote toxic behaviors, or it really is incredibly self-indulgent and sometimes grossly ignorant.

However, just like with the hate that I sporadically receive in my Asks, it’s of my own personal belief that if I see something I don’t like or don’t agree with on the internet, then I simply do not engage with it. I don’t give it the attention that it so desperately wants to get out of people, I don’t give it a platform to grow on, I refuse to allow it to think that it has the upper hand anywhere in the situation.

I am entirely in control of the things that I promote on this blog, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It’s why I refuse to reblog art if it’s so obviously not being posted by the original artist (there are SEVERAL kiribaku blogs I have seen gaining popularity recently that simply post art from other artists without any credits or any permission). I have even seen several of my own mutuals reblogging art from those particular blogs, and so I find it incredibly important to be diligent in which accounts I reblog art from.

That being said - I’m not perfect. I’m a human being behind this account, a singular entity the runs the entirety of this blog, ever growing and learning and working every day to be better than I was the day before, and sometimes I make mistakes.

Sometimes I reblog stolen art, and need a follower to nudge me in my inbox and let me know that it’s stolen and where to find the original art, so that I can take the responsibility of deleting the stolen post and reblogging the original content to show support for the original artist. Sometimes I write something in a fic that (to me, from my own experiences) I might not consider to be harmful or inappropriate, but that might be damaging in a way that I may have never considered before because I had grown so used to receiving that kind of treatment myself that I fail to see its toxicity on my own, and so when people come to me with genuinely helpful constructive criticism, I feel it is my duty as a writer to be level-headed and humble enough to admit that perhaps what I have grown so accustomed to is just that - behavior I’ve simply grown accustomed to - and to then take a good hard look at that example and make a decision about whether I want to change it or not.

The important thing to remember is that we’re all entitled to our own opinions and feelings, but that we’re also individually responsible for the way that we react to these types of circumstances.

Becoming defensive, becoming enraged, becoming aggressive, becoming jaded - these things don’t do anything but make a situation worse.

That’s why I love Bakugou so. fucking. much. He IS all of those things. Defensive. Easy to anger. Inherently aggressive. And Horikoshi is teaching him through many trials and errors why those types of behaviors will be his inevitable downfall, why falling into the pit of ‘you hurt me, so I must hurt you back’ leads only to repeated failure and internal anguish, why you will forever be forced to run in place and can never continue to grow and move forward if you’re so busy ignoring the reality that we are all humans, that we are all flawed, that we all experience the same emotions, even if we don’t agree with them or think that they’re justified.

The reason I love Bakugou’s character so much is because he is so deeply flawed, he is told time and time again that he is the epitome of a villain, and yet he refuses to accept that. He refuses to believe that he is anything other than the greatest hero-to-be, and he’ll push his bruised ego and damaged pride aside time and time again to relearn what has already been so solidly ingrained into his being, to continuously be watching and listening and learning while still whole-heartedly remaining unabashedly true to himself, to know that he came to this amazing hero school and is being taught by these incredible heroes “not to learn what he can do, but to learn what he can’t do.”

So, to wrap up this entirely incoherent rambling mess of a response that you no doubt didn’t care to read about, I deal with hate the same way that I deal with everything else; circumstantially, and with as much empathy as I can possibly muster.

If it’s random hate just looking for attention and wanting to hurt, I refuse to give them a stable platform to stand on or an audience to be subjected to. I force them to go somewhere else, cause it’s no fun to hit someone over and over again who refuses to ever hit back. If it’s in regards to my fics, I think I work really hard to provide healthy representation work for this fandom, to showcase the characters in not only challenging situations but also how they can realistically overcome them, and to create an environment where love can be seen as just that, love.

Whether it’s with Bakugou and Kirishima learning how to recognize their own weaknesses and become better people because of them, or whether it’s with Bakugou and Hikaru discovering that experiencing love and relenting in trust doesn’t make them weak but in fact makes them infinitely stronger than they will ever consciously realize, the end result is always the same. I just want to share stories, hopefully ones with positive messages, that make people feel things and maybe might teach them a lesson or two along the way.

I hope this somewhat answered your question anon! Sorry it’s so long and jumbled but is anyone really surprised anymore? When you ask me a question like this, just know I am always going to go off on a long tangent :,D

If you’re ever experiencing a situation where you feel harassed or unsafe or you want advice on how to properly handle a situation, please feel free to reach out to me, and we can work together to try and come up with a mature, responsible solution!

Happy reading!! xx

A Fine Line

I've really enjoyed Sami Zayn's paranoid, obsessive belief that there is some sort of WWE conspiracy against him. I'm also kind of persuaded that the company has exhibited a prejudice against him for no reason. So that's where this story comes from.

Pairing: Sami Zayn x OFC

Word count: 2,972

Content advisory: smut and a major dereliction of duty by a professional in a position of power

You’ve come to dread visiting this place. It’s not that the neighborhood is so bad, although you always make sure to park your car in the monitored lot rather than on the street, even though it means you have to walk a couple of blocks. You’ve been in worse places.

But it’s started getting to you, these regular appointments that seem to be getting more and more alarming. He’s not well. It’s not your fault and it’s not really your business. You’re just the Health and Safety officer who’s been assigned to meet with him while he’s experiencing what the company calls a “stressful episode”. You’re just there to determine if he’s healthy enough, mentally and physically, to fight every week and to recommend a medical course of action if you think he’s slipping. Lately, though, you get the feeling that everything that you report is getting distilled down to one word: yes. Yes, he’s fit to work, because he understands who he is, what the job entails, and how to do all the moves he needs to so that no one gets hurt. The fact that for the last three weeks you’ve been saying that he needs a break to stave off any problems in the future seems not to have registered with anyone. So every time you come back here and talk about his health, you feel like you’re failing him. Worse, it feels like you’re being dishonest with him.

You step onto the landing at the back of the house where he rents his tiny apartment. He could afford better but, as he’s told you, he likes it here. He needs his money for other things. What things? He doesn’t like to specify. But he’s certain that there’s a time coming when he won’t be earning what he is now, when he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this kind of work anywhere.

As usual, you knock twice in quick succession and then twice slowly. Yes, you have a secret knock to gain admittance to the home of the man who is officially fine to risk his life and the lives of others in a wrestling ring.

“Come in,” comes the answer from inside.

You squint as you enter the darkened apartment. All the blinds are pulled down and he’s even pushed towels along the window sills so that no light leaks through the bottom. You can make out his figure sitting cross-legged on the floor but that’s about it.

“Lock it behind you, please,” he says, his tone as polite as ever but firm.

You do as he wishes, engaging both locks before turning back to look at him. He reaches over and turns on a lamp that’s sitting near him. It’s not a lot of light but it allows you to see that he looks more or less the same, no visible signs of self-harm or weight loss. His eyes shift rapidly over you, around the room, towards the door, all over the place. They’re feverishly bright, which is never a good sign. Despite his yoga-like pose, he shows little signs of agitation: his fingers tap ceaselessly on his knee, he chews a little on his lip, and he blinks a lot.

There’s a thick, musky aroma to the place, not exactly unpleasant but animalistic, not something that belongs in an urban apartment.

“Hi Sami,” you say, sitting down on the small, uncomfortable sofa in front of him. You place your handbag on the floor and keep your hands flat on your knees where he can see them. You’re not hiding anything.

“Hello.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“I feel wonderful.”

“That’s good.”

He nods vigorously. “I feel like I’m finally putting everything together.”

“How do you mean?” You hate it when he’s like this. On a selfish level, it means that he’s probably going to talk at you for three hours about the conspiracies against him and the enemies he’s made, and you’ll end up stuck in your office until eight or later parsing through your notes, trying to figure out what’s germane to an evaluation of his health.

“Did you see my match?”

“I saw some of it,” you answer guiltily. Wrestling is not your thing and you shouldn’t need to watch the product, which is fictional, in order to understand the very real health of your clients. But with Sami, it’s different. The divide between real and imaginary is fuzzy in his head and that makes it as real as the furniture in this room as far as his mental health is concerned.

“It looked really good.” You try to sound enthusiastic.

“I lost,” he grumbles.

“I know. Has that been hard on you?”

“It’s what I expected. That’s what the people want.”

“What people?”

“The people! The fans. The ‘WWE Universe.’” He waves his hands and smirks as he says those last two words and you do have to admit that it sounds pretty dumb. He sees your lips twitch in amusement and smiles. “All those weird little faces on screens.”

“They weren’t faces on screens last week, though.”

“No, they were real. Or what passes for real.”

“You don’t think those were real people watching you?”

“They were the chosen ones. The ones that the people in charge wanted to be there. It’s not like it used to be. It’s all controlled. Only people they’re certain about get to see what’s going on. You see what they want you to see.”

He’s getting irritable, you can tell, something which always makes you nervous. He’s never gotten violent or threatening with you, not even close. He’s raised his voice and paced around and that’s been stressful enough. He’s not huge like some of the guys he works with but he’s strong and when he gets upset you can see the muscles beneath his skin. If he turned on you, you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself.

What’s truly horrible is that whenever he does start to get riled up, there’s a part of you that feels a little excited by it. It’s the worst thing that you could be thinking about a client, the most hideous betrayal of your ethics. But there’s something about him, all that energy and intelligence, misdirected though it may be.

“That’s what entertainment is, though,” you counter. “The people producing it always control what the audience sees.”

“Entertainment,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in an insulting way. I know you’re an athlete.”

“No, I am an entertainer. I’m both. But when they say it they mean I’m there for their entertainment. They mean that I’m to do what they tell me. I did this for years and I could come up with my own stories and use my own ideas. I can’t do that anymore. They won’t let me. They’re scared of what I’d do.”

“Has anyone said that to you?”

He laughs mirthlessly. “No one says that to you. No one says anything real, ever. It’s all ‘we think you should do it this way’ or ‘we think this is a good plan for you’. No one tells you what they’re actually thinking. You have to dig it out, you have to look for it behind what they say and then you discover what it is they’re really up to.”

“And what is it that they’re up to as far as you’re concerned?”

He glares at you and leans back a little.

“Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one they’re paying to interrogate me every week.”

“You think this is an interrogation?”

“Isn’t it?”

It’s obvious that this is devolving into childishness. Every time you’re here, it happens at least once but it usually takes you longer to trip up and give him a reason to shut you out.

“I’m sorry, Sami. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was… I want you to be able to trust me, to feel like you can talk to me. Yes, I work for the company but my job, what I trained to do, is keeping people healthy. That’s all I ever wanted to do. Do you believe me?”

“It’s a nice thought. You seem nice.”

You smile, projecting all the warmth and kindness you can muster.

His expression grows suspicious again. “But it’s still them sending you here. Maybe they don’t tell you what to say or what information you’re supposed to be getting from me. Maybe they just figure that they can send this sexy woman over to act like my friend and I’ll forget about everything they’re trying to do to me.”

“I’m not here to be your friend, Sami. I’m here to see if I can help you, professionally. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pretending to be something I’m not.” After a moment’s reflection, you add, “Thank you for the compliment, though.”

He chuckles a little. “Are you allowed to think that?”

“You mean, am I allowed to be complimented that I like hearing you say I’m sexy? I don’t know. But you know I’m flattered by it.”

He can’t deny that. He knows full well that you’ve developed a crush on him. He can see it in the way that you blush when he says nice things about you, and how happy you look when he opens up to you a little. It’s uncomfortable that he knows the power he has over you but it’s also helpful because he talks to you more easily than he would to others. He likes knowing that you’re a bit soft on him.

He leans back, propping himself on his elbows so that his shirt falls away from his chest. You’re used to him appearing with his shirt undone so that you can see a bit of his torso, but this is more of a display than you’re used to. You demurely cross your legs at the ankles and focus on meeting his restless eyes.

“What do they tell you to get from me when you come here?”

“They don’t tell me anything,” you insist. “I’m supposed to come here and determine if you’re able to fight or if you need to have some sort of therapy.”

“You mean like electroshock therapy,” he grunts.

“No, there are lots of different things I’d recommend before that. For instance, like I keep telling you, I wish you’d consider medication to help cope with this paranoia you feel about the company and what they have in mind for you.”

“Paranoia?” he snorts. “What does that mean again?”

“It means you have an unreasonable fear or anxiety regarding something.”

“So what’s the opposite of paranoia?”

“I don’t really know what you’re asking,” you stammer. “I guess it would be not living in fear. Or recognizing a real threat and reacting to it appropriately.”

“But there isn’t a word for that, is there?” he sighs. “Paranoia is an unreasonable fear. But there isn’t a nice, concise word for a reasonable fear.”

“No,” you concede, “I suppose there isn’t.”

“So if I feel like I’m being victimized by WWE, if I feel like they’ve prevented me from rising to the top of the company, you tell me that I’m being paranoid. But there’s no word for what I think if I’m right.”

It gets to you that he’s right. Everything that you’re supposed to be talking to him about is predicated on the idea that he’s imagining things, that he’s wrong about how the company has been treating him.

“I want to help you, Sami. That’s all I want, I swear. That’s what I’m trained for.”

“You’re a very nice person,” he says with an ironic grin. “I mean, you’re the sort of person they don’t give a lot of information to.”

You want to feel insulted by that but it’s also true: you know that your bosses tell you the least they can before they send you out to meet with talent. The real decisions are made well away from you. Making him believe that you can accomplish something for him involves having to convince him that you have some power, but you’re not sure you’re in any position to do that.

Sami leans forward, amber eyes fixed on yours, and places his hands on your knees.

“What do they tell you to do with me?”

“They don’t tell me anything. They just tell me to talk to you. And you shouldn’t be doing that.”

As you’ve spoken, Sami has pushed your legs apart and has started planting kisses along your thighs. He looks up at you with a petulant expression before pushing his face deeper, breathing hot and quick against your panties, licking at them until they’re as wet on the outside as they are on the inside.

Sami, we can’t be doing this,” you pant, crying out as he sucks against the fabric hard, making your clit quiver.

“Why not?” he hums. “You want it. I want it.”

He presses two fingers roughly inside you, stroking that spot inside you that makes you scream and thrash against him, seeking release. Even with your panties still on, just feeling him lick and suck at you through the cotton barrier, you come with a force you can’t remember experiencing ever. He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy as you continue to spasm around him, trembling for long minutes until you’re too overwhelmed and have to shove his hand away because you’re so sensitive that any contact hurts.

“Think about it,” he whispers, pulling himself on top of you, “They send you here to look at me and make sure that I’m good enough to fight, to make money for them. They send you in here with the idea in your head that I’m being irrational, that I’m imagining things.”

He grips your face in his hands, staring into your eyes as he pulls your panties away and thrusts his cock into you. It’s true what he says, you think as he starts to move, although all thought is quickly supplanted by pleasure, by the feeling of him stroking at your g-spot and grunting softly as he fucks you. You simply lock eyes with him and let yourself be overwhelmed by their earnestness and honesty. No one at your job as ever looked as convinced of anything as he does staring into you as you both come together, yelping and gasping, then shaking and clinging to each other as you come down from your highs.

“Do they listen to anything you tell them about me?” he murmurs, gathering you close to him and caressing your face.

You tilt your head back, moaning a little and exposing your throat to him, an invitation he accepts, sucking hard at the flesh. It’s true that no one pays attention to what you say, least of all about him. And it’s true that there does seem to be some sort of weird block they have against pushing Sami and some others to the heights they deserve. You aren’t ready to tell him that but the look in his eyes when he meets your gaze tells you that he doesn’t have any doubt what you’re thinking.

“What else do you have on your schedule this afternoon?” he whispers.

“You’re my only plan.”

“So spend some time with me.” He pushes his head against yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth so quickly it takes you a second to adjust and respond, passionately kissing him back, whimpering and moaning to let him know how much you’re enjoying it.

“I’m really not supposed to do this,” you gasp.

“I know there’s a part of you that believes me,” he pants, letting his detumescent prick slide out of your body. “I can tell you don’t think I’m crazy because I think they’re trying to keep me down. Whatever they sent you here to do, I know that all you want is to end up with what’s right. So I say, this is right. Let’s do what we really want and figure other stuff out later.”

“I don’t know. This is a pretty huge breach of conduct for me. Even if I do think you might be onto something.”

He draws a finger lightly along the edge of your bottom lip.

“If you think I’m onto something, maybe you should stay and figure out if you think I’m worth believing.”

Hours later, you’re in his bed, gripping the sheets with all your might. He’s kneeling, hands dug into your hips so hard that you know there will be bruises before he even lets go. He’s pounding into you with the force of a jackhammer, lifting you so that every movement strokes your g-spot until you convulse around him, screaming his name, your orgasm triggering his own.

You can’t remember how many rounds you’ve had. Your body is like one giant pulsing nerve, quivering uncontrollably as he pulls out of you while pressing his thumb firmly against your clit.

“So do you still think I’m crazy?”

You no longer know what you should think of him. Whatever he’s done, you’ve done far worse. So are you even in a position to judge him? Thinking about what your superiors take from your reports, is there any reason to believe that they have a better grip on the situation than he does?

“I think you’re pretty stressed,” you murmur, pulling him close so that you can nuzzle your face against his. “I think that both of us could do with a break from this company.”

The two of you kiss again, passionately, excitedly, gripping each other as if you were the only stable things in the universe.

Professionally, you’ve done something unforgivable. But perhaps it’s something that will be understandable in the long term. Perhaps you’ve chosen to be on the right side.

Reconnecting

Ok sooo.. I have been a little obsessed with this great show and had the inspiration to write and actually finish! a fanfiction because apparently I am n love with a stupid cartoon monkey called Hugo.. so here we go! Maybe some find a little joy in this.

Warnings: mention of death, maybe trauma, stupidly dramatic

Pairing: Hugo/Scarlemange x Reader because why not

Okay a little rant from me first. Spoiler! I couldn't just accept that Hugo dies at the end of the series so I had to come up with a stupid way in which we could save him. This came from the same storyline in which he wouldn't die. If my motivation is big enough, I might continue this, but for now this is all I have. Also, the story is a little straight forward, no gentle start or anything. Enjoy!

He smelled the sweat on your skin, mixed with the earthy note of dirt before he recognised your own scent underneath. He let go, held your head between his hands and smiled widely. Your hair was a mess, dull and mixed with leaves but it held the same beautiful colour that he remembered you with. Your eyes stared at him with confused happiness and he felt his heartbeat quicken. It had taken  him  years to find you, to finally see you again. You had grown, your features had become more firm and you were confronted with the same sense of astonishment as him. Last time you had stood in front of Hugo, he had been the same hight as you. He always looked a little shy with his rather small frame. Now you stood in front of a mandrill the size of a gorilla, his shoulders broad and hidden underneath a fancy costume of the old France. You could feel the enormous strength in his arms as he held you, the intimidating strength of a mute.However, you couldn't comprehend the fact, that he was alive. After what felt like forever, you finally found a known face and one that you held a special place for in your heart. It brought tears to your eyes, which caused his grin to falter, instantly letting go of your head. "Are you hurt?" the question came out quiet as he let his eyes search your body for any signs of a wound but you just shook your head smiling, wiping your tears away. "I'm so happy to see you are alive-" was all you could say, before a wave of emotions hit you and you let your head sink, ashamed of causing a scene, but he just went to embrace you yet again. "No need to shed tears, you are save now." His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "Nothing will hurt you as long as you stay with me." You held each other, enjoying the familiar company. When he let go this time, he made a few steps back suddenly filled with energy, spreading his arms. "You are now part of my kingdom! Everyone will know not to touch you, unless they wish to face the strength of my army! " he announced, proudly taking in the view of the humans behind you. He felt his heart flutter as you watched him with big, beautiful eyes.It brought him on a high he hadn't experienced in a long time. He turned around and motioned for you to follow him before he stalked ahead. "Let me show you around!" he more or less ordered and you needed a second to get of the ground and hurry after him. While rushing to his side you couldn't help but notice the people behind you. You didn't recognise them because of their masks but you felt something was off about them. He tangled his arm with yours as soon as you reached him, grinning and leading you through his place. It was way bigger than you would have imagined, overgrown by nature in many places while still holding a sense of luxury. You understood immediately why he had chosen to stay. He was obviously proud of his home and trying to impress you. He had to slow down a little for you to appreciate what he was showing you and it took him a little self control. You were overwhelmed by the new surroundings and even more by him. It was odd seeing your sweet and gentle childhood friend so very proud and outgoing. You felt a little arrogance in the way he acted but you didn't really care for now. Just being around him made you feel younger and filled you with more energy than you had have since the breakdown of the borrow. It was good to see him healthy and all grown up and you really embraced the warmth which whom he met you. His enthusiasm was infectious and while he was rambling about the great meaning behind paintings and decorations, you listened with wide eyes, completely forgetting about your confused feelings and the rush of fear that you had experienced before you had recognised each other. You didn't think of questioning anything over your joy, until you reentered the great hall you started from. He lead you to his grant piano which was placed on  a platform in the middle of the room and as he talked about the music he adored, your gaze shifted trough the room, coming to a halt at the group of humans standing perfectly still. You tilted your head irritated. "What's the deal with them?" You asked Hugo who had paid no mind to your audience. You realised that you didn't really ask yourself why none of them had introduced themselves or even bothered to say anything when you were brought in or after that. Were they even real beings? "They're my peasants." He answered nonchalantly sitting down, starting to play a walz on his piano. You looked at him in confusion, wanted to ask him where they came from, what was going on but as he snapped his fingers, you began to understand. To your horror, the motionless people started to dance. They didn't speak, they didn't laugh or sway mindlessly, they danced as if hanging on strings, as if programmed just to dance. Hugo laughed while you could only stare, slowly processing what was going on. You remembered why they had kept him in a cage back then. You remembered when your father had told you to stay away. It was his sweat. That hypnotic influence it had on primates. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the easy feeling of home coming disappearing behind the maniacal laughter of your friend. There was nothing odd about the humans dancing in front of you, it was Hugo. He had changed more drastically than you could ever have imagined. He continued his play joyfully, not taking notice of your uneasy expression until you carefully put your hand on his, stopping his movements. Confused and angry he glared at you before he saw the way you looked at him. You tried to smile, suddenly scared of angering him. "You play beautifully, but please don't make them dance." Your voice was gentle but he must have heard the trembling underneath. His grin grew back, this time more evil than welcoming. "Oh you don't have to pity them. This is one of the only things they're good for anyways." You didn't know what to say. There was hatred in his eyes and you bit your lip nervously, looking back and forth between him and the people. His hands were still hovering over the keys of his instrument, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for a reaction. "Please don't-" was all you could mutter before he turned to the people and waved one of them to step closer. Hugo watched with amusement as the man walked over, a wide and unsettling smile on his face. He enjoyed it. When the stranger arrived Hugo snapped his fingers again and the poor guy started to uncontrollable stepdance. You made a step back, feeling sick watching him. "You don't have to worry, you are my guest. As long as you follow my orders willingly,  there is no need for this." He motioned at the man his voice filled with pride and authority. You stared at him. Your breath became short and your heartbeat fastened. He watched his peasant do as he pleased. He didn't know why he had felt the need to demonstrate you his ways, after all you had never made any attempt of running yet, but as soon as he had seen your curiosity for the other humans, he had felt anger. You had been separated for so long, he didn't know you anymore. Maybe you had never missed him, maybe even forgotten him until now, maybe you had even become like them. There was jealousy in his veins but he chose to not let you see that. After all, who knew what your motivation was at this point. It wouldn't hurt to show you, who was in control. Better to introduce you to his new world in a way that you wouldn't dare to question him. When he turned to you again you had brought quite a distance between the both of you, your body reacting to the fear rushing trough your bones. You had lived quite some time out there, all alone. Your instincts had saved you most of the time but you felt your scars tingle as they reminded you of the times it had not. He could do the same to you. You felt hatred crawl into your eyes and run over your cheeks. The hate wasn't directed onto him but rather onto the entire world. This world had made him like this. Your heart ached, wondering what had scarred him so deeply that he felt the need to put others under his control. You realised, that he had most likely wanted to put you under his spell as well until he had recognised you. Hugo, or what he would soon teach you to call him, Scarlemange, watched the war behind your eyes. He managed to look unscathed on the outside while inside he was slightly scared of the decision you would come to. He wouldn't let you leave, he couldn't loose sight of you again. Part of him regretted his little show but he reminded himself, that he could not just trust you to know your place. He wouldn't put you with the rest of them, maybe even let you wander around once he trusted you enough to not try and flee. He yearned for your acceptance of the situation so he could try and rebuild the connection the two of you had shared so many yeara ago. You wiped the remains of your tears of stress away with the hem of your dirty clothes and he instantly wished that you hadn't. It made you look more like a dirty dog and he only realised now how wore down you were. You had been a little chubby as a child, not overweight but a healthy amount of flesh on your bones. It occurred to him, that you might have had to fight for food, maybe falling asleep hungry sometimes. Over all, your body looked strained, he could see muscles under your skin but also bone where he didn't want to see it. He felt himself getting softer by watching you, now more alert than you had been before. "How about something to eat? If you're done throwing a tantrum. " His voice was weaker than he had intended it to be, but he couldn't help himself but worry about you. Of course you weren't allowed to know about that, after all you could use it to your advantage. Your shoulders were stiff your eyes narrowed, trying to see the intention in his eyes. It was sad how quickly the atmosphere around the two of you had changed. It now seemed like a short dream where things had been how they used to be. The reality had hit you hard and brought your mind back into a state of survival. You stood a few feet away from the monkey, meeting his glare unimpressed. "Well?" he tried again, his tone now harsher and more demanding for an answer. You sighed heavily before nodding  scared that your voice might break if you tried to speak. He smiled grimly offering you with a gesture to walk beside him. Of course it wasn't really an offer and rather a demand. You looked up at him more disappointed than angry and let him lead you to the other hall where you had come along the giant table. You felt naive for hoping he would be the same and you struggled to decide whether it made you want to leave or stay. He clearly had lived through something that made him like this but you weren't sure if you had the strength to put up with his very dangerous new side in order to help him find back to a healthier view on the world. You had been through quite a lot yourself and thought it unfair that you would have to suppress your own happiness and safety for his sake. So far he hadn't put you in too much of an inconvenience but rather just scared or threatened you. To your surprise he didn't lead you to the dining room but made his way up the stairs to the second floor. It occurred to you, that you could probably run from him, try to escape but you decided that if you were going to do it he shouldn't be expecting it, what he was surely doing at the moment. Instead you followed him slowly,  taking in the view of the room while getting higher. Your hands slid carefully over the old wooden stairhandle and you noticed a bitter feeling of hope in your heart when you turned your head in Hugos direction. He was waiting at the end of the stairs and smiled. It was almost charming if you just could have brought yourself to forget what just had happened. "You will change before we eat. I will not have you smelling like a wild animal while dining." He didn't leave room for an argument but you didn't feel like you had the strength for that anyway. "There is a bathtub in there, ready to be used. It was meant for me but you can have it. Clothes will be brought in when you're done." He already headed off, leaving you in the doorway of a lightly lit room which was filled with the smell of flowers. "I hope you don't expect me to wear something like you..?" You asked, facing the big old bath but he was already back on the stairs throwing you a confident grin before he stalked away while you slowly entered the bathroom. A warm bath sounded rather appealing and would maybe help you relax again. The water was hot, a comforting feeling on your skin and even though you couldn't stop feeling sad about your experience with Hugo, you did enjoy the feeling of the dirt getting of your skin. You washed your hair, your face and looked carefully at yourself when you were done. There were scars you didn't recognise and others which causes you would never forget. There was a big towel hanging at the wall, big red and fluffy and you curled yourself up in it. A content sigh passed your lips when you sat down on one of the puff chairs which stood around the room. You didn't want to face him again. Not when he had become like a possessive tyrant. You burried your head under the towel and thought back to a better time. A safer time. You jumped slightly when the door opened before a big wooden box was pushed into the room and the door closed again before you could see who had brought it in. You stared a few moments, debating whether you should play along or not. Sighing yet again, you slowly walked over and lifted the top so you could take a look at the the fabric inside. Of course he hadn't brought you normal, simple clothes. No, it had to be the same old school fashion that him and his 'peasants' were dressed in. You rummaged through the box on the search for something more comfortable than that and found a rather normal looking leggings with ruffles on the outside but decided it was good enough. For your upper body you took one of the white dress shirts two or three sizes too big so that it would hang loosely over you chest. As happy as you could be with your outfit you walked over to the mirror again and took in your form. Your scars were hidden, your hair clean and after you had found a brush and forced it into a more presentable look, you were surprised how good it felt to feel like a human again. The door was opened again, this time all the way and a gorilla peeked inside his hand covering his eyes while he asked in a deep voice: "If you're dressed, please come outside. Scarlemange awaits you. " You frowned hearing that name. You had nearly forgotten who it was you were brought to. Not Hugo, whom you had mistaken him for but the monster you had heard many mutants talk about. After debating with yourself if you should insist on calling him Hugo, you made the decision that it wouldn't bring you anything good to be stubborn right now. So instead you answered with a gentle "I'm coming!" and followed the gorilla out the door. He brought you to the Hall as expected and upon seeing the giant table, now with plates of fruits and fancy dishes, you felt your body scream for food. Hardly keeping yourself from rushing over to eat with your bare hands, the gorilla seated you on the other side of the long wooden table so now you were facing Hu- no, Scarlemange a few feet away. You could see his eyebrows narrow as he took in your new look. "You could've picked something fancier." He scolded loudly to reach your ears over the distance but you just shrugged your shoulders. "I didn't feel like dressing up. Comfortable is better than pretty." You answered nonchalantly, trying not to stare at the meals in front of you. Scarlemange noticed the hunger in your eyes and laughed slightly to himself. "Please, be my guest and treat yourself." He motioned over the table and that was all the invitation you needed. You devoured every bite you took, enjoying the feeling of your stomach being filled to the brim. When you were done, your belly hurt a little but you felt happy and content. Sighing you leaned against the back of your chair. Scarlemange, who was used to eat regularly, took his time, eating with elegance and you couldn't help but smile over the way he was so serious about looking pretty while eating. You had grown a little tired but also braver. Deciding that you didn't want to scream for him to hear you, you eased out of your chair and made your way over to his end of the table. He stopped in his movement watching you through squinted eyes. You reached the chair to his left, pulled it out and sat down, smiling sheepishly at him. "So now you aren't scared of me anymore?" he asked bitterly and you rested your head on your hand, still looking at him. "Surely you understand why I am a little cautious after your little show off with that man. You did it to scare me, didn't you? But you are rather nice to me. You let me clean myself, you feed me. You also tried to intimidate me. I'm not quite sure what you want with me, but I'm willing to give you your time to express it." He raised his eyebrows unimpressed and continued eating while you watched him closely. He had earned some scars himself. Tho they made his colourful face even more interesting. You hummed to yourself as you took your time taking each of them in, wondering what may have caused them. He looked older, more masculine. "You've become rather handsome." It left your mouth without intention and as you noticed what you had said, heat crawled into your cheeks. To your surprise he just laughed evily and glared at you. "What, do you think flattery will make it easier for you to fool me?" There was mistrust and anger in his eyes and you realised that he didn't believe you, which frustrated you. "Nah, I think a poor peasant like me couldn't fool a majesty like you, since you are oh so great and scary!" You huffed angrily. Your anger reflected in his eyes and you took a deep breath, trying to calm the situation. "Seriously. Even though I don't like these clothes on me, they do look good on you. It fits the colour of your fur." He just stared at you, now more confused than angry, which made you continue. "You found your theme and it compliments your personality. I'm just being honest here." You saw his look shifting uneasy and knew that you had flattered him, probably the first to do so in a long time. Maybe now he would answer some questions. "Look Scarlemange, I don't know what happened. I'm pretty sure you don't want to tell me so I'll leave it alone. But I will not just sit and wait, so please do tell me what you are planning to do with me. Am I your prisoner? Your pet? Will you kick me out when you are bored by me? I just want to know what to expect. " For a moment he was quiet. He put his dish aside, keeping his eyes on you, his glare unbroken. "You are a human. You belong to me. I will not let you leave." That was what you had expected but it made you shiver, once he had said it out loud. "However," he continued in a generous tone, ignoring your nervous gulp, "you have the privilege of good memories being connected to you so I will give you the chance of earning the right to keep your own will, just like I told you before. Don't misbehave. Don't betray me or you are going to join the others of your kind in serving me." His tone was firm and emotionless. He wanted to stand up but you stopped him. Your grip wasn't harsh but he stopped in his movements. He wasn't angry with you this time, just wanted for you to say what you had to. "I understand that." You looked down at your hand now covering his and had to fight the urge of getting too upset. "But you get that it is a lot to ask to just demand that I stay here, right? You treat this as if it should be obvious when I have hardly even told you how I feel about it. This has been a very onesided interaction so far and as much as I am happy to see you, we can't go back to being friends if you're not willing to listen as well. You changed your name, your personality. I as well have nice memories of us two playing silly games and spending our time with each other, but the way we lived then was different. Our world was different. We changed a lot. You are not the shy little body I had befriended back than and neither am I the stupid little child." You raised your gaze, afraid  of his reaction but he didn't seem upset yet. Instead he took his hand back from yours and talked in a voice like he was teaching a child. "You are right, we lived in another world back than." Now he raised from his chair entirely, walked a few steps and turned his back to you, locking his hands behind his back. "I realised that the world wasn't as we saw it. I had to wake up from that fantasy world of a 'family' and did what helped me survive in the real world." His voice had become spiteful and you felt pain in the words he said. You felt you chest tighten and stood up as well. "Yes, this world is scarier than in the burrow." You interrupted "I had to face that fact as well when the burrow was gone. The life on the surface is hard. It left it's scars on me too." He looked over his shoulder at you, doubt and mistrust in his eyes. " Why did you leave the new place then? If you think the surface is so scary, why come out? To explore it? Are you telling me you had no choice? Do you think I am that stupid?"He stopped in his rant when he saw your eyes go wide. "New..New home? What are you talking about?" He saw genuine shock in your eyes and he was taken a little aback by that. "The place you flet to? The place you all took of to when the burrow broke down?!" There was a heavy silence between the two of you before you could talk again. "So.. That is why I never found anyone after that. I thought-" you stopped yourself sinking back into your chair. Scarlemange squinted his eyes watching you, trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your performance was pretty believable. "Why would they leave you behind?" he questioned and your heart ached thinking back to that day. You didn't have anyone to talk to about what happened that day so you chose to push it into the back of your head, ready to be forgotten. The trauma would have prevented you from surviving, you didn't have the room for a breakdown when you had to be on guard all the time. But now someone wanted to know, someone knew what had happened and the memories flooded back. You burried your face in your hands, shaking it, trying to stop the emotions from overrunning   you. It had been suppressed for so long. Scarlemanges face softened, seeing you react so emotionally. Maybe you were telling the truth. He came closer, not really knowing how to calm you down but also wanting to know. "Please, tell me what happened. " His voice was gentle and more quite than before while he slowly placed a hand on your back. Your words were small, chaotic and he had trouble understanding what you said. "The day the burrow broke down..My father- He was hit by the collapsing roof... The bricks burried him underneath them and he... He was still alive. I couldn't reach him.. Everyone rushed to leave, they were all in panic.." You paused to take some heavy breaths and he felt your body beginning to shake. "I couldn't leave him.. Some tried make me leave with them but... I stayed with him for two days until.. Until he stopped answering me-" You hick uped and your throat was too thick to continue. Images of the chaos flashed into your inner view and the sickening screams of your father. Your whole body started to stiffen up and when Scarl reached over your shoulders for comfort, you turned and clung to him for dear life, crying heavily into his shoulder.There you were again, hugging him, now out of grief instead of joy. He didn't know what to do so he just let your small frame cling to him, carefully wrapping his arms around you. He could only listen to half of your story, though he felt that the rest was rather easy to guess. You had stayed behind for your father and once he was dead you had been left alone with nowhere to go. Even if they had noticed you missing, they most likely assumed that you had been killed like your father. No one would have risked it to come back and search for someone presumed dead. He felt guilt for having brought back those memories and anger as he realised that you as well had been left behind. You must have felt even more lost and scared than him, he at least had been somewhat capable of defending himself. He vowed to himself to try and trust you a little more, especially now that you shown yourself so vulnerable to him. It was the first time that He had embraced someone since his life in the burrow and the fact that it was you filled him with gratitude. Maybe there was a chance for a new friendship between the two of you. If only you were going to understand that he was in control. After all, Hugo was no more. He kept you in his arms until your body started to calm down. The shaking disappeared and your breathing softened. As he looked at your face he saw your red puffy eyes and nose, tears still running down your cheeks. It made his heart ached that you searched for comfort in him and he tried to accept the fact that he wouldn't be scaring you any more. You looked much more exhausted and weak than when you had entered his home this morning and he felt a biting feeling that it was partly his fault. He decided that you had been through enough for today. Not saying a word he heaved you into his arms bridal style and passed through the dining room, up the stairs and to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. When his servants, the mutated ones, looked at him questioningly, he motioned for them to leave. You didn't move much, your head was hurting and everything felt dull and heavy. Only the heartbeat against your ear and the warmth of his body gave you comfort and when he moved to lay you down and leave you whined like a child. He had put you down onto his king sized bed with comfortable red sheets. "I think you deserve some rest, don't you think?" His eyes were back to the way they had been when he first recognised you. There was no fear, anger or mistrust, only worry and warmth. You reached out for him, taking his hand and pulling it in. It felt mesmerising to be wanted by your side but he looked at You uncertain. "Are you sure? I take up a bit of space." The grin on his face was gentle and you felt a piece of hope return to your heart when you nodded. "I don't want to be alone. I think I have enough of that for quite some time " your smile was sad and your eyelids felt incredibly heavy. He gently pulled the blanket up to your neck and walked to the other side of the bed. He thought back to the Times you two had have sleepovers where you would stay in his little room when your father would allow it. It were some of his most treasured memories, innocent and pure. To think that he could relive them someday was incomprehensible to him. When he layed down you were already at his side again, having turned around under the sheets and cuddled up to him, your body heat welcoming him under the sheets. He felt blood rush to his face and he was glad that your eyes were closed while he returned the embrace once again. No, he wasn't reliving memories, this was different. There was something new within him and he realised that maybe, just maybe he didn't only want a friendship anymore. He listened to your peaceful breathing and found himself relax in your arms, a feeling of comfort and home that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 5,(part 1)

In part 1 of this post, more than analyzing, I want to understand few confusing things first. I’m not annoyed or angry, I’m just confused & trying to piece things together, so, kindly don’t feel off with my usage of  (!!!) & (???). lol. I’ll ONLY discuss two things here that confuse me a lot. ( Real ep review/ analysis will be in part 2)

1- Momiji’s romantic love for tohru (the real love triangle). What?!!!!!

I’m so shocked that momiji loves tohru romantically! So, in order to understand ( where did this come from!!) I re-visited his scenes with tohru since se01 & trying to see if I missed anything! Below is my speculations:

Is it love at first sight?!!! When Momiji first met tohru he kissed her on the cheek. I’ve always thought lightly that in the eyes of the reserved Japanese (bowing is greeting), all Europeans (kissing on the check is greeting). hence, Momiji’s kiss, he’s half Europea. However, perhaps it is a Kureno/ Arisa type of love at 1st sight/kiss?! kureno nearly kissed Arisa on the lips on their 1st official meeting. But Kureno/Arisa kiss was meant to be romantic/sexual with adult kureno’s “ I wanted to taste her lips”. but Momiji’s is a peak on the cheek & he was a child, so... I don’t think he’s struck by love before he’s officially introduced to us the audience.

Is it gradual growing love like kyo’s ? in all Momiji/ tohru eps, he always just wanted to play with her, visit places & spend time together.  (hot spring & beach vacation) are his own ideas. But momiji didn’t want tohru exclusively. He intentionally invited both yuki & kyo to the hot spring & even was begging kyo to come. He invited all zodiacs to the beach & wanted all to spend time together. I believe that the hot spring ep especially showed momiji as this playful, innocent & naive kid, wanting to share tohru’s females’ hot spring section. I don’t think momiji was madly in love at that time. He was a child going “ waaaa~, kyo hit me” &  jumping here & there. 

So, summer vacation? but then again, Momiji slept with the children & tohru doted on them all. He defended tohru but they all defend her & love her. he said to kyo that he “selfishly wanted to be with tohru” but I didn’t  catch any romantic hints from that. Was it really that time?? they all wanted to spend time with tohru. Yuki said “ I’ll kidnap you”, kyo agreed to go to the beach right away, kisa was glued to her to the point of annoying hiro! So, when? & why not let us as the audience know abt momiji’s feelings.

Is it related to opening up to tohru abt his family issues? He confessed to tohru abt his dad, mom & momo. She cried for him & hugged him. I never got the feeling in all those scenes that he was in love! it seemed to me like friendship love similar to hana’s/Arisa’s or siblings love substituting his nonexistent relationship with momo.

Is it just me?? I always saw momiji as this baby in toddler clothes, jumping, laughing & a ray of sunshine! A child but with the most mature heart & mind. Tohru didn’t help momiji, he was already helping himself first & reaching healthy conclusions abt how he should deal with his own traumas. So, perhaps (Me) not seeing him as a teenager stopped me from seeing his romantic love? but they showed me hiro/kisa’s love. Elementary school kids! so?

Regardless of when he fell in love or how, the point is, this is heart-breathtakingly tragic! cuz (a) tohru never saw him more than a child at first, then as a precious friend, (b) she’s intensely in love with kyo, which brings us to tohru’s core issues. (Tohru loosing yet another loved one). Tohru’s own issues aren’t fully explored yet, but her love for kyo has been blatantly hammered to us since se01 finale! this is because kyo being locked in the cat room equals (death) which parallels her mom’s (death). Tohru will be living her tragic trauma again but this time, kyo replacing kyoko! Thus, giving tohru a room for growth & character development.Tohru’s intense love for kyo was shown in by the drastic change in her attitude in se01, ep.24, chasing firmly after him even when he pushed her & refusing to let go until he’s back home cuz she wants to! then yuki blatantly saying “ she loves him, too, the way she looks at him“  im se02, ep22 & “don’t worry, tohru, he won’t accept (the other girls confession)” in se02, ep 17 & all her scenes with kyo in that ep where she’s scared he’ll let go of her & other scenes throughout the 3 seasons.

...so why momiji’s impossible & unrequited love is introduced?

I believe it is to push kyo to not let go of tohru. To throw kyo into this internal conflict between selflessly letting go of tohru so she could be happy (like hatori did with kana) & selfishly wanting her to be his lover ( like haru). Kyo himself expressed these two conflicting thoughts in se02, ep, 9 “ I hoped we could always be together somewhere  far off (selfish love) & “ I don’t want to take anything from you (selfless love). So, momiji is challenging kyo in a way making him realize that selfish love might not be bad afterall & selfless love could be harmful! cleverly reversing the two concepts. So, I get why this love triangle was introduced. but whyyyy momiji! T_T.. choose someone else, Writer-San! poor Momiji we learned abt his love the same ep we learned it hopeless & he can’t pursue! T_T. couldn’t you at least put the two scenes far away, so I get time to grieve his broken heart! T_T.

2- Yuki/Machi ( Yuki is in a such hurry!!!!)

You could use the analogy of yuki’s starting the story as a (baby/child) taken cared by his mother (tohru) who taught him to be a person (all se01), Yuki took this knowledge  as a (kid/teenager) & formed friendship on his own with (kakeru) in (se02). it is not after yuki became a true equal friend to kakeru, chocking him & equally teasing him, that Machi was allowed to talk abt her self as a real character with agency & thoughts (se02, ep24), now yuki must be a (teenager/Man) & fall romantically in love, hence (se03, eps 2 & 3). All this is amazing. So, I kinda expected the following:

yuki won’t take as long as kyo in confessing/ realizing romantic love since he/machi don’t have a shared baggage nor obstacles from the past.

 he won’t be as fast as haru’s “ i love you/ kiss/ make love”. But then again, Haru & Isuzu have already known each other for years & are already in love, they just put a name to their desires & went on with it.

So, yuki should be in the middle, noticing, knowing abt the person, crushing, then realizing love & wanting a future together! Cuz yuki is this type of person who values taking time thinking thoroughly, right??

I’m confused as yuki wanted to confess the curse & to be with machi romantically right after the machi background scene? I know not everything should be on-screen & him falling slowly in love could be off-screen...  the flower is a yuki/machi “ noticing her stage”, her fighting with him over the red leaf is “ noticing him stage” for her. but there’s only ONE intimate scene of them together! Her raw tears when he comforted her in her flat (the chalk scene is bonus). but.. I never expected that yuki is planning to confess his curse & feelings this early!!!!!! yuki! are you SURE she loves you? ( I mean we the audience know 100%) but how is HE sure?? yuki going this big stage so soon felt a bit un-yuki. but then agin, perhaps that’s part of the new changed confident yuki? I duno, I mean Machi was never given a proper time to prosper, but yuki was always given all the time there is to explore his feelings & even other ppl’s feelings! He’s there in kyo/tohru ‘s story to tells the audience they’re in love, he’s there in Isuzu/ haru to mend their gap. I mean yeah there gotta be more scenes abt them for sure, we’re in ep 5, but I never expected a the intruppted confession now & this soon!

perhaps it’s just me, again?! Maye I’m so invested in yuki & accustomed to him always taking time that I kinda expected more before he’s thinking of confessing. I really thought that confessing his curse/love is yuki/machi’s own story climax compared to kyo/tohru’s story climax with kyoko & Isuzu/Haru story climax after breakup, oh well. I’m positive we’ll see more of yuki’s journey with machi as yuki is rarely absent in any eps. More scenes to come!

That’s the end of my headache! XD. I apologize for giving you headache if you were kind enough to read all this. kindly, don’t spoil future scenes or sub-plots to me. I’m just expressing my shock at how fast the plot moved! just few eps ago, I was watching motoko love journey that survived 3 seasons! Hands down Motoko wins in furuba! XD. Jokes aside, Can I say we’re officially where “the plot thickens?” Is it going down? This ep felt like a bullet train!

Side Notes:

I never liked the “children in deep love theme” that hiro has as children shouldn’t suffer the romantic pining & suffering as teenagers & adult ppl,  so, I really appreciated that Momimi altho was 15 when we 1st saw him, lived his childhood without the “oh my! I’m so in love~ pining~ suffer”.

The story introduced ( momoiji in romantic love) the same ep Momiji got tall, so making it as sth he expressed once he hit puberty like most boys his age. He even said it “ I’m a man now”, which is again sth boys feel once they get taller & experience other feelings.

Momiji never catches a break! T_T. My son is denied the types of love he wants (parental love, sibling love & now romantic love! ).

I don’t picture momiji/tohru together as a couple cuz it wasn’t built that way in the story & most of their moments weren’t romantic/sexual tension. to me it was the ultimate friendship!

I wish my son finds love on-screen! If Moyoko/Nao gets on-screen love, give my boy on-screen love, too!

Nah~ forget that~ I’m just sad for my son, I don’t want to see him paired with any character quickly to compensate him not having tohru. This is not doing momiji justice. So, I get the ED art of him with Momo.

If kyo has someone who loves him one-sidedly (Kagura), tohru now has someone who love her one-sidedly (momiji).

The kagura/kyo confrontation was heart breaking, but it had to happen cuz kyo knew she loved him & had to stop her. I hope Momiji never confesses to tohru, I wouldn’t be able to survive seeing tohru turn him down.Tohru & momiji are just too kind for such sad situation.

So, does this mean that the two characters with unrequited love are Kagura & momiji? they’re the only characters with no romantic partner in the ED.

Hana is without a lover in the ED, too! XD. Thank God! I love her crush on kazuma, cuz hello~ who won’t crush on this hunk! & teenage girls can crush on grown up men rather than boys (I know I did, but it was just my girlish crush). I’m thankful it is just a crush & teasing kyo tactics & not true romance! don’t give me another Arisa/Kureno, plz. lol.