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michaelgovehateblog · 3 years

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Piggy in the Middle

Queen Elizabeth x Michael Gove, Michael Gove x Matt Hancock, 1500 words

“Michael Gove and Sarah Vine to divorce.” She knew it was bad, but Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when she saw the headlines. She had spent years forcing herself to ignore how she really felt about Michael and pretending the flirty looks and comments they shared were meaningless or all in her head; after all, they were both married, and publicly at that, especially in the case of her and Philip. And it’s not that she didn’t love Philip, because she of course did, but there was something about Gove and his pig-like face that just drew her in. And now she was rid of Philip, and Michael and Sarah were splitting up – maybe there was a chance for them.

Not that they would be able to go public with it if anything even did happen between them. As far as the country knew, Elizabeth was still mourning Philip, just putting on a brave face and soldiering on without him. The public probably wouldn’t be able to deal with her moving on so soon. She sighed – her life as a parasite was so difficult.

Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, and subsequent voice.

“Your Majesty? It’s 12, we’re scheduled to leave now.”

“Of course, I’m coming now.” She responded, and stood up to leave, making sure to glance in the mirror to check she still looked presentable. Everything was still pristine: icy white grey hairs all perfectly in place and nude lipstick completely un-smudged. She was wearing a long royal blue (her signature colour) coat with large buttons of a slightly softer blue colour, all of which were done up. This was worn over a classy floral-patterned dress, which wasn’t visible under the jacket. Perched on top of her head was an elaborate hat made from material the exact same colour as the coat and adorned with white and blue flowers. The shoes she wore were a standard pair of elegant black heels and the look was finished off with a pair of black gloves.

Satisfied the outfit was perfectly uncreased as always, Elizabeth left the room to head to the whatever event it was this time, she didn’t really care. Mostly she just showed up at these things for a bit of good PR and so people would continue believe she works hard and really cares about the common people (Which she didn’t obviously. Why would she.) Although, she was certain that someone had told her that this event would have many politicians also in attendance, so she was hopeful that she might encounter a certain cabinet member.

As per usual, Elizabeth was finding the event mind-numbingly boring, just endless shaking hands with forgettable people she was supposed to pretend to be interested in. But then she spotted him. And at the same moment she saw him, Michael glanced in her direction and they were making direct eye contact. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned as he started walking towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Your Majesty,” said Michael, extending his arm to shake hands, “How are you today?” They shook hands, Michael noticing how dry and wrinkly Elizabeth’s felt, and her in turn mentally noting the bizarre clamminess of his, both of which only increased each person’s attraction to the other.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she responded, “And thoroughly enjoying this lovely event.” she made sure to add, aware of how many people were probably in earshot. “But what about yourself? I heard the news. It must be a difficult time for you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this; he couldn’t believe that the Queen actually cared enough about him to pay attention to the news about him and his (soon to be ex) wife. He had always felt there was some kind of connection between the two of them but told himself he was imagining it – what other option did he have. But unusually for his cowardly personality, he got a sudden burst of confidence, and was shocked to hear himself talking.

“Ma’am, I think I need to step outside to get some fresh air. Would you be interested in joining me for a walk?” He hadn’t had confidence to do anything like that since his coked-up days of 20 years ago. Well, he always said 20 years ago, but those close to him, such as Matt Hancock, knew he was prone to enjoy a smidge of the substance of an evening.

“Yes, I would enjoy that a lot.” replied Elizabeth, much to Michael’s delight. He offered out his elbow, purely out of politeness, of course, which she accepted, outwardly calmly but very eagerly inside. A walk outside would probably mean time properly alone, where other people couldn’t hear them, something they had probably never had before.

They continued small talk for a while, about the event and such, until they were far enough away from the general crowds for more intimate conversation.

"How have you been coping, Ma'am, without the Prince? Such an unexpected shame, his untimely demise like that. It was truly a shock to all of us."

Right, 'untimely'. Elizabeth often forgot that Philip's death was supposed to be something entirely unexpected for her, not something she knew would happen down to the exact time and place.

"Missing him, of course, but life has to go on. And it's strange to remember that I am single again, after all these years. That's not been the case since I was 13 and Philip was an adult."

"Yes, it's the same for me, minus the questionable age difference. I’ve been married to Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to meet other people - and be with other people...” at these words the two made eye contact, neither knowing what to say aloud but having an entire unspoken conversation.

“Mr Gove… Or Michael, may I call you Michael? Would you be interested in visiting the Palace for dinner sometime soon? I could give you a personal tour of the grounds.”

“Yes, Ma’am, of course you can call me Michael,” Almost unthinkingly, the pair faced each other and reached for each other's hands. “And I would be honoured to visit the palace, Ma’am.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “Please, no need to bother with the formalities, at least not whilst nobody else is listening. Call me Elizabeth. Now, we should probably head back inside to the event, we’ve been out here a while, people will be missing me. They basically worship me. But I’ll get someone to contact you about your visit to the palace - I’d do it myself, only that sort of thing is far beneath me.” A smile spread over Michael’s pig-mannequin hybrid face as they made their way back inside.

What they hadn’t realised during their encounter, was that it wasn’t as private as they had thought; in fact another politician had been lurking and watching the entire scene.And he wasn’t happy about what he saw. As soon as Elizabeth and Michael walked off in separate directions, Matt Hancock quickly grabbed Gove by the arm and dragged him into a quiet corridor.

“Hancock.”

“Gove. I saw you outside just now, heard you talking with a certain monarch. The two of you seemed quite friendly.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought anyone else had been outside. You won’t - you won’t tell anyone what you saw or heard, will you?”

“I won’t. But only because it’s you, if it had been anybody else, I would be telling the sun immediately. The queen’s new love interest, I couldn’t hope for anything better to get the tabloids off my back. But because it’s you - I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Matt, what do you mean? Why are you making an exception for me?”

“Govey, as if you don’t know. You must have realised how I feel about you.” Hancock stepped closer to Gove and in his mind’s eye, imagined the Sims social interactions menu, and pictured selecting ‘kiss’. (It was from looking at the characters in the game, after all, that he learnt to kiss in the first place. The mindset and techniques stuck with him.) To his delight, he felt Michael kissing him back. Matt deepened the kiss and their tongues battled for dominance. Suddenly, Michael pulled away and stared, speechless, at Matt.

After about half a minute unable to muster any coherent thoughts (not even coherent by conservative standards) Gove turned away and briskly walked to an empty room, where he could sit alone and process all of what just happened. Not only was he certain now that Elizabeth felt the same spark that he did, but Hancock, whom he had secretly had a low-level affection for for many years, had just snogged him out of jealousy? He didn’t expect to be wrapped up in a love triangle the very day his divorce was announced, and yet it seemed that was what was happening. His years of being an incompetent and sleazy politician had clearly earned him some admirers.

If you made it to the end, I'm only partly sorry for what you just read. I would be willing to write a second chapter if for some godforsaken reason somebody actually would want to read one. This took me far too long to write for something that is honestly not that many words but I feel like it's understandable, given the subject matter. k bye

#i dont know if the title is actually funny but i found it funny #because of gove being a pig #also does anybody happen to have an ao3 invite they would be willing to share cos i kind of want to post this there but i dont have an acc #i have not proof read this at all so it might be complete nonsense lmao #anyway here is the promised fanfic please enjoy #uk politics #i will be reblogging this at some point because i put far too much effort into this #michael gove #matt hancock

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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nightferns · 3 years

Text

How c!Ranboo's attitude towards c!Wilbur lines up with everything he's been told | a quote list

All /rp of course

So on Tubbo's last lore stream (my new purpose) Ranboo said this:

"-thats why im here so when he does something that does redeem himself then someone can be there that will be able to see it and everything, and honestly i'd rather have it be me the person, rather have the person that be there be me instead of maybe someone else[...]"

And then this, when asked why he didn't tell Wilbur about marriage:

"[...]From what i've heard from Tommy and everything the Wilbur that 13 years ago- at least might've- he used stuff against Tommy and everything so just in case- "

And it made me wonder what exactly lead him to that opinion so i spent a day ghathering quotes in which Ranboo heard/or was told something about Wilbur, before the revival. Its a bit of a long one so strap in.

Convos about Alivebur that Ranboo either listened to or was a part of, pre-meeting him.

Vod: Tubbo and Tommyinnit Start To Break Apart…

TommyVods

Tommy [talking about Techno]: -Wilbur died in action, so he doesn't- so he didn't live long enough to face the consequences, but that guy he is a fucking bitch.

Ranboo: So he was fighting with you and then he decided to go against you.

Tommy: yeah. He decided that the last minute "Hey! Hey what im gonna do is fuck everyone over."

Ranboo: Oh… so he was sort of a vigilante of sorts? His own-

[...]

Tommy: sit down [on the bench]… fuck. I just want back the discs, that's all- thats all I've wanted everytime im sat on this bench, that's all we've wanted.

Ranboo: Yeah, I can tell... You seem pretty adamant about those.

Tommy: Yeah! It's because-! Literally bro- since the- four months! [...] four months ago is when I first started trying to get these discs! And it was just me, Tubbo- there was no Technoblade on this server! There were like 6 people- and it was just me and tub- there was no nation there was no- it's always been about getting back the shit dream stole from this very chest!

So now Tubbo's gotten this position of power and is doing it- it's dis- it's disappointing.

B-but thank you, for sticking up for me, no one did that, you saw big Q fucking turning on me- you saw Fundy- they're- they're just sheep bro, they're just sheep. Thank you

Ranboo: Well, you stuck up for me when you could've easily pinned it on me. You could've just said "oh, he was the one that did it", because- i mean, my name was being said in there too, but then you just decided to take all of it and now we're in this situation.

So I couldn't just let that happen, I couldn't stand by, have Tubbo call you selfish when you did something- the opposite.

Tommy: Thank you-

If they evict me through- that is it he-

Ranboo: yeah.

Tommy: -dude, you know i'm worried- i- i don't want to, i know there's that one line that we- that rings through my head as i sleep l of Wilbur going "Tommy, let's be the bad guys." But I wanna- i don't wanna be the bad guys. I just want-

Ranboo: I don't think that's- that's not a good thing to do.

Tommy: The reason- do I say this now? Yeah- The reason I didn't make Tubbo the leader, when I had- and I could've chose anyone, and I chose Wilbur, the man who was already half-insane but I knew he was coming back around, and I didn't choose Tubbo.

Is because i knew that if tubbo was the president,

it would pull us apart Ranboo, and look at him he's picking his nation over me. And i- and if he does on Friday I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself.

Ranboo: No matter what happens on friday i'll help you. I'll-I'll figure it out- I'll try to talk to Tubbo, i'll try to see if something better can happen.

Vod: *Archive* Mar 6, 2021

Philza

Phil: [places down a picture of Wilbur] my son.

Ranboo: Oh. There he is.

Phil: I wanna put his picture in the-in the meeting room, cruz i want to be reminded, i miss him, it's lik- he's been gone a long time.

Ranboo: He has. He really has. He's been gone, before I even came here.

Phil: He did some dumb shit y'know. And my hand was forced, in a sense, but I miss him everyday, I do miss him.

Ranboo: Oh, yeah i heard about that

Phil: I do wish he'd come back.

Ranboo: Yeah, Well… well I mean, wasn't he a ghost for a little bit?

Phil: Yeah, but that wasn't really him-

Ranboo: Oh.

Phil: That was- That was like the pure kind of innocent version of him if that was to exist I think, he was very kind of uhm- it was just not him though, it was just not him. So it was kind of like talking to a doll of like- someone.

Ranboo: I mean- I mean it's the most you're able to get at least. Like-

Phil: Yeah…

[...]

Phil: -sad, miss child, miss, maybe i shouldn't have stabbed him but you know.

Ranboo: Yeah, well i mean- yeah.

Phil: I Bet if- i bet if- if i was to talk to him again he' would- he would probably forgive me, he- he definitely was at the end of his rope and i dunno maybe he'd think of it differently.

Ranboo: I mean, it was his wishes, I mean he wouldn't- it was his wishes, it wasn't- like- he wouldn't- he wouldn't not forgive you for following what he asked you to do.

Phil: Yeah. I dunno.

Ranboo: But- one day hopefully-

Phil: Can't help but think if i did the right thing or not sometimes.

Ranboo: I mean, when you think about what he would have done if you hadn't, you know?

Phil: Yeah, he was out of control.

Ranboo: Like if you- if you hadn't like- would anything- would anything have changed?

Phil: I dunno, I kinda showed up at the most chaotic time possible and yeah it was just- didn't really have a lot of time to process things. It was like "Hey I should probably stop him from blowing up this place" that I had no real knowledge of other than that he helped build it. That's all I heard. I got- i got like letters from him just like telling me what he'd been up to and stuff, and that he was having fun with this friends and then the letters stopped, and i got worried so i started to like-

Ranboo: mhm.

Phil: -make my way over to this area.

Ranboo: Yeah.

Phil: And I was right to worry, apparently.

Ranboo: I mean, I don't know, I think- I mean, I think there's really- there's really nothing you can do about it now, you know? There's- it's really like- you can- you can try and get closure but I mean, the ghost- Ghostbur is missing in action and he has been for a little while, and...

Phil: Yeah, whenever I talked to Ghostbur I didn't really feel like I was talking to him though, like it wasnt really- It was him but it wasn't him, like-

Ranboo: Yeah.

Phil: It's hard to explain.

Ranboo, I mean you just- i- i think you did the right thing even though its not- it wasn't the optimal thing, you know? I mean, was it the best solution? Probably not, but it was still a solution so.. I'd say you still did a good thing even though in your eyes it's probably not good, but what else were you gonna- what else were we gonna do?

Phil: Yeah, true.

Ranboo: yeah.

Vod: Tommy's Plan to Kill Dream

TommyVods

Tommy: Tubbo, I died. I spoke to Schlatt, I spoke to Wilbur, Wilbur Soot, alright?

Tubbo: Has Schlatt changed his ways? Or is he still smoking and drinking-

Tommy: Tubbo, they've been in there for so long, and so many years, alright?

Tubbo: Years? They've only died months ago-

Tommy: Tubbo, I was in that prison for about… month and five days, alright. Time in death though? I was here for months and months and months! Time's different when you d- Don't tell anyone this- Time's different when you die.

Tubbo: So you're older, now curz-

Tommy: I don't, I don't know! [...]

Tommy: -But Listen to me! I've seen everything! I know so much more than you now, I've been with the dead and I know so much more! So much more I'm not willing to explain. But listen to me we need to kill him, before it's too late-

[...]

Tubbo: Why is it different now? Why are we killing him- why didn't we just kill him to begin with, when we had the chance? Why did you put it off?

Tommy: Because Tubbo i thought he would use the revive book for go- ok, this is what he said to me he said he will only use the revivebook to revive Wilbur, and he said that that when he gets out out of the he's gonna hurt, not just you, but everyone i care for, he's gonna hurt everyone. So please we need to kill him.

[...]

Tubbo: So why don't you want him to bring Wilbur back now? What suddenly changed?

Tommy: I've spent months in the death area- well- let's call it the death zone, with Wilbur, right.

Tubbo: the death zone? Like limbo-

Tommy: I've spent months there, I've spent months and months and months there and I was only there for a few days, Wilbur's been there for real months, he is so different and he is powerful and you know how he molds me like a piece of clay Tubbo. I don't want him to come back, we can't let him come back, and Dream said to me that he'll revive Wilbur.[...]

Tommy: No, i spoke to you, not Ghostbur, i spoke to you

Ghostbur: But i am Ghostbur

Tommy: I spoke to Wilbur,

Ghostbur: You don't wanna talk to him.

Tommy: I know, I never wanna talk to him again.

Ghostbur: He's not very nice, he's not a nice guy.

Tommy: Acu- Ghostbur i've got a question for you, do you want him to come back?

Because i- i don't, i don't think i do ever ever.

Ghostbur: He's a- i- uhm.. t-the world needs- needs structure and order and he he's good at that, he did that but- i-

Tommy: No, the world needs less villains, and he was a villain if I've ever seen one.

Ghostbur: But a villain is just a- sometimes the line's a little blurry, you could say, a little blurry it's a tiny bit, it's like a villain- a villain is just a hero you haven't convinced yet.

Tubbo: I'm not sure I follow you.

Tommy: No, but he started as hero, he started as a hero and then he was the villain.

Ghostbur: Well-

Tommy: I don't think we should bring him back ever.

Ghostbur: Oh…

Tommy: I think you should- you like being a ghost don't you? Hey! Look bl- Red! You can stand on the red! [...]

Ghostbur: Yeah,i- i- i like it here but we were talking about this and i thought we wanted to bring back Wilbur, because he understood-

Tommy: No-

Ghostbur: -because, because L'manburg got blown up-

Tommy: No! No no no no, We don't want to bring back Wilbur, i've spent months with Wilbur, wh-when you die times different Ghostbur, i know i can speak to you 'cause you don- you keep secrets, times different, alright? i've spent so long with Wilbur,

Ghostbur: How- how long?

Tommy: Months and months and months alright? And if i was here for months, he's been there for years, possibly decades, he can't come back.

This isnt a-

Ghostbur: How- how- so what's the corversion? What's the- how long-

Tommy: What's the conversion rate?-

Ghostbur: yeah, what's the-

Tommy: -God, you sound like a fuckin' bitcoin miner.

Ghostbur: -If time's different in the- in the- in the dead land then what's the- what do you call it? Limbo- if time is different in limbo then what's- what's- what's the difference?

Tommy: I don't really know. But I was there, apparently, I was dead, according to the Dream but he does lie, I was dead for- for 3 days. And i was there for-

Ghostbur: And how long, how long was that in months?

Tommy: I don't know, i can- i can say months and months, i- i'd- i'd say between three to seven?

Ghostbur: Okey.

Tommy: So the middle, four point five.

Ghostbur: -So Wilbur's been dead for ten to twelve years.

Tommy: And there's a lot to learn when you're dead, innit?

Ghostbur: What did you learn? I've just forgotten things.

Tommy: Oh I learned about bad shit.

Ghostbur: Yeah?

Tommy: Do you know what Wilbur did? He very slowly and excruciatingly, over an entire month, explained to me what hemorrhoids was and it hurt me so much.

And then he'd go on about all the books he has been reading. It was terrible, it was the wor-

Tubbo: Did you see each other? Or were you just-

Tommy: Oh, Don't make me talk about it! Don't make me talk about it! Oh, it was- it was the worst!

Ghostbur: Tommy why didn't you want Wilbur back?

Tommy: Well… I spent a long long time speaking to Wilbur in- when I was dead. And i- and when I wanted to bring him back I thought he- I thought there was still some brotherness there, I thought maybe he's still my pal. And I found out he's not- he's only grown worse.

Ghostbur: He spent a lot of time around a bad guy, he spent, like a decade you said, around- around Schlatt and Schlatt's the bad- Schlatt's the bad guy right?

Tommy: I don't think Schlatt's the only bad guy.

Ghostbur: He's a bad guy right? Him and Eret are the bad guys right? That's the- that's the-

Tubbo: Yes, more or less.

Ghostbur: That's what you told me.

Ranboo: And Dream of course.

Tommy: There's a lot more bad guys.

[...]

Vod: Ranboo prepares with tommyinnit to take down dream on the dream smp full stream (VOD)

Ranboo Vods

Ranboo: [About Dream] He's trapped in there and we thought he was powerless but even in there he still has power that's why we're killing him actually. Its because-

Ghostbur: What's the worst he could do with the power?

Ranboo: He could bring back the people that are- well, technically the villains in this story, and then get out. And then start to do what he did before he got into prison, just again, and probably worse honestly!

Ghostbur: He's gonna bring back Schlatt?

Ranboo: He can bring back anyone that's died.

[...]

Ghostbur: Also- um, so are we- are we not bringing back Wilbur anymore? Is that… off the table? 'Cause Phil and Technoblade and- and- and people are still keen- and Eret is keen to bring back Wilbur. And i- i'm- Ranboo i gotta tell you i'm really scared. I- i'm not scared of Wilbur i think.

Ranboo: Yeah.

Ghostbur: I'm scared of going back to.. nothing. I- I'll be gone again. I dont- I- i kinda like being here and i like all my friends and i don't...

Ranboo: Yeah. See it's different with me because I never knew Wilbur, i never met Wilbur. I've only met, well you… so...

Ghostbur: I- I think im pretty- I like to think im pretty neat.

Ranboo: Yeah i think you're pretty neat too. I don't- i don't think-

Ghostbur: Yus!

Ranboo: I mean, Honestly i'd- i never knew Wilbur, i never met him but I mean, what i've been told, he seemed like he had good intentions and- and i mean, i think that's kinda what you are, you are his good intentions.

Ghostbur: In a pint sized glass.

Ranboo: yeah.

Ghostbur: in a little package, little package.

Ranboo: yeah!

Ghostbur: I've read his memoirs Ranboo, i've read- they are all gone now they were blown up when my library was destroyed, so many really important pieces of history were blown up when that library was destroyed.

Ranboo: Definitely yeah.

Ghostbur: But I have- i read his memoirs and he- he was- he was pretty ok! Most of the time, he seemed like he was- people liked him but then- then- then he lost this election and- and- and you know the story, everyone knows the story.

Ranboo: yeah, yeah.

Ghostbur: But i just- i- from seeing how much everything went down and how Tubbo was- was really badly you know? Scared with- by- by- you know? the explosion and things which- thinking about it that's- maybe was Technoblade's fault and Phil's fault, but um, because of all this now more than ever it's really important that we have a leader and that's why i was on the side on bringing him back

and if- if things have changed, if you tell me i'll go along with whatever you say if- if you think Ghostbur sticks around, i'll stick around but if you think Wilbur- Wilbur sticks around i'll- i'll do whatever it takes to help you! I just- I just wanna help! I just wanna help Ranboo!

Ranboo: yeah, im-

Ghostbur: -And i can see it in you that you know what's best.

Ranboo: The thing is i- i really don't. i mean, Ha- Wilbur... he seemed good, when you read anyone's memoirs it helps them… kinda rationalize the way that they think so- i honestly don't know, because-

Ghostbur: History is written by the winners.

Ranboo: Yeah and he, he technically won, I mean he did what he wanted to.

Ghostbur: but then he lost and everyone hates him.

Ranboo: I don't- i don't think everyone hates him. I don't really hate him. I mean, it's like hearing about a historical figure. I mean he did good things yeah, but he also did bad things so. I- i'm indifferent as i am with a lot of things.

Ghostbur: I'm sure- i'm sure that you'll figure it out

[...]

Ranboo: I haven't even heard of Wilbur honestly, i- i've barely heard of Wilbur, i mean, Tubbo really has not told me much about Wilbur other than i mean, he's the one who blew up Manburg the first time.

But i like Ghostbur i mean, i like- i like Ghostbur i'd say a lot more, because Ghostbur seems nice, i don't think that anything is going wrong right now, i mean if we- if we kill dream then… then uh- ' cause we don't need a leader.

I really don't know... I really don't know, I don't think we need a leader, because if- if someone rules everyone then- i mean if the leader becomes corrupted, when the leader becomes corrupted then we see what happens. We- we see what happens when someone who leads becomes corrupted, heck i'm a part of an anarchist organization So… I really just don't know what to do.

Because I mean, Tommy doesn't want Wilbur back.

I don't think anyone wants Wilbur back, so why is it even a question?

All I do know is that we definitely have to kill Dream, right? We definitely have to kill Dream. I mean, we gotta- we gotta kill Dream.

I mean, i don't even know if anyone wants him back, i mean, the only person that i would think would be Phil, right? The only person that I'd think would be Phil, so… but Phil's ok now, he's doing alright, shure he's sad now, but I think he'll be good, yeah I think we'll be able to kill Dream and everything will be good!

I mean, if we kill Dream, Wilbur isn't coming back, we won't have to worry about much- we'll still have to worry about things but not on the scale Dream was doing right? Right? [...]

[...] So if everyone's ok without him, I mean, everyone's ok already… right? Everyone's- Everyone's good, I mean, I like Ghostbur, I think that Ghostbur is awesome. I don't know-[...]

Ranboo: Oh my goodness. Yeah see, i like Ghostbur a lot more, i like Ghostbur a lot more.

Vod: Wilbur's Revival Dream SMP

TommyVods

Tommy: No you don't understand, It's not that he's dead it's that Wilbur's back.

Tubbo: What?

Ranboo: What do you mean Wilbur's back? No, you mean Like- Wilbur? Like-

Tommy: Let's go-

Ranboo: "Press button and blow up" Wilbur, that one?

Tommy: No, no ok, listen to me, Did you think I liked Wilbur? Is that what you think this is about Ranboo? Why are you being so unempathetic?

Ranboo: I don't know what you mean! Like-

Tommy: Wilbur is back, Ranboo! Ghostbur is dead!

Ranboo: Yeah-

Tommy: No, no there's only one way to know.

Ranboo: What do you mean? Like- like THE Wilbur? The one that- like your friend?

Tommy: We are not fucking friends, Ranboo.

Ranboo: Wilbur wasn't-? I mean, I knew he did some bad stuff but I thought he was at least kind of your friend.

Tommy: No, Wilbur was nothing.

Ever since i died Ranboo, we- i spent so long with Wilbur-

Ranboo: Yeah?

Tommy: -and i thought he changed, every time i thought he changed, but Ranboo he never changes, Wilbur never changes… and now he's back.

Ranboo: May- Maybe- Maybe he's different you know? I mean, he's been spending a lot of time in the afterlife-

Tubbo: Yeah, he's been dead for a while,

Ranboo: -he probably might be different, you know?

Tommy: He's not different Ranboo, i've been there Ranboo, and he's so much fucking worse. When we go up to him, you two just stand back-[...]

#dream smp #mcyt #ranboo #wilbur soot #tubbo #tommyinnit #philza #ghostbur #last four are in thr quotes #burger duo #night's talk tag #if aynore ever needed a refrence on what ranboo knows... here #dsmp analysis #night's meta tag

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 13/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Beep, beep, beep

It didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't even quiet down.

Hange tried to ignore the irritating sound, tried to forget about it and return to the dark place where she was safe and warm.

Beep, beep, beep

As though mocking her, it got louder and louder, allowing Hange no respite. Accepting that this battle wouldn’t end in her favor, she groaned and forced her eyes open.

The ceiling above her was white, the walls surrounding her were mostly white too. The bed she was lying on was also white, and to her hand was attached a thin line of IV.

Huh. It was a while since she had the pleasure to wake up in a hospital.

Hange meant to continue her survey, but everything else was too blurry for her to see. Glasses. Where were her glasses?

Her hand flew to her face, touching her nose. No glasses there.

With a considerable effort Hange pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blindly reached to her left where a bedside table stood. She moved her palm all over it, there was lots of things on top of it. No glasses, though.

"The first drawer," a voice behind her helped.

Hange obediently opened it, her fingers immediately finding the familiar shape of her glasses. She put them on and sighed in content, as the world around her finally came into focus.

She turned her head to the direction the voice was coming from. Next to her bed stood another one, separated by a blue curtain. In the corner of it she could see Zeke. Their eyes met, and he gave her a weak, but unexpectedly genuine smile.

"Welcome back to the world of the living."

"Was I out for too long?" Hange frowned, trying to recall what had happened. She remembered Floch, remembered that horrible room in Zeke's safe house, remembered his brother, the erupting pain in her side as he had shot her and the dangerous glint of Floch's blade near her throat. She remembered being afraid and sorry for missing her another chance and not telling Levi how she truly felt all these years. Remembered Levi rushing in, saving her. Remembered his trembling fingers and soft touch. Remembered how he held her and refused to let go all the way to the hospital, remembered—

That was all she remembered.

"It's been almost a day since doctors operated on you," Zeke explained. "You've got your friends worried."

Hange looked to her bedside table again, gawking at the amount of gifts there. There was a box of candies from Nifa, teddy bear from Moblit, balloons from Keiji and Abel, a giant bouquet from Erwin... And a small postcard that stood at the far side. Hange picked it up, studying curiously. Her lips curled up and she giggled - the postcard was from Pieck.

"And what happened to you?" Hange looked back at Zeke. His torso was bandaged and he was unusually pale in the face.

Zeke grimaced, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "My brother turned out to be a better shooter that I've anticipated."

"And..." Hange began uncertainly. Her fingers curled into the bedsheets, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know, but— she decided to ask anyway. "And what happened to Eren?"

Zeke sighed, pushing hair back from his face. "I took care of him."

Hange looked down, not knowing how to feel about it and what to do with that knowledge. Should she say something to Zeke? Tell him that she was sorry? Or that he did the right thing? What he wanted to hear? He probably didn't wish to hear either.

"And what happened to your eye?" she pointed her finger at a large bruise that bloomed on his face. "Was it... Eren as well?"

"No," Zeke scoffed. "That was your partner, detective. An eye for an eye, I guess," he chuckled dryly.

"Levi..." Hange's heart fluttered at the mention of him. "Do you know if he's—"

"He's been by your side this whole time," Zeke rolled his eyes. "He left just a few minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be there any moment now. He barely slept while you were out."

"Oh..." Hange couldn't help her smile. She wanted to see Levi so much...

"Jesus," Zeke groaned. "The two of you are sickening. If I spend another day watching you, I'd get cavities from your damn sweetness. Damn it, and I can't even smoke here..."

Zeke obviously meant to complain some more, but he fell silent, as the door to the ward opened. Hange turned to it with a grin that dissipated almost immediately, a heartbeat after she saw Petra's sheepish smile instead of Levi's gloomy scowl.

"Disappointed, aren't you, detective?" Zeke mocked with a shit eating smirk.

Hange discreetly flipped him off and roughly closed the curtain between them.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, giving an apologizing look to Petra.

"It's alright," she said. "Levi is just behind the door, Oluo is distracting him while I'm here." Petra tutted, her auburn locks flying as she shook her head. "I had no choice but to resort to this. He doesn't let anyone else see you. Only Captain Erwin was allowed inside, and that too lasted just for a few minutes."

Hange chuckled, her heart swelling. Yep, that's the ridiculously protective shorty she knew and loved...

"I know you can't wait to see him, too," Petra winked, taking note of her pleased expression.

Hange flushed, but the embarrassed blush turned into angry one, when she heard a not so subtle scoff behind the curtain.

"So I will be brief," Petra sat down on a chair beside Hange, setting her hands on her lap. Her fingers twisted together in a nervous matter as stared at the floor, appearing deep in thought. After a long moment, she lifted her eyes, a small, slightly crooked smile playing on her lips. "I just wanted to thank you for... giving me strength back there. I lost all hope, thought I was done for, but you... You kinda rekindled that light inside me. You showed me what true bravery and resolve means."

"Petra," Hange smiled, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "I should be the one thanking you. On the night Levi and I reunited, if it wasn't for you, if it wasn't for your bravery and resolve, who knows what would have happened? Perhaps, I would have never gathered enough courage to face Levi. Perhaps, he would have never found out that I actually survived. Don't sell yourself short, you're a strong and courageous person, and have been like that long before we met. You have a bright future ahead of you. I'm excited to witness it."

Petra bobbed her head, her smile growing wider, more open. "And I'm excited to learn more from you. But as for now," Petra stood up and fixed Hange with a rather strict look.

She is learning things from Levi too, Hange thought with an amused smile.

"Rest and gather your strength. Everyone is waiting for you to come back. Someone is more impatient that the others. I need to go before that same someone rips Oluo's head off for keeping you away from him. Take care," Petra waved her hand, gifted Hange another bright smile and left.

As soon as she closed the door, Hange heard a familiar, grumpy voice.

A second later, Levi walked in. His eyes widened when they met hers. With his hand still on a doorknob, Levi stood at the threshold, staring at her with an intent look.

Hange almost squirmed under his gaze, it was too intense to belong to Levi. She wondered what was the reason for it.

But then the spell broke, and Levi looked away.

His steps heavy, he marched further into the room. He didn't head to her bed, though. Instead he stopped next to Zeke's.

"If I hear just a pip from you," he warned in a low voice. "They'll have to prolong your stay in this hospital."

Levi didn't wait for Zeke to reply and turned on his heels, taking a seat next to Hange. Crossing his legs, he just sat there, his gaze not moving away from her face.

He didn't glare, didn't scowl, just stared like Hange was the most interesting thing in this room. Her stomach turned, and she wasn't sure if she liked this feeling or not.

"Where were you?" she asked, when it became evident that Levi wasn't going to start a conversation.

Her question made him look away, just long enough to roll his eyes.

"That idiot Oluo ambushed me in the hallway. Demanded an advice from me."

"An advice?"

"On how to be a good detective," Levi answered, before Hange could get funny ideas about other types of advice. Not that Levi was knowledgeable enough to give them. "Erwin decided to promote him. Now Petra will have a new partner."

"You and Petra won't work together anymore? Then who is going to be your new partner?"

"Yeah, Hange," Levi sat back in his chair, crossing hands on his chest. "Who will it be?"

"You," Zeke stage whispered.

Levi's eye twitched.

"I told you—"

"Wait," Hange put a hand on his arm, quelling his anger. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, a hope that was ready to get crushed. She frowned at Levi. "Can I even return to work? Technically, I'm still dead."

"Erwin is working on it. He pulled some strings, asked a few favors..."

"And?"

"He managed to restore your documents. He even kept your full name."

"He wanted to change it? To what?"

Despite the faint blush, Levi held her gaze firmly. "Ackerman."

Now it was Hange's turn to feel flustered.

"And by the way," Levi rose to fluff and fix the pillow underneath her. Hange tried to ignore the subtle tremor she noticed as his fingers moved. "You'll have to stay at my place for a while. Erwin is looking for an apartment, but since most of your stuff is already there..."

Hange couldn't help it - she started laughing. God, both of them were so hopeless.

"Aren't we moving things a little too fast?" she gave him a sly look, a flutter inside her returning as Levi snorted.

"Too fast? If you ask anyone else, four-eyes, we're moving things way too slowly."

Well... Hange certainly couldn't argue with that.

"And if you want to help things move along more smoothly," Levi sat back down, putting his hand on the bed, his fingers almost touching Hange's. "I remember you promising to tell me about your type."

Hange did promise that, she almost did tell him too, back in his office, when they received news about Petra. It wasn't the right time back then. But now...

"My type is certainly one of a kind. You have seen him, though."

"Where?" Levi grew just a little bolder, moved his hand just a little closer to Hange's.

She grinned and shortened the distance, intertwining their fingers.

"In the mirror."

The possibly sweet, tender moment was ruined by a loud groan that was followed by, "God, I never thought that flirting could be so torturous."

#as you can see i have a little too much fun with writing zeke in this chapter..........#also you won't believe it #but i wanted to use the joke 'an eye for an eye' for so long kjsdgljsgj #also wow! just one chapter left! isn't that swell?#levihan

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 13 ~The Reunion~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Obstacle Course ...

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

"What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said."

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

The full moon illuminated Jamie's and Claire's path as they made their way to the cottage into the cold night. It seemed they were the only two people in the world, walking in comfortable silence, lost in their own respective thoughts, and the only sounds to be heard were their footfalls and the dance of the trees. Inhaling deeply, Jamie pulled Claire into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the crown of her head, and in turn, her arm slid familiarly under his jacket to settle around his waist. For the first time in five days, every cell in his body was alive and buzzing, and it felt amazing to hold and have her close again.

Earlier, after the excitement and stramash outside Christie's apartment building had settled, they'd gone back in search of Quentin. It hadn't taken them long to spot him where he'd leaned on the wall outside the pub working his phone, most probably trying to call Claire. Though Quentin had looked like he could go for a few more round of drinks, to his relief, he hadn't put up much of an argument when Claire had firmly suggested it was time to call it a day. They'd escorted him back to his lodgings, making sure he had everything before heading for home.

It had been a surreal day, and Jamie knew it was far from over. He'd sensed Claire wanted to talk, and who could blame her? They had a lot of things to discuss, but his depraved mind had other ideas. His alcohol-fueled bravado from earlier had long waned to be replaced with an urgency that pulsed heat below his belly. But he swiftly reminded himself to be an attentive boyfriend first and clear the air between them.

After what he'd put himself and Claire through the last few days, he was done being a prisoner of the past and mistrusting the future. Here, at this moment with her, he was whole, and just having her beside him was healing invisible wounds all over his body. He needed her, but her needs came first even though her sweet scent and the sound of her soft sighs were piercing holes in his self-restraint. At nearly midnight, the air was icy cold, and yet, there was a fine layer of perspiration on his skin brought about by the anticipation of being finally alone with her.

When they eventually reached the cottage, Jamie had a hard time giving up her body's warmth to retrieve his keys, so he turned her to face him and locked her in an embrace. Savouring the feel of her, he wondered how the hell he'd managed to keep his distance; moreover, allow her to go to Inverness with Tom.

"Home sweet home," Claire murmured, breaking his thoughts. She made a move to pull away, but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to her icy fingers instead. "I think I need a drink," she said, shivering, "It's been quite an eventful night, don't you think?"

Jamie shook himself and nodded. "Aye. It's been a riot." He finally let go of her, quickly fishing for his keys in his pocket and unlocking the door, letting her pass first. They were welcomed by two happy, hyper animals who circumvented him to get to Claire. Ah, wee traitors!

He shut the door and watched with amusement as Claire immediately fell on her knees, her arm going around Rollo's neck while her free hand scratched Adso's back ear. Jamie grinned when both nudged closer and let out chesty whimpering sounds as they were treated to Claire's lovefest.

His eyes landed on her unpacked bags on the floor. She must have left the cottage as soon as she'd arrived. "How'd ye know where to find me earlier? Ye never called," he remarked, divesting his jacket and dropping it onto the chair.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I didn't. When Tom dropped me here, I realised I forgot to hand in some documents for Mary. I kind of figured you might be out with uncle Lamb. So I thought before calling you I'd walk over to Tom's to drop the papers for Mary and well, ..." she shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "I was about to phone you, and who did I find outside Tom's apartment building? My boyfriend serenading Mary Hawkins, no less."

Almost completely sober by now, his head dropped to hide his embarrassment, his pained groan barely subdued in his throat at the reminder of the recent event. "Oh, Christ!"

She stood up, walked over to him and encircled her arms around his neck, forcing him to glance at her smiling face. "I thought you were adorable." She kissed his chin. "And I think Mary was chuffed to bits hearing your love declarations. She'll never leave the Highlands now, what with Tom as her new love interest and you serenading her in front of an audience. She probably thinks she's heaven's gift to Broch Mordha and vice versa."

Her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck made it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ye should be righteously pissed at me for thinking ye were with Tom. And even if ye were in his apartment, I shouldnae have jumped to conclusions."

She contemplated his words. "We all get our jealous moments," she said quietly. "Well, I certainly do ...at least."

"Ye? Jealous? I only have eyes for ye, Sassenach. Ye have nothing to be jealous about." Then the image of Geneva's kiss came to mind, and his throat tightened. With everything that had happened today, he'd already forgotten about it ...until now. He knew only too well how the truth had its way of coming out, and he couldn't just dismiss it as an afterthought even though it didn't mean a thing. He needed to tell her before she finds out from someone else.

"Geneva," she whispered as if reading his mind. "I heard ..."

"Ye heard what?" She's already heard about the kiss? There was no stopping the weight of dread from settling in his belly. "Whatever stories ye heard about her and me, there's a perfect explanation for it, Sassenach. I can assure ye."

She didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort nor heard the words he'd just said, her gaze too busy following the movements of her hands as they travelled down to his shoulders and over his chest. "While you were in Lallybroch, Willie came to check up on me once in a while to see how I was fairing. I thought it was rather sweet of him to do that." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, he mentioned something about Geneva fancying you, and that didn't sit well because I know she's your therapist, and Jenny preferred her for you." Her eyes suddenly dimmed. "Oh, God! Why am I even telling you this? It's so primary school."

"Sassenach ..." He brushed his lips to her forehead. "It's not ..."

She visibly shook herself. "No, let me finish. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling the way I did. It was torturous knowing you were suffering, and I could do nought about it. I feared that night when you left, I may have made things worse by pushing you to talk about the past." True to her words, her expression was troubled as she chewed her bottom lip. "You see ...I want to be the one who can make things better for you, but I also recognise there are things about your condition that are beyond my understanding no matter how much I try to help or learn about it." She took a deep breath. "Geneva's your therapist, and she knows what she's doing. Sooo ...I have to put aside my petty jealousy and let Geneva do her work. But it doesn't mean I have to like her or the whole situation. So for the sake of ..."

"No, Sassenach. Stop right there." He dropped his mouth to prevent her from saying more, punctuating his words with a kiss. Their breaths collided, his fingers gripping her shoulders hard and digging into her skin. "Ye have every right not to like the situation. Because I dinnnae like it either." He searched her face, but her eyelids were at half-mast, and her gaze seemingly focused on his lips. He tipped her chin up. "I willnae be returning to therapy. So ye dinnae have to worry about her."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wot? But why?" She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. If this is your way of making me stop seeing Tom, sorry mate, not going to happen. This is work. And I'm not stopping you from going to therapy just because it's Geneva either."

"Woman, will ye let me finish?" He took a few cleansing breaths. "I'll wager ye a pound to a penny that ye willnae allow me to attend the therapy when ye hear what she did."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Why? What did she do?"

"She kissed me."

She stiffened and took a step back. "Wot?" Her expression of softness she had just moments ago made way for disbelief.

He tried to rid the sudden tangle in his throat. "She stopped by today. She said something about wanting to talk about my progress. I told her I was busy. Then she threw herself at me and kissed me. It's nae biggie."

"Nae biggie?!" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth open and closed. And then opened again. "Where did she kiss you? Lips or cheek?"

Her question caught him like a surprise right hook. On any other occasion, he would have probably been amused with her display of jealousy, but the way she was looking at him now, was causing his heart to pound painfully against his ribs. "O-on the lips, but I ...ah ...immediately pushed her away. I swear to God, I did nothing to inspire it."

She rolled her head as if preparing for a fight, and when her eyes landed on the bottle of tequila he and her uncle had been drinking earlier, she made a beeline for it. "On the lips, huh? Did you like it?" She poured herself a healthy measure in one of the used glasses without offering him one and downed it in one go.

Christ! "No!"

"Any tongue involved?"

"Of course not!"

"You sure?" She slammed the glass down on the table, making him flinch.

What the bloody hell? The questions she was throwing at him was making him squirm on his feet, and for the first time, Jamie realised how similar Claire and Quentin were when trying to extract an answer. Both would undoubtedly make great interrogators if ever they'd decided on a career change. "What kind of question is that? The kiss happened so fast, taking me by surprise. I didnae have time to think. She might have tried to put her tongue down my throat, but I stopped her."

"And where did this happen?"

"What do ye mean? I already told ye she stopped by. I was here ...at home."

"I mean, did it happen inside or outside the cottage?"

Jesus! "Outside."

"Outside," she repeated, more to herself.

"Aye, outside. She wanted to come in, but I told her I had things to do and was expecting a visitor ...yer uncle, that is. Anyway, that aside, I didnae think it was a good idea to allow her to come inside, knowing that she's my therapist and fancied her chances with me."

"Hmmm ...so when she threw herself at you, you pushed her away, is that right?"

"Aye."

"Where did her hands go?"

Confusion seeped into his already muddled head. Is this some kind of trick question to catch me of any wrongdoing? "What do ye mean?"

"Geneva's hands. Did it go around your waist, neck or what?"

"Oh, um ...around my neck."

"And what about your hands?"

Huh? "What about them?"

"Where were your hands when she kissed you?"

"They were by my side. The only time I touched her was to push her away from me. Ask yer uncle. He saw the whole thing. I didnae even know he was there."

"And he didn't sock you?"

"Why would he?" he almost shouted. "I didnae do a thing. It was Geneva who initiated it!"

"Fine."

"Fine?" he gasped in confusion.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned around and took off her jacket. That's it? What the hell just happened? I gave her the truth, and that's supposed to be good, right? Or am I missing something? He followed her strained movement, and he helplessly watched her grabbed her laptop bag and rummaged through it, the silence pulsing around them bordering on awkwardness. This was definitely not how he'd envisioned their reunion, he thought miserably.

"Sassenach," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I can tell ye're upset about the kiss. Ye ken ye've no reason to be, aye?"

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "No," she agreed, relief washing over him. "I've no reason to." She pulled out sheets of paper from her bag, looked at them and haphazardly stuffed them back in again, seemingly going through the motion of keeping her hands busy.

"Then why are ye cranky all of a sudden?"

She let go of her bag and grabbed the bottle of tequila, sloshing over the rim of the glass as she poured another shot. "I'm not." She grimaced as she threw back the liquid.

"Ye are." When she poured another drink, he frowned at her. "Go easy on that tequila, Sassenach."

Her head spun halfway round in his direction, reminding him of that wee girl in the film, The Exorcist. Her mouth dropped open, and she glared at him.

He forced himself to remain patient. Claire was visibly upset about something, and now he wasn't sure anymore if it had to do with Geneva's kiss. "Sometimes, I associate alcohol with bad judgments and choices," he began calmly. "My own, especially. But ye've helped me make a lot of good ones in the past, and ...I just want to do the same for ye. Talk to me, Sassenach. What's really bothering ye?"

She huffed and balled her fingers into tight fists. "Fine! Do you want to know the truth? I want to start a fight."

"A fight?" He reined in his frustration of not being able to understand and took a step closer to her. "Why would ye wanna do that?"

A deep scarlet soared from her neck to her cheeks as she threw her hands in the air. "The last few days were trying, alright? It wasn't only you who was having a rough time with it. God, I've been worried sick about you. I've been trying to keep it together ever since you left, wondering if I'll ever get to see you before I return to London. And then ...and then," she hiccupped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "One bloody thing led to another. First, I got into a fight with your sister because of some stupid newspaper clipping she had in her possession. Then, not long after that, in the middle of what was supposed to be an important meeting with Tom, my boss dumps the responsibility of babysitting Mary onto my lap, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that with my uncle on his way. Then I got to Inverness, hoping to get at least some work done with Mary to finish her book so I could finally leave London for good and start a new life here with you. And you know what?"

Jamie stood immobile. He longed to soothe her, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to be touched yet, so he waited even though he was slowly dying inside to hold her in his arms.

Her inhale became stuttered, and her eyes darkened with defeat. "I was grasping at straws to keep Mary to sit still long enough to extract a measly one thousand seven hundred words worth of work when I know she could do more in a day. But that's all I got for my efforts because she was too busy galavanting in Inverness with Tom. And speaking of Tom, I still haven't managed to make him sign the contract for his book and when my boss asked me why I couldn't even give him an answer and gave him some lame excuse. The only good thing that came out of Tom is, he convinced Mary to come here. If Tom hadn't been with me, I'd still be in Inverness with Mary. And now ...now I find out Geneva tried to kiss you while I was away. God, I want to scratch her eyes out. But I can't do that, can I? Because she isn't here. So I asked you those dumb questions to find a fault and start a fight because I wanted to vent after the last few days I've had. But even that, I can't do because you've done nothing wrong." She let out a groan of exasperation. "How sad is that?"

Suddenly, it all made sense to Jamie. Claire always put others' needs before hers with no thought for herself. He had to take better care of her. It had been easy to rest all his hopes and fears on her shoulders, and because of it, she was a massive part of his motivation to want more out of his future and be a better man for them. But if they were going to be together, his condition shouldn't always be her fight, and her burdens should be lighter with him by her side and not more. This lass had given him hope, and he's not going to rest until he gave her the same. Until she, too, knew her needs were just as important as everyone else's.

The boyfriend in him wanted to wipe the look of upset in her eyes. Confront the people that pushed her to act out in a way so unlike her usual self. Demand answers to find out what else was troubling her. He sensed, however, that questioning was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to be the protector this time, he opened his arms, relieved when she quietly walked into them. She laid her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her, resting his chin on her crown.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke haltingly. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I didn't mean to pick a fight. It's just that ...." Her fingers tugged at the edge of his jeans, and he shut his eyes. He could hear the slight slur in her words, making him realise she'd drank tequila on an empty stomach. "The last few days have been mad, and I -I ...oh, hell, never mind. I'm just acting pathetic."

Jamie frowned against her head. "Sassenach, look at me." He drew slightly away and held the sides of her face in her hands, the unshed tears in her eyes crushing him to the core of his being. "First of all, ye have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, Tom, Mary, yer boss, my sister, including myself, owe ye an apology. And ye're no' pathetic and dinnae ever say that about yersel', ever again. Ye do far too much for others, including me, and it's about time ye did something for ye. The rest of the world can wait, and other people getting their act together is no' yer responsibility."

She blew out a breath, bright amber eyes holding his steady.

"As for Geneva, ye have nothing to worry about her. There was never anything between us. I'll talk to my sister and let her know what her friend has done. If Jenny refuses to do anything about it, I will make a formal complaint about Geneva's behaviour to the clinic's head myself. And perhaps, propose a new or my old therapist be reinstated."

"Jamie, I can't be responsible ..."

"Ssshh, Sassenach. Ye're no' responsible for Geneva. She overstepped the boundaries, so it's only right she takes responsibility for her own actions." He pressed their foreheads together and looked her in the eyes. "I chose to be with ye as ye did with me, and I cannae have anyone disrespecting that, no' even Jenny. We're together, and we're supposed to be stronger as a unit. I need to step up my game and be there for ye as ye've been for me. For so long, I was so fixated on my own condition, I ceased seeing other people's difficulties." He pulled back and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Then I met ye, my feisty wee, Sassenach ...for the second time as a grown-up ...and ye taught me all about selflessness and courage. I want ye to know ye're important ...more important than what I want or what Mary Hawkins wants or what yer boss wants. And the things that hurt ye, they're no less painful than what I go through. Things are gonnae change from now on, and it can't be just all about me. I'm so sorry for abandoning ye and for not being there when ye needed me most."

The worst of the troubled look in her expression faded and was replaced by a wobbly smile. "There's nothing to forgive. We were both trying our best to deal with circumstances that were beyond our control."

He smoothed her hair back, picking up the locks and twining his fingers through them. "No, ye were doing all the heavy lifting. Every moment ye spent with me was a trial of fortitude ye were too stubborn not to meet. It would have been easy for ye to give up on me, but ye didnae. Ye always thought I was enough despite my shortcomings. Ye taught me second chances, and because of that, I dinnae want to believe anymore I deserve no' to have ye." He took a deep breath. "I thought my realisation came too late when I thought ye were with Tom, and I was willing to go at any lengths to win ye back and make ye see what we have is worth fighting for. After what I did out there tonight, I ken I'll be teased for the rest of my life for singing like a fool at the village square, but it's all worth it because I get another chance with ye."

"Another chance with me? I never left you, Jamie. I may have been miffed and hurt, but I've always been yours."

He shook his head, more at the error of his ways. "Deep down, I ken that but the mere thought of Tom with ye, all reason and logic seem to fly out the window. In the future, I promise to keep those thoughts at bay. It's no' good for my sanity." He smiled at her. "Shall we kiss and make up?"

Laughing, tears spilt from her eyes. "I thought you'd never ask."

The urgency that had been building up inside him went off like a gunshot. He drew her in closer. "Christ, I love you, Sassenach and always will." His mouth descended over hers, impressing his vow with a thorough tasting of her lips, savouring the earthy, semi-sweet taste of tequila on her tongue. His thumbs traced her cheekbones and jawline, and when she swayed closer, and the softness of her breasts flattened against his chest, he let out an animalistic groan.

His heart started to pound, every muscle south of his belt tightening. It was as though he'd been in a dry spell for five years instead of five days. His mouth went dry, his palms itched with the need to touch her naked skin, and his body was on fire as the pent-up desire from the past few days burst in a torrent of heat. He was ravenous for her taste and for her hand to encircle his hardness, and he indulged in her eager response that was opposite her usual shyness during lovemaking.

Restless fingers tangled into his hair, clasping his head in place as she kissed him back and met his demand with urgency. When her hips impatiently pressed against him, her scent invading his senses, his cock grew uncomfortably heavy.

He dragged his mouth from hers, twisting her hair in his fist. "Jesus, if ye dinnae take it down a notch, I'll burst in my pants like a schoolboy."

She blinked as if coming from a long sleep, her lips wet and puffy from his kisses and cheeks bright pink. She gave him a slow smile that promised unspoken pleasures, sending his heart up to his mouth. "Not my fault," she hummed, going up on her toes to teasingly brush her mouth over his. "You made me wait this long." Maintaining eye contact, she took a step back and stripped off her clothes, revealing her matching red bra and panty. "So enough talk, Jamie. I can't wait much more. I want you now," she whispered huskily.

Her words did it. His lust-filled brain only gave him a split second to process what she'd just said before the need to be inside her dismissed everything else. That urge he'd felt to make up for lost time raced out of control. He could only see Claire with her dazed eyes, parted lips and loads of naked skin.

He seized her hips, walking her backwards and crowding her against the dining table, pushing the chairs aside to make space. Her breath rose and fell in a choppy rhythm as his mouth dipped for a desperate kiss.

Her mouth moved in perfect unison with his, wee sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips frantically worked together. Lust pumping in his veins, he roughly settled her sweet bottom on the table and gingerly hooked his fingers into the lacey band of her knickers, shoving it down her legs. When she began tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he groaned into her mouth, knowing she needed him just as bad.

"I planned to make slow love to ye tonight. But now I cannae ...because I cannae wait to have ye." His hand slipped between their bodies, and he palmed her between her thighs. Ah, sweet Jesus! Sliding a finger deep into the wet heat of her entrance, he tested and teased, revelling the way her fingernails dug onto the skin of his shoulders in response, his head spinning at the feel of her moistness. "Christ, ye look so needy, ye're giving me nae choice but to take ye right here ...like a wild beast."

"Oh, shoosh, Jamie. Quit talking about it now. You want it just as bad." She began to undo his belt buckle, nipping at his neck as she yanked and shoved. When he was finally freed, he nearly fainted at the relief of no longer being restrained to his jeans. The relief was fleeting, though, when her smooth hands encircled his throbbing cock, her tight grip moving up and down, twisting at the base, preparing him when the only thing he needed was to be inside her. Ah, Christ, but it feels so good. Far too good ...

He couldn't take it anymore. He knew he wouldn't last long. "Enough!" he gritted.

She gave him a look like he'd just taken her favourite toy. She unhooked her bra in retaliation and pushed her breasts up like an offering. His breath caught in his throat, stunned by the vision, her eyes, a translucent gold gleaming with arousal, beckoning him to take his fill.

He parted her legs and fisted his cock before rubbing its tip at her entrance. "I've missed ye so much. I might not last long, but I want this to be good for ye," he whispered hoarsely. "I may be a bit rough," He dipped his head, forcing her back to arch like a bow as he bestowed kisses on her breasts. "Are ye alright with that?"

She nodded, feeling her shudder with anticipation and need.

"Is that what ye want?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Take me however you want."

He whipped off his top and lowered his hand to her buttock, coasting his palm over the firm, rounded flesh and squeezing it tight. "Wrap yer legs around me."

Claire's legs wrapped around his middle and her arms around his neck. Her thighs glid around his waist with such exquisite perfection that he had to bite the tender flesh on the side of her neck to stop from shouting. The friction of his cock sliding between her legs where he'd touched with his fingers was too much. Almost propelling him past his breaking point. Too impatient to take the time to savour, he gripped himself and pushed deep into her entrance.

Watching her teeth bite onto her bottom lip as if to stop a scream from escaping, he groaned out loud as he pushed inch by inch, his focus whittling down to Claire and the heat enveloping his cock. Everything ceased to exist. He pulled out slightly before thrusting again, their mutual moans resounding on the walls of the cottage.

He shifted closer, needing to feel and touch all of her as possible. Keeping their lips locked, he seized her hips and started to move to the ancient dance of mating. There were no words to express the rough, grinding pace of what he did to her. It only bloomed more intense when she began matching his moves, widening her thighs and rolling her hips like she couldn't get enough.

"Oh sweet Lord, ye feel too good," he muttered against her mouth, hips pounding furiously. "How did I stay away from this?"

She gripped the back of his neck. "I missed this too," she gasped. "Please don't stop."

"I'm not hurting ye, am I? Tell me if I'm too rough."

"No ...no, don't be gentle. I need you to take me hard."

A tide surged inside him, mounting and building like a storm. Jamie roughly raised her hips to reposition her, dragging her arse to the edge of the table, her sweet moans telling him she'd like that. Unable to think past how she wanted it harder, there was no easing down now. He could only yank her leg higher and demand she keep up, ramming into her rough and fast. Her sighs and breath came out like hot rushes of air, thighs squeezing around him and starting to tremble. When her internal walls clenched around his cock, it warned him of her imminent climax, making his balls drew up so tight they ached. He dragged her flush to his body and buried his face in her neck, grunting with every deep thrust and muttering her name while his own release clamoured in his belly.

"Jamie!" she screamed, convulsing against him. He immediately silenced her cries with a deep kiss, but she flung her head back and squirmed, tightening up where their bodies joined, pulsing and throbbing. "Oh my God."

He couldn't wait any longer. Hooking his arms under her legs, he pumped his hardness in jerky hauls, faster and faster until his visions blurred. The whimpering noises she made launched him higher, signalling his own peak, and he soared towards it, his climax made more intense from the knowledge that it was Claire who got him there. He thrust into her one final time and thrust deep, growling her name into her hair and squashing her to his chest as he'd borne the full force of what they'd done.

"Oh, Christ, Sassenach."

Her hands ran up and down his back as she continued to take huge gulps of air. He knew he was crushing her, but he wasn't ready to let go. He wanted to remain buried inside her, holding her like this. With her heels digging into his arse and her arms around his neck. They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

He was about to say "none of her business" when Claire came up behind him, dressed back in her jeans and top. "Mrs Fitz, how are you? Is everything alright?"

Jamie stepped back and observed how Mrs Fitz's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. He figured instantly, his neighbour must have seen that kiss from Geneva earlier and that she'd probably thought the worse of him after hearing Claire's passionate screams. Right there and then, he decided, this time, he definitely needed to soundproof his home from eavesdropping neighbours.

"Ach, I saw light in yer windows," Mrs Fitz beamed, ignoring Jamie's glare. "Ye see, I've made too many pies and thought ye might like one. I remember ye enjoying this when ye stayed with yer friend over at my place this past Christmas."

"Oh, how lovely," Claire gushed, taking the plate from Mrs Fitz. "Thank you so much. Just what Jamie and I need right now ..." She blushed profusely, contemplating her words. "...after a long day."

Mrs Fitz clapped her hands. "I thought that!"

Seeing how thrilled Claire was looking at the desert, Jamie tamped down the urge to say something sarcastic and just scowled at her.

Mrs Fitz must have read his thoughts as this time it was her turn to crimson, a probable sign of her guilt for being nosey. Suddenly at a loss for words, she rubbed her palms at her sides. "Weel, ye both enjoy it. I must get going as it's rather late. Good night, both of ye." With that, she whirled around and disappeared into the night.

He shut the door and sighed, and followed Claire to the kitchen.

"Lovely lady," Claire remarked, sniffing the pie before placing it on the counter.

He turned her around and kissed her slowly, groaning when she opened her mouth for him without hesitation. "Ye're lovelier," he said against her lips. "But I'm not done with ye yet."

She grinned. "Pie first?"

Realising he'd never be able to compete with Mrs Fitz's homemade pie, he laughed out loud. "Absolutely ...why not?"

Dear Readers,

Well, here you go, their reunion! I hope you've enjoyed this lust-filled chapter. I must admit, though, when I was editing the sex part, I deliberately drank Bloody Mary to lose a bit of inhibition and make the scene a bit grittier. I hope it worked, but if it's too dirty for you, I say tough! 😆 Just kidding!

Anyway, thank you for commenting and showing your appreciation for my writing and your well wishes. I don't always reply back but be assured, your feedback is very much appreciated and anticipated.

And before I forget, it's not long now before this arc finishes. There will be an arc three, and I will let you know more on my next update.

Signing off now and wishing you a fabulous weekend. Stay safe and always take care! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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old-childhood-drama · 3 years

Text

Taylor Swift and Joe Jonas Masterpost (Toe/Jaylor)

Before dating (May 2008)

We start with the Taylor lookalike

In May 2008 the Jonas Brothers are filming their music video for Burnin’ Up [x]. Joe’s love interest in it is played by a blonde girl who looks quite a bit (and she’s also styled) like Taylor Swift, for reference, this is the music video that has Selena Gomez as Nick Jonas’ love interest.

As far as we know they hadn’t even met so we don’t know exactly what this was supposed to mean, maybe Joe had a crush on Taylor or maybe it’s a coincidence.

We do know that Nick and Selena were dating when this was filmed and that by the time the MV was released (July 4th, 2008) Joe and Taylor were officially dating.

Toe is alive! (July 2008 – September 2008)

On Tour

Fans claim to have seen Taylor around the tour in early July, which matches with Taylor’s lyrics in "Last Kiss".

Last Kiss. Taylor Swift.

I do recall now the smell of the rain

Fresh on the pavement, I ran off the plane

That July 9th, the beat of your heart

It jumps through your shirt

On July 14th, Taylor and The Jonas Brothers perform “Should’ve Said No”[x] from her debut album, and this performance now forever exists in their 3D movie (a classic), a cute fact is that some fans have said that Taylor tripped when she first came out, so they had to repeat it for the movie.

On July 20th Joe flies to Wyoming to watch Taylor opening up for Rascal Flatts, and they flew back and she was spotted at the Omaha show.

She’s seen in a couple shows more and she joins the stage again for their Madison Square Garden shows in August [x]. They sing “Even now just looking at you feels wrong”.

They’re together but they’re not together.

For more context, we must remember that Taylor was a very new artist from a small label and The Jonas were pretty much at their peak and Disney’s biggest act, and they were managed like crazy and could never even think about being seen with someone in a romantic way. Any rumors were denied so fast, and Disney did the absolute most to keep it secret. So according to everyone they were just good friends, at the time both Taylor and Selena were annoyed by all the secrecy.

Now back to the timeline:

Taylor is backstage of the tour A LOT for the next couple of weeks right next to the other not-girlfriends Selena and Danielle.

She films a cameo for the “Love Is on Its Way” [x] video for the concert in New York. She was said to be only interested in hanging out with Joe and they were seen hugging *gasp* I know it doesn’t seem like much now but back then this was the hottest gossip and again the Jonas were not supposed to breathe near any human of the opposite gender.

Taylor and the Jonas were staying at the same hotel a bunch of rumors ensued, but I will not talk about the whole Olympics and Toe locking themselves in a room at midnight thing. If it’s real, we really needed to touch some grass and stop staying outside of people's rooms all night.

On August 17th Joe goes to Ryan Seacrest's show and denied that Taylor is his girlfriend in the best way a corporation like Disney can train you to deny something that’s true. Saying Taylor is “a great girl and I think anybody would be lucky to date her. I think anybody would love to go on a date with her.”

And Taylor tells People Magazine “He’s an amazing guy and anybody would be lucky to be dating him” Cinematic parallels.

Taylor is spotted in the back (in a mirror) of one of the Jonas youtube videos [x]. Basically, we all knew they were together.

The Central Park date (August 28th)

Now if you were a fan of either the Jonas Brothers, Selena, or Taylor you know this next part and it the iconic triple date of Central Park.

Again, this is kind of famous at this point and Selena has been quoted saying how awful it was because the boys were not allowed to be seen with them so they all went to Central Park (Selena’s first time in Central Park) and Taylor and Selena walked about 20 feet of distance from the guys so nobody would think they were together but we all already knew because it wasn’t like they were that good at hiding it and there are pictures of them together that night (the clownery of it all).

These backstage tour adventures are the reason Taylor and Selena are friends today and in Selena’s own words the best thing to come out of those relationships.

VMAs (September 2008)

With how many pictures of them together that night [x] [x] [x] exist you would think they had gone together as a couple but no just two besties! The 2008 VMAs are so the show where Russell Brand mocks the Jonas Brothers and their purity rings and Taylor publicly defends them.

Toe seems happy for the rest of September but as we know now the end is near.

The Break-Up (October 2008)

Social Media was different back then and Taylor did what every teen girl with a broken heart did in 2008 and she went to myspace with an edited post to make a statement about the Toe current situation.

Post-Breakup

The 27 seconds Joe Jonas will regret for the rest of his life.

Taylor went on Ellen and I don’t even think I need to say much this interview is THAT iconic she sat on that couch and told the world exactly how Joe had broken her heart in the following two quotes:

“There’s one that’s about that guy, but…that guy’s not in my life anymore unfortunately. That guy…that’s an ouch.”

“I’m not even gonna be able to remember the boy who broke up with me over the phone in 25 seconds when I was 18…it was like 27 seconds, that’s got to be a record.” [x]

She also went on Ryan Seacrest’s and when asked about the perfect guy she saw an opportunity and took it, saying “I used to always say sense of humor, but I think that it’s important to have the same kind of sense of humor. I have a really dry, sarcastic sense of humor and if somebody doesn’t think that my sense of humor is funny, then that’s not something that is good. Um, so sometimes you know, that can be a wrong match. If they’re not allowed to go in public with me, that’s sort of an issue too.” [x]

Bonus the amazing youtube video Taylor posted with Joe’s Camp Rock doll and how he comes with his own phone to break up with other dolls [x]. Taylor eventually went full out and cited Camilla Belle (then girlfriend of Joe) as the reason for the breakup. And you know someone at Disney’s PR office wanted to die when this was going down.

So finally, Joe was forced to acknowledge the whole situation with a Myspace post:

"I never cheated on a girlfriend. It might make someone feel better to assume or imply I have been unfaithful, but it is simply not true. Maybe there were reasons for a breakup. Maybe the heart moved on. Perhaps feelings changed. I am truly saddened that anything would potentially cause you to think less of me. For those who have expressed concern over the "27 second” phone call. I called to discuss feelings with the other person. Those feelings were obviously not well received. I did not end the conversation. Someone else did. Phone calls can only last as long as the person on the other end of the line is willing to talk. “

Forever & Always

Now this song is known as THE Toe song and it was born out of the end of the relationship when she felt Joe was getting distant, but she couldn’t do anything to help it, it was made really late into the production of Fearless so she had to rush to finish it in time (so no other breakup songs are about Joe in the original album).

Forever & Always Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide Like a scared little boy I looked into your eyes Thought I knew you for a minute, now I’m not so sure

In the 2009 Grammy's Taylor and Miley (insert The Ex-Girlfriends Club Theory here) performed Fifteen (obviously not about Joe) and the Jonas were in the audience. I believe this is probably around the time Taylor writes Mr. Perfectly Fine and You All Over Me, which we know get to have thanks to Fearless (Taylor’s Version) 13 years later.

You All Over Me

The best and worst day of June

Was the one that I met you

With your hands in your pockets

And your 'don't you wish you had me' grin

But I did, so I smiled, and I melted like a child

Now every breath of air I breathe reminds me of then

Mr. Perfectly Fine

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

And I never got past what you put me through

But it's wonderful to see that it never phased you

In November of 2009, she also goes to SNL and mocks Joe in her monologue. "You might think I'd bring up Joe That guy who broke up with me on the phone But I'm not gonna mention him *rolls eyes* In my monologue [Spoken:]Hey Joe, I'm doing real well, tonight I'm hosting SNL [Sings:]But I'm not gonna brag about that In my monologue [x]"

To make things even more dramatic and very awkward The Jonas Brothers, Demi Lovato, and Taylor Swift spent NYE together watching the ball drop on TV and this was probably not how they wanted to start their years. [x] [x] [x] and a video [x]

Now let’s discussed some of the songs that came out at the time. The Jonas response to Forever & Always was Much Better. Nick described it as a song that was very personal to Joe and Joe went on to say that it was based on his very interesting year. They also at some point wanted to pretend the song was about their love for their fans but come on. Joe also changed the lyrics from ‘superstar’ to ‘country star’ and later changed it to ‘movie stars’ when he broke up with Camilla who is the ‘Much Better’ girl from the song.

Much Better - Jonas Brothers

I get a rep for breakin’ hearts

Now I’m done with superstars

And all the tears on her guitar

I’m not bitter

But now I see

Everything I’d ever need

Is the girl in front of me

She’s much better

Taylor’s iconic response in Better Than Revenge seems to be more of an attack on Camilla. She’s spoken about her regret for this song since then and hasn’t played it in years and Camilla seems to be ok we never forgiving her for it [x] [x]. Regardless this song remains a staple of the genre ‘Feminism OFF, Bops ON’.

“I was 18 when I wrote [“Better Than Revenge.”] That’s the age you are when you think someone can actually take your boyfriend. Then you grow up and realize no one can take someone from you if they don’t want to leave”. - Taylor 2014.

Better Than Revenge - Taylor Swift

Let's hear the applause (Come on, come on)

Come on, show me how much better you are

(So much better, yeah?)

See you deserve some applause

'Cause you're so much better

She also released "Last Kiss" about the nicer part of their relationship, and some believe other songs such as If This Was a Movie, Haunted (Speak Now) and Jump Then Fall (Fearless) are about Joe. From the Jonas, the other song believed to be about Taylor is Paranoid (Lines, Vines and Trying Times).

Jump Then Fall

Well, I like the way your hair falls in your face

You got the keys to me

I love each freckle on your face, oh

I've never been so wrapped up, honey

Probably a song was written about and in the early days of their romance and the long hair freckles [x] thing definitely fits 2008 Joe.

If This Was a Movie

Baby, what about the ending?

Oh, I thought you'd be here by now

Thought you'd be here by now

According to some this song is a sister song to "Last Kiss" in the same album and that is confirmed to be about Joe.

Haunted

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

Won't finish what you started

This song would be a sister to Forever & Always since Taylor described both to be about a relationship that was fading in the end and that she was confused as to how they got there in the first place.

"‘Haunted’ is about the moment that you realize the person you’re in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don’t know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it’s fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you’re realizing that he’s kind of falling out of love. That’s a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through because the whole time you’re trying to tell yourself it’s not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night writing this song about it.” Taylor

Friendlier days are coming (2010- )

I guess time can heal a lot of wounds and Toe is seen hugging and on friendly terms at the Clive Davis party on January 31st of 2010 [x].

The world was so shocked when we realized that Joe went to see her perform in a couple of her shows in September 2011 [x] [x], and in here Holy Ground is born about her new evaluation of their former relationship rather than the bitterness of the breakup. The lyrics' secret message is “when you came to the show in SD” and the potential parallel to "Last Kiss".

Holy Ground - Taylor Swift

We blocked the noise with the sound of ‘I need you’

And for the first time I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story’s got dust on every page

But sometimes I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd…

… Tonight, I'm gonna dance

For all that we've been through

But I don't wanna dance

If I'm not dancing with you

Last Kiss - Taylor Swift

I do remember the swing of your step

The life of the party, you’re showing off again

And I roll my eyes and then

You pull me in

I’m not much for dancing

But for you I did

They're seen talking in the MTV's EMA's 2012 [x].

From here they seem to be friendly and in May of 2015 after the Billboards. They even go on a double date later that year with Gigi Hadid, Calvin Harris, and Karlie Kloss (this picture feels so cursed). Nick and Joe get invited to Taylor’s 4th of July party and they seem somewhat distant after his split from Gigi.

Present (2020- )

In 2020, we got the amazing surprise of folklore with the song ‘Invisible String’ that makes a reference to Taylor’s past songs about exes being harsh and how she sent Joe and his wife Sophie Turner a present for their baby girl’s birth. In 2021, she has now released the re-recordings of Fearless and we are all reliving the drama and enjoying the chaos of Taylor’s and Sophie’s friendship not letting Joe know peace for those 27 seconds over a decade ago.

Invisible String

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

For the boys who broke my heart

Now I send their babies presents

#Taylor Swift #fearless #fearless (taylor's version)#forever & always #mr perfectly fine #you all over me #last kiss #toe #jaylor #joe jonas #jonas brothers #folklore #invisible string #paranoid #much better #lines #vines and trying times #better than revenge

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heavenlyhaechan · 3 years

Text

A Fateful Delay

Pairing: Jaehyun x Gn!Reader

Genre: friends to strangers to lovers au, fluff,

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, lots of dialogue

Rating: PG-13?

Note: Happy birthday nct aquarius boy 5/5! Forewarning I am an amateur tarot reader, so if it’s not entirely accurate *shrugs* Heavily inspired by Jaehyun’s I like me better cover video. (p.s. you’re a real one if you recognize the book quotes.)

Gate 26, gate 26, gate 26, you repeated in your head, not confident that your half awake mind wouldn’t forget. Heathrow airport was still quite empty at this hour, with only a few other stragglers hanging about. 6:00 am wasn’t exactly the most desirable time for a flight after all.

Here it is, you sighed in relief when you saw a crowd still waiting to board the early flight. You looked down to check that you had your boarding pass before looking up and suddenly being transported back to an older time.

“Jaehyun,” you said it without thinking, prompting him to look up from his phone and make eye contact with you. Recognition flashed across his face almost immediately, along with something else you couldn't quite place.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you reached him, setting your backpack down on the bench beside him.

“I’ve been studying here,” he said. “What about you?”

“Just traveling. I’ve been in Europe for,” you paused to count in your head. “A little over two months now.”

“Alone?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

He whistled. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure.”

You lapsed into silence, your mind still reeling with the fact that you had run into Jaehyun here of all places. And as coincidences like this didn’t happen very often, you quickly resigned yourself to the fact that you would probably never see him again.

Except…

“Flight 2491 from London Heathrow to Incheon International Airport has been delayed 18 hours,” a nasally voice announced over the speaker. Groans erupted all around you as they continued. “Boarding will commence at 12:00 am. If you have any questions or wish to board another flight please come to the front desk. Thank you and have a good day.”

Jaehyun sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

“Good thing I checked my bag,” he said as though he was trying to find a glimpse of good in the situation. You nodded emphatically.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You know what I need now?”

“What?”

“Coffee.”

——

Once you’d left the airport the two of you entered the first cafe you could find. Unlike Heathrow, this was it’s busiest time of the day. You looked around as you waited, observing the artwork and the office workers that came and went without a second glace in your direction. They must be used to tourists.

“Does this place have a bookstore?” you asked as you peered past the espresso machines. You repeated your question to the barista when you reached the front of the line, and learned that yes, there was a bookstore just down the hall.

“Lets go,” you said once you’d ordered.

“Now?”

“When else?”

“You go,” he said. “I’ll wait for our coffee.”

——

The bookstore was even quieter than the airport, with not a soul to be seen but your own. You ran your finger along the bookcases as you explored, the rough texture and musty scent of the books making you feel at home. Jaehyun found you sitting on the carpeted floor in the aisle between two bookcases, a stack of hardcovers next to you.

“Watcha doing?” he asked as he handed you your coffee and sat down next to you.

“Let me read you some of my favorite lines,” you said in place of an answer.

“Didn’t we read that in high school?” Jaehyun asked as you picked The Sun Also Rises from the top of the pile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Junior year.”

Eventually you found the page you were looking for and read the line: “I can’t stand it to think my life is going so fast and I’m not really living it.”

“Damn,” he sighed.

You nodded. “That’s why I decided to come here. To Europe I mean.”

You picked up the next book.

“Okay here’s another one. ‘Brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you go on even though you’re scared.’”

“How are you finding these so fast?” Jaehyun asked, dimples appearing on his cheeks as he smiled.

“I’ve probably read them too many times,” you laughed along with him, ripping your eyes away from the ever endearing marks.

A minute later: “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

“Ouch.”

You laughed again, and he forced himself to smile with you.

“Okay last one. ‘That’s what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway. Don’t you believe in true love?’”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Believe in true love.”

“Yeah, don’t you?”

He sipped his coffee as he considered the question.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I just don’t think I’ll ever find it.”

You were taken aback by that. Jung Jaehyun had always been one of the most desirable people you knew, and from what you could tell the last six years had done nothing but make him even more so. But maybe that wasn’t what mattered.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Jaehyun interrupted your thoughts.

“What? Love?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean yeah I guess so, but isn’t true love worth the fear?”

Jaehyun smiled again at that, nodding quietly as his gaze moved to focus on the floor between you. You weren’t sure if the nod meant yes, but it brought an end to the conversation anyway.

——

As the morning turned into midday the two of you found yourselves in a quieter part of town. The sky had begun to darken as you walked and it casted a looming shadow over the street, filling you with a strange sense of foreboding.

Soon enough raindrops began to fall, creating dark spots on the concrete beneath your feet. You ducked into the first shop you could find for shelter, not paying any attention to the signs posted outside. Thus you were surprised to see the crystal balls, tarot decks, and palm reading books laid out on the tables inside.

Incense filled the air, and midnight blue and royal purple drapes were hung along the walls, highlighted by shimmering golds and silvers. A woman stood at the counter wearing colors to match. Other than her the store was empty, which didn’t surprise you considering the fact that it was late morning on a Monday in February. Not exactly the height of tourist season.

“Welcome,” the woman said, her voice soft and silvery. “Are you looking for something in particular today?”

“Uh, no,” you looked back at Jaehyun.

“We were just escaping the rain,” he finished for you.

“Well then, perhaps you’d be interested in a reading?”

You felt bad for seeking refuge from the rain but not buying anything, so you agreed. You followed her to the back of the shop with Jaehyun close on your heels. An embroidered curtain was pushed to the side to reveal a small table with a few chairs scattered around it.

“Please take a seat,” she said as she pulled a deck of tarot cards from a drawer in the table. You and Jaehyun sat next to each other on the side closest to the curtain, and she sat across from you.

“So, I want you to think of a question,” she said as she began to shuffle the cards. “It could be about anything really, but please make sure that it’s clear and specific.”

You played with your hands where they rested in your lap, feeling quite put on the spot.

“Take your time,” she smiled at you.

Your mind came up with and then discarded a million questions as the seconds ticked by, but eventually you settled on one.

“Our uh, flight was delayed this morning,” you explained. “Do you, or do the cards think that it was delayed for a reason?”

“Hmm,” she nodded in understanding. First she split the deck in three, then put it back together as a whole in no obvious order, before finally beginning to place the cards on the table.

“Let’s see,” she pondered, looking down at the cards she’d laid out. First she pointed to the world and high priestess cards, both reversed on the table before you.“It looks as though you lack closure, likely because of some feelings that you’ve repressed or kept hidden.” Next she pointed to the hermit and the ace of swords. “But you are searching for the truth, which will soon lead to a breakthrough that will provide you with clarity.”

Now she pointed to the page of wands. “You have been exploring recently, or maybe you still are.” Next to the knight of wands and the knight of cups. “You are fearless right now, and are ready to follow your heart. This will lead to new beginnings,” the fool, “dreams come true,” the ten of cups, “and a unique and deep partnership,” the lovers.

“Taking all of this into consideration, I’d say that yes, it did happen for a reason,” she finished. And although you weren’t one to believe in the superstitious, when she looked up at you with a twinkle in her eye you had a feeling she knew something that you didn’t.

——

Your stomach grumbled as you left the store, which made you realize that you hadn’t actually had a proper meal all day. You hadn’t had time on your way to the airport that morning, and coffee didn’t exactly count as food.

Like he could read your mind Jaehyun pointed out a fish and chips place nearby. It was lunchtime, so the place was bustling. Nevertheless you were quickly escorted to a booth made of dark wood with faux leather seats. It had been placed near a window looking out on the street you had just left behind.

Music played through speakers, battling the rowdy conversation of your fellow diners. Your still complaining stomach prompted you to order without much consideration, confident that you were hungry enough to enjoy whatever you were served.

“Do you believe everything she said back there?” Jaehyun asked as you waited for your food, his nail tracing a crack in the table.

“Yeah?” you phrased it as a question, watching as the group next to you was served. “I mean I wouldn’t usually, but a lot of what she said rang true.”

You lapsed into silence again, and you noticed a newfound awkwardness filling the space between you. An awkwardness that had nothing to do with the time that had passed since you’d last seen each other. You couldn’t stand the feeling, and so no matter how out of character it was for you, you felt that you needed to disrupt it somehow. So you said the thing that had been dancing around in the back of your mind since you’d first laid eyes on Jaehyun that morning.

“I liked you in high school you know.”

“Oh. You did.” He tilted his head, the look in his eyes hard to decipher. It wasn’t a question but you answered anyway.

“Yeah well I mean everyone probably liked you at some point, but,” you bit your tongue, already regretting your words.

“So you liked me because everyone else did?”

“No! I liked you a lot more than everyone else did.”

You only registered the teasing lilt in his voice after you’d finished blurting out the confession, and you felt your whole body go hot as the smile dropped from his face. The pause felt like it lasted for centuries because of your embarrassment.

“Why?” he asked eventually.

“Why what?”

“Did you like me.”

“Um,” you fiddled with your paper napkin to focus your thoughts. You second guessed yourself yet again. Were you really going to spill your guts to him now, here, after all this time?

Fuck it. When else?

“It always seemed to me like you didn’t care what anyone else thought of you, but not in a high and mighty way, you just minded your own business. Everyone either wanted to be you, or be with you in high school, but you didn’t let it affect you. It never got to your head, and you were always equally kind to everyone no matter what.”

Your eyes didn’t leave your hands the entire time you talked. Your fingers shredded your napkin methodically, too embarrassed to even imagine looking him in the eye ever again.

“Plus, you’re not bad to look at,” you said with your last ounce of confidence, before descending back into silence.

Luckily you didn’t need to say anything else, as just then your server arrived with your food. You dug in despite your now roiling nerves, still too scared to look up. If you had, you would have seen the fond look in Jaehyun’s eyes, and the way his dimples couldn’t seem to be tamed.

——

After lunch you walked across the Thames, but were eventually forced to make way for two small children zipping by on their scooters, their faces both full of pure and unadulterated joy. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them go by, remembering when things had been that simple for you too.

“Do you want kids?”

You don’t know why you’d asked. Maybe it was something about the way his eyes had sparkled when he’d moved for them to pass by, or the small smile that still graced his face almost a minute later.

“Me?” he laughed a little after he said it, knowing full well that he was the only person around for you to ask. “I…yeah.”

You nodded, not particularly inclined to say anything more, but he went on anyway.

“Sometimes I think about like, having a house with a big yard, and a dog, and some kids, and just all the people I love with me,” he trailed off. “I guess it sounds kinda cliche to say it out loud.”

“A little,” you chuckled lightheartedly even as your heart leaped in your chest. “But I know what you mean.”

——

Soon enough you stumbled upon a covered market set up along the river selling everything from clothes, to records, to furniture. You wandered into the clothes section while Jaehyun browsed the rows of records.

Eventually you found a mirror and started trying on the most ridiculous accessories you could find. Jaehyun found you adorned with a lime sunhat, sparkling ruby red glasses, and a fluffy green absinthe scarf.

“Why does that kind of work?” he chuckled as he looked you up and down.

“Complementary colors,” you said simply, trying to ignore the way his eyes surveyed your figure. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were serious. They took you in like you were a statue in a museum, something to treat delicately and with reverence.

“I had an idea,” he said as you began to shed your layers of color and ludicrous.

“What kind of idea?”

“I thought maybe we could pick something from all of this,” he waved his arms around, gesturing to the market around you, “and buy it for each other.”

“Like a secret santa?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Meet back here in say, twenty minutes?”

“Sure.”

You set off in opposite directions, not wanting to spy on each other’s search and spoil your own present. Twenty minutes later you met back up where you’d started, before quickly deciding that you needed to find somewhere to sit while you shared what you’d bought. You chose a loveseat in the middle of the furniture section, it’s surface made of navy blue linen.

“You first,” Jaehyun said once he’d made himself comfortable next to you.

“Okay but fair warning, this is kind of dumb,” you said before pulling a white mug from behind your back. On its surface was painted a singular peach hued letter J.

“I just had to,” you laughed, relief filling you at the look of amusement on his face as he took it in his hands. “You can use it when you get that house you were talking about.”

His smile softened at that, and he looked up at you with a genuine look of gratitude. “I love it. Seriously. Is it weird how much I love it?”

You laughed again, your cheeks aching with delight.

“Okay my turn,” Jaehyun turned serious again as he leaned down to carefully tuck the cup into his bag. When he straightened up he had a record in his hands. Taking it from him you saw that it was the self titled Hozier album from 2014.

“I remembered that it was your favorite album in high school so I uh, yeah,” he trailed of as you looked back up at him, your eyes as big and sparkling as the full moon.

“I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Yeah well, maybe I liked you a little bit in high school too.”

Your stomach dropped at his words and you forced yourself to swallow back your surprise.

“Really?” you managed to get out, desperately searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But when he nodded you found nothing but nerves at his years awaited confession.

——

Eventually the two of you found yourselves in a sprawling garden backed by a row of old Victorian houses. Wide walkways created borders between garden beds full of both familiar and unrecognizable plants, the air full of their sweet scent.

You split off to wander on your own for a while before meeting back up at a bench near the back of the garden. Jaehyun presented you with a one of spring’s first daffodils when you reached him, and you bit down on your bottom lip hard as he tucked it behind your ear.

“I bet a lot of people get married here,” he mused a while later, arms propped up on the back of the bench.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

The foolish part of you let your mind imagine yourself having a wedding here. As your eyes traced the slope of his nose you wondered who would be in attendance, what food would be served, what you would be wearing.

“Do you ever think about all the things that had to happen for us to run into each other this morning?” Jaehyun asked. “Like I never thought I’d ever see you again, and even if I did I thought it would be at a reunion or something.”

“And what if our flight hadn’t been delayed?” you considered. You knew what would’ve happened. You would have gotten on that plane without speaking another word to each other. Maybe a brief goodbye in Incheon, but that was certainly the very most. And then you would go your separate ways yet again, passing it off as an innocent coincidence.

“I’m glad it was,” he said as though, yet again, he could read your mind. Or maybe he was just thinking the same thing.

The sun was setting now and his face was lit up by its fiery glow. It turned his deep brown eyes gold and his cheeks rosy. His lips were parted the tiniest bit, like they were trying to grasp onto a word that he couldn’t quite remember.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Like you,” his jaw clenched as he paused, eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Like you could fall in love with me,” he finished finally.

“Maybe I already have.”

He ripped his eyes from the setting sun in favor of looking at you. The corners of his lips were down turned, and his eyes were set in shadow. You decided you liked them better this way, twin pools of warmth that you could fall into and stay in comfort forever.

“Would it be crazy if I kissed you right now?” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, your lungs not working quite the way they were supposed to. “But you should do it anyway.”

And so he leaned forward that left over inch, and your lips melded together like honey in the golden light of the sun as it sunk beneath the horizon.

——

As night fell upon the city you decided you needed something sweet to end your day. You ended up at a diner near the center of the city, with milkshakes and french fries set on the table between you. You dipped one into your shake and then huffed out a laugh as Jaehyun grimaced.

“It’s good!” you defended yourself. “At least try it before you judge me.”

“Fine.”

He reached forward and dipped a fry into his vanilla milkshake before popping it into his mouth. He considered carefully, eyes never once leaving yours.

“Okay I admit, it’s pretty good.”

You cried out victoriously before he’d even finished his sentence properly, pumping your fists in the air. It was Jaehyun’s turn to laugh now, the indent of his dimples enchanting you for the thousandth time that day.

“Do you think,” Jaehyun began, spinning the shiny silver spoon in his cup around in circles.

“Hm?”

“Are you…happy?”

You blinked. As an adult people would always ask you how your career was going, if you were married, or if you’d bought a house yet, as if life was some kind of grocery list where you had to check off each item in order for you to be complete. He was the first to ask if you were happy.

“I think so,” you leaned down and took another sip of your milkshake to give yourself a chance to think. “I’m not unhappy,” you decided after a moments thought.

“You know what makes me happy?” he asked next.

“What?”

“You.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. A thousand thoughts came to you, but none of them expressed quite what you were feeling. But maybe words weren’t what you needed right now.

You reached across the table, pushing your cups and fries out of the way until you could lean forward free of any obstructions. He met you halfway without you needing to do or say a thing.

This time he tasted sweet and salty, like adventure and familiarity all wrapped into one. Fireworks erupted behind your eyelids as you kissed, disrupting the calm darkness you usually found there. When you pulled away you became starkly aware of the countless eyes on you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only eyes you cared about were the chocolate ones looking straight into yours.

As you sat back down you noticed the flower that had fallen from behind your ear and on to the table top. Jaehyun noticed it at the same time as you, and carefully he reached forward to pick it up and twirl it between his fingers absentmindedly.

“One of the classes I took while I was here,” he started. “It was just for fun, an extra credit course you know. And at some point we talked about the language of the flowers.”

You watched the flower spin, a yellow blur under the diner’s fluorescent lights. It was mesmerizing, or maybe you were just tired.

“Do you know what the daffodil’s meaning is?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Unequalled love.”

——

You reached gate 26 for the second time that day with nearly half an hour left until midnight. Some of your fellow voyagers sat around in groups, some by themselves. Some lay across the airport benches like cats trying to enjoy their midday nap. There were tired eyes everywhere you looked.

You, on the other hand, felt more awake than you had all day. None of it had felt real, passing more like a dream than real life. You had been tempted to pinch yourself several times that day, and now you finally decided to submit to the urge. You pushed back the sleeve covering your left arm and gave the skin underneath a quick pinch, if only to confirm that you were indeed corporeal.

You sucked in a short breath at the small tinge of pain, but then smiled at the ground at the confirmation that everything that had happened today was in fact real, and not just a figment of your overactive imagination. Jaehyun looked over at you with curious eyes at the small sound. You shook your head at the unspoken question, preferring to not indulge exactly how surreal all of this felt.

“What’s your seat number,” you asked instead.

“Uhhh,” Jaehyun rummaged around in his bag for a second before pulling out his boarding pass. “32F. How about you?”

“32G.”

You stared at each other for a second before Jaehyun burst out laughing.

“You’re telling me that our seats were next to each other this whole time?”

“I think so,” you looked down at your boarding pass once more before joining in on Jaehyun’s disbelieving laughter.

“Well would you look at that,” Jaehyun said, pulling your right hand into his lap and squeezing it gently. “I guess this really was fate.”

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con-fection · 3 years

Text

ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | 6/13

word count: 3.4k

It's strangely easy to get used to James Moriarty. Adapting to his needs is a necessity, and yet, you find that you barely have to change at all.

You slip into his routine fairly quickly. Despite your initial panic, and the feeling that the whole place was a prison, you're able to push that behind you. It's easy to become the person he demands of you, solely because that person is yourself.

There's no way for you to discern what this whole plan is leading up to, but for now, you've managed to gather a few pieces of the puzzle. They don't quite form a whole, unbroken image yet, but you can understand what they're going to comprise.

There is something that Moriarty has that he's very, very proud of. He's going to unveil it to the world, and you've been assured that every single major criminal is going to scramble to get their hands on it. This thing, whatever it may be, has a great deal of power, apparently.

Initially, you'd been inclined to believe that it was some sort of weapon of mass destruction. Moriarty had told you that it had the potential to be one, and you believed him. He was a great many things, and not many of them good, but you didn't think he was a liar. Not to you, anyway.

However, the more he talked about it, the more you began to suspect that this prized weapon over the masses was actually a farce. It was absolutely the kind of thing he would delight in, tricking everybody into competing for his attention. He never explicitly said it, but you did have an inkling that his 'weapon' was more of a party trick that would lead to destruction but not actually cause any on its own.

The second aspect that you were sure of was that something was going to happen to some kids. The thought of it alone churned your stomach, and his words about innocence remained emblazoned on the back of your eyelids, haunting you whenever you close your eyes. Thankfully, you had persuaded Moriarty not to kill them, but rather just to hurt them. Which would probably be very traumatising, and it did make you wince just thinking about it, but at least the kids would be sent to therapy rather than the morgue.

And somehow, despite all of this - the kidnapping, the being forced into his plans - there was a part of you that remained thankful to him.

Moriarty was a monster, there was no denying that. He liked to hurt others for his entertainment, and he ran a criminal enterprise, consulting with the worst offenders on the planet.

But, he had saved you. By now, Sherlock Holmes would have found you in your hotel room and you would be awaiting trial.

This wasn't freedom, but it was more than you'd ever had.

"Cinderella," You hear Moriarty's lilting irish voice call out, down the hallway from your bedroom. It's still early, you think, and unless you'd overslept, then he was coming to fetch you rather early.

You'd already been awake, though you were lounging around rather than actually doing anything, already dressed in some of the fine clothes from the wardrobe, just waiting for breakfast or a summons from the consulting criminal, which were usually delivered by one of his henchmen.

The door swings open - it doesn't even make a click, and you're left to speculate whether it had even been locked at all.

Moriarty saunters in, grinning. It's a habit of his, to dress impeccably - for today, he's donned a navy blue suit, probably Westwood, which you've discovered he's rather fond of. "Today, we're having an exercise in trust."

You look at him confusedly, not quite understanding. "Like... team bonding?"

"Oh, precisely. Since we're a team, and all."

"We're only a team because -"

Moriarty cuts you off jovially. "Because I kidnapped you and you joined me against your will. Yada yada yada. Yes, let's move passed that. 'S hardly relevant. C'mon, Cinderella. We have places to be."

"We're leaving the house?" You immediately perk up, jumping up and stalking towards him, simultaneously excited and predatory. You're willing to pounce on and devour any opportunity for freedom.

"Yes, yes we are. To get to know each other better."

---

Standing before your house, reduced to rubble, was not your idea of 'team bonding'. Even then, calling yourselves a team was probably an exaggeration. He had all of the power, and you just had to tag along for the ride.

You hadn't really ever anticipated seeing it again in person.

The entire place was blackened and crumbling. It's an overly nice day, the kind where the sky is blue and it's warm, but there's a gentle cool breeze that keeps you grounded. The entire street looks lovely, thriving in the warm weather, but this house, your home, was now a blight on the street, a dark contrast to how happy the rest of the world seemed. Verona's car had been removed, probably even destroyed by now, and there had been some minor clean up done in the garden, with lots of the loose, fallen tiles from the roof having been gathered up.

There's obnoxiously yellow crime scene tape everywhere, cordoning off the house and some of the surrounding areas.

It was just the shell of what it had once been.

It was different, seeing it in person. On the TV, it hadn't even seemed real - it was just another thing for you to celebrate. The last time you were here, it was burning. This ashen, blackened, warped skeleton of your childhood home is a potent reminder of how far you've come, of what you've sacrificed for a freedom you're struggling to obtain.

Moriarty nudges you. There's some of his men on the street, standing tall and stoic - ever silent and ever watching, their presence is likely to prevent you from attempting an escape. He's since put on some sunglasses and keeps pivoting his head slightly to look between you and the charred remains of your childhood home.

"Well...?" He asks, questioningly.

"I really, really don't see how this is meant to build trust." You say, rather numbly. It had felt a lot better when the place was still ablaze. Now that the Archer family were dead and their presence removed from the house, it almost feels like a shame that it had to burn at all.

Almost. But not quite.

It's still a monument to your power, to your ability to maim and destroy. You don't feel half as distant when you remember their suffering, the way that the girls had bled out like pigs when you slit their throats and nearly hacked their heads off.

"Mmh, maybe not yet. I just wanted to see what you had done." Moriarty admits with a shrug. "Look at all you've accomplished, and think how much we could do together."

"I don't want to burn the whole world." You tell him, for the first time looking away from the ashes of the house and up at him. "I want to rule it."

Moriarty grins wildly. "That's the spirit, Cinderella. I can give you the world, you know. All the freedom you want. You just have to stand at my side."

"Isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

"Well yes, it is."

The birds are still singing, chirping happily to one another and diving in the air, flapping their wings. It's rather comforting to know that it hasn't changed - that the parts you like have remained intact, even as you'd rained hellfire down upon this place. There wasn't such birdsong in London, and you had missed it.

"Why me?" You have to ask - you've asked so many times and you can never be satisfied with the answer.

"Sherlock was interested in you. At first, you were in my way. And now?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "Now you're the way forward, Cinderella."

It feels like you've come to some sort of pivotal moment. Here, under the sun and staring at the house you had burnt down, Moriarty doesn't feel so much like a captor. Rather, you're beginning to feel that comradery, that stirring of companionship. The two of you weren't exactly alike, no. But you didn't have to be.

"I'm not sorry I did it." You say, staring at the rubble that you had reduced your childhood home to.

"No, I know." He shrugs. "It'd be awfully boring if you were. Remorse is a bit ordinary, don't you think?"

You don't bother answering his questions. Rather, you close your eyes, and let yourself listen to the soft chirps, hoots and calls from the songbirds darting through the trees. When you're not looking at how damaged the house is, it's easy for you to imagine the hazy days of your youth - watching the birds with your mother, running around the garden whilst your father chased you.

"I'd missed the music, though." You admit. "London doesn't have such pretty songbirds. I always enjoyed waking up to them."

Silently, Jim absorbs the information. He's content to look between you, basking gloriously in the sun, bathed in light, and the destruction you had inflicted on those who sought to subdue you. Both were beautiful sights.

You didn't want to be a mirror image of James Moriarty, and you never would. That wasn't what he wanted, either.

Despite the armed guards behind you, you do, for the first time, feel free.

This isn't a scrap of impure, tainted freedom like back at the hotel. This is the real thing - this is feeling weightless, untethered.

There had been a great many variations of Cinderella written. You had admired them all. Perhaps in this version, Cinderella wasn't the only twisted one. Maybe she burns the house down, but she finds kinship in the prince anyway. Perhaps Prince Charming throws his ball to find victims, rather than wives.

That would be a happily ever after that you could enjoy. There could be no need for lies when you were capable of understanding each other completely. Depravity was a universal craving, and one you knew well, whether it was driven by desperation or not.

---

Today is a very important day, or so you have been told.

This is the day when these fragments of plots come to fruition. Moriarty's men mill about the mansion faster than usual, talking to each other in hushed, rapid voices when they would normally be silent. It very much sets you on edge.

When you enter Moriarty's study that morning, he's sat at his desk and he's not dressed the way he normally is. There's no striking blue Westwood suit or something similar. He's dressed casually - he's even wearing a hat.

You can't quite mask your confusion.

"Launch day, Cinderella." He clicks his tongue at you chidingly, like he's disappointed, or as if you even had the opportunity to forget.

"Yeah, I know." You bite out, annoyed that he would presume it could slip your mind. "Just... what are you wearing?"

You much prefer his pretentious luxury suits to this - a boring, beige blazer and a black cap. It just doesn't look like him. It doesn't look like Moriarty. It looks like a random civilian man that would probably ask you for directions around London. It peturbs you that he doesn't look quite like himself.

Then, you're subsequently even more distressed by your own distress.

You've rather established that you've come to view Moriarty as more of a partner or mentor figure than as a captor. Here is the most free you've ever felt, and you owe your freedom to him. Naively, you hadn't planned post-murder, and by now, you would have been caught.

Moriarty has become almost familiar, and you don't like seeing that familiarity vanish.

"I'm a tourist!" He proclaims, gesturing to his outfit. "Aw, don't you like it?"

"Well, no." You say, rather flatly. "It doesn't look like you."

Moriarty creeps up from behind his desk, stalking over to tower over you and look down at you, his dark eyes staring at you intensely. "It's not forever, Cinderella. Just for one night."

"And you're presenting the thing to the world like this?" You ask dubiously, once more running your eyes over him and trying not to wince. It just doesn't sit right seeing him dressed as something he's not - seeing him downplay himself and disguise as a regular person.

"I'll be wearing a crown when they catch me, don't you worry."

Involuntarily, your eyes widen and you're suddenly grasping at his shirt and looking up into his eyes beseechingly, desperate for answers. "You're going to get caught?" You sound aghast, disbelieving and you feel like you've been wronged - like this is a betrayal.

Moriarty scoffs, but he doesn't pry you from his body. Rather, he simply lets you cling to him. "Not for long. Today, I'm going to get caught stealing the crown jewels."

Your jaw drops open and you fist your hands into his shirt even tighter, pulling so hard you're practically chest-to-chest with each other - with Moriarty staring down at you and you gazing up at him. "The crown jewels."

"Then Pentonville Prison, and the Bank of England, too." He says, grinning.

Really, Moriarty's power and influence shouldn't shock you. He's got loads of people here on strings, following his orders and doing his bidding. They scurry about the mansion in a frenzy, completely obedient to him.

"And you're... going to get caught?"

Moriarty brings one of his hands up to stroke just the top of your head, playing with your hair comfortingly. "Not for long. I'll be out of there before you know it. In the meantime, you'll have jobs to do. Is that okay, Cinderella? You'll play along, won't you?" He croons softly.

"I will." You don't feel half as reluctant as you should.

"Good." Moriarty says, proudly. "That's what matters. You're more than welcome to visit me in jail, though I doubt I'll be there for very long."

There's a knock at the door, and that's when you realise just how close you and he are. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt, he's stroking your hair - and he's so devastatingly close, and there's a pang in your stomach but it's not pain, it's pure feeling.

The loud knocking persists, and reluctantly, you step away, dropping your hands from his body and missing the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

"Come in, then." Moriarty calls out, looking darkly at the nameless employee of his that enters the study.

"Sir, it's time to go."

Moriarty casts you one last look, his dark eyes roaming over your body, seemingly trying to memorise you - like this moment is something he doesn't want to forget.

You've slotted into his life so well - you're a somewhat unwilling and ungrateful accomplice, but he still very much appreciates you despite that. He finds that, knowing he will be absent for potentially days at a time, he wants to emblazon the very image of you onto the back of his eyelids, so that you're always waiting for him in the darkness.

"Well, Cinderella. Until we meet again." He says, softly.

In the next instant, he's walking out, swiftly followed by his men, and you're left alone in his study, with more questions than answers.

---

There were a great, great many rooms in this mansion. Your time was often divided between your bedroom and Moriarty's study. But today, you were lounging around on some expensive white couch, watching TV intently.

You would constantly be changing news channels, waiting for the story to break. You had seen bits and pieces of dreary, repetitive soap operas, listened to fragments of sports shows, and even made your way through half a nature documentary before anything happened.

You would bite at your lip nervously, fiddle with your hands and pull on your hair. You were nervous, frighteningly so. Naturally, there were a few expected concerns flitting around your mind, like what happens to you if Moriarty actually does go to prison, or what would happen if something goes wrong, or what if he turns you in.

But, there are a few that you hadn't anticipated. There's a twisting, nauseating feeling in your stomach. It's like there's some terrible beast writhing around in your gut, eviscerating any organs it comes into contact with and leaving you a whimpering, anxious mess.

You are worried for him.

And you're not just worried about what may happen to you - you're actually concerned for him. As much as Moriarty may be a murderer and a criminal, you're those things too, and he's the only person that you have to depend on.

There is nobody else in your life. Nobody but him.

Your parents are long since dead and buried, and the three members of your step-family slain by your own hands. You had come to London alone, friendless and without a plan. He had been the one to secure your freedom, to give you this.

And then, the news channels all practically explode.

" - there has been a break in at the Bank of England. Reportedly, the vault has opened, though how much, or if anything has been stolen remains unknown to us at this time."

Hastily, you turn the channel over, constantly darting between news sources, hoping for any new information. All of their voices are blaring, and blurring together, but they're not saying what you want them to.

"We can officially report that prisoners at the Pentonville Prison have been - "

And most importantly,

"Following a series of break-ins that include places such as the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison, it has been reported that the Tower of London has been breached, and the Crown Jewels were removed. A suspect has been taken into custody."

"...all broken into by the same man! James Moriarty."

There it is. The news lady finishes her spiel, and the screen flashes up a video. You can't tell whether it's live or not, but it's Moriarty, and he's being arrested, thrown into the back of a police vehicle with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"Oh my god," You breathe, and you have to remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. Moriarty always intended for this to happen.

It does, however, feel awfully perturbing to see him like that. It's like he's tumbled from his pedestal, and been stripped of everything that made him unique. It's pitiful, seeing him cuffed and arrested like he's some common criminal. There is absolutely nothing common about Moriarty, and you doubt there ever has been.

So, this was his weapon. The ability to enter the Bank of England, Pentonville Prison, the Tower of London and who knows where else. If these places were vulnerable to his influence, then surely anywhere was. And that was probably the point. He was showing off - it didn't matter to him whether he was arrested or not.

There was probably a contingency plan for that, too.

This was all meant to happen - this was all part of his design, and you just had to trust in it.

Trust. Wasn't that a funny thing. You frown as you mull it over - trusting in him was probably a dangerous move, but he was the only person you have to trust in, and he had saved you from a fate much worse than this. You would have to believe in him - that everything would work out just fine.

Never in recent years had you been in a position where you had to depend on another person. You had always been the one flitting about, clearing up the mess, taking the abuse and festering in your own anger.

You should be the one in handcuffs - you would have been by now. But you're not, you're here, and Moriarty is the one imprisoned. Perhaps it is time to fight tooth and nail for the freedom of somebody other than yourself.

He would get out. One way or another, Jim Moriarty would make sure that he got free. After all, the game hadn't ended yet, and there were still plans to be fulfilled.

His absence was tangible in the house. There wasn't really anybody else around for you to interact with - his men certainly didn't care to, and you were rather awkward when it came to the realm of social interaction.

All that was left to do was wait, and trust.

#Jim Moriarty #jim moriarty x reader #bbc sherlock

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quickspinner · 3 years

Text

Month of Miracles - Dressing Up Part 2

Find the prompt list here!

Marinette tapped her pencil on the small stack of sketches and sighed. She felt dissatisfied with them, but that was nothing new. She was dissatisfied with almost everything she made these days, so why should this be any different?

Her thoughts drifted back to Luka for the hundredth time. She was going to have to face him again. He was expecting her and she really did need to source some materials from the wardrobe he was offering.

She might be able to put it off a day, though, she mused. Maybe it would be better to give him some space, anyway. She had just rejected him, after all. That had to sting, no matter how chill he acted about it. Marinette would be doing him a favor, staying away for a day. She could go shopping and see what she could get in the way of basic materials first. That was a perfectly plausible excuse.

Coward, she thought sourly at herself, and sighed, dropping her head into her arms.

It would be easier if she didn’t like him so much. Marinette turned her head and looked at her phone where it lay on the table in its cheerful pink case. She could text him, but...would that be weird? People here didn’t seem to do that, they just...popped up. He’d told her just to show up whenever, but…

I don’t have his number, she realized suddenly. How funny was that? All the times they’d talked, and they’d never even traded numbers.

She wouldn’t even be able to text him when she went back to the city. The thought made her ache, but she pushed it aside. That was the kind of problem you could push off for later, she thought as she packed up her things. Not like making out with a guy you were probably never going to see again once the week was out. Which was a real, actual problem that should be avoided.

Right?

Marinette groaned, and grabbed Gina’s car keys, marching out of the door. She had a job to do, and surely she was still professional enough to manage that much.

She had herself mostly together by the time she pulled into the Couffaine farm. The yard wasn’t empty when she pulled in, to her mild surprise.

“Ahoy, Marinette!” Anarka called, waving at her, and Marinette, feeling she should be polite, got her kit out of the car and walked over to where Anarka was working. Ankara was unloading some small saplings from the back of a pickup truck that looked a lot like Luka’s, only about twenty years older. “For a moment there, I fergot it was you and not yer grandma pulling up,” Anarka chuckled as Marinette approached. “Here t’see Luka, I expect? He said ye were comin’ by.”

“Yes,” Marinette tried to smile, and hoped she didn’t blush too hard at Luka’s name. Yes, hi, I kissed your son this morning and broke his heart, so this isn’t awkward at all. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?

“He’s been working like a demon all day,” Anarka commented, lifting another tree down with a grunt. “He was drivin’ me crazy, bein’ so efficient, and I about bit his head off.” She glanced at Marinette, who tried hard not to look guilty. “Told him to make himself scarce for a bit. I think he went t’ take a shower, but he should be done by now.”

“Oh,” Marinette said lamely, trying very hard not to think of accidentally walking in on a freshly showered and not entirely dressed Luka. Maybe awkward small talk was for the best. “He, um. He said you were done for the year?”

“Aye, closed to the public fer the year,” Anarka smiled. “Though o’ course if there was anyone in town that needed anythin’ we’d open right back up. Nah, the public part of business is done for the year. Now it’s just all the work nobody sees.” She turned away from Marinette for a moment, walking over to the rail fence that separated the rows of trees. Marinette followed, unsure what else to do, her kit bumping against her knees as she carefully skirted the saplings.

“Never really thought I’d end up in a place like this,” Anarka said, leaning her elbows against the fence rails. “There’s a kinda poetry t’ it, though. Renewal. Rebirth. The old makin’ way for the young.” She winked at Marinette, and then went on. “I might not even be here by the time these trees are big enough t’ cut. Got a wandering foot, y’know, and it’ll take seven or eight years minimum for these to get the size where anyone would even consider cutting ‘em. Who’s to say I won’t be off to some new adventure by then? But they’ll still be here, growing, because I planted them. Endings, beginnings. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one apart from the other, aye?”

Marinette made a noise in reply automatically, but Anarka’s musings had put her thoughts on another track, and she barely heard the last bit.

Anarka eyed her sidelong for a moment, and then sighed and shoved herself off the fence, turning to smile at Marinette with her hand on her hips. “Out with it, lass, what’s on yer mind?”

Marinette blushed, snapping back to the present. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not,” Anarka shrugged. “Ye can still ask, though. If I don’t want to tell ye, I just won’t.”

Marinette shifted her weight and adjusted her grip on the handle of her kit, still uncomfortable, but...“Were you...disappointed?” she asked in a low voice. “When Luka gave up his career?”

Anarka laughed loud enough that it echoed back to them. “Nah, lass, I was proud . Luka was miserable, livin’ that life. It takes guts to admit that and come home, ‘specially when everyone around you is telling you how lucky ye are, having a talent and a chance like that. Like somehow you owe some cosmic debt and if ye don’t stick it out, yer wastin’ somethin’. Like success is a cookie cutter and ye have to slice away bits of yerself to make it fit.” She shook her head. “It’s not how I raised my kids. I taught them to take chances, and I taught them not to let fear make their decisions—and I also taught them that there’s no shame in what the world likes to call failure. There’s no shame in trying out the different shapes of success until you find one that fits, instead o’ tryin’ t’ force yerself into the one kind.”

Marinette blinked at her, surprised at the way her expression softened as she spoke.

Anarka was silent a moment and then sighed. “Still. You do your best to teach them, but you never know whether the lesson’s gonna stick. So when I think of the courage it took for Luka to walk away, to look so-called failure in the face and turn it into just another lesson learned, to find a way to believe that he’s still his father’s son even if he doesn’t follow in the old man’s footsteps—I’m so proud I could burst.” Marinette started slightly as Anarka suddenly stepped forward and put a surprisingly gentle hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Luka’s never needed to prove his talent to me, lass. He’s still finding his feet again, and that’s okay. When he’s ready, he’ll make success fit him instead of the other way around, I’ve no doubt of that.” She squeezed Marinette’s shoulder, and looked at Marinette for a long moment. Marinette swallowed nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Ankara let her hand drop and jerked her head towards the house. “Go on now, we’ve both got things to be doing. Go straight on in, he’ll be expecting you.” She turned back to her young trees, and Marinette, clearly dismissed, turned towards the house, butterflies surging back to life in her stomach. She was being stupid, she told herself. Luka had accepted her rejection gracefully, and tried so hard to make her comfortable. Marinette was sure she’d hurt his feelings if she suddenly got awkward about being around him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Marinette sneaked a glance back towards Anarka, and then despite what she had been told, she knocked as loudly as she could. She lingered on the doorstep as long as she dared (which wasn’t very long, knowing that Anarka could see her not going on in), and let herself into the house. She could hear guitar music even before she got the creaky old door open, and once inside, she followed it to the great room. Luka was perched on the same fragile-looking chair as before, with an acoustic in his hands this time. He looked up as she entered, and smiled, laying his hand flat against the strings. His hair was damp, and his t-shirt sticking to him a little bit. He couldn’t have been out of the shower long and Marinette was kind of glad she’d stopped to talk to Anarka.

Luka stood up and put the guitar in a stand, and Marinette realized she hadn’t even said hi, but it seemed too late now. “I was starting to think Mom was going to talk your ear off before you made it up here,” Luka teased gently as he straightened.

“Oh, we were just, um—” Marinette winced. “Talking.” She was so lame, ugh.

“I saw through the window,” Luka grinned. “Figured you’d get here when you were ready. The stuff’s all in the attic, so…” He gestured towards the stairs, and then reached for her kit. “Can I get that for you?”

Too flustered to object politely, Marinette let him take it, and then followed him. She should say something, she thought, but she couldn’t think of anything.

She sighed mournfully as they climbed the stairs. Part of her ached for what he was offering—but she was pretty sure that same part wouldn’t want to let him go, and that was just...and really, she was such a disaster, and he was amazing, and he deserved so much better than someone who was so mixed up and wishy-washy. Why did they have to meet like this? Would it have been different if they met before?

Except before, she was with Adrien, too dazzled and in love to even see anyone else, and Luka had been a rock star, surrounded by all the glamorous women he could possibly want, and she had never really stood out, as Audrey loved to remind her. She just didn’t have Adrien’s celebrity magnetism, nor Audrey’s force of personality, so she was always overlooked. It was no wonder that nobody ever really saw her until she came here.

“Well, here we are,” Luka’s voice broke into her thoughts. He was reaching up to grab a hanging cord.

Marinette shook her head and slapped her cheeks as Luka pulled the attic ladder down and ascended it. None of this was actually solving the problem at hand. She needed to keep her mind on the costumes. Marinette had sketched out some ideas at home, thinking she could probably get some sheets to use as a base, and then maybe she could source some of the less expensive things from Luka’s old wardrobe for embellishments on the fancier things like the angels, or for the snaps and things. There was a single big box store in town, actually; the selection would be limited but surely she could find some things there too. This project was ridiculously easy, when it came down to it. She had a plan that would work, and it was all simple sewing, stuff she could do in her sleep. No sweat.

So why were her hands shaking?

She lifted her hands and watched them tremble before her eyes. She felt her breath getting short.

She started when a large hand closed over both of hers. “Marinette.” She looked up, and Luka was there, framed against the light coming down from the attic. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too wide. “Just, hoping there will be some stuff I can use.”

Luka smiled. “It’ll be fine. Come on up.” He shifted his hold to just one of her hands and drew her up the narrow stairs after him.

He let go of her hand once she was up, and Marinette looked around in mild surprise. The attic was cleaner than she expected. Cluttered, like the rest of the house, and full of things in piles and stacked, sometimes draped in sheets, but she didn’t encounter the dust she had expected, and the small, high windows were clean and let in plenty of light. She wondered if they were just carting things in and out of here so often that they kept it clean, or if they used the space for more than storage. There was a clear path to where they needed to be, and she followed Luka across the creaking floor.

Marinette waited nervously as he whisked the protective sheets off two racks of clothes. Marinette had to blink as the light hit the clothes; there were metal accents and rhinestones and metallic fabrics everywhere, and she was unprepared for the amount of light they threw back in her eyes.

“There it is,” Luka sighed, folding his arms as he sat on a trunk a short distance away. “Every bedazzled scrap of it.”

She had to giggle a little at that. Luke Stone had certainly favored ostentation, though that was almost unavoidable when you played with Jagged Stone.

Still, they didn’t have to, she thought, as she walked up and began mechanically sliding looks along the rack to have a look. They could have played up his simplicity. They could have made him stand out by contrast, rather than by imitation. She wondered if they were deliberately setting up an implied rivalry between father and son with their choices, or if they just hadn’t thought a rock star could be simple. Costume design wasn’t exactly the same thing as fashion design, but there was enough overlap that—

Marinette brought her thoughts back to the present, and swallowed as she stepped back again, suddenly overwhelmed. She turned away and opened her kit slowly, taking out the stack of drawings she’d left on top, suddenly profoundly dissatisfied with them. Rose and the kids expected her to work magic with this stuff, and all she had was a pile of generic toga-style costumes.

Simple. Uninspired. Pedestrian.

Her gut began to churn.

Marinette glanced at Luka nervously, and then jerked her gaze quickly away, but of course he caught it.

“I don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly. “I can go back downstairs and you can just call me if you need help with anything.”

That was so far from her thoughts that it gave her pause. “You...don’t make me uncomfortable,” she said, and looked back at him with a sad smile. “You never have. You’ve been...really wonderful, Luka, now matter how weird things got. I am uncomfortable, but it’s not about you.” Taking a breath, Marinette stepped back to the rack and ran her fingers down the fabric in front of her in a practiced motion, taking in the composition and the drape almost without conscious thought.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luka asked quietly.

Marinette thought about that for a moment, and then turned back to the garments on the rack. “Not tonight.” She couldn’t afford to get worked up now, she had to figure something out. She...she had to do something, she couldn’t just…

“Okay.” Luka said simply, and Marinette swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. He was so understanding, but—what was she going to do? She couldn’t just drape the kids in sheets and call it a day, they deserved so much better than that. She had to figure something out, she had to—She put both hands in her hair and pulled it, trying to focus on the clothes in front of her, but her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut tight and held her breath, trying to keep it together.

Luka’s hands closed on her shoulders from behind, squeezing lightly, and Marinette turned to him in a rush, burying her face in his chest.

“Marinette, look at me,” he said, pushing her shoulders back gently and taking her face in his hands. “Just breathe, and look at me.”

Marinette stared up into his blue eyes, reflecting calm and assurance while all that fluttered in her chest was panic and self-doubt.

“Slow down,” he said emphatically. “It’s okay.”

“But I—” she began, and he shook his head.

“Marinette. There’s no failure here. Anything you put together will be better than moldy, moth-eaten rags. Without your help we’d all be frantically cutting armholes in pillowcases or something. No matter what you do, Rose will be ecstatic.” He smiled encouragingly at her. “These are the lowest possible stakes. You can’t screw up, so just have fun with it.”

Marinette turned her head out of his hands, looking at the designer, rock star wardrobe laid out for her to use. “But—”

Luka reached over and grabbed her fabric scissors out of her kit. He grabbed a shirt at random off the rack, and cut it in half in a ragged line. Marinette stared as he offered her the scissors back. “That’s how little I care about this stuff,” he grinned.

Marinette’s mouth closed abruptly and she glared at him, and would have snatched the scissors from them if they hadn’t been—well, scissors. Well-sharpened fabric scissors at that. Instead she took them with the appropriate amount of care even as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I might have needed that,” she told him, kicking his foot lightly.

“I have faith,” Luka grinned wider. “You’ll manage.”

She huffed and turned back to the garments, and looked at the second rack next to her. Luka backed away, leaning his elbows on an old dresser as he watched her.

Marinette studied the racks, and suddenly she pulled out her phone, swiping to the group photo she’d taken at the library today. She looked over the children there, at their dyed hair and punk haircuts and all-black outfits interspersed with riots of color, and began to smile a bit. “Okay,” she muttered, picking up a leather garment studded with rhinestones. “I guess this Christmas is about to get a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly.

Marinette barely noticed him, eyes lighting up as her mind began racing. She picked up the stack of designs she had done earlier and crumpled them absently in her hands. “I need my sketchbook,” she muttered.

“I’ll get it,” Luka said, shoving off the dresser and crossing the room. “Where?”

“I left it in my car. On the passenger seat, I think.”

Luka clattered down the stairs and out of the front door to grab Marinette’s sketchbook. Halfway back up the stairs he hesitated, and ducked into his room to grab his own notebook. Marinette practically snatched the book out of his hand, digging in her kit for her pencils, and Luka grinned, sitting back on the trunk again and resting his notebook on his knee.

He watched her, fascinated, as her focus narrowed to her task, and she began sketching, making notes and separating out items from the stacks of clothing he never thought he’d look at again. Luka began scribbling notes to himself as well, just...idle thoughts, the web of concepts and ideas that eventually came together to make a song, but he kept looking up to watch her, intrigued by her creative process. She muttered something to herself or tossed something aside with more vehemence than usual and he grinned.

Slowly, the attic transformed, suddenly strewn with gaudy clothes. Several distinct heaps were forming. Every once in a while Marinette would stop, and go back to her sketchbook, scratching in new details or ideas, or crossing something out with a sigh.

He jumped slightly, though, when she tossed the book aside with a little scream, and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s never going to hold up with that kind of weight, I’m so stupid —”

“Whoa,” Luka said, a little sharply than he’d meant to, putting his notebook aside and getting up quickly to go to her. “Hey, hey, hey, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“I just—I should have accounted for this, and I didn’t, and now I have to change it—”

“Okay, so change it,” Luka said, putting his hands on her shoulders again to make her look at him. Marinette looked at him like he had two heads, and he almost laughed at her. “Marinette, you’re an artist, not a machine. It’s okay to backtrack and change your mind.” He smiled at her, hoping he looked reassuring and not enchanted. “I know every artist is different and music isn’t the same as fashion, but for me…” he shrugged. “Success comes from a series of small failures. You try something, and it mostly works, but something isn’t quite right, so you make a change and try again. That’s not something to be ashamed of or upset about. If you’re that frustrated, we could take a break. Or if you want to rework it some and come back tomorrow, that’s fine too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute, her mouth working soundlessly. She looked down at the sketchbook in her hands, and then back up at him.

“Do you want to take a break?” Luka asked her.

“I...no,” she said. “It’s...it’s not that big of a deal, I’m pretty sure I can fix it if I...um—”

“Okay,” he said simply, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. He really wanted to hug her, to hold her tight and tell her how amazing he found her, how entranced he was watching her work, how alive she looked when she was creating, but—he couldn’t, so he squeezed her shoulders and then let his hands fall. “No need to explain it, I trust you.” He glanced down at the book, and then looked away. “Sorry, I’m not trying to peek, but that—that looks really badass.” He couldn’t help looking again, and, blushing, Marinette turned the book so he could see. His smile grew as he looked at it. “That’s amazing, Marinette, what are you worrying about? If it looks half this cool in real life we’re going to have to have someone standing by to give Rose oxygen.”

Marinette giggled, and looked back down at it herself. “You really think so?” she murmured, with a small smile that made his heart skip. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sweeter.

“I definitely think so,” Luka told her, backing away. He sat down on the floor this time, leaning back against the trunk. He groped behind him blindly for his notebook and nearly knocked it off the far side of the trunk.

Marinette gave a pleased hum, and then took a deep breath before her brows furrowed into her concentration face. Luka drew his knees up and leaned one elbow on them, smiling like the fool he was.

There were a few more frustrated groans, but no more spirals, and Luka kept quietly in his place even as piles of fabric grew around him. Finally she sat back and sighed. “I think that’s everything I’m going to need.”

“Cool.” Luka looked up from his notebook and smiled.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Marinette gasped, looking around as if she had only just now realized the chaos she had created. “I can help you clean it up—”

Luka cut her off with a laugh. “You’re welcome to,” he chuckled, “but there’s really no need. Clutter is a way of life around here. Trust me, the only reason they were so organized to begin with is because they were delivered that way.” His eyes fell to her sketchbook. “Can I see what you have in mind?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any more.

Marinette tensed up immediately, biting her lip. She looked at the book and then at Luka, and then she offered it to him.

Luka took it, though his eyes stayed on her, concerned and a little baffled by her hesitation when the one sketch he’d seen had been so cool. Marinette turned back to the pile of garments she had chosen, though, and so he let his eyes fall and began looking through the few pages of sketches she had made, careful not to go beyond even though he was aching to see more. A slow smile grew on his face as he looked, and he shook his head slightly. “The angels are still my favorite, but these are amazing, Marinette. You might want to get some earplugs because Rose is going to shatter glass when she sees these.” He grinned up at her. “I knew you could do it.”

She smiled faintly, but looked away. “They’re just pictures, though. I still have to actually execute the designs.”

“Hey,” Luka said, reaching a hand up towards her. Marinette blinked in surprise, but she slowly stepped forward and put her hand in his. He tugged gently, and she sank to her knees in front of him. “ Yeah, you might have to make some changes when you go to actually put it together, but that’s part of the process for everybody. Sometimes a song I thought was finished doesn’t work out right the first time I play it with the band, and I have to make some changes.” He hesitated, and then went on. “I don’t know what’s going on in there,” he poked her forehead gently. “And I’m not exactly up on fashion, but—” he gestured at the racks of clothes. “I have some experience too, and I gotta say…” he shook his head, and turned the sketchbook towards her. “You outclass anybody else I’ve worked with by far.”

Marinette blushed deeply. “They’re just costumes,” she murmured, tucking her hair back as she looked away.

“They could have been, but they’re not.” Luka offered her the book back. “Marinette.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you like them?”

Marinette looked back at the drawings, and bit her lip. Her face was growing red again. “Yes,” she finally admitted quietly.

Luka put his fingers under her chin and tipped her face back up. “Stop thinking so hard,” he said gently. “I know it’s easy to lose faith in yourself, but...you’re creating something, you have to find a way to tune all of that stuff out and just be in that moment. You can deal with the aftermath afterwards.” He grinned. “That’s what editing is for, right? Or so I’m told. I was never any good at it.”

Marinette smiled. “That’s why your music was so good. It was...raw, instinctive. Still polished, but deeply emotional. It’s why I always loved it.”

It was Luka’s turn to flame up red, and Marinette giggled.

“That wasn’t fair,” he huffed, pulling his knees up to hide his face in his arms for a moment.

Marinette laughed harder. “How many thousands of records sold and you blush at a little old compliment from a fan?” she teased.

Luka turned his face on his arms so that he was looking at her. “You’re not just any fan,” he said, and smiled at the pink returning to her cheeks. He sighed, raising his head, and letting his legs fall and cross beneath him again. “Don’t ever let anyone let you feel like you’re not special, Marinette.”

“It’s definitely not a problem when I’m with you,” she said, and then bit her lip, like it had slipped out without her intending it to.

“Good,” he grinned, and then decided he’d better move before he did something stupid. “So, show me what you need me to take down to the car for you, and we’ll just leave the rest of it like this until you’re done in case you need to come back for something.”

“Oh,” Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and she scrambled to her feet. “Right.”

She told him which piles of clothes she wanted to take, and Luka got some bags and gathered them up. Marinette made a token effort at tidying up, despite Luka having told her to leave it. She hung a few things back on the rack, and paused suddenly, hand hovering over a jacket still on the rack.

Marinette picked it up slowly, looking at it. The scent of leather and something like electronics hit her nose, and her eyes widened slightly. She felt around the bottom hem and found something hard and rectangular there. Another minute of searching, and the jacket lit up in her hands, the fiber optic lights sewn into the seam pulsing faintly.

Marinette laughed a little, and crossed over to the trunk Luka had been using as a chair all afternoon. She sat down and spread the jacket across her lap. She remembered this. He’d been wearing it at the show she’d gone to. They’d started with all the lights off and just Luka on stage, wearing this jacket and the pants that went with it, making him just an electric outline on the stage when the curtain went up.

Hard to reconcile that image with the guy from the tree farm, she thought affectionately. But then, he’d always had a reputation for being a sweetheart, good to his fans and generous with his time, so...maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

At least this contraption is well made, she thought, running a finger along one of the light tubes. It was still secure after all this time, and clearly in working order.

The lights began to flash and jump around, and Marinette giggled. It had started that right before Luke had swept his hand up and down in a dramatic power chord that had rattled her teeth. Once again it was hard to reconcile them in her mind. It was almost funny, now that she knew Luka, remembering those dramatics.

The light reflected back off something in the corner of her eye, and when she looked, she saw it was the metal coil of Luka’s notebook, half buried under a pile of clothes he had shoved out of the way. She picked the notebook up and smiled a little bit as she did so; the page was a mess, full of scratched out lines, and the writing went every which way in a complicated web. Was this how his mind worked? It was so different from her own process—

Jewels Diamonds in the sands of time Those are my memories with you And even if it’s only a precious few They’re the ones I’ll keep when everything else flows away

It made Marinette think of her first fashion show, when she’d been new and excited about the garments she was putting out there, excited and happy. That moment shone jewel-bright in her memory, despite all the drudgery that had followed it. That was she was working for, after all, another chance at that feeling. All of this frustration would be worth it if she could have another moment like that.

Marinette blinked back to reality and suddenly realized what she was doing. She slammed her eyes shut and turned the notebook over in her lap. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at that, she thought frantically, her heart suddenly beating triple time. This—this was private, just like her designs were, and she shouldn’t have—but she hadn’t meant to—

Luka’s heavy boots thunked on the stairs and Marinette jumped, dropping the notebook so that it landed on the floor splayed open with an inelegant smack . Marinette scrambled up and hurriedly grabbed it again. She hastily smoothed it out as Luka came the rest of the way up into the attic. “Oh, I think this one is yours,” she said, holding it out to him.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Luka said, curling it in half and sticking it in his back pocket. Marinette tried not to wince. “Anything else?” His eyes landed on the jacket in her hands. “Oh, I see you found the switch,” he chuckled.

“Will you put it on?” Marinette blurted, and Luka raised his eyebrows at her. “Please?” she smiled, hunching her shoulders slightly as she held it up.

Eyebrows still raised, Luka took it, and slipped it on. He grimaced slightly as he zipped it up. “Definitely doesn’t fit as comfortably as it used to,” he commented, tugging down on the hem. “Not too bad, though.”

“You probably build muscles in different places, hauling trees,” Marinette said absently, stepping forward to adjust the way it sat across his shoulders for a moment. “Not as uniform a workout as using a personal trainer. It gives you a more natural build.” She smiled a little as she smoothed the arms and stepped back.

“It still looks good on you,” she observed. “You were wearing this at the concert I went to. The first time I saw you live.”

Luka smiled ruefully. “Doesn’t exactly have the same effect in my attic, does it?”

“No,” Marinette smiled back. “It was a wonderful performance, though, and I guess I wasn’t expecting to be reminded of it just now.” She bit her lip and asked in a rush, “Were you...were you writing a song? Just now?” She gestured vaguely toward his pocket.

Luka looked a little taken aback, but not offended. “I was starting to,” he admitted. “I...really enjoy the time we spend together, and it was really nice, seeing a new side of you today. I guess I felt a little inspired, yeah.”

Marinette’s breath caught. “It was...about me?”

“About you and me, yeah,” he admitted. “Does that bother you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “No!” How could he think she’d be offended by such a thing? It was...it was amazing, that she’d inspired anything in him, when she was so—and—how she had felt, in that first fashion show, was he...was he saying he felt that way with her ? She shied away from the idea even as she thought it, it was so...so much, and she was so—she was—

Oh no. Luka was looking at her intently, a slight crease in his forehead. She tried to think of something to say, but her internal meltdown was too complete, and she just stared at him.

“You’re extraordinary, Marinette,” Luka said softly, and his expression was completely serious and not at all flirtatious. “Getting to see you work today was a privilege. I’m better for meeting you, even if my heart breaks when you’re gone. It’s...it’s a long way from being a song, but I meant it.”

“But I’m…”

Luka shook his head slightly, a smile softening his expression. “You’re what, Marinette? Tell me everything, I want to hear all of it.”

Marinette gaped. “You—you—how do you do that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “You’re sweet and kind and you have an amazing talent but you’re so laid back and grounded and—”

“And you are all of those things too,” Luka laughed. “Except maybe the laid back part.” He grinned, and Marinette made a face at him. “You kinda maybe worry too—”

Marinette had taken two large steps toward him. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled. Luka staggered, grabbing on to her shoulders as she dragged him down and kissed him.

He made a very undignified noise even as his arms were coming down to wrap around her. Marinette couldn’t hold the kiss very long; she hadn’t taken a good breath and her nose was smashed against his cheek, so she was forced to break it before Luka really even had a chance to respond.

Luka sucked in a breath, blinking at her. “Are you sure?” he blurted, and then looked like he wanted to kick himself. Marinette had to giggle, giddy with elation and adrenaline, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

“No,” she told him when she was able, and a little shiver of fear went up her spine before she stomped it down again. “But I’ve never met anybody like you and...anyway, you’re right. It’s stupid to be tearing myself up over it when I could just be kissing you instead.”

“Very logical,” he laughed, and Marinette kicked his shin lightly.

“Take off this ridiculous jacket,” she told him, tugging. “I can’t take you seriously in this thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly a lot fonder of it than I was a moment ago,” Luka grinned, putting his hands over hers on the lapels. His tone was teasing, but his thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and there was a light in his eyes that had her heart galloping all over again.

She slipped her hands away, and Luka fumbled at the hem until he found the switch, turned the lights off, and shrugged the jacket off, dropping it carelessly on the trunk beside them before reaching for her again.

They were still wrapped up in each other when Rose popped her head in the attic looking for them, and rattled the windows with her scream.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic

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obwjam · 3 years

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the tiniest jedi

okay folks, here we go... i’d like to introduce you all to my oc, Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al! she is five inches tall, 22 years old and the former padawan of good ol’ yoda. she was knighted so she could fight in the clone wars, and now she’s off to help command her first-ever battalion!

when i rewatched clone wars recently i basically took note of episodes where a tiny could fit into the plot (spoiler: there’s a lot lol) so this is part 1 of the first installment of me recreating the filoniverse into the obwjamverse

i hope y’all enjoy <3 love you all sm

the hidden enemy, part 1

>> part two

To say Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al was nervous would be a tremendous understatement.

It had taken a lot of convincing that bordered on begging to get the council to agree to this. Having Anakin vouch for her seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice it usually ended with Obi-Wan rubbing his eyes while the council fiercely debated the merits of Anakin’s argument.

Anakin was always sticking up for her. She was a few years older than he was, but more than anyone, he understood what it was like to have a tough life. They first met one day when he was a padawan, no more than 13 years old. Obi-Wan was sent off on a mission by himself to retrieve a holocron and a disgruntled Anakin went to Yoda to continue his training. He was far more advanced than the group of younglings he was with, but before he could complain too much, something -- no, someone -- caught his eye.

She was standing on a table at all of five inches tall, arms crossed in a dim corner of the room. The other younglings were practicing basic combat stances. She looked rather bored with it all. Anakin would have probably glossed right over her if it wasn’t for the tunic she was wearing.

“Master Yoda, who is that?” Anakin asked while the group was taking a break. She had now sat down, cross-legged, with her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed. He marveled at how her tiny silhouette almost blended in with the scenery entirely.

“My padawan, she is,” Yoda stated.

“Padawan?” Anakin was shocked. Obi-Wan never told him Yoda had a padawan.

Yoda hummed. “Surprised, you are, hmm?”

Anakin could only nod as Yoda trotted over to her. “Well, it’s… she’s…”

“Padawan Nor’al, ready, you are?” he asked quietly. Anakin gasped at how Yoda practically towered over this tiny person. She calmly opened her eyes and gave a single nod.

“Younglings, gather here,” Yoda called out to the group. He nodded to Anakin, who curiously followed. He heard a couple of the other younglings snicker in disbelief. “Demonstrate Form III, my padawan will. Close attention to footwork, you must pay.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as a training remote whirred to life. To a normal-sized person, practicing with a remote could sting if you didn’t know know what you were doing. But she was not a normal-sized person. That remote must look like a tank to her!

“Master Yoda--” Anakin started, but Yoda held his hand up.

“You may begin.”

What Anakin witnessed next may or may not have changed his life.

It was like she knew where the blasts were going before they were even fired. She was so quick that Anakin’s eyes could barely adjust to the blinding speed she seemed to be moving at. She firmly stood her ground as she deflected blast after blast, her eyes moving wildly as she deciphered the shooting pattern of the remote. She found her opening, charged forward, leaped up and sunk her lightsaber straight through the metal. The droid sputtered and sparked before falling to the table, lifeless. She hopped down and gave Yoda a small bow as if nothing had even happened.

“Thank you, padawan. Continue to practice, younglings. Much work to do, you have.”

Still in shock, the younglings picked up their sabers and began to practice, some yelping in surprise when the blasts stung at their legs. She had made it look so easy.

She was taking note of the younglings’ form when she paused to raise her eyebrow. Anakin was still standing there.

“Staring is rude,” she said shortly. Looking at her up close, Anakin could clearly see how she was nervously eyeing him.

“That was really cool,” he said, crouching down a bit so he didn’t loom too large.

She gave a small smirk. “Master Yoda is a good teacher.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Jayla... Jayla Nor’al,” she said, giving Anakin heavy side-eye. What does he want?

“My name’s Anakin. I’m Master Kenobi’s padawan.”

“Anakin Skywalker?” she asked incredulously. “What -- what are you doing here?”

“My master is on a mission and didn’t want to take me.”

She scoffed. “That’s silly. Padawans should always be with their masters to learn.”

“Tell that to Obi-Wan,” Anakin sighed. “Does Master Yoda take you on missions with him?”

Anakin’s lips pursed into a frown as she sat down, looking dejected. “Mostly, yeah. But sometimes I think he thinks I’m too… well… you know.”

“Too small.”

She gave him a surprised look. “Yeah.”

“A little ironic, coming from him.”

Jayla laughed. “You can’t say that!”

Anakin laughed back. “Sure I can.”

It was hard for Jayla to really grow close to anyone, no matter how hard she tried to befriend the others. Anakin knew exactly how that felt. The two were lonely, and they found each other. Their friendship only grew stronger as they got older -- Jayla helped Anakin learn to trust in the Force more and Anakin helped Jayla grow her confidence. Obi-Wan admired how well they complimented each other.

Yoda eventually began to take Jayla on more dangerous missions. Spending time with Anakin and Obi-Wan had diversified her skill set more than most padawans and, as the Jedi Council sensed the growing discourse between the light and the dark, Jayla and Anakin were both knighted so they could fight in the Clone War.

But everyone had underestimated the fierceness and enormity of the conflict.

It was evident from the beginning of her training that Jayla was fearless -- that she would not let her size stop her from doing anything. She was a fierce negotiator; a skilled fighter; she had a deep and powerful connection to the Force. And yet, her size was the very thing stopping the council from giving her any responsibilities outside of putting together training recordings, teaching younglings and spearheading negotiations.

“I can’t believe this,” Jayla groaned to Obi-Wan one rare quiet day on Coruscant. Anakin was off on a recon mission. Obi-Wan had duties to attend to, but he would always take a pause to talk with Jayla.

“If Master Yoda and the council feel this is for the best, then you need to listen.”

“I didn’t become a Jedi to play it safe. I just… I don’t understand why Yoda keeps babying me.”

“You’ve only recently become a Jedi knight,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You need to be patient.”

“Yeah, the council did that so I could fight in the war.” Jayla got up, pacing around the windowsill. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense! I’m trained in combat. I have useful skills. I’ve been out there before, Obi-Wan! Why spend my entire life telling me ‘size matters not, hmm’, then use it as a reason to hold me back?”

Obi-Wan frowned. He hated how her frame seemed to get swallowed up by the bustling backdrop of the Republic captial outside.

“Can I be honest?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. Jayla’s expression softened as she plopped down, resting her elbows on her knees and meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze a few feet from her.

“Always.”

“Well, I shouldn’t really tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know. The council has its reservations, but they mostly agree that you are more than capable of being a general. It’s… it’s the Chancellor who has persuaded them into keeping you here.”

“The Chancellor? Why would he care?”

“It’s my understanding that many in the senate feel it would be a sign of weakness if you were to command a battalion.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even the senate’s decision to make!” she cried.

“On military matters, it is. And until Chancellor Palpatine changes his mind, then I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Jayla tried to forget about that conversation every time she got upset. But as the conflict raged on and Republic forces took beating after beating on the Outer Rim worlds, Obi-Wan felt the situation was becoming dire. It was less about who had strength and more about who had the tactical advantage. The better strategy. The better intelligence.

Yoda too felt desperate. He was engulfed in the war and convinced that winning it was the only way to save the galaxy from certain doom. He heard the plight of his former padawan day after day, to the point where he began to question if his gut feeling was really right. He hadn’t been meditating as much lately. The Force always gave him the guidance he needed. Between Anakin, Obi-Wan and her own former master, the council was able to convince Palpatine that allowing her to lead stealth and recon missions was a perfectly reasonable starting point.

Since it was nearly impossible to plant a conventional spy into the droid army, Jalya and Anakin had conspired and came up with the idea of using her as a spy. Mace Windu was concerned about her being captured. Anakin argued that her life sign registered so faintly on scanners that capture wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Ki-Adi-Mundi feared she would get lost in the blur of so much violence. Obi-Wan said that all she needed was a wrist comm and someone to use as transportation and protection.

So after months of debating, planning, talking to Yoda and gear-building, the perfect situation had arisen. Today, it was finally going to happen.

And she… didn’t know how to feel.

She was accompanying Anakin and Obi-Wan on the Resolute to Christophsis, where the GAR was getting whalloped day after day. Most recently, a secret plan was thwarted before it had even gotten underway. It was obvious that the Separatists were somehow accessing Republic intelligence. And it was Jayla’s job to find out how.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

From the comfort and privacy of sleeping quarters, she was perched pensively on Anakin’s shoulder; which, in retrospect, was probably a bad place to be with the way she was fiddling with her hands and bouncing her leg.

“Don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” Jayla mumbled.

“I didn’t, actually, but thanks for confirming it for me.”

Jayla groaned. “I’m not nervous about going into the field.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“It’s…” she started, but couldn’t bring herself to admit. She was hoping Anakin could connect the dots.

“It’s… what? It’s the ship?” Anakin knew how much she hated flying.

“This isn’t my first Star Destroyer. It’s the starfighters that make me sick.”

“Okay, so it’s not the ship. Is it Obi-Wan?”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “Why would it be Obi-Wan?”

“Well, it took a little bit of convincing to get him to agree to this.”

“You mean a lot of convincing,” she sighed. “I can personally guarantee you that Obi-Wan is not making me nervous.”

“Well, Tiny, I’m at a loss--”

Anakin was cut off at the sound of his wrist comm beeping. She quickly grabbed onto a stray piece of his hair for support as he moved his arm up.

“Anakin, Jayla, come meet me at the bridge. Captain Rex will be arriving here shortly.”

“Copy that.” Anakin turned his head slightly to meet Jayla’s gaze, and the Force flashed in a brief moment of worry. Anakin furrowed his brows.

“You’re nervous about Rex?”

Jayla sucked in a deep breath. “No -- not particularly -- no. No, I’m not nervous about Rex.”

Anakin knew she was lying, but he wasn’t about to push it. After all, he didn’t want Obi-Wan lecturing him for being late. Again.

Jayla clung to Anakin’s robe as they made their way through the gray halls of the ship. Even from her perspective, the walls seemed suffocating, so Jayla kept her eyes trained on the ground, avoiding the gaze of every trooper that passed. The rigidness of clone armor was… off-putting.

As they approached the bridge doors, Jayla cautiously took a seat and closed her eyes. When all else failed, the Force was always there for her, guiding her and bringing her to a place where she felt at ease. Going into this mission with any apprehension would be fatal, and she knew it. The Force was pulling her toward the battlefield -- to Anakin, to Obi-Wan, to the citizens of the worlds they were helping to protect. The Jedi Order was her life, and that meant she was forever in service to the people of the galaxy that needed her. She was chosen by the will of the Force; bestowed this great power that so many lusted after. In the galaxy’s biggest conflict, she could finally start making a difference. She could finally be worthy of the gift she was given.

“There’s gonna be a lot of clones in there, you know.” Anakin’s tongue-in-cheek remark broke her from her meditation. “You could always turn back and let me and Obi-Wan handle this.”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “And let you have all the fun? I’m alright, Anakin, I promise.” She paused, took one glance up at her giant friend, and stood up. “I’m ready for this.”

Anakin smirked. “Well then, here we go.”

The vastness and buzzing energy of the bridge brought about a sensation that Jayla would never get tired of. There were clones on the lower levels punching buttons and pulling levers; there were clones standing around tables, going over strategy and making sure they were ready for the fight. Then there was Obi-Wan, standing in front of a star map and pretending to read it. His mind was occupied with other things.

Anakin nodded his head to Obi-Wan. “Master.”

“Ah, Anakin. And here I thought you’d show up late.”

“For Tiny’s first mission as a general? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is now really the best time to bring up nicknames?” Jayla groaned. It was times like these she was glad she was small; nobody could see her blush.

“I thought it’d help loosen the tension.”

“Sure you did.” She wasn’t going to admit it, but in his weird Skywalker way, it did help bring her back down to earth. This was her first mission as a military general. She outranked nearly everyone in the room. To the clones, that meant everything. Even if they didn’t want to listen to her… they had to.

It was then she noticed a tiny brown bag on the holotable below. Just poking out of the side was something that looked like armor.

Armor fit for a tiny.

She slid off Anakin’s shoulder and flipped down to the holotable. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin as she pulled out two shoulder pads, two wrist guards, a pair of black gloves and a torso pad. They fit perfectly.

“We couldn’t have you going out in the field unprepared,” Obi-Wan said as she practiced some stances in her new armor.

“Huh. You look like a tiny Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled.

“I thought we were done with the degrading comments,” you said smugly.

“Oh, very funny, you two. It’s a wonder the council took this long to allow you both to work together.”

Jayla was prepared for another quip when the main door slid open. Her eyes first fell on the wide shoulder wing, then to the Jaig eyes painted on his helmet. She had never seen clone armor quite like what Rex was wearing. She blinked and straightened her posture.

“Captain Rex. Nice of you to finally join us,” Anakin joked.

“Sorry sir. Needed to help Fives find his other blaster.”

“He lost it again?”

“...more like misplaced,” Rex clarified.

“Good to see your troops are on top of things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan quipped.

“Sorry sir,” Rex repeated. Jayla could sense… unease. “So, where’s the new general?”

Anakin’s lips curled into a smile. He had told Rex that the 501st was to be accompanied on this mission by a Jedi knight who was a master of stealth. When Rex asked who it was, Anakin refused to say. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“Rex, I’d like you to meet Jedi General Jayla Nor’al.”

Rex was glad he had kept his helmet on, because the look of confusion on his face would not have done him any more favors.

“Uh… sir?” Rex asked cautiously, trying his best not to sound too lost. Is this some kind of joke?

“You know, I think it’s helpful to scan the entire room before saying something.”

Rex’s stomach dropped. That voice… that voice was coming from the holotable. Ever so slowly, he tilted his head down. He tried to keep his body language as neutral as possible, but he had a sinking feeling that all three Jedi in the room could sense his surprise.

“Oh,” was all Rex could utter for a moment. It was like this Jedi had stepped right out of a holoprojector and onto the table in front of him. This has to be some kind of test. She’s only a few inches tall! She won’t survive five seconds out on the battlefield.

Anakin cleared his throat. Rex snapped back to attention.

“Right. Uh, sorry about that, sir,” Rex fumbled, giving this General Nor’al a nod of acknowledgment. “Nice… nice to meet you.”

Rex tensed up when Jayla ever so slightly rolled her eyes. He was surprised he could even see her do that.

“Likewise, Captain. General Skywalker has told me all about you.” She smiled softly when she sensed Rex’s heartbeat escalating. “All good things, of course.”

She turned to Obi-Wan and, without either of them saying a word, Obi-Wan placed his hand next to Jayla and she casually stepped on, using his thumb for support as she was lifted up from the holotable.

“You’re going to be offering General Nor’al support in the field,” Obi-Wan said, tapping the holotable to life. “We’ve drawn up a plan to get her to the chief tactical droid stationed here to extract information and battle strategy.”

“I think we can finally turn the tide if we can get ahead of the Seps like they seem to keep getting ahead of us,” Jayla added. “Once I get the information, I’ll need an extraction team to get me out of there quickly.” Without warning, her tone shifted from stern to somber. “The last thing I need is to be caught by those stupid battle droids.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a brief glance.

“I’ve got to finish some mission prep,” she said quickly. “When are we getting to Christophsis?”

“Should be there within the hour, sir,” Rex replied immediately.

“Great.” She tried to peer through Rex’s helmet, but unsurprisingly, she only had the downturned expression plastered on the front to work with. Rex was not expecting to see a five-inch-tall Jedi -- that much was obvious. Her worry lied more in the possibility that she was embarrassing him just by being here.

“I’m sure Anakin will become bored and come join us in, oh, five minutes or so,” Obi-Wan cut into her thoughts with a smug smile, throwing a glance to his friend as he walked out.

“For mission prep? You know me so well,” Anakin shot back with a smirk, turning back to the window.

Before Obi-Wan left the room, he turned to Rex, who was all but frozen to his spot.

“Do come and join us when you’re done here,” he said shortly. Rex could only nod.

Once the doors finally closed behind him, he stiffly made his way to Anakin’s side and took off his helmet.

“Rex…” Anakin sighed, already prepared for the conversation they were about to have.

“Sir, you know I mean no disrespect…” Rex paused to see if Anakin would say something witty to that. He didn’t. “...but I’m not sure how well my men are going to respond to taking orders from someone who can fit in the palm of their hand. Especially someone who hasn’t done this before.”

“Rex, she’s a Jedi knight, just like me. She wouldn’t have achieved that rank if she wasn’t fully capable.”

“I--I believe you, General. It’s just… well, they’re used to the way things work. We’re used to a Jedi leading us through battle.”

“And she can’t do that?”

“Well, it’s not like she can cut through clankers like you or General Kenobi.”

Anakin was prepared for this, but it still didn’t change the awkwardness of the conversation. He knew how fierce of a Jedi she was. Rex didn’t. He was hoping this mission could change things. He knew as well as anyone else that a warrior of her size would wreak havoc against the Separatists if used properly. Plus, he knew how painfully boring it was to be stuck inside the temple all the time. He wanted this to work for her.

“Her strengths lie in other areas. She doesn’t need to cut through droids like me and Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, putting his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Given the world she’s grown up in… the things she’s had to overcome… I’d say she’s the bravest out of all of us.”

Rex hummed and turned his gaze to the front of the ship. He never really grew tired of the swirling brilliant blue of hyperspace. He found himself wondering if it looked any different five inches off the ground.

“...I should go brief the men,” Rex said finally.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, pursing his lips. “You probably should.”

#g/t #writing yoda is so fucking funny to me i laugh every time i try and reverse engineer a sentence for him #can you believe this is the first oc i've ever posted to the internet #it's so intimidating but i rlly hope yall enjoy!#writing star wars is so daunting to me but #i have so many ideas for one shots and things #so expect more soon :)#star wars g/t #giant/tiny

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

Text

Fanfic recommendations part six: 100% Alternate Universe stories.

Hey! It took me a while to post this and I’m sorry, got too caught up with, well, you know, life (ew). But I’m back!

All the stories listed in this are stories are 100% AU (yes, I’m including the Soulmate AU’s in this category). I’ve read and enjoyed them all.

Accidentally In Love by the bohemian flow.

Rachel Hyde was a witness to a strange romance that blossomed between her twin brother, Steven, and Jackie Burkhart, of all people. Her and Steven weren't the biggest fans of Jackie, but now, he loves her. How could Rachel possibly put up with her brother's girlfriend?

AU where Hyde has a sister. Not 100% focused on J/H, since it’s from Hyde’s sister POV, but it’s still pretty good.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated constantly.

109k words, 28 chapters so far.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, OC/Kelso, OC/Eric, Eric/Donna.

A Different Start Could Lead to a Better End by SoftBubbles

Instead of Hyde meeting her as Kelso's annoying girlfriend, what if he met her as his annoying English partner, whom he quickly learns is more than she seems.

This story is not complete, it was last updated on July of 2020, and I pray for the author to come back to it one day, it’s a really good story.

Trigger warning for child abuse.

13k words, 14 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Bad Moon on the Rise by Badfanfic

Set around season 2. Jackie starts to develop feelings for Hyde, even though its the last thing she wants. Hyde is just trying to survive but is having difficulty controlling himself, especially around a certain cheerleader.

Hyde is a werewolf in this story. And THIS IS GOOD Y’ALL, I’ve read this like 10 times already.

Unfortunally, I think this story is abandoned, the last time the author updated was in June of 2020, but I still have hope, it’s really good and I’m DYING to read more. I absolutely adore stories with supernatural elements, and it’s so hard to find good ones in this fandom. Please read this.

13k words, 9 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Focus by Jenny7

After a metaphysical awakening, Hyde develops the ability to telepathically connect with a single stranger. What he doesn't expect is that the girl that he shares the connection with, a rich cheerleader with a complicated past, will forever alter his views on life and love.

SO GOOD. It’s complete and it has a sequel (that’s not complete but still worth the read), called Darlin, Walk Awhile With Me.

2k words, 19 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde.

History Rewritten by kezztip

What if Hyde got his Season 1 wish and stole Donna away from Eric? And then what if Eric had turned to a certain tiny cheerleader instead?

This story is complete, and if you have a soft spot for Eric/Jackie, than you might like this a lot.

81k words, 25 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/Eric, Hyde/Donna, Eric/Donna.

(I absolutely hate the Hyde and Donna pairing but it’s temporary so it’s okay).

Playing Pretend by isnotme

Caught up in her teenager concerns – and some wounds to heal, Jackie didn’t realize that her parents' marriage was crashing down for real, causing a major turnaround in her world.

In the edge of seventeen, Hyde had too much on his mind. With graduation coming so soon, he knew too well he was about to be kicked out of the Forman's home. But when Bud’s illegal activities came to knock on his door, Hyde saw his plans falling apart once again.

An AU where Jackie and Hyde get themselves in one of those fake relationship situation and somewhere along the way, they find somethings in commun. Highly inspired in every cliché Rom Com ever made, including Netflix's most recents TATBILB and Isi and Ossi.

This story is a WIP and it’s being updated often.

33k words, 13 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Pretty in Wisconsin by BelleBae

Jackie Burkhart has a lot to deal with. Her dad is in prison, her mum can't get it together and one of her best friends is in love with her. Will she be able to sort everything out by Prom? Inspired by Pretty In Pink.

Cute and complete.

20k words, 23 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Rock You Like a Hurricane by zeppelinandunicorns (yours truly)

Alternative universe where Donna met Jackie before meeting Eric and the rest of basement gang.

Jackie and Donna are 16 and 17 when they finally met the four basement misfits after a Fleetwood Mac concert.

This story is a WIP, and I do not plan on abandoning it, I love it too much to do that.

77k words, 15 chapters so far.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, background Red/Kitty and eventual Fez/Laurie and Kelso/Brooke.

Also Available on AO3

She Belongs to me series by QueenBookBuff

A universe where Kelso cared a lot more about Jackie and Hyde getting together and implications of a deeper background for both Jackie and Hyde and Kelso and Jackie.

This got me hooked, it’s really good, please read it.

It’s complete and there are sequels! They are called All Our Tomorrows

and The Scarlet and SJ Chronicles.

27k words, 7 works in total.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Summer Music Series by Wickedfetch

What if Hyde and Jackie didn't meet until 1985?

Complete.

7k words, 3 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

That 70s show by Zenmaster21

What if Jackie had dated Hyde from the beginning instead of Kelso? This is simply a re-write of the episodes had Jackie and Hyde always been together.

One of my favorites stories from the entire fandom.

Not complete, but please read it, it’s worth it.

Trigger warning for child abuse.

152k words, 37 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

The Fifth Forman by BlueZeppelin

What if it wasn't just Eric and Laurie? What if they had another sibling? Like...Jackie? What would happen with Hyde? Would Eric be happy with his sister dating his best friend? Would Red like his daughter to be with one of the basement dumbasses?

This story is complete!!

52k words, 18 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One Where Jackie Moves In by Floweerchild96

Jackie has been living in New-York with her family but after her father goes to jail and her mother abandons her, she is forced to return to a town she thought she was done with for good. How will Jackie's reemergence in the basement effect the gangs lives?

A really good story, but unfortunally, it’s not complete. Still worth the read.

103k words, 20 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna.

Wall Around Your Heart by ourinvisibleink

Jackie Burkhart-Forman was adopted at almost ten years old by Red and Kitty, after her parents flee the country for drug trafficking crimes. Laurie grapples with addiction, Eric is messed up because of Red’s verbal abuse, Steven’s arrival is brought on by Jackie, Kelso is neglected, Fez is victim to racism, and Jackie befriends Jason, the new kid who happens to be gay.

This story is really good, but it deals with some serious stuff. I still love it.

Complete and it has a sequel called Plastar and Mortar.

52k words, 26 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Fez/Laurie, Red/Kitty.

One-shots:

A Little Less 70s, A Little More Modern AU by fairytalesandfolklore

A modern AU where the characters from That 70’s Show grew up in the 90’s x early 2000’s instead.

Cute as hell!!! Worth the read!

1k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

found a wife and a home (and a family that matters) by blackorchids

Hyde’s been part of the Forman family for years before they make him move in.

I placed this in the AU category because apparently Jackie and Hyde always dated, it doesn’t specify much.

1k words.

Rated G.

Pairings: background Jackie/Hyde and background Red/Kitty. This is not focused on the couples, but on Hyde’s relationship with the Forman’s.

Lady and The Tramp by soobeans

'See, I, myself, don't like you. I find you abrasive. But if I didn't know you, and I'd never talked to you, I'd think you were totally hot.'

In Point Place, Wisconsin, there are only three distinct areas. The Western area consists of the burnouts, thugs, outcasts, hopeless dreamers, poor people, and overall, tramps. The Eastern area holds the classy, rich, and more fortunate ladies and gentlemen. In between is where the two are forced to intermingle, but of course, they found a few ways to separate themselves.

8k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some minor background Eric/Donna moments.

That Disco Episode: Zenmasters Style by springsteenicious

What if Hyde had learned how to dance to impress Jackie instead of Donna? And what if Jackie hadn’t been dating Kelso?

That Disco Episode, rewritten for Jackie and Hyde.

2k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Bonus: Soulmate AU’S:

I am so in love with Soulmate AU’s that I’m currently writing one, I wanted to make a special post just for this category but it would be too small so I just included it in here.

Finders Keepers by nannygirl

It's said that before you find your soulmate you will find one of their lost items first, so what happens when Hyde finds a gold bracelet in The Formans' backyard? Will it lead him to his soulmate, someone who he's sure probably doesn't even exist?

This story is not complete, but worth the read.

5k words, 2 chapters.

Rated K+.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, some background Red/Kitty

It Takes Time to Fall in Love by yabookreader96

Jackie can't wait to meet her soulmate, but a dire mistake on her part leads her to mistakenly identify him as Michael, while Hyde watches his soulmate clock hit zero and immediately knows that it's Jackie. Years pass, Jackie with Michael, Hyde saying nothing as he knowingly watches from the side. Will this dynamic be permanent or will destiny bring the true soulmates together?

This story is complete.

18k words, 12 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, temporary Jackie/Kelso.

Mistaken Messages by MistyMountainHop

Jackie longs for her soulmate to accept her, and Hyde hopes his will leave him alone because he's in love with someone else. A stack of mystical index cards lets them communicate with their as-yet unidentified soulmates. But the more their soulmates write, the less control Jackie and Hyde seem to have over their fate.

This story is complete.

23k words, 5 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Also Available on AO3

Until We Get There by poetdameron

Running away from their own wedding is the craziest thing Hyde and Jackie have ever done together. But the tug he feels at his heart when realizing she doesn't want to marry him? The worst.

This story is complete.

39k words, 8 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

Voodooized by mc_1

Eric’s been noticing something weird going on between Jackie and Hyde. At a party one night, all of Eric’s suspicions are confirmed when the two become love-marked- an event that occurs when soulmates are ready to be together, resulting in a mark on the skin that bonds them together for life. The unlikely couple puzzle over how they could possibly be paired together as they struggle to understand each other.

This story is a WIP.

14k words, 4 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde. Eric/Donna

Where It Wasn’t Supposed To Be by moved-ao3

Jackie thinks it's a blessing, Hyde a curse. Set in an alternate universe where characters receive a list with their soulmate's worst qualities, Jackie and Hyde struggle to navigate their feelings for each other when everything else seems pitted against them.

Not complete, and it makes me want to cry, but it’s really good.

15k words, 5 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

One-shots:

all i need by orphan_account

"When he is six years old, the words 'Pudding Pop' appear on his wrist in the curliest, loopiest handwriting he's ever seen. There's even a little heart dotting the 'i'."

1k words.

The author didn’t rate this one, I would rate it as T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Blush by springsteenicious

On a person's eighteenth birthday, they swap bodies with their soulmate. Hyde doesn't have high hopes for his soulmate, but when he wakes up in a very pink room with posters and painted nails, his life is changed for the better.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

I believe this is all!

I’ll repeat this at the end of every single post (seriously, I literally copy and paste this every single time): Speaking as someone who writes, it would be really cool if you guys decide to leave a review (or a comment, if the story is on AO3) in the stories you read, especially the unfinished ones. It really motivates the authors, and receiving a compliment is always a mood lifter. I’ve seen some authors updating stories after years because of nice reviews, so… yeah, this is just an idea.

Feel free to reply to this post if you think I left out a good story!

Next category: Christmas fics!

#jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #zenmasters #fanfic #fanfic rec #that '70s show #that 70s show #alternate timeline #soulmate AU #fanfic recommendations

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poliel · 3 years

Text

Surprise Egg 13/13

Unfortunately, no matter how tired one was, waking up was an inevitable eventuality. If one didn’t die in their sleep anyway. So perhaps Buddy should be thankful to be waking up even it was to a strange beeping sound and… that distinct hospital smell.

With a groan they opened their eyes to see that… yep, they were in lying on a hospital bed in a hospital room. It certainly wasn’t their first time waking up in such a location but it was their first time waking up in one while attached to what seemed to be a full suite of life support and monitoring machines. Because that’s what the beeping sound was: a heart rate monitor. There was also an IV and other things they weren’t quite sure the purpose of. Ugh, they’d only just woken up here and they were already tired of it and wanted to go home.

They shifted their paws up to try to push themself up but… nope. Even just moving themself to attempt it hurt too much to be worth it and thus they didn’t even really try. If they had to they could force it but while their pain tolerance was high and level of stubbornness even higher, they didn’t have any desire to when there was nothing worthwhile that could be gained from it. And having discovered how far they could push their body before it quit on them they would rather not do so again, especially so soon.

Thankfully as was often the case in such scenarios, it wasn’t longer before a nurse found their way to their bedside. Buddy didn’t give them a chance to say anything before speaking themself. “What happened? How did I get here? And where are my friends?” The last thing they remembered was asking Eggabell if they could take a nap and her encouraging it. Clearly quite a bit had happened between now and then. “Oh and uh… how long was I out for?” That was always something one should when waking in such a location.

The nurse hesitated for a moment, looking down at their clipboard and then back up at Buddy. “You arrived here three days ago. According to your friends you were unconscious for at least two days prior, probably a bit longer. You got here on an airship your friends landed on our roof. They’re all now in their own rooms being observed and where applicable taken care for their own health issues.”

Feeling even more addled than they had back on the island, it took Buddy a few seconds to parse though the meaning of all that. If any of the Snaktoothers hadn’t made it off the island surely that would’ve been mentioned, right? Hard to say for sure but for now they were going to operate under that assumption and hopefully confirm it later.

First, their story. Given the whole snakification thing there was no way word of this event hadn’t gotten out already. How much had everyone already revealed about the bugsnax? Hopefully not much because it was their story to tell! … “May I borrow a phone please. I need to call my boss.”

That earned a heavy disapproving frown from the nurse. “You should be resting.”

“I know and I will but… it’s important.”

“No.”

“Well… can I talk to my friends then?” Surely they would help them contact Clumby and get this whole thing started. Filbo certainly would at least, right? Because he should know what this meant to them. “I also need my pack.” They couldn’t start properly writing their story without it.

“Later. First, since you’re finally awake, there’s some things we need to handle.”

Ugh, hospitals were the worst. But if they cooperated it’d be easier for everyone and should win them some points with the nurses that would hopefully help them later.

Buddy must’ve fallen asleep again at some point because they were waking up again despite not particularly wanting to. They had important stuff to do though so they blinked open their eyes.

“Buddy, you’re awake!” Seated by their bedside, Filbo took their paw gently between both of his. “How do you feel?”

“Eh, I’ve felt worse. But uh… better now that you’re here.” They winked at him, squeezing his paw a little as they tried to pretend like the monitor wasn’t betraying their heart rate going up slightly because Filbo was holding their paw and smiling at them. But it was really good to see him. Mostly anyway. He was still snakified and Buddy now knew what that meant and… it was their fault. They’d fed him parasites for months.

Before they could go any further down that rabbit hole of unpleasant thoughts though Filbo squeezed their paw slightly. “I’m so glad you’re finally awake. I was… worried.” His expression sorrowed for a bit before he was smiling at them again. “I brought your pack with your camera and stuff in it. I figured you might want it.” He really was the best, huh?

“Awesome. Thanks. And uh… you think you could get me a phone. I need to call my boss and tell her I’m working on the story.”

“Uh… I don’t think I’d be allowed to. And while you were unconscious, we had all decided that we were going to keep the bugsnax secret ‘cause they’re dangerous and stuff. But uh… we kind of failed at that already. To be fair I did land us on the roof of a big hospital in the middle of an important city. So a lot of people saw us all snakified and you still had Sprout in your pouch so… that was a thing we had to deal with. We didn’t tell anyone anything specific though. All the newspapers and stuff are just circulating rumors and stuff. So… the full story coming out is gonna be from you since you have more right to tell it than anyone else if it’s doomed to come out at all. You have to promise to take it easy and slow though or I won’t let you work on it at all.” He gave them the sternestlook Buddy had ever seen on his face before. It was certainly well deserved though so…

“Yeah, okay. I promise to be good.” And they kind of owed it to him to listen to him after all the times they hadn’t before leading this moment. Speaking of everything leading to this moment though… “Everyone made it off Snaktooth, right?” They still needed confirmation on that.

Filbo nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’s okay.”

“Good.” Knowing that made them feel better for sure. “Now uh… about writing my story?”

Filbo gave them another firm look. “Later, after you’ve rested a few more days, please.”

“Fair enough.”

Being bedridden was the worst. Especially since they weren’t allowed to start writing their story yet. The only thing that kept them sane was Filbo staying at their bedside pretty much as much as the nurses would let him.

They were allowed additional visitors too occasionally. Even Gramble was eventually allowed to leave his own room and come see them.

“I brought Sprout too,” was the first thing he said after they’d exchanged greetings with him and Wiggle.

“He’s still attached to it for somereason.” Wiggle didn’t even try to hide her disapproval over it as Gramble pulled Sprout’s buggy ball out of his pouch.

“One little bugsnax ain’t gonna hurt no one. And he rarely leaves the buggy ball so it’s fine. And he still follows the pointer so… he’s different, I think. Since I could never train any of the others no matter how hard I tried. Anyway, here he is.” He held him up for Buddy to see. “He’s only here because you were carrying him in your pouch for so long all of us forgot about him so I figured you might want to see him.”

Buddy lifted a paw in a gesture for Gramble to hand the buggy ball over. He did so without complaint or hesitation. They placed it on their middle, holding it in place with a paw on top, as they peered inside. Sprout was just hanging out inside, looking around and doing a whole bunch of not looking the least bit like how one would think a parasite should look. He was far too cute, especially when he went nuts for the laser pointer. … People kept potentially dangerous pets all the time, right? One just needed to know how to handle them safely and properly and it was fine. So… they looked back up at Gramble “Can I keep him? … Or uh, I know you’re still…”

“Sure. Just as long as you let me see him lots too, okay?”

“Of course.” Permission granted, Buddy carefully pushed the buggy ball into their pouch. Immediately they felt strangely a little better, less antsy.

Wiggle scoffed lightheartedly. “Seems like the paternal instinct that would’ve normally gone towards the egg went to Sprout instead. I guess if it makes you happy though, I can’t tell you that’s wrong.”

“He’s a whole lot easier to take care of than an egg though.”

“Not really,” Gramble said. “With an egg all you got to do is keep it warm.”

“Until it hatches and then you have a grumpling you have to take care of and keep alive somehow. So, no thanks. I can barely even keep myself alive.”

“Well,” Wiggle said, giving them a meaningful look, “I don’t think anyone can argue with that.”

They were finallyallowed to start working on their article once a week had gone by and they were doing better. The temptation to push to finish it as fast as possible was there but… they were too tired to really go for it. Not that Filbo would’ve even let them. They lacked the strength to defy him or even try to argue.

Despite everything though they were still good at their job and thus they got it done fairly quickly. After going over it one last time for mistakes or any important details they’d forgotten, they were able to send it Clumby’s way.

Being done with it was a massiveweight off their shoulders. “It’s done! I’m done! I never have to think about Snaktooth again.” They were finally done with that cursed island and never again would they need to think about it. … They would though for sure, it and the unknowing harm they’d caused their friends and Filbo would undoubtedly haunt them. But for now, they were happy to be done with the telling of the tale.

“Congrats!” Filbo said from their bedside.

“Thanks.” They wanted to thank him for everything, helping them and being so awesome but… they were too tired to come up with the words. So their simple ‘thanks’ would have to do for now.

#my writing #bugsnax #filbuddy #filbo fiddlepie #the journalist

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe. Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

17 notes · View notes

btschooseafic · 3 years

Text

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Jimin does his best to get abs worth showing off.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. (TW: eating disordered behavior/body image issues/perfectionism) [Masterlist]

Track 13: Jimin’s diet

Body Terror Song-AJJ

“I'm very sorry that you have to have a body

One that will hurt you and be the subject of so much of your fear”

Aviva had somewhat been avoiding Jin since their last conversation—which was difficult, as she was his manager, and they were smack-dab in the middle of a busy training schedule.

Hoseok was currently working with the choreographers to put together a routine to go with their debut song. Aviva hadn’t come to every rehearsal like she used to, busy talking to booking agents, and besides that, not having much (any) experience to do with dancing. Still Hoseok was a friend, and an important group member, so when he asked her to come see what they were working on and give him some feedback, she came.

“This part is on the offbeat, then you turn,” Hoseok explained, demonstrating the move for the other boys. “So, you want to take it from the top?”

Aviva applauded as she entered. “As expected from our dance captain!” She grinned at him, never unimpressed with Hobi’s dance skills. He smiled back at her.

“Don’t overdo it, Avi-yah, his head is big enough already,” Namjoon warned.

“Go hydrate while you have the chance!” Hoseok ordered, pointing off to the side where there was a line of water bottles along the floor. Jimin was already sitting, drinking and stretching. The others moved over to him, chatting as Hoseok sighed.

“What’s wrong, Hobi?” Aviva wondered. Hoseok shrugged.

“It’s going pretty well for our first run, but… there’s just one problem. I can’t help but feel like something’s missing…” He tapped his chin, looking frustrated. “What do you think, Avi?”

Aviva grimaced. “Sorry, I think I’m pretty useless in this situation. I’ve told you before, I don’t know much about dance routines—”

“Yah! Don’t put yourself down like that,” Hoseok said. “You might not be a dancer, but I’ve seen you speaking to the choreographers, watching videos, attending practices and taking notes. You’re our manager, and you’re our friend, your opinion is worth something.”

“Okay…” Sometimes Hoseok made her feel like crying with his emotional words. Half the time she was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose.

After watching the routine, Aviva spoke to Hoseok off to the side again.

“Yeah, I kind of get what you mean. It’s a pretty solid routine, but there’s no…” She made a like explosion movement with her hands. “No spice to make it stand out.”

Hoseok laughed, copying her movement. “Spice! You’re adorable, Aviva.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, feeling her face get hot.

“You know… I think you might have given me an idea though,” he said, leaning down to whisper it in her ear. Her eyes widened.

“Well that’s… daring.”

“Right?” He grinned widely.

“And, I guess, from a numbers standpoint, that would fit our projected demographic well.”

“You mean we’re hot so teenage girls are gonna be into it,” Hoseok translated.

“Teenage girls are one of the most powerful forces I know of,” Aviva said seriously.

“Hey, I’m not gonna argue with that.” Hoseok nodded. “I grew up with an older sister and five girl cousins around my age, and they saved my ass several times in our teenaged years.” He paused. “Come to think of it, they were the reason I got into trouble in the first place, half of the time, but eh, at least they cleaned up after themselves. Anyway…” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Okay, boys, I have an important announcement to make as your choreographer!” The boys gathered around. “We have a signature dance move for our debut song! It’s… drum roll, please.” Yoongi slapped at Jin’s arm, creating a staccato beat. Jin winced and pouted at him. Hoseok laughed. “The ab reveal! We’re gonna pull up our shirts in the middle of the routine and show them off!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure? Pulling up our shirts? That seems… over the top.”

“The top over your head?” Aviva suggested, grinning. Everyone blinked at her. Aviva tilted her head. “Ah, that doesn’t work as well in Korean…”

Namjoon repeated it slowly to himself in English and then rolled his eyes.

“Ah, who are you, Jin-hyung?”

“She’s not as handsome,” Jin said immediately. Then he shrunk back as she looked at him. “Sorry…”

“Joon’s right though, we don’t want to overwhelm our audience,” Hoseok said thoughtfully. “So let’s just have one person do it! More of an impact!” He pointed excitedly at Jimin.

“Why… why are you looking at me…?”

“We’re counting on you, Jimin-ah! The success of our debut song is riding on your abs!” Namjoon said, clapping him on the shoulder and then speeding out of the room, the other boys following suit, as if afraid Hoseok might change his mind and make them all do it again. Aviva frowned.

“You okay, Jiminie? If it’s too much pressure, Hoseok can think of something else.”

Hoseok frowned. “What? I like this idea,” he grumbled. She elbowed him. “Yeah, sure, fine. Leave to me, manager.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jimin said, his smile a lot weaker than his usual shining grin. “I’ll do it. Don’t worry about me, manager-noona.” He left the room quickly. Aviva let out a breath.

“You guys better not pressure him too much. Honestly, it’s like we’ve learned nothing from that whole thing with Kookie…”

Over the next few days, Aviva kept an eye out for Jimin. She made a worrying observation that he didn’t appear to be eating, turning down even Jin’s home cooked meals in favor of diet shakes.

So Aviva sucked up her pride and asked Jin and Taehyung for help.

“I’ve heard it’s unfortunately pretty common in the idol industry, but has Jimin-ah done anything like this before?” Aviva asked Tae as they gathered in her kitchen early in the morning.

Taehyung had been excited to be invited to her apartment, but now seemed nervous. “Ah, noona, you know, I’m not really sure it’s my place to talk about that.”

“Right…” Aviva let out a breath. “Right, that’s true. I should just talk to him about it directly, but I was worried he was going to get embarrassed and not want to talk…”

“That’s a possibility,” Taehyung agreed.

“So, I thought I’d carry out Plan B at the same time as Plan A,” she told him.

“Is that where I come in?” Jin wondered, pointing at himself. Aviva nodded.

“I wanted to ask for your help making a lunchbox for Jimin-ah.”

“A lunchbox!” Taehyung clapped his hands together excitedly.

Jin smiled. “That’s a lovely idea.”

“If you’re comfortable telling me some of his favorite foods, and we can try to keep it as healthy as possible as well,” Aviva thought.

“Right!” Taehyung nodded, his expression turning serious. “I will make a list.”

“I’ll think of some healthy recipes,” Jin added. Aviva smiled.

“Thank you both.”

“Ah, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, Aviva-yah, if you don’t mind,” Jin said. She looked at him, curious. He cleared his throat. “In private, maybe?” Taehyung glanced at him, looking slightly suspicious. Aviva considered for a moment, and then pulled out her wallet.

“This is the company card,” she told Taehyung, giving it to him. “Why don’t you buy some ingredients for us to work with?”

“Yes!” Taehyung flashed his typical victory sign. “Grocery store, here I come!” He rushed out the door.

“Don’t forget your coat… ah, too late.” Aviva shook her head. “That boy.” She turned, seeing Jin smiling at her. “What?”

“Ah, no, I just thought, for all their flirting, mostly you just seem like their mom.”

She blinked. “Really? I thought that was Namjoon-ah, or you, maybe.”

“Me?” Jin tilted his head. “Well, I guess we can all share the burden. It takes a village to raise a child, right?”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” She cut to the chase.

“I wanted to apologize, again, for overstepping, when I was drunk,” he said. She frowned. “I wouldn’t bring it up again, but I know you’ve been avoiding me, so I realized it must have really hurt your feelings.” She ran her hand through her hair.

“I don’t know… It, that wasn’t very professional of me, oppa, sorry.”

“I accept the apology from you as a manager, but from you as a friend… it’s unnecessary. In the matter of friendship, I was in the wrong.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” she said. “You just brought up something… something I’m not ready to think about, and I was worried you might bring it up again if we talked one-on-one.”

“Ah, well, I guess I almost have done that?” Jin smiled sheepishly at her. “I’ll do my best to avoid it from now on.”

“…Okay,” she said. “But, maybe… some day, if I ever feel like I’m ready to talk about it, would you… would you listen to me? Even if it doesn’t make very much sense.”

“Of course,” Jin said, taking her hands in his and squeezing them lightly before letting go. “Now! Please tell me you have a spare apron, because I am too handsome in this shirt to get it messy.”

She snorted. “Ah, yeah, there’s the one I bought for Soonie as a gag gift.” She pulled the frilly pink apron out of a closet and handed it to him.

“Hmmm…” He was blushing slightly.

“Oppa?” She gave him a weird look.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I just thought… she’d probably look cute in this.”

Aviva nodded. “Of course. She looks cute in everything.”

Jin laughed. “Hmm.”

Later that day, Aviva headed to the studio. She could hear Jimin working on his moves in the room down the hall. Then she heard a loud slam and ran forward to find Jimin collapsed on the ground.

“Jimin!” She quickly moved over to him, pulling his head onto his lap. He groaned.

“Ah!” He put a hand on his head, wincing. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, trying to see if she could feel any bumps or cuts. Jimin made a happy little noise, closing his eyes for a moment before jerking out of her arms. “Manager-noona!” He sat up, scouting away from her. “I’m alright. I just got a bit dizzy and it made me mess up the step.”

“Jimin-ah,” she said, trying to catch his eye, though he appeared to be avoiding her gaze. “I know this can be a sensitive topic for some people, but have you eaten today?”

“Hmm, that’s right, it’s about lunch time. Do you think you can hand me my bag? There’s a shake in there.”

“Jimin-ah,” she said again, taking his hands in hers. They were shaking. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine!” Jimin said, his cheerful tone a little forced to her ears. “This diet is really working! I’m starting to get abs! Wanna see?” He started pulling up his shirt. “Here—”

“Yah, pabo!” Taehyung appeared in the doorway.

“Ah.” Aviva smiled slightly. “I thought you might have followed me here.”

“Tae?” Jimin frowned at him. “Who’re you calling pabo?”

“You!” Taehyung said. “I saw you fall over.” Jimin’s face flushed. Tae looked at Aviva.

“Show him what we made for him.”

Jimin looked at Aviva. She opened her bag and held out the lunchbox to him.

“Tae helped make this?” Jimin said doubtfully. “Tae Tae, you know I appreciate your cooking, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jin-hyung and Avi-noona did all of the cooking, I just helped pick out the ingredients,” Taehyung told him. “I know I’m not a very good cook.”

He wilted a little.

“I still appreciated the thought,” Jimin said quietly. “When you’ve tried making food for me in the past…”

“Yeah, but I don’t think Avi-noona appreciated when I set her smoke alarm off,” Tae thought. Jimin squinted at him.

“Tae, you bad boy—”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Aviva interrupted, waving her hands. “Everyone’s safe, so that’s all that matter—”

“You went to noona’s apartment without me?” Jimin pouted at him. Aviva blinked.

“What? That’s what you…?” She sighed.

“Yeah, so? You get to eat her home cooked meal,” Taehyung pointed out. “So you’d better appreciate it.”

“I will.” Jimin turned to her. “I do.”

“Say that after you eat it, maybe?” She suggested.

“Anyway, Jin-hyung was there the whole time, so it’s not like anything could’ve happened,” Taehyung muttered. Jimin grinned, opening the box.

“Yeah, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Aviva said.

“It looks really good,” Jimin said, staring at the food. “But, my diet…”

“Noona and Jin-hyung specially picked the recipes so that the food was healthy, particularly for a dancer,” Taehyung told him. “Noona printed out scientific articles like she was possessed by Namjoon-hyung or something.”

Jimin snickered, and then his face turned serious.

“You did all that for me?” He asked Aviva. She nodded. “But, I’m trying to help too. I’m trying to be the best I can be, for this group. That’s why everything’s got to be perfect… When it’s perfect, I’ll feel better.”

Aviva sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, and resting her chin there, staring at her feet. “You sound like Jungkookie, or my sister, or me…” She looked up again, finally catching Jimin’s gaze. “But let me tell you a secret, Jimin-ah. You’re never going to be perfect. There will always be another loose thread you can pick at. If you keep doing that, whatever it is you want to do, will never get done. Sometimes the best you can do, is the best you can do at that moment. Maybe one day you will be better, but that kind of change can’t happen instantaneously.” She smiled. “But what am I telling you that for? You know. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, Jiminie.” Jimin rubbed at his face and then took a deep breath.

“Don’t you make me cry!” He warned her.

“It’s okay if you cry,” Taehyung said. “I’ll hold you if you do.” Jimin made a face.

“…Only if Avi-noona joins.”

“…How about a pat on the head?” She offered instead.

Jimin ate half the lunch, slowly. He apologized for not finishing it all, but Aviva assured him that was okay. He hadn’t been eating, so eating quickly all of a sudden could make him sick.

She and Taehyung stuck around for the rest of Jimin’s practice, Tae doing his best to follow along, Aviva even joining along for a couple moves, making them all laugh as she growled with frustration at not being able to follow the choreography.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, manager,” Jimin teased her.

“Oh, I know,” she grumbled. “But I would’ve probably died trying.”

“Ah.” Jimin nodded. “I can understand that.”

“Live instead,” Tae suggested, slinging his arms around their shoulders. “It’s more fun to hang out all together. I’ll get lonely alone.”

“Okay, but get off of me,” Jimin said, shoving him. “You’re sweaty.”

“We all are,” Aviva said, wrinkling her nose as she looked down at her business clothes. “Hobi’s gonna yell at me for wrinkling my clothes again.”

Jimin snickered. “Oh yeah, hyung does that to me all the time! You’ve just got to change quickly and hide the clothes before he sees them.”

“Yeah, but I was going to drive you back, so he’ll see me,” Aviva thought, chewing at her lip. Jimin smiled slyly.

“We could stop by your place first, and could can change.”

“Ooh, can we borrow your shower?” Taehyung asked, his smile matching Jimin’s.

Aviva sighed. “Boys, I really don’t think it’s your intention to make me feel unsafe in my own home, hmm?”

They both blinked, and then exchanged a guilty look.

“Not at all!” They said in unison.

“Sorry.” Tae bowed slightly. “I know I’ve been teasing you a bit too much lately. I got overexcited because your reactions are amusing and I enjoy learning new things about you.”

“Alright, alright,” Aviva said. “Just get in the car.” She drove them back to the dorm.

“You practice this late every night?” Taehyung asked, looking up at the dark sky as they moved down the path towards the dorm. “Alone? Amazing!”

Aviva frowned. “Jiminie... are you sleeping enough?”

“I’m fine!” He said. “I’m not tired!”

“That’s not what I—“

“I’ve got to make sacrifices for my abs,” Jimin interrupted.

Taehyung poked at his own stomach.

“Hmmm. I’ll just hope for them in the next life.”

Aviva touched her stomach. “A healthy body looks different for everyone,” she said quietly. Taehyung and Jimin exchanged a thoughtful look.

“I know I said I’d stop teasing, but you do have a nice body, manager-noona,” Tae commented. Jimin shoved him.

“Tae! You can’t just say things like that!”

“What? She’s soft and nice to touch.”

“That’s worse!”

Aviva sighed, rubbing her temples. “Taehyung-ah, I think maybe you mean well, but you’re giving me a headache. Jimin-ah’s right, it’s not appropriate to say things like that.”

Jimin shot Tae a pointed look. “Okay, okay.” Taehyung waved his hand. “I’ll retract my statement.” He made a weird swooping movement as if swallowing back his words. She snorted. He smiled slightly. “There now… don’t be sad, manager. You and Jiminie can both have abs if you really want, but do it in a healthy way, please.”

Jimin blinked. “Tae, you—” He squeaked. “What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?” Tae looked around.

“I just saw someone sneak out of the dorm!” Jimin said, pointing at a far off darting shadow. Aviva squinted.

“It’s too dark, and my eyesight isn’t good enough to see who it is. Maybe it’s just Hoseok sneaking out to party. I know he did that sometimes in the early days of training.”

“Did he?” Jimin’s lips twitched. “Sounds fun.”

When they got inside, Yoongi was sitting on the couch working at his laptop.

He looked up when they entered.

“You’re back late.” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving them a pointed look. “Just what will I tell your mother?” Taehyung laughed as Jimin rolled his eyes.

“….Jin-oppa is the mom?” Aviva guessed.

“Of course.” Yoongi grinned.

Aviva looked around. “Joon isn’t up working with you tonight?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Everyone else is asleep.”

“Alright, boys. Get some sleep. I’ll be back in…” She glanced at her watch and groaned. “We’ve only got a few hours. By the time I drive back home and then I have to clean up, and then go to sleep and then wake up and come back here and—”

Jimin held his finger in front of her mouth.

“Why don’t you stay over?” He suggested. “I promise Tae and I will behave.”

“I will,” Tae seconded. “I don’t want you driving while you’re so tired, noona.”

Her brow furrowed. “Well, I guess you’ve got a point…”

Tae smiled. “Yay! Where are you going to sleep? Cause I like to snuggle—“

“Nope!” Jimin said, slapping him over the back of the head. “You literally just promised you’d behave.” Taehyung whined as Jimin pulled him out of the room. “Let’s go take a shower before bed.”

“Are they showering together?” Aviva wondered. Yoongi shrugged.

“Saves time.”

“…South Korea is surprisingly open-minded about some things,” Aviva thought.

“Maybe,” Yoongi said. “Or maybe it’s just us. Anyway, I’m going to be working for a while longer, so you can use my bed if you want. No cuddling with hormonal teenagers necessary.”

“Cuddling aside, I don’t particularly want to be sleeping in a room with six to seven boys,” she told him. He nodded.

“That’s fair. Neither do I.”

“... Sorry I haven’t found a bigger place for you guys.”

He sighed, brushing his bangs away from his face. “That’s not what I meant, Aviva-yah.”

“Okay...” She chewed at her lip. “Can’t I just sleep out here?” She pointed at the couch.

“You don’t mind me working?” He wondered. She shook her head.

“You don’t mind me snoring?”

He laughed. “I’m used to Joon-ah and Jiminie already.” He stood up, stretching. “I should get you a blanket or something—and do you need something to sleep in?” She hesitated, and then nodded. “You’d better come into the room with me, so you can tell me what’s okay.”

She frowned. “Won’t I wake them?”

He shook his head. “They’ll be dead to the world at this point.”

They walked into the bedroom. Yoongi walked over to the dresser, searching through a drawer. Aviva glanced around at the sleeping boys. Hoseok had his hand on his stomach. Jin was surrounded by a sea of stuffed animals. Jungkook was wrapped in his blankets like a caterpillar. She glanced up at Namjoon, who was sleeping with his laptop open on his chest. She hesitated and then climbed up the ladder, taking the laptop from him. He grunted and rolled over, continuing to snore. Aviva started climbing down the ladder, but fumbled while trying to hold the laptop steady.

She half fell on top of Yoongi.

He sighed, his breath in her ear.

“You’re just as bad as Namjoon-ah, honestly.” He steadied her on her feet and stepped away, shaking his head.

“…Thanks.” She placed Namjoon’s laptop on top of the dresser, careful not to disturb any of Hoseok’s figurines.

“Would these work?” Yoongi held up a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

She chewed her lip. “The shorts are fine, but the shirt would be a little… tight.”

“I figured.” He glanced her over and then looked away. “Namjoon-ah’s shirts are the biggest, but I can’t tell what of his is clean.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can just sleep in my undershirt.”

“…Alright. And there’s an extra blanket in the closet.” He smirked. “I’m not sure you’re tall enough to reach it.” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re barely taller than me.”

“Still counts!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jimin said, walking in with a towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced at Aviva and then quickly avoided eye contact, his face turning pink. “Ah… a little privacy please, noona?”

“Of course!” Aviva zipped out of the room, past an equally shirtless Taehyung, who just gave her his patented blank faced look. Yoongi followed her at a slower pace. He walked over to the closet and opened it. Aviva walked up to him. “Are there clean towels in there? I’m thinking maybe I should take a shower too. I tried to dance, so I’m all gross.”

Yoongi glanced her over again.“You look… fine, but I understand the feeling.” He handed her a blue towel with a yellow duck on it. “I haven’t used this since I last washed it, so it’s clean.”

She stared at it. “This is yours?”

“Yeah.” He shot her a challenging look. “So?”

She just grinned. “So, you’re cute.”

“Just… just go shower,” he said, his face flushing. “Go shower and then get some sleep before you have to start your day.”

Aviva felt much better after showering. She could use Hobi’s iron in the morning on her button up, and trousers, she thought it had some kind of gentle clean setting on it. She came back into the living room, wearing her camisole and Yoongi’s shorts, which were a bit tight on her, but not too much so.

Yoongi glanced up at her when she walked in. He froze. She sniffed, glancing at the mug in his hand. “Coffee? Are you not even trying to sleep?”

“I have to finish this, but you…” He frowned. “You’re the one who’s cute…”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Too cute.” He suddenly pulled off his hoodie and held it out to her. “Wear that and cover up before the maknae line rushes over here drooling.”

“Stop being gross,” she said, pulling the sweater over her head anyway. It was warm. The fabric was worn, but not overly soft, it felt nice against her skin. “But thanks for this.” She snuggled into the sweater further.

“…I made it worse,” he muttered.

She squinted at him. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Go to sleep. The blanket’s over the back of the couch. I’m going to record your snoring and use it in a track.”

“Use Joonie’s, it’ll have more impact,” she told him. He snorted. She plugged her phone into a charger and then put her glasses down on the side table. “Night, Yoongi.”

“…Night, Aviva.”

#bts #kim taehyung #min yoongi #bts predebut #bts x oc #park jimin #fanfiction #kim seokjin #bts world #idolverse #manager!oc #taehyung x oc #jimin x oc #yoongi x oc #seokjin x oc

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon

This is where it all goes a bit pear-shaped.

Peggy did not like romantic novels. There was so much more to life and to happiness than who a person, man or woman, married, and if more people understood that, fewer women would marry useless arseholes. The very worst of the lot were the stories in which the heroine had to choose between two men… and so Peggy was especially annoyed to find herself living one for the second time.

It would have been more bearable, she thought, if it hadn’t been such a distraction. Jason and Daniel had been competing for her affections when she really should have been focusing on their problem with the Zero Matter and Agnes Cully. Now there was the question of Kay Lake and whether she were trustworthy, and the recapture of Dottie, and Steve’s sudden return and what Masters might try to do about it… and once again, Peggy had to worry instead about men. Bloody ridiculous.

At least for the moment she wasn’t given time to dwell on it. In the morning the entire group – herself, Kay, Steve, Howard, and Jason, with Masters leading the way – got on a chartered plane to head back to New York City. Peggy settled into her seat, wondering if any sort of record existed for how many times a person had flown across the continent in a month’s time. Perhaps TWA ought to offer some kind of reward for such things… discounts or something for those who made the trip often.

Kay sat down beside Peggy. Nobody questioned this. Everybody assumed the women would want to sit together. Steve, Howard, Jason, and Masters were four aisle seats further back, so they would all be able to talk to each other.

“So it didn’t go well last night, huh?” Kay asked. She buckled her seat belt, and it occurred to Peggy that must be what she’d been looking for in the car. Were drivers more reckless in the USSR, that they needed seat belts in their cars?

“It went about as well as could be expected,” Peggy replied. “I told him what I told Daniel, that I need some time to think and I don’t know how long that will be. And frankly,” she added, “I don’t think it’s a bit of your business.”

“No, probably not,” Kay admitted. “When I knew him Steve was very lonely. I kept trying to set him up with women I knew but he wasn’t interested in it. He did go out with your niece for a while.”

Peggy frowned. “I don’t have a niece,” she said. Her brother’s wife had given birth to a boy four months after Michael himself went MIA, but she had not yet remarried and any further children she might have would not be Peggy’s nieces and nephews.

“Sorry, your grand-niece,” Kay corrected herself. “Your nephew’s daughter.”

Michael Carter Jr was not quite five years old. The idea of him someday having adult children seemed very distant indeed.

Something about what Kay had said seemed a little odd. Peggy thought over it and recalled that Kay had said love is for children and called Steve a friend… now she described having tried to find him a partner other than herself. “You never had a date with him yourself?”

“Never,” Kay said firmly. “We were co-workers. It wouldn’t have ended well… I know that from experience,” she added with a grimace. “Anyway, I’m not exactly the ‘settle down on a farm with three kids and a dog’ type.”

“Neither am I,” Peggy said.

The plane rumbled into the sky. Kay kept her seat belt on the entire flight, except when she got up to use the washroom. She also claimed to be surprised by how nice the food was, as if Masters wouldn’t go out of his way to get the best gourmet fare in order to compete with Howard.

Arriving in Los Angeles, there’d been fanfare waiting for them, but it was nothing compared to what they saw as they landed at Newark that evening. The Empire State Building was lit up red, white, and blue, visible for miles around, and somebody had set out thousands of lights in the laws around the airport to form the letters WELCOME HOME CAP. The plane circled to give the passengers a better view of all this before landing, and taxied onto tarmac that was lit up like a football pitch.

There’d been dozens of people in LA. Here there must have been hundreds if not thousands who gathered around as the airstair was lowered. So many flashbulbs popped that it seemed like the entire crowd was glittering.

“You see that?” Masters asked Steve. “They’re here to see you, son.”

Steve nodded and forced his face into the fake smile he’d used to give crowds on his war bonds tours – Peggy remembered it all too well – and headed down the stairs. President Truman was at the bottom, waiting to shake his hand.

Howard got up next. “Jason,” he said, “and ladies – come on. They’re waiting for us, too.”

“We’re very much an afterthought,” Peggy told him, but she got up and grabbed her purse and hat, and she, too, smiled as they headed down the steps to catch up.

Masters was waiting at the bottom with a proud smile on his face, and Steve’s own smile certainly warmed into something more genuine when he remembered his friends were still with him.

“Mr. President,” he said, “I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the people who brought me home. You probably know Howard Stark…”

“We sure do,” said Howard, shaking the president’s hand. “How’s it going, Harry?”

“Not bad,” Truman replied, with a nod to Steve. “Not too bad at all.”

“This is Dr. Jason Wilkes, who helped build and operate the ice-penetrating sonar,” Howard added.

“Mr. President,” said Jason.

“Dr. Wilkes. A pleasure,” Truman replied.

“And Agent Margaret Carter and Agent Katherine Lake, who found the crash site,” said Steve.

“Ladies,” the President smiled at them, and kissed each of their hands.

At the front of the crowd, Peggy caught sight of Thompson and several other SSR men. That was a bit of a surprise. Dottie had already escaped from under his nose once, followed by Kay. She would have thought he’d be unwilling to let his prisoner out of his sight. And was that Agent Russel behind him? Peggy would have to ask what was going on.

President Truman stepped up to a podium and began giving a speech with Steve standing awkwardly at his side, while secret service men came to escort the rest of the group to cars. Peggy had no idea where they were going but assumed it would be to a hotel. They’d had a long day of travelling after all, and would have more people to meet tomorrow. Howard and Jason got in one car, while Peggy and Kay got in another.

Thompson came and got in with them. “Evening, ladies,” he said.

“Hello, Thompson,” said Peggy.

“Hi, Jack,” said Kay. “Did you miss me?”

Thompson didn’t answer. The driver started the car and headed out of the airport. The second car, with Howard and Jason, was right behind them until they reached Route 95. Peggy expected them to turn north in order to go to Manhattan, but instead they kept going onto Route 100. The lights of the other car did not follow.

“Excuse me,” Peggy began.

“Dottie’s been talking,” said Thompson.

Peggy froze.

“What did she say?” she asked.

“She said quite a bit,” Thompson replied, taking a set of handcuffs out of his jacket. “You let an enemy of the state out of prison, Marge. Twice. I’m placing you under arrest for treason. You…”

Kay moved as fast as a striking snake. Before anybody had time to blink, she had the handcuffs out of Thompson’s hand and the chain across his neck, ready to strangle him with it.

“Stop the car,” she ordered, “or I’ll crush his windpipe!”

“Keep going!” Thompson countered. “They can’t jump out if we’re moving!” He made a strangled sound as Kay tightened the cuffs.

“You were saying?” she hissed.

Peggy thought fast… she knew that Masters had been Thompson’s mentor and the two of them were probably in constant communication. Masters therefore knew that Thompson had been planning to arrest her. No wonder he’d been so pleased to let her and Kay come along with Steve to New York! But she had a choice to make now. She could let Thompson arrest her and take her chances in court. Certainly Steve would be a hell of a character witness but Dottie’s testimony would be incredibly damaging, and there was the small, inconvenient fact that Peggy had actually done what she was being accused of.

Or she could flee and become a wanted fugitive in the country she’d worked so hard to protect. That wasn’t a good option either.

“Kay,” she said. “Let him go.”

“You can’t go to prison,” Kay told her. “You’re too important.”

“You said you don’t know what the future is going to be anymore,” Peggy said. “All you’re doing right now is committing another crime.”

“I want to keep the good parts of the future,” said Kay.

“Me being a criminal is not a good future,” Peggy told her.

“I agree,” Kay said. She opened the car door and threw Thompson out. By the light of the streetlamps Peggy could see him tumble limply into a ditch. The driver cried out in surprise and began to slow down. Horns blared all around them.

“What are you doing?” Peggy demanded.

“Well, you’re apparently just going to sit there!” Kay told her. She climbed into the front seat and hit the man on the passenger’s side with the handcuffs. He wobbled, and Kay kicked the door open to let him fall out onto the pavement.

No wonder she thought cars needed seatbelts.

A few more seconds, and the driver was out of the vehicle, too. Kay settled herself in the seat and took the next exit. Peggy climbed up into the front seat next to her.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“South into New Jersey. I know some places there we might be able to hide… assuming they’ve been built yet,” Kay replied.

“You realize we’re now in ten times more trouble than we already were,” Peggy pointed out.

“What were you going to do, just let him lock you up?” Kay demanded.

“I would certainly have tried to get out of it legitimately before I resorted to breaking any more laws!” Peggy replied. Her eyes went to the door. Could she just jump out, like the men had been thrown? That seemed like a terrible idea, but it might be her only option. “What are you planning to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Kay replied. “None of this was part of my plan. I’ll think of something!”

“I can hardly wait to see what it is!” Peggy snapped.

Kay found her way from road to road and eventually seemed to settle on heading south, back into New Jersey. They passed through Newark, avoiding the airport this time, and headed through the series of small towns beyond. Peggy thought some more about jumping out of the car, but did not get so far as actually doing it. If she did, Kay would come after her… and she had much more faith in her own ability to avoid the SSR than to escape this implacable woman.

While Peggy sat sullenly in the passenger’s seat, Kay kept her eyes on the road, driving in silence. Occasionally the two would glance at each other, trying to assess what the other was thinking, and catch each other’s eye, but then they would quickly look away again. Forest began to roll by outside, as the two of them sat in uneasy silence.

“I shouldn’t have come with you to Canada,” Kay said finally. “I should have stayed in New York. Then I would have gotten to talk to Barynova before anybody else did. That was my original plan.”

“You should have,” Peggy agreed. “Why did you change your mind?”

“Because I knew you were going, and I wanted to be there,” said Kay. “That’s it, honestly. I wanted to be there when he woke up, because then I would… then I would know I’d really done it. I knew he would have no idea who I was, but I wanted to be there. Which was a mistake.”

Was it? Peggy wasn’t sure. Kay was the only one who’d known that Steve was still alive. Howard had intended to ship him back to the United States still frozen for embalming. Masters had meant to cut him open for study before he was even fully thawed. Either way, if she’d stayed in New York, the likelihood was that they’d be burying Steve instead of introducing him to the president.

Not that anybody would ever know now.

They drove into the Pine Barrens, a wood that was spooky and uninhabited by daylight and far more so in the dark. Eventually, Kay pulled onto the side of the road and leaned on the steering wheel.

“It’s not here,” she said.

“What were you looking for?” Peggy wanted to know.

“An old bomb shelter,” Kay replied. “I thought it dated from World War II, but I guess not, because we should have passed it by now.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Kay leaned her head back on the car seat and rubbed her face. “I have no idea.”

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #steve rogers #peggy carter #steggy #fix it fic

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