and why am i so pale

“So what are you?”

The question which plagued my childhood in suburban Kansas; the ponderance of which led me towards years of agonizing identity searching; the answer to which I still hesitate to deliver.

“So what are you?”

It is an innocent question; one I know I am not alone in hearing the echoes of. But what do I say? “I’m mixed” is the short answer, but it always leads to the question of “With what” so do I say “My mom is white and my dad is brown” but brown isn’t usually specific enough so do I say “my mom is white and my dad’s Pakistani” but that doesn’t flow right because white is a race and Pakistani is a nationality so do I say “my mom’s American and my dad’s Pakistani” but that isn’t true because my dad was born in Canada and he’s lived here his whole life and American sure as hell doesn’t mean white I mean my dad IS American so do I say “My mom’s a white American and my Dad’s Pakistani American” but that just sounds like I’m trying too hard so that’s out of the question and so do I just drop it and leave it at “none of your business” but that’s rude and it’s really such a simple question so what in the hell do I freaking say?

“So what are you?”

It’s a good question, really… why don’t you tell me? I am the alienation that I feel when my mom’s family talks about how dangerous those Muslim immigrants are over dinner and I am the strange sinking feeling in my stomach which occurs when my cousins tell me that whatever I’ve just done is haraam. I am the frustration which clouds me when people around me doubt that I am what the hell I say I am. I am the product of the millisecond long stares of confusion people give me when I tell them the pale as china blonde lady I’m with is my mother and the looks of disgust I get when I, the young, doll eyed light skinned girl, go out to dinner late at night with a big burly middle aged brown man, aka my father. I am the three and a half years it took me to decide what to call the pigmentation of my skin.

I am the sadness which clouds me when one of my Aunties asserts how lucky I am to be so fair skinned. I am the anger I feel each and every time I think about the people who called my full and plump Desi lips fat as a kid and now use copious amounts of lip liner to accentuate their tiny mouths on Snapchat. I am the hours of hoping and praying during and after shootings that it wasn’t a Muslim. I am the incredible lengths I go to, the precise and complex knowledge I feel I must have of my roots in order to truly claim my heritage. I am neither and I am both and I hate it.

“So what are you?”

I can’t stand here and tell you that it is all bad. That would be I lie, for I am also the cool, smooth feeling of the bronze crucifix which sits on one side of my bedroom wall and the sentiment of the words “Allah most merciful” written in beautiful Arabic script on the other. I am my large French hazel eyes and my thick and wavy South Asian hair, my favorite of my features.

I am the pride I feel as I trace my thumb over the intricate embroidery on one of my anarkalis and the anticipation I feel for Christmas as I help line my grandmother’s fireplace with garland. I am the rhythmic clanking of my bangles as I dance to bhangra music at a cousin’s wedding and the clicking of tongues by a sizzling grill as my grandpa flips our burgers during a Sunday night barbeque. I am the flavorful and savory taste of pulao my father makes and the creamy texture of mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving. I am the Maybelline mascara I coat my eyelashes with and the kajal I used to line the edges of my eyes. I am the flavorant meeting of two cultures melting in an incredible country in which such a thing is even possible.

“So what are you?”

God, but what am I thinking? I’m Jackie. I am the impending messiness that is my bedroom. I am my inability to fall the hell asleep before eleven o’clock at night. I am my love for all things fashion and glamour. I am my obnoxiously large collection of makeup. I am my hideous shedding of tears each and every time Spock dies in the Wrath of Khan.

I am my intense love for horror movies and my struggle to move in the dark for two days after watching them. I am my passion for music and Michael J. Fox and Kanye West and my unrequited love for Zayn Malik. I am my collection of records and of 32 scarves which I never wear, my brown riding boots, my belting of Christmas carols in the middle of July, my irrational hatred of algebra, my inability to sleep without my phone being on its charger, the Toll House cookie dough I eat straight from the bag and the four Beatles posters I have hanging in my room.

I am the scent of Aussie conditioner and my clumsy, spacy nature; my obsession with the Kennedys, my adamant love for Diet Dr Pepper, losing myself in my daydreams, my extreme extroversion and procrastination of literally everything, my weakness for Reese’s peanut butter cups, my A to Z knowledge about Mick Jagger, my ever changing mind. I am my dreams and I am my fears and and I am my tenacity and I am my mistakes and my courage and my insecurities and my abilities and my hope … I am so much and yet I am so little. I am me. I am unapologetically and beautifully me.

“So what are you?”

I am Jacqueline Renee and I am what I am and no answer that I give you to this question will make what I am any different.

anonymous asked:

If you have time (omg I'm sorry but this prompt in my head forever) It's 3am and they are in a community kitchen in college and one is making brownies.

Percy had just wanted to get a glass of water.

When he enters the communal kitchen, blearily rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he realises what had woken him up in the first place. One of his roommates is standing with her back to him at the countertop, cracking eggs into a large mixing bowl. The kitchen looks devastated. Shared by six people, it never looks pristine, but right now a bomb could have gone off for the state it’s in.

“Um,” he says, still disorientated from the light and noise and explosion aftermath.

She turns and swears quietly. “Sorry, I thought I was being quiet.”

She was not, but Percy won’t begrudge her that. Partially because he’s a little bit in love with her (alright, mostly, but that’s not important right now), partially because he knows he’s woken her up at least half a dozen times since they moved into the dorms three months ago.

“S’alright. Just gettin some water.”

Annabeth smiles. “Alright.”

Percy opens the mug cupboard and after several seconds of staring at its contents and coming to terms with the fact that they don’t own any glasses not made of plastic, he grabs a mug with Walt Whitman’s face on it and fills it with water from the faucet. Instead of taking it back to his room with him, he leans back against the sink and watches Annabeth squint at her phone as she holds it three inches from her face.

“You alright there?” he asks.

She doesn’t look away from her phone. “My glasses are somewhere deep within my bag and I have neither the energy or determination to find them.”

“Okay.”

She looks at him. “Do you want to read this recipe for me or keep delivering these brilliant insights?”

He shrugs. “I feel like I could manage both.”

Annabeth hands her phone over with a roll of her eyes. Percy puts down his glass of water and shoves some of the debris aside so that he can sit on the counter top. Then he takes Annabeth’s phone and reads the title of the page.

“You need to google a recipe for brownies?”

“Alright, Martha Stewart. Just tell me what to do to make this delicious.”

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I would like to dedicate this one to the fantastic @talortut cause she’s always listening to my nonsense.

“You missed my fucking presentation. You promised you’d be there and you missed it. What the hell was so important that you couldn’t be there for me?”

—–

Standing in front of a large group of people, talking, was never an easy task for Keith. His boyfriend knew about this, and when Keith had his career on the line, Lance had offered to help. He even volunteered to be in it. But when Lance was nowhere to be found, Keith’s opportunities were flushed down the drain as the investors walked out of the door.

The drive to Lance’s apartment was quiet and seemed to take forever. Each moment his blood boiled more and more, and by the time he reached his destination, he was fuming.

Keith fumbled with the keys and jammed it into the keyhole. He swung the door open and felt no remorse when it slammed against the wall. The apartment was silent, and Keith wondered if Lance was even home. But that was definitely Lance’s jacket on the couch and he never left home without it. Keith stormed into the bedroom, and found Lance sleeping curled up in his blankets. If Keith wasn’t ready to rip his head off he’d probably find it adorable how his boyfriend was nothing more than a Lance burrito. But Keith was seeing red.

In a rage of fury Keith ripped the blankets off the sleeping boy. Unraveling the blankets caused Lance to ungraciously fall onto the floor with an “oomph” leaving him. Lance groaned as he started to sit up, hand clutching his head to try and make the pounding stop.

“Lance for the love of god wake the fuck up!” Keith all but shrieked.

Lance’s eyes went wide as his head snapped up. Keith and Lance argued sure, but Keith had never yelled at him like that.

“W-What? Keith?” Lance stuttered out.

Lance’s world was spinning and the last thing he needed right now was a yelling Keith.

“You missed my fucking presentation. You promised you’d be there and you missed it. What the hell was so important that you couldn’t be there for me?” If Keith were a cryer, he’d probably be crying right about now with how emotional he felt.

“What? No the… the presentation is tomorrow morning. I. I had enough time to sleep after my paperwork was done.” Lance was confused. Two nights after he got home from Keith’s when they had finished up all the preparations for the presentation Keith had to give, he had started his paperwork for the start of the next quarter next week. At some point he climbed into bed, ready to sleep till noon and then get the rest of the paperwork done. But when he looked at the clock, it was well past noon.

“Oh I must have overslept” Lance mumbled out. Were they supposed to do more preparations?

“The fuck do you mean you overslept?! This was important Lance!”

Lance was taken aback by the tone. His head was pounding more with Keith yelling at him.

“Keith please I do-” Lance tries but was cut off.

“Lance I just lost my promotion because of you. You were supposed to be there for me! But you just fucking ‘overslept.’ I was counting on you! And you just let me down again!”

This was too much. Lance couldn’t even comprehend what Keith was saying and the volume was so loud that his ears were ringing while his world was spinning. Tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t understand Keith. Why are you so angry?” Lance sobbed out as he rubbed his wrist to his eyes to stop the tears from sliding down his face.

But Keith kept going.

“What do you mean ‘why am I so angry?’ Have you not been listening to me at all Lance?”

“I-I can’t” Lance sobbed out. He went to stand, but his legs gave out the moment he put weight on them and fell forward. Keith on instinct caught Lance and held him up under his armpits.

“Lance?” All the anger Keith had in him dissipated and turned to concern when he could feel the heat radiating off of Lance through his jacket.
Keith slowly settled Lance to sit on the bed and when he pulled away he finally took a good look at him.

He was pale, dark circles under his eyes, and now his eyes were red from crying. Keith’s heart broke, realizing what he just did. He just yelled and berated his clearly sick and delirious boyfriend.

“Lance, oh fuck. I’m so sorry” Keith pleaded. He placed the back of his hand against Lance’s forehead to feel for his temperature, but he flinched away from the touch and let out a whimper. Lance was crying again.

“Oh Lance.” Keith said softly as he brushed his thumbs over the others wet cheeks. “I’m so sorry Lance. Baby please don’t cry. I promise I’ll take care of you.” Keith said as he brushed Lance’s bangs out of his face and continued to stroke his hair.

Once Lance has calmed down and less out of it they are definitely going to have to talk.

3

Dress Up (Joker x Reader)

Requested by Anon: “Could you do a joker imagine were the reader wears like all pastel colors and flower crowns and is like super shy and innocent and joker kidnaps her cos like her dads a mob boss. Smut please.”

A/n: Sorry that I didn’t deliver on the smut, I just really couldn’t make it work. ;-;

Warnings: Mature themes.


Music softly carried through the space of your room. You were seated at your vanity, expertly applying a soft toned lipstick to your lips. You leaned forward to inspect your makeup job, your lips parted as you smiled widely at your reflection. Your music picked up as you stood from the vanity. Your eyes scanned the room until you found the item you’d been looking for, the missing accessory to complete your look.

“Perfect…” you sighed happily, placing the colored flower crown on top of your head, adjusting the accessory until you were satisfied.

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What about a Corpse Bride Victuuri AU? I was thinking about the movie last night and hey! The main character is shy and nervous! Ends up engaged to someone more open and bubbly! There’s someone named Victor! The main character’s dog died!

Okay so, Yuuri is arranged to marry Yuuko, who he considers a good friend but…just really doesn’t want to marry. For maximum happy ending potential, Yuuko feels the same and is in love with someone else, but their families have arranged this marriage and neither have much say in the matter.

So Yuuri is stressed and nervous about the wedding and keeps messing up badly at the wedding rehearsal because his heart is just not in it. So he goes off into the woods to try to practice his vows because he’s disappointing his family and Yuuko and he doesn’t like this situation but there’s no getting out of it, so he might as well try not to make a complete fool of himself at the wedding, right? He goes out to the woods to practice his dancing anyway when he’s stressed out, as that’s his real passion. He feels at ease out here.

So, you’ve seen the movie, he’s practicing his vows, feeling a bit better, and to practice, he puts the wedding ring on what he thinks is an old twig sticking out of the ground, but…it was actually the skeletal hand of a young man who froze to death in these woods long ago. Yeah, it’s Victor. The Corpse Groom. He’s been stuck there for ages, ever since the lover he was planing to elope with ditched him and left him waiting at their meeting spot until he froze to death, and woke up as a corpse with a broken heart, vowing to wait until someone came along to love him and marry him properly.

And then along came Yuuri! Victor had secretly been watching him dance in the woods for some time now, as he often came near the spot where Victor’s body was, and he fell in love with the wonderful way Yuuri moves. And now, what luck! Yuuri said his vows to him and put a ring on his finger and now Victor will be free from his miserable lonely years of waiting and they’re going to get married and live happily ever after!!! So to speak.

Yeah, except Yuuri is 100% freaked out because this very cheerful dead fellow just popped out of the ground and scared him so badly he fainted, and then woke up in the land of the dead to find his apparent fiancé showed off his ring to everyone and gushing about how wonderful Yuuri is, oh look, he’s awake! Good morning, darling! I was just telling everyone how you proposed to me! It was so romantic! Are you excited about our wedding? I certainly am! Oh, why are you so pale?

And then Yuuri tries to find a way back to the land of the living, while slowly warming up to Victor, who’s a lot less terrifying when you get past the fact that he’s dead, and is actually quite charming and kind when he wants to be…but still, Yuuri has to go back, right? He can’t stay here!

Cue misadventures with Yuuri trying and failing to get back, Victor getting his feelings badly hurt because he realizes Yuuri was trying to leave him, misunderstanding and drama until Yuuri finally realizes that he’s happier with Victor than he ever was before and agrees to marry him properly. But instead of Yuuri dying to be with him, the Power of Love or whatever magic what-have-you brings Victor back to life so he can have a second chance with Yuuri in the world of the living. Yuuri learns that Yuuko was in love with someone else and is very happy that their arrange marriage won’t be happening after all, and Yuuri’s family does want him to be happy in the end and blesses the union between their son and his previously undead groom. So everything ends happily! The end!

The White Owl (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Prompt: In which the reader turns into an owl and Newt is absolutely oblivious.  Also includes a sassy!Frank.

Word Count: 3111

A/N: I wrote this entirely to spite my sister who is taking forever on writing her Newt x reader.


I first met him when the Goldstein sisters invited him over.  Now, I was his assistant.  He took me in when he started writing his book and became so busy with it that he needed help with his creatures.

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Full Moon [R.L.]

Character: Remus Lupin
Word Count: 1188
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: After a particularly bad full moon, Y/n decides it’s time to admit that she knows all about Remus’ little secret, especially since she’s known for years.
Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it

+ + + + +

You were fed up of them treating you like you were stupid. You were supposed to be one of their best friends, for Merlin’s sake! So why did they feel the need to make up the most outrageous excuses every month, just to cover up the fact they were helping out Remus?

It was frustrating, especially so since you had known about his little secret since you were in third year. Remus was a terrible liar, and if you were honest, James, Sirius and Peter weren’t much better.

You knew they were just trying to cover for their friend, but couldn’t they trust you? Did they really think you valued their friendship that lowly that you’d sell them out for something that Remus couldn’t help?

It annoyed you to no end when they’d lie to your face. You’d been friends for almost 7 years now, and the fact that they still didn’t trust you, even after all this time, really hurt. What hurt the most to you was that Remus didn’t trust you with his secret.

Because whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had a huge crush on the boy, and it really pained you to know that he didn’t trust you not to tell anyone.

You sat in the Gryffindor common room - a place where you often resided - waiting for the four to get back from their… late night endeavours.

From your place on the couch, you could see the full moon sitting brightly in the dark night sky, illuminating the Black Lake below, and making you slightly anxious about when they would be returning.

You stood up and walked closer to the window, leaning on the ledge as you peered out to look across the grounds. Everything was silent and deserted, which seemed strange considering in the daytime the grounds were packed with students.

A slight movement near the trees below caught your eyes as your gaze was instantly drawn to the spot. Four figures finally emerged from the forest, two trying to hold another one up, and the fourth simply tagging along at the back, trying to help but mostly just failing to do so.

You heart clenched. You hated seeing Remus so hurt after a full moon. You hated the scratches and cuts that littered his body after a night of trying to rip himself apart. You wished you could make things better for them.

But they didn’t know that you knew.

Every month you’d pretend that you believed their stupid lies, and you knew they probably thought you were the most gullible person on the planet.

This month, however, you wanted it to stop. You were going to wait until they managed to get back up to the common room, and you were going to confront them.

There was a while to wait, as you had expected, due to them presumably stopping to see Madam Pomfrey, who helped Remus out with his injuries every month.

Then they’d be returning.

You sat back down on the couch, holding a book and flipping the pages every so often, though your eyes were trained on the door.

There was the sound of some muttering, and few bangs - probably Sirius - before the door finally opened.

They didn’t notice you at first, busy trying to get Remus into the room, however when James finally saw you sitting on the couch, simply observing the scene, he slapped Sirius’ shoulder and nodded his head towards you.

“Oh hey, Y/n,” Sirius said, laughing nervously, “What are you still doing up? You should be in bed. Let’s get you in bed.”

He began walking towards you but you held a hand up, making him stop in his tracks, “Not another step, Black.”

James and Peter watched on as they held onto Remus’ beaten body, helping him to stay stood up.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” James said quickly. You raised an eyebrow. “And what does this look like to you? Because to me, it looks like you’re trying to hide the fact that your friend is a bloody werewolf!” You whispered the last word, though you knew it was just you five alone.

“W-What? Pfft, no it’s not, why would you even… say… that…” James trailed off when he saw the look on your face. He sighed, “When did you find out?”

“About October,” You said. “Oh that’s not too bad!” Sirius said with a grin, “We kept it a secret for that long!”

“In third year,” you finished, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ohh…”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “That doesn’t matter right now though. Could you please just lay him down on the couch? He’s as pale as anything, and looks like he’s about to pass out.”

James and Peter carefully helped Remus to lay down across the couch you were just sitting on, and looked at you.

“You three look a mess. You’ve clearly had no sleep, and if you want no one to work out why you’re all looking so awful tomorrow, you better get to bed.”

“Hey! I am beautiful all the time! How dare you offend me like this!” Sirius said indignantly with a pout.

James looked hesitantly at Remus’ figure, not wanting to leave just yet and you gave him a smile, “It’s okay. You’ve done enough tonight. Just go and get some sleep, I’ll look after him.”

“Okay… thanks,” the messy haired boy began to head to his dorm, followed by Peter. Sirius gave you a knowing look, winking as he too followed them upstairs, “Don’t snog too much, Y/n, he’s quite worn out already!”

“Shut up, Black!” You grumbled.

When all three boys had finally disappeared, you perched gently on the couch near Remus’ head, as you took in his appearance properly for the first time that night.

His face was completely scratched up, and there was a cut across his lip that looked quite deep. Bruised covered his shoulders, and from what you could see under his ripped up shirt, so was his stomach.

“Oh Remus…” you whispered, stroking a hand through his hair gently whilst the other softly traced the cuts on his face.

You saw the blush forming on his cheeks before he even opened his eyes, but when he did you could see his adoration for you clearly.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he said quietly, in a hoarse voice. You looked into his pretty brown eyes and smiled, “I know I don’t have to. I want to. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You felt him lean into the hand that cupped his cheek, and gently stroked his jawline with your thumb.

You leant down slowly, waiting for any sign of discomfort, before softly brushing your lips against his. Remus reached up to push your hair away as he held onto you, kissing you properly, pouring all his love into it, as were you.

Suddenly, Remus knew his full moons wouldn’t be as bad anymore, because he knew you’d be there for him afterwards to patch him up and kiss him better. And that’s all he ever wanted.

Ease - Part 15

Genreangst/fluff

Pairingreader/taehyung

Length: 3.7k

SummaryYou and your best friend Taehyung have recently got into the same university in the capital of Seoul. Hoping that this was your year to finally admit your romantic feelings towards your said best friend, uni seems an exciting prospect. But of course, the future never really goes according to plan.

1 ♡ 2 3 4 5 ♡ 6 7 ♡ 8 ♡ 9 ♡ 10 11 ♡ 12 ♡ 13 ♡ 14 ♡ 15 ♡ 16 ♡  Moodboard   

“So, it’s over between you and Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, his words indistinct as his teeth were clenched around a pepero stick. “Didn’t last long, did it?”

“King of sympathy, aren’t you Yoongs?” scorned Hoseok, quickly shooting a death glare to his friend before focusing back on his phone screen, which was so close to his face his nose was almost brushing it.

You shook your head understandingly. “It’s okay, we were never really together in the first place. Just trying things out, seeing if we would make a good couple. I’m still sad that it’s over though. I really thought we could make it work, in the end.”

Yoongi continued nibbling at his food, not noticing the crumbs that was accumulating in the folds of his clothes. “I think,” nibble, nibble, “that Jungkook did the right thing. From what I saw,” nibble, nibble, “your relationship was heading down a dangerous road. Outcome wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“Deep down, I knew it was too problematic for true romance, but he’s always been so supportive and he’s had my back. Although,” you added, looking around the practice room, “I have no idea where he is. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

It was the weekend, so it was unusual for any of you to be missing. You had hours of uninterrupted practice in front of you, yet none of you were on your feet, as Jungkook hadn’t turned up and Hoseok was anxiously awaiting the results for the competition.

“There’s no point rehearsing if we haven’t got into the show,” he’d argued, and Yoongi had been more than happy to agree and sit down with no complaints.

After Jungkook announced at the park that he was ending the relationship between you, you’d spent a little while longer talking about everything you’d been too scared to discuss before. You’d asked him what he meant about teaching him about love, but he avoided the question and instead stared distractedly at Taehyung and Jimin playing football.  There was still something about Jungkook that you didn’t quite understand, and even going into detail afterwards about your feelings didn’t clear things the air. It wasn’t to do with him struggling to open up, or how he’d never been in a relationship, but there was something more.

Yoongi let out an exasperated noise as he watched Hoseok’s intense expression. “Hoseok, you’re going to get bad eyesight if you hold your phone that close-”

“IT’S HERE!” he bellowed, causing you both to jump in fright. However, you leapt up and skidded over to Hoseok, you looking over his left shoulder and Yoongi over his right.

“I don’t believe it,” mumbled Yoongi, as Hoseok froze in shock. “We got in! And look Y/N, you and Jungkook are there too!”

“Hoseok, are you okay?”

Hoseok seemed to be staring into space, but surely enough, a huge grin split across his face, lighting up his eyes in excitement. Letting out a massive yell, he leapt to his feet and began a victory dance in the middle of the room, knocking both you and Yoongi backwards onto the floor.

Aish, really?” grumbled Yoongi, rubbing his backside sorrowfully.

The elatedness you felt after hearing the results was short lived, as the panic of Jungkook’s whereabouts set in. Where was he? Checking your phone for the hundredth time, it didn’t surprise you to see no new messages.

“I’m going to go check on Jungkook,” you announced, speaking loudly over Hoseok’s elated shouting.

“You’re leaving me?” asked Yoongi, his furrowed eyebrows making his eyes even more doe-like and pitiful. “With him?”

You just laughed at his crestfallen face. “I’m sure I won’t be long.”

Leaving the practice room, you strode down the cobblestone street towards Jungkook’s house. Your heart couldn’t help lifting at the possibility of Taehyung being there, too.


“You did what?”

Jungkook sighed, but he looked regretful. “I tore a ligament my ankle while I was practising the spin the other day. I asked the doctor if I could still participate in the dance competition, and she strictly forbade me.”

You couldn’t believe it. After rehearsing for so long, Jungkook ruined your chances of winning by injuring himself. Sure, it wasn’t about the money any more, but you couldn’t accept that your weeks, months, of hard work had gone to waste. Your heart sank into your stomach with disappointment, the glorious image of you and Jungkook preparing to go onstage with Hoseok and Yoongi fading in your head.

“You didn’t even text me!”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” said Jungkook softly, ruffling his chocolate-brown hair ruefully. “You could always enter with someone else.”

“What do you mean?” you asked loudly. “They won’t let us change the line-up after the audition process, and plus no one else knows the dance! Well, apart from Hoseok and Yoongi, but they’re in the competition already.”

Jungkook gave you a sideways smirk. “You can teach Taehyung the dance.”

Teach Taehyung? Your heart did a double beat at the thought, but you forced yourself to think rationally.

“It’s a week until the final performance!” you spluttered.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I can barely walk let alone dance. It’s either you teach someone else, and let them enter under my name, or pull out from the competition.”

You sank down onto the edge of Jungkook’s bed, eyeing is bandaged ankle warily. You couldn’t possibly teach Taehyung your whole dance in a week. Could you? Jungkook was peering at you with an expression of remorse and upset. You knew he was looking forward to dancing as well, and the outcome of the situation probably stung a lot more than he was letting on. After all, it was his choreography, and he was swallowing his pride by letting someone else dance in his place, just so you still had a chance.

However, it’d taken you a lot longer than a week to learn the routine. Plus, Jungkook seemed a natural at teaching, whereas you could barely get Taehyung to stop talking.

“Taehyung… doesn’t know…” you said hesitatingly, not quite knowing how to break the news. Jungkook waited patiently for you to continue, while you stuttered on. “He doesn’t know about us dancing,” you finished, all in a rush.

Jungkook gawked at you for a few moments, then burst into fits of laughter, his shoulders shaking as he crowed gleefully. You sat there, cheeks beginning to glow red as he continued to howl, not finding it funny in the slightest.

“You never told him,” he wheezed, more of a statement than a question.

Huffing, you folded your arms in defiance. “Why didn’t you ever tell him?”

“He never asked me, so I assumed he knew. Go tell him right now, silly.”

He was still grinning from ear to ear, but it was more playful than happy for your misfortune, so you weren’t reassured at all as you got up and made your way to the door.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” you asked tentatively. “I mean, you practically hated Taehyung for making me upset, and now you’re willing to let him take your place?”

“I never hated him,” he corrected, “I just thought he was being a bit arrogant. I still want the judges to see my choreography though, so I’m willing to let someone else have a go, even if it is Taehyung. I should’ve never intervened between you two.”

You stood by the doorway, contemplating Jungkook’s words. He sounded honest and sincere, which didn’t help you feel better. He was a good friend and you were happy he was there for you, even though it wasn’t exactly what you needed. “I’m glad you did,” you swallowed, before leaving him in peace.

As you inched your way to Taehyung’s room, you wondered how Jungkook was acting so calm and collected after what happened at the park. After being jealous at any mention of Taehyung, he was now encouraging you to dance with him. He could’ve suggested Jin or Namjoon, but he didn’t. And you couldn’t understand why. He’d been so quick to move on, as if his heart wasn’t broken. Did he really love you, if it didn’t hurt him to leave you?

Taehyung’s room was dim, as his curtains were still half closed. However, Taehyung was sat in the middle of his bed, surrounded by piles of notes and work which he clearly wasn’t doing.

“Ahh, Y/N! Just the person I need! Can you help me? I can’t figure out if we’ve finished the topic or not, or if I was even there for that class. Physically or mentally.”

It was strange talking to Taehyung again; while you were going through turmoil and facing one problem after another, Taehyung seemed bizarrely normal. It was clear something had changed between you, but he seemed determined not to let it get in the way of your friendship. Trying to quell your small smile, you sat down next to Taehyung and worked through his notes, sorting out where information was missing. All the while, Taehyung blabbered on about a video game he’d finished while you listened quietly about graphics, plot twists, and tactics. Normally, you would’ve asked questions and let him ramble on, but this time you were too anxious to tell him about the dance show that you barely responded, until finally he talked himself into silence.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Am I boring you?” he asked quizzically.

“No, no, of course not. It’s interesting, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“So long as it’s not you getting married to Jungkook.”

You stared at Taehyung in astonishment, wondering how he’d managed to come up with that idea.

However, Taehyung seemed to misread your perplexed expression and turned a pale shade of grey. “Oh, you are getting married. Oh damn, can we do that again? I’ll respond better this time, I swear. Go on, say that you have something to tell me.”

Stunned into silence, you could barely comprehend why Taehyung was jumping to the conclusion of marriage. Nor why he’d begun to wring his hands, or why he was breathing quickly out of his mouth. His lips were a flushed pink as he licked them, readying himself to reply with the appropriate wishes.

“Taehyung,” you laughed breathily, “I’m not getting married.”

He seemed to collapse a few inches as he sighed out of his nose. “Well,” he grumbled, “you could’ve told me that before I embarrassed myself.”

“I was going to tell you why I’m meeting up with Jungkook every morning,” you said, ignoring his mumbling.

“And night.”

“Whatever. Ages ago, I decided to sign up to a dance competition to earn some extra cash. It was an impulsive thing, and I was going to ask you to join, but Jungkook was happy to be my dance partner. That’s what we’ve been doing: rehearsing. We’ve practised so hard, and there was an audition process because of some celebrity judge, and we passed. The actual, final show is next week.”

“A dance competition? Was that all?” He sounded taken aback, as if he was expecting something more dramatic.

“When things got too confusing, it was nice to fall back on dancing as a way to get my mind off it,” you explained, watching Taehyung’s tanned hands fiddle with a pen. “A sort of therapy, if you like. Problem is, Jungkook’s hurt himself, and he can’t participate in the competition. Feels like we’ve fallen at the last hurdle, but Jungkook said that, if you want, I could teach you the routine and you could enter instead.”

You waited expectantly for Taehyung’s reaction, hoping that he wasn’t too offended about the whole situation. Luckily, he was nodding agreeably.

“If you need my help, then sure,” he grinned, showing off his teeth. “Can’t wait! Never expected your meetings to be dancing. You’re full of surprises. It’s going to be fun, right?”

“You’ll need to work hard,” you instructed, raising your eyebrows in a mock seriousness. In a sterner voice, you added, “Don’t make me ask Jin.”

“Does Jin know about the dancing? Does everyone else know, too?”

Meekly, you said yes, avoiding looking straight into Taehyung’s eyes and instead focusing on the extremely interesting sticky note behind him. All that was written was ‘reminder: revise’, but you hoped that Taehyung wasn’t aware of that.

“Can’t believe it,” he moaned. “The only one who didn’t know!”

“You were dating Yeji,” you blurted out. “And I was annoyed with you at the time for abandoning me.”

“Let’s not talk about Yeji,” Taehyung said quickly, dropping the pen onto his notepad with a concluding thud. “Did you want to start practicing now?” His eyes were shifty, but his tone was pressing, so you didn’t feel inclined to push for a further explanation.

Baffled and slightly nervous, you took Taehyung to the practice room to meet Hoseok and Yoongi after saying goodbye to Jungkook. He cheered you on silently, making kissing faces behind Taehyung’s back while you flipped him off and closed the door.


“I regret agreeing to this,” moaned Taehyung, after you’d shown him the choreography to the first verse. “I’m so tired!”

“Think of my poor feet!” you argued. “You’ve trod on me at least eight times.”

Hoseok and Yoongi sat at the side, sipping on cold drinks that you’d stopped off to buy and laughing at your misery. When you’d introduced them, Taehyung stopped in his tracks and his mouth fell open.

“You’re from Cake Corner!” he’d exclaimed, bowing eagerly and almost bouncing back up again. “I didn’t know you were friends with Y/N!”

From there, the three boys got along like a house on fire, and when you explained the plan to let Taehyung enter as Jungkook, they agreed not to give the game away. Yoongi questioned what you would do if they offered Taehyung a chance to become a trainee, but Hoseok shushed him and demanded Taehyung to watch their routine to get his opinion.

Teaching Taehyung was going as well as you thought it would: terribly. He fell about laughing whenever he made a mistake, and when he complained, you threatened to replace him with Jin.

“I can’t do that,” he said obstinately, surveying the demonstration you and Hoseok gave of the roll-across-the-back movement.

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” chuckled Hoseok. “Once you’ve had a few practices, you’ll get the hang of it.”

Easier said than done, you grumbled to yourself. The first time you tried it, Taehyung lifted you so hard that you barely made contact with his back before you skidded off onto the floor. With a sore back, you told him to be gentle, but on the second go, he didn’t even lift you off the ground.

“Somewhere in the middle of those two,” called out Yoongi as he packed to go home, earning a hard glare from you.

Taehyung began practicing a few steps by himself, allowing you to stand with Hoseok as he shrugged on his jacket. “So…” you said slowly, “what do you think of him?”

“He’s special to you,” he stated vaguely, peering at the orange-haired boy as he stumbled over his own feet. “I understand why you like him.”

“Yah, Y/N!” yelled Taehyung from where he sat on the floor. “Remember that teacher we had in middle school, the one who said I would never have good coordination? What if she was right?”

Hoseok winked as he walked through the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good luck!” whooped Yoongi.


Up until that point, you weren’t nervous about the competition. With Jungkook, you were sure you could perform and not come bottom of the ranks, but with Taehyung? Although it was the first time you’d gone through the dance with him, it didn’t look promising. But you were properly in the show now, and you didn’t want to drop out, especially not when Jungkook wanted to see his choreography on stage.

As you walked home, Taehyung noticed your distressed expression as he linked arms with you, just like he always did.

“Are you worried about the dance?” he asked gently, understanding you straightaway. When you didn’t reply, he pulled you to a stop so that you were stood face to face on the street, the sun almost set on the horizon. He put his warm hands on your cheeks, cupping your face and staring at you with his deep brown eyes. “I promise I’ll work hard to get it right,” he assured. “I won’t let you or Jungkook down.”

Feeling his soft palms against your skin and hearing the concern underneath his words made you well up, not knowing quite how to deal with the sudden comfort. As your face began to screw up, Taehyung pulled you into a honey-scented hug. You clung tight, feeling his heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt.

“Is everything okay? You can tell me. I won’t judge you.”

Everything got to you at once. Seeing Taehyung that close and remembering how your life used to be before Seoul and before university got you wound up, and the nostalgia brought a sudden sadness that you couldn’t control.

“Nothing’s going right,” you sniffed, desperately hoping you weren’t leaving snot all over his clothes. “Jungkook’s hurt his stupid ankle and I feel terrible for not loving him enough. I’m feeling pressured about money because I’m not entirely sure my job is covering my rent, although my parents assured me that it is, but they just have to lie about those things, don’t they? And the fight with you got me so down, and now Jungkook’s broke off our relationship and isn’t even upset about it, even when I thought I wouldn’t be, but I am and it’s a horrible feeling, and I wish I had friendly housemates to talk it through with like you do with yours, but I’m not close with them at all-”

“Wait, you’re not dating Jungkook anymore?” interrupted Taehyung, pushing you away from his chest so he could examine your face. “He broke it off?” When you threatened to burst into tears, he muttered, “Never mind,” and hugged you closer. He didn’t hold you like he intended to fix you, or pretend that everything was going to be okay, as if he knew that you hated hearing that. It felt like he simply wanted to be there.

“Why don’t you come back to mine?” he offered, cradling you tightly. “We can have a much needed movie night. Your pick.”

You couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, so you agreed, and Taehyung lead you carefully down the street, not letting your body stray away from his.


You’d chosen one of your favourite chick flicks that you could almost quote word for word, but you never tired from it. Although Taehyung had also seen it multiple times, as you’d forced him to sit with you, he didn’t complain about your selection and happily grabbed blankets to snuggle under on the sofa.

Now that he knew all the secrets you’d been holding in for months, you felt a whole lot more comfortable around him. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and so you began narrating a story that you’d told him many times before, but was repeating just for the sake of it. However, Taehyung listened attentively, like he’d never heard it before, and he laughed in the right places and added little ‘really’s and ‘oh’s to show he was still paying attention. You knew it was because he was trying to cheer you up, but a part of you hoped that he was generally happy to hear you talk.

Before long, the conversation went back to Jungkook, and you ended up telling him how he’d acted if Taehyung was mentioned.

“Did he treat you badly again, like he did before we met up at the cupcake place?” he questioned, his mouth forming a thin line.

“No,” you said firmly, “he never treated me badly, but I’m too independent and feisty to get along with him sometimes. Now that we’re not together, he’s gone back to being soft and tame. Perhaps I just brought out the protective side of him, because I couldn’t love him the way I should’ve. That’s my mistake: agreeing to being with him even though I knew, deep down, it wouldn’t be a healthy relationship.”

“Don’t blame yourself for whatever emotions you have,” he said lowly, his eyes becoming hooded as he laid his hand on top of yours gingerly. “He was scared of losing you, but now that he’s realised that it wasn’t what he wanted either, you shouldn’t stress about it. I think that, somewhere along the way, he thought he was going along the wrong path. So, he turned around and left you stranded, so you’re feeling lost. You feel lost sometimes, I remember. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing, and you question yourself.”

Blinking twice, you tried not to show your bewilderment. You had no idea that Taehyung paid attention to that sort of thing, and you could feel your spirits lifting as you realised that he bothered to remember the smallest details about you that no one else did.

“Come on,” he grinned, as he grabbed a blanket. “Let’s roll you up.”

“I’m not a sushi,” you whined, as he started pulling the blanket around your body, pinning your arms to your sides.

“That’s exactly what you are. A little sushi roll.”

“Less of the ‘little’, thank you very much.”

It was fair to say that you felt infinitely better as Taehyung cuddled you on the sofa, occasionally feeding you food and giving you water throughout the rest of the film. Sure, things were getting muddled and you were on the verge of having a meltdown every now and then, but maybe, just maybe, things could work out after all. Even if it meant dealing with the clammy hands and heart racing when Taehyung laid his head on yours, his eyes trained on the screen. You should’ve pushed him away, told him that he couldn’t do that to you, but you didn’t have the strength. He was your weakness, and you were perfectly okay with that.

No Longer Forgotten

Fandom: Marvel (Thor’s movies)

Summary: Based on: “Imagine baking Loki his favourite Midgardian cake for his birthday, and him being deeply surprised because he told you when his birthday is just once and yet you’re the only one that remembered it and made him celebrate it after many years” by @imaginemarveluniverse

Word count: 1,573

[Masterlist]

Originally posted by lokis-quinn

A gentle humming was lighting up the kitchen bathed in the soft sunlight. You checked the oven, looking proudly at the growing cake you had made by yourself. It seemed to be all right, but you got cautious after your previous attempt at baking, which is cooling down on one of the kitchen counters, completely burnt and inedible.

You sat on one of the chairs, trying to avoid looking at the ungodly mess you have made in the process of baking. Flour was covering the floor with a thin layer that you couldn’t get rid of with the broom. You should probably wash it, but you felt weak at the mere thought of it. You were so tired that you could fall asleep standing. Actually, a quick (but normal) nap was a very tempting thought – your sore legs would rest, and your eyes, which you have rubbed with a dirty hand, almost burning them with flavouring…

No! No rest before you finish. You wouldn’t survive another round of starting everything from scratch. Of course, you would certainly give up after another defeat if the cake was meant just for you, but it wasn’t this time. You had a very special occasion and wanted to make everything perfect…

A knock on the door was as surprising as unusual. You have barely any close friends and none of them lived nearby, so there was no chance they would randomly decide to visit you before speaking to you first. And this couldn’t be the mailman, because you had a letter-box on the other side of the building. No one was visiting you like that. Maybe someone got lost or one of your neighbours wanted to ask you something?

You flattened your hair which you had no time to even brush today, but gave up on trying to cover your war with the kitchen – the only thing that could help your clothes get back to socially acceptable standards was a solid wash.

You opened the door with a light smile to greet…

…Loki.

You said none of your friends would visit you unexpectedly? Well, you have forgotten about the one, now standing right in front of you – the only one that you would be more than happy to see every other day but today – and the one that was supposed to come tomorrow. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if you weren’t preparing him a birthday cake. A kind of surprise. And a present. Which you were supposed to give him on his bloody birthday.

And now he got suspicious. He probably had the right to be, since you froze in the doorway, with your thoughts literally screaming and your heart racing.

“Is everything okay…?” Loki asked slowly, furrowing his eyebrows and peeking in over your shoulder. Your lack of words had worried him.

“Of course!” you said with a totally unnatural, high-pitched voice. And there goes your cover…

“So… May I come in?”

“Yea-… I mean… Nothing is-… Maybe tomorrow, you said tomorrow? Of course I didn’t forget about our tomorrow meeting and neither did you, right?” you rambled, feeling smaller and smaller.

Green eyes looked at you appraisingly.

“If you have a guest, you can just tell me. I just appeared to be around and thought that I may come in, but there is no need to…”

“No! No, no, no!” you almost shouted, but quickly calmed down. The longer you were postponing it, the worse it was becoming. You took a deep breath, moving to the side. “No one is here, I just… had a bad day. Kind of. You are welcome anytime.”

Loki hesitated a bit, but entered your home, looking around suspiciously. He was clearly searching for any signs of what was bothering you, but besides the ungodly mess in the kitchen, nothing has caught his attention. He knew your house well enough to catch any change given the amount of time you two hang out up with there.

“Well, now  at least I think I understand why you didn’t want me to see all this,” Loki gestured to the pile of dirty dishes completely covering the sink.

You shrugged, standing at the doorframe. You had to admit that the tall man in a visibly expensive suit in no way fitted in that room. You were actually surprised that he came inside of it, not afraid of omnipresent mess. Thank God that Loki was your friend and wouldn’t get mad over some stains on his clothes that you were almost sure would appear out of nowhere. Or at least you thought he would. It wasn’t your fault you’d spilled some things. A few times. Because you happened to be a little bit too enthusiastic.

“You still seem to be stressed,” Loki noticed, making himself sit comfortable on one of the chairs. He crossed his long legs, piercing you with his gaze that you had no way to avoid.

“I’ve just had a bad day,” you carefully selected your words, knowing that you were treading on thin ice. You could almost hear it breaking as Loki was working you out openly. “Nothing serious. Tried to keep my mind away from everything, and well, you see what happened.”

“You mean this burning… thing?”

“Yeah, I kind of forgot about it for a bit too long, got distracted. I’ll have to throw it away…”

“I meant the one burning right now.”

“Wha-…? Oh, shit-…!” you rushed to the oven, almost breaking your legs on the way.

You didn’t even bother to look for a dishcloth, hissing over the sting of pain when the temperature kissed your palms. And almost destroyed your cake, apparently. You put it on the table, between empty packages and a sugar container. It didn’t smell that bad, but the obvious black spots on the sides were ruthless. And you were so close… But, after putting some icing that would easily cover them, a very thin layer of icing, maybe of different colours, who knows…

Loki observed the race of emotions on your face. You were like an open book for him after all those years of knowing each other. He had a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue, but let it go, seeing how downcast you were.

The man cleared his throat.

“I bet it tastes better than it looks like.”

“It doesn’t look bad. Look there – this is a burnt cake. This one is… just slightly more crispy.”

“Who have you made this for?” Loki asked curiously.

“No one,” you answered a little too quickly for him not to notice.

He smirked wolfishly. You felt a rock forming in your throat. You knew that grin – it meant that Loki would never drop the subject that sparked his interest before getting to know every detail.

“So I may have a piece after it cools down?” he asked innocently.

“No, you can’t,” you said firmly.

“Why?”

“Because I have to decorate it first.”

“Oh, come on,” Loki smirked. “One piece won’t ruin your very necessary decorations.”

“Yes, it will, because this has to be perfect.”

“But you just said you made it for yourself. Since when do you care over the look and not the taste…? It’s so uncommon of you, I am starting to worry about you, you know?”

You groaned loudly, accepting your defeat. He would never stop, and you were too tired to argue with him for hours.

“I hate you,” you muttered, resting your head on the table.

“And you still didn’t answer my…”

“Because it’s for your birthday, maybe?! Okay, I know it’s not today, but you were supposed to come tomorrow. That’s why everything is a mess and I’m completely not prepared… Loki, why are you so pale? I mean, more pale than usual. Is everything okay?”

Loki was indeed frozen, with pure disbelief on his face.

“You did… what? How did you know about my birthday?” he uttered, suddenly in loss for words.

“You told me.”

“But that was ages ago!”

“And I’ve got this thing called a calendar. I just made a note, Loki. There is no need to act so surprised. Besides, you scare me and I’m not sure if you are okay or not… I tried, okay? I’ve just always been a disaster in the kitchen, that’s why I screwed it up…”

“Am I okay?” He repeated your words with raised eyebrows. “Are you actually asking me if I’m okay with my first birthday present in years? Do I look like I hate receiving goods? I’m a god, I love all of them, let’s be honest…”

You stopped him.

“Wait, so you’re saying that no one has celebrated your birthday in…?”

“Exactly. And now let’s move on to the main course, because the more I look at it, the happier I feel,” Loki licked his lips, which earned him a small laugh from you. It was another great thing about that day and it was still early.

He had almost forgotten how enjoyable birthdays could be when celebrated with someone close. He smiled to himself when you were looking for a plates.

Not Alone [Part 1/3]

Part 2 I Part 3

Summary: Loki’s childhood imaginary friend is back.

The universe is big, vast and ridiculously complicated. Sometimes, very rarely, impossible things happen. We call them miracles.

What happened in Loki Laufeyson’s hideout, that thunderous evening of April, was a miracle.

Against all probability, as the God was dreaming, a woman suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Keep reading

andy1105  asked:

Hello! This time is for the PJO au, Has Hades sometime comfort Shiro because Zeus didn't visited him? And in that time Hades kinda of adopt Shiro??

[Voltron PJO AU] Hades materialized in front of Shiro all of a sudden, which startled the son of Zeus causing him to tumble out of the bed, hitting the floor with such grace.

“Oh gods, Lord Hades,” Shiro gasped as he collected himself to face the god of the Underworld. “Keith isn’t here at the moment, I think he’s—”

“I’m not here for Keith,” the god stopped and tilted his head, thinking out loud to himself he added, “Well, I am here on his request, however.”

“Oh,” Shiro blinked. “Um… did I do something wrong? Oh gods, are you mad that we’re together now? Are you mad that I’m a boy? That—”

Hades chuckled. “Mad? I am relieved. Do you have any idea how painful it was to watch the two of you dance around each other for years? The glances, the touches, the pining. I literally had to rant to Julius Caesar and go ‘Are you seeing this shit?’”

Shiro grinned sheepishly as he stood up and sat down on his bed. “Well, uh, yeah. My bad.” 

Hades just smiled at the boy. “May I?” he asked as he pointed at the bed.

“Oh yeah, sure!” Shiro quickly answered, moving a little to his right to give space to his boyfriend’s father. “Are you here to give me the shovel talk that I’ve been kinda dreading?”

Amused by the assumption, Hades chuckled. “Oh I don’t think I need to do that as you already know what I am capable of. However, Keith can literally just kill you if you break his heart.”

Shiro gulped, looking so pale. “Gods, you’re right.”

“But that’s not why I’m here.” Hades hummed. “My son said you’ve been feeling kinda troubled lately and he didn’t know what to do. He looked so stressed, so he told me how worried he was about you.”

Shiro just stared at the god, not knowing what he was talking about.

“I’m talking about Daddy issues, Shirogane,” Hades continued.

“Oh,” Shiro deflated, looking away as he clasped his hands together.

“You know back then I proposed to Keith I should just adopt you, but the boy was so against it.”

“He was?” Shiro frowned.

“He said, and I quote ‘You can’t adopt Shiro, Dad! What if he asks me to marry him? That’ll be so weird! I can’t marry my brother!’” Hades smirked at Shiro who turned all red. “He was only 14 that time.”

“Oh my gods,” Shiro buried his hands in his face, ears reddening. 

Hades chuckled softly. “He was quite a bit taken on you at such a young age. First time he’s seen you to be exact. And you can’t deny this to me, but I knew you felt the same way too the first time you saw him.” 

“How’d you know?”

“I’m Hades. I know these things,” Hades smiled menacingly. “But enough about my son, and let’s talk about you. I know for a fact you don’t feel the same way as the other campers regarding my frequent visits, however, you do desire one thing that all demigods do.”

Shiro sighed, pulling his legs up closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around it in comfort. “I just… what do I need to do for my Dad to notice me?”

“Oh, he notices you, boy. You have no idea how proud he is whenever I visit Mount Olympus. Always talking about how he has the best son amongst us all. Of course, I disagreed with him because I’m biased with my own son.” Hades smiled and Shiro smiled fondly too, agreeing with the god’s statement. “However, I want you to know that your father is Zeus, god of the gods. He made the rules, so he simply just cannot break them. I can get away with it because I’m Hades and all of them end up in my realm one way or another. Zeus’ position is more complicated.”

“I just, maybe, I don’t know… want to hug him, too, like how you and Keith do?” Shiro caught himself and felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry that was so ridiculous. A demigod wanting to hug Zeus. So stupid and childish.” He forced out a laugh.

“It’s not.” Hades softly said. “You’re not just any demigod. You’re his son and he’s your father. You have the right to desire his hugs. Especially since you’re his son.

Shiro looked up to Hades and suddenly his eyes started to water. Hades brought his hands up and pulled the boy closer to him. “I’m not Zeus, but for the mean time I’ll be his substitute, just so you know how it feels like to hug one of The Big Three gods.”

Shiro chuckled as he wiped his tears, Hades rubbing his back up and down in a soothing manner. 

“I’ll see what I can do about my stubborn brother,” Hades continued. “I’ll make no promises though, so don’t expect too much.” 

“Thanks, Lord Hades,” Shiro sniffed, wiping his cheeks.

“Anytime, son-in-law,” Hades smirked as Shiro’s face turned into crimson.

[Of course, Hades was true to his word.]