#<- hes looking at images to contemplate oc posting again

[duskerot]

its funny going thru my art backlog because you can pinpoint the minute i got possessed

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire — benjicot blackwood x tully!oc

prologue

masterlist

forward

A/N: new fixation of the month, another skinny yt boy! I haven’t written an actual series in a few years, so here I am giving it another try. Also I know he didn’t turn out to be Benjicot, but I’m sticking with fancast!Kieran as Benjicot. Benjicot is aged up to 21, character is 18 — semi-proofread and updated (the character was changed into a random oc) characters physical description is not detailed or referenced to.

You can now read the next part here: i (posted July 17 2024)

Synopsis: Amidst rising tensions and a looming war, House of Tully seeks to strengthens its strongest alliances by proposal a marriage between Benjicot Blackwood, heir to Raventree, and Elmo Tully’s only daughter.

Content Warning(s): mentions of violence, no detailed depictions however. Era related content and sexism.

Word count: 1.8k

“It is done then?”

Elmo looked across the table at his son, his heir, as Kermit Tully nodded his head — his head bowing forward in response to his father’s words, “It is.” He simply replied, head lifting then to make eye contact with his father’s.

The pair stood in silence as the weight of his admission lingered in the air, the flames from the torches that lit the room casting a dim glow over the face of the father and his son who could have been mistaken for a mirrored image of himself if not for his own having grown aged throughout the years — Elmo’s gaze darted to the walls of their meeting room after a small, meek nod that hinted towards his reservations; gaze scanning the walls built of solid stone that stretched upwards in seemingly endless slabs, high enough that it almost seemed as though they were attempting to reach up high enough to the Gods themselves. The air was damp, caused by the ongoing storm outside having plagued the House of Tully for days — it made for a mess keeping guard amidst the growing tension between the houses, further enabled by the ongoing dispute regarding the throne.

“I do wonder, father,” Kermit suddenly spoke again, interrupting his father’s silence of contemplation as his grip on the hilt of his holstered sword at his hip readjusted, the glazed over look in his father’s eyes briefly clearing as he once more looked at him. “If I might…do you think she is ready? I do not wish to rush her into this, this is not a decision I think should be lightly considered…”

“Worry not, Kermit.” Elmo snapped, the anxiety in his chest heavy again at the thought of his daughter, shrouded by guilt that he was forced to swallow down. Pride. He released his grip on the ledge of the table made of weirwood and wrung his hands as he paused, his brow twitching and inhaling deeply, “We have given her more than enough time — all she’s had is time. It is her turn to perform her duty, just as we all must.”

Kermit’s gaze shifted, blinking a couple of times as he nodded, processing his words. There was a silence that fell over them both once more, the tension in the air almost suffocatingly thick and crushing him under the weight of it as Kermit thinks of his sister. Thinks of how she will react when he tells her she’s to be married. Thinks of his sweet sister, caught in the middle of the politics of the realm — treated as nothing more than a pawn and broodmare; his sweet sister who cried when he brought back his first deer after a hunt when he was twelve, big eyes welled with tears and nearly inconsolable. He recalled the days it took for her to speak to him again after that, promising to never subject her to such a sight again and do his best to sneak any catch in through the back gates. He thinks of the soft, sensitive girl who picked flowers and was fascinated by bugs growing up, much to their mother’s dismay — so curious and quiet, innocent and in her own world. Kermit wished he could have understood what it was like to see the world through her eyes sometimes, to see what it was that she did. Sometimes.

He almost felt dirty at the realization of just who — what — she would be marrying and that he was subjecting his sister to a lifelong commitment to a man who used to throw mud on her dresses; teased her until she cried as a girl, and then teased her more because she was a girl. That he was giving her hand away so quickly without giving her even a chance to agree or defend herself or choose — but what choice did a woman have in these matters? Kermit swallowed thickly, exhaling as his hands clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword.

Kermit did not have many friends beyond these walls that were not of his own blood. Benjicot Blackwood was one of the very few exceptions — introduced as children, both heirs to their respective houses, Kermit naturally found himself in the other’s presence more often than not; learning the ways of running households, trailing behind their fathers. Hells, they had trained together for several years and even fought alongside one another, too, on a few occasions after run-ins with Brackens. Benjicot had become a close friend of his over the many years they’d known each other, coming to know him as soft spoken, if not even shy and quiet and still, even knowing him and his character as well as he did — the decision still had not been an easy one. But he had mulled over the many available lords and their heirs across the realm, thoroughly considering each of them and whether they were suitable for his sister’s hand. No matter how close and good of an ally any of them were, how loyal they were, how fierce and powerful….Kermit simply could not consider any of them to be good enough for his dear sister. Benjicot hadn’t even been his idea. It had been his father’s idea, in fact — he was one of the first names that had been put forward when the discussion had first come up, but he had shot it down just as quickly.

He pictured the thought of his sister, sweet and soft spoken, scared of anything violent and bloody beside Benjicot — wild, crazy, and psychotic Benjicot whose eyes were wild in battle, bordering feral in simple fights that did not require getting bloody, pummeling men bloody regardless until they were nearly unrecognizable. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Do you think…” Kermit began to say, cutting himself short as he did not know what he intended to ask. He blinked twice, glancing down briefly before looking back up to where his father had turned his head to stare at him. They were both quiet, staring back at one another, as if they both seemed to be sharing the same thought.

Elmo looked back out the windows, looking over the fields that were soaked and flooded by the rains, seeming to know what his son intended to say, “She will understand.” He stated, taking a few steps closer towards the window’s ledge, looking up at the sky that was covered by dark, full clouds that hid nearly any and all traces of sunlight. “You should be off to speak to her, let her know of the news. Lord Samwell will be expecting you in the coming days. I am entrusting you to oversee finalizing everything. Oscar and I will follow.” He explained, back turned to him still as he spoke.

Kermit was not one typically to shy away from making difficult choices, but this one still felt like he was ripping out a part of himself. Like he had betrayed his sister somehow.

He nodded abruptly, bowing his head before taking his leave with a pivot-step and striding out of the room quickly, the doors swinging open before slamming shut behind him with the force of the guards stood outside. With a curt nod to the guards, Kermit turned and began wandering through the halls; absentmindedly guiding his way to the library, his hands clenched so hard his knuckles had turned white and jaw clenched as if that would steady him.

The doors to the library could have otherwise been a comforting sight on any other day, given that he had spent several days there in his youth, studying and teasing his sister into their adolescence over her obsession to memorize the history books front-to-back rather than being outside with the girls her age; knowing this was her safe haven amongst the busy day-to-day hustle of their house. However, it appeared daunting that particular day as he paused outside them, hand stretched out and ready to push inside as he listened for any noise; hoping that he would be met instead with silence that he could use as an excuse to walk away and claim that she wasn’t there — that he did not know where she was at that moment. Give him any excuse not to tell her…not yet. But instead he was met by the soft shuffle of shoes and melodic humming, his eyes closing with a furrow of his eyebrows as his shoulders slumped, sighing out a breath.

It took him a moment to compose himself — straighten his shoulders and stand upright, taking one final breath before he pushed open the door to find his sister; her head turning immediately to look at him, eyes wide and one hand up to her mouth as she picked at her bottom lip, frozen as though he had startled her, her humming ceased as her other hand held an open book, “Brother?” She suddenly asked, voice small amongst the room.

“Sister.” He greeted, voice low. “We must speak — join me.”

—

“Winds are coming from the east today.” Benjicot said, looking out from the entrance of his tent before letting the flap drop closed, shielding him and his cousins from the cool winds that had picked up over the past few hours with the storm; clothes still clinging to his limbs from the rain that had caught him on his way back to camp, his hair soaked as it stuck to his forehead in stringy strands that dripped into his eyes. He used the damp backside of his hand to wipe a bead of water from his eyes as he knelt close to the map, staying far enough back so as to not damage it by getting it wet as he’d yet to change into something dry. “We can use that to our advantage if this rain slows down.”

“Any animal with even half a brain across the realm has gone into hiding by now, there’s nothing left out there.” Emrys said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he sat back on his elbows, earning a pointed stare from his cousin. “Let us just call it a day for now. We will continue in the morrow — rest, warm up.” He pleaded.

“Don’t be foolish, Emrys.” Benjicot snapped while standing back up, circling the tent towards his cousin and deliberately nudging him with his rain soaked boot. “A true hunter does not just give up so easily, dear cousin. Though, I imagine this isn’t how you would rather spend your day — rather instead spend it with your whores, yes?” Benjicot mocked, the men letting out a chorus of laughter that was muffled by the sound of heavy rainfall.

“Regardless, we still might —”

Benjicot’s words were interrupted as a guard arrived, calling out to him as he entered the tent where the group of men were meeting, “Ser,” the guard said, stopping abruptly by the entrance and holding out a scroll. “A Raven has just arrived for you.” He announced, the scroll dampened by the rain as Benjicot retrieved it from his grasp, eyes narrowing slightly at the stoic male who stood still as a statue; awaiting his next orders. His gaze dropped to the scroll in his hands, the seal recognized as that of his house and glancing up at the guard once more before cracking the wax seal to unravel the paper, his gaze scanning its contents. In his peripheral vision, he could see his cousins sit up, Emrys to his right.

“Who is it from?” Emrys asked.

Benjicot blinked, jaw clenching as he lowered the scroll, sighing, “My father.” He replied. “He’s instructed us to return to Raventree at once. I’m to be married apparently.” He explained, voice just above a mutter as he crumpled up the paper and shoved it into a pocket.

[bunatee]

OC Kiss Week: Dare

I wrote a scene to go along with this one 💖

[Pardon any mistakes this only got a quick proof read before posting it at like 12 am.]

Serenity was always grateful for the days her father allowed her to join him at the palace. While he spent his workday locked in his office or attending meetings she lounged around the library reading whatever she could get her hands on. But the hours of reading had taken their toll and Serenity found herself unable to keep her eyes focused on the words. It would be a late night for her father, and the thought of going home was far less inviting than the warm evening air.

The gardens were no longer in full bloom, petals laid trampled on the walkways and their fragrance turned to something earthier that blended with the sea's salty winds as they climbed the steep hillsides of the palace grounds. It no longer mattered that twilight cast its shadows over the winding hedges, Serenity could find the cliff-side refuge blind. Not that she went there every time she took a walk through the gardens, nor did she ever hope for company when checking the spot. No, she never hoped to find Matisse there, she prayed for it.

That night her prayer was answered. Giddy excitement at seeing his silhouette was fleeting as she realized he was not alone. He and Set were both perched on the stone memorial overlooking the city below.

She had nearly turned back when Set must have caught her from the corner of his eye. He nudged Matisse who turned to wave her over. The two seemed to have halted whatever conversation was happening as she approached. The sweet scent of the aerellia they were smoking hung in the air around them.

She had to practically crawl up the the side of the stone to join them, it was so tall even their feet did not touch the ground below. Matisse had graciously offered a hand to help pull her up, "If I'd known you were here today I would have paid a visit."

"You mean you would have used her as an excuse to get out of working." Set scoffed. He was still in uniform with his normally shaggy red hair slicked back.

"Goodness, I don't think I've ever seen you in a sour mood. I hope I'm not intruding." She spoke softly, hoping she would not be sent away so quickly.

"You think he's sour now you should have seen him earlier." Matisse teased and elbowed Set in the arm as he lifted the aerellia cigarette to his lips. "He's just mad because he thinks all of his superiors are idiots."

"Because they are all idiots and you're at the top of the list." The cigarette passed between them. Set took a long inhale and held the breath before letting the smoke gently roll with the exhale. "D'you want a hit, Ren?" He held the cigarette out to her but Matisse took it before she had the chance to even contemplate an answer.

"Ren's too much of a good girl, she would never. I'm sure you've never so much as smoked tobacco have you?"

As much as she wanted to be offended, it was nearly the truth, "Only once, and it burned like hellsfire. I'm not particularly keen to try it again."

Set snickered, "What did you suck on it a little too enthusiastically?" Matisse shoved him but it only served to illicit a laugh.

"I'm sure you'd love to know just how enthusiastic I can be."

"Kairos." The god's name left Matisse like a desperate prayer and Serenity would have given anything to know what images crossed his mind. His tone was quick to change and he was back to being very serious, "Can the two of you behave?"

Set and Serenity exchanged a look and gave their answer in unison, "No."

The cigarette was back in Set's hand and this time he went to pass it behind Matisse as he asked, "Why don't you give us a demonstration?"

"Drop it, she already said no." Gods, he was jealous. Matisse really was clear as glass with all of his emotions.

"I never said no. And I detest that you called me a good girl." She reached out for that exchange only for Matisse to turn quick enough to intercept it.

"Absolutely not, this shit is going to be too strong, and you'll just burn yourself anyways."

Serenity hesitated, what did 'too strong' even mean? He'd said before that aerellia wasn't like opium nor alcohol and she had no other context to go by. By the time Matisse had taken his hit and begrudgingly passed back to Set she was sure she didn't want to find out.

"Mati, you sure you don't know a way around both of those issues?" A look passed between them, something she couldn't read but Set seemed pleased with whatever idea this was, while the crease of Matisse's brow gave away his apprehension. "I dare you."

"You dare me? Like we're fucking kids? I dare you to jump." Matisse gestured at the cliffs edge.

Serenity interjected before they could have the chance to change the subject, "Do I get to know what you two are going on about?"

Set was the one to answer, wearing a devilish grin, "I think it would be easier to demonstrate than to explain. . . It might be too intimate for you though."

"Oh, now I positively need to know."

Matisse cursed under his breath and cast a fleeting glance to Serenity before leaning back and relenting to Set, "Fine. Better make it a good show for her at least."

Set took a hit and leaned in toward Matisse, so close their lips nearly brushed, mouths parted just enough for Set to exhale the smoke and Matisse to take it in.

Serenity wasn't sure she remembered how to breathe.

Matisse pushed Set back, his cheeks flushed. It was out of character for him to seem so unsure of himself, and oh she wanted to see him unraveled.

"I think this is a perfect solution." Her voice came out breathier than she had intended.

But Matisse still looked unsure, "Only if you're certain."

"You're the one that's so apprehensive about it, so you're going to be the one helping, right?" She bit the inside of her lip, trying to suppress a smile.

"You're sure?"

"Are you nervous?"

"I-" it was like a switch had flipped and suddenly he was back to the same arrogance she had become familiar with, "I am not nervous. I just want you to be sure." He held out a hand for Set to pass the aerellia, still holding her gaze.

Serenity moved closer and laid her hand on his. Try as she might to seem unfazed her heart raced. The way Matisse looked down at her, he knew exactly how nervous she was too. He leaned in and whispered, too low for Set to hear, "Let me know right away if anything feels off, alright?"

The concern in the request finally gave it away. He didn't want her to smoke with them because he was worried about the effects on her magic.

She hummed her understanding and he seemed placated by it.

With bated breath she watched him lift the cigarette to his lips and the glow of the ashen tip as he inhaled. He didn't close the distance so thoroughly as with Set. With the exchange of breath her eyes fluttered closed. The smoke was heavy with the sweetness of the burning flowers. In that short moment it was too easy to image what it might have been like to exchange breathes in a different context. Set had been right to call the act intimate.

Set, who she had nearly forgotten was there as she was so entranced by the exchange and Matisse's sea glass eyes that held her own, broke the silence that settled over them, "That counts."

Matisse straightened and pulled a metal case out of his pocket. Set thanked him as he took his prize.

"Did the two of you bet on this?" Serenity could barely find it in herself to be offended. No wonder Set was so insistent.

"Sorry Ren, the crown doesn't pay its soldiers enough to afford the good stuff." Set chuckled.

"I should have them send you up to Krescht." Matisse grumbled.

"Send me up there and I'll be able to pick the damn flowers myself. Kairos, maybe I'll take up snow-gardening."

The two went on with continued threats and Set disarming them at every step, eventually easing their bickering into silence as Set lit another cigarette.

The city lights below began to blur. The ocean was too far off to see the ebb and flow of the tides, but Serenity could feel it. It moved through her veins as slow and steady as the beating of her heart. It was the first time in so long that she didn't have a hundred worries pressing at the edges of every thought. The tension that plagued her body was gone. She'd even forgotten that her hand still rested atop Matisse's until he moved just enough to brush his thumb over hers.

"How are you feeling?" His voice so soft that the question felt like a caress.

"Wonderful." She reached up and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, sweet girl."

Serenity settled back into place for only a moment before releasing his hand and moving close enough to lean her head against his shoulder. She almost missed the way Set was purposely ignoring them, almost missed the sly smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

She would need to go back to the palace soon, and she would have to remember to thank him for placing that bet and making that dare.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 18

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1502

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 18

After Sam and Maria left the kitchen for that tour, Dean went to the library with the dragon following. He had found it completely weird that images were coming to his mind, and he knew they were coming from Bubbles, convinced that was her name.

“So, how come she can’t see your thoughts,” Dean asked the dragon when he sat down at one of the library tables, the dragon in front of him.

The dragon tilted its head like it was contemplating how to answer him. The word “stubborn” reverberated softly in his mind, making him chuckle.

“Yeah, she seems pretty stubborn. How do you plan on convincing her to talk to me if she can’t hear your thoughts?” he asked somewhat curiously.

Again, the dragon seemed to be thinking. Then Dean could have sworn it shrugged its shoulders.

“Well, you’re no help,” he laughed and then swore the dragon glared at him a little, making him chuckle again. Dean reached out and rubbed the dragon's chin, and it made that purring sound, “This might be easier if she actually believed,” he sighed.

Something Dean had given up on a long time ago was a relationship. His job, hunting monsters, kept him from getting close to anyone, especially after what had happened with Lisa. Even with his thoughts wandering now, the dragon just watched him. The last thing Dean ever wanted was for someone else to get hurt, or worse because a monster was using them as leverage to get to him. 

Well, at least she’d agreed to drinks and conversation, which Sam was thankful for. He hoped it would help ease the tension he could tell had been building since he’d said she was just a case. She looked almost nervous when he brought her a beer, trying not to chuckle when she immediately took a drink of it. 

Dean’s attention kept going from the dragon to her as the dragon kept showing him the image of two people talking. It took everything in him not to chuckle, but he couldn’t keep the smile from playing along his lips. When Sam set the whiskey and glass down for him, he poured himself a double. It was called liquid courage for a reason, and he was gonna need it. Being nervous around a woman was something he’d never struggled with before, but she was different. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about,” she asked, somewhat quietly, not looking directly at either of them.

The little dragon walked over to where she was sitting and climbed into her lap. She set her hand on its back, over its wings, as it curled up comfortably. Sam had been debating how to start this since before he’d ever brought it up to her.

“Well, we’ll have to make a supply run in the next couple of days. What kinds of things do you like to eat?” Sam asked her, finding a simple and safe topic to start off with.

“Oh. Umm,” she began, then paused, sipping her beer for a few moments, “I like most meats, potatoes, cereal, some fruits.”

Sam chuckled, “Tell you what, we’ll make a list, and you can add what you’d like to it, or you could just go with us. Alright, what kinds of things do you like to do?”

“I like to bake and read stuff on Tumblr,” she replied, and it almost seemed like she was embarrassed at that.

Dean raised an eyebrow. She’d said the magic word, bake, “What kind of stuff can you bake?” He felt his breath hitch in his lungs again when she looked up at him with those deep, dark blue eyes of hers.

“All kinds of stuff. Following a recipe is easy,” she replied casually.

“Come on, Sweetheart, you gotta give me something more specific than that,” he chuckled, his curiosity getting the better of him. He really wanted to know what she could bake.

She furrowed her brow a bit, “Breads, cookies, cakes, pies, and everything in between.” “You had me at pie,” he smirked, sipping his drink.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, “What’s your favorite?” 

“Apple, but I like all kinds of pie. Cherry is a close second,” he answered, still smirking happily. She was sweet, kind, beautiful, and she could bake. If it weren’t for the pull he already felt for her, he would be feeling one now.

She looked over at Sam, “Maybe we could add the ingredients to the list so I could bake,” she suggested, still seeming a little nervous.

“I don’t see why not,” Sam replied, giving her a friendly smile. He was grateful she was at least talking, and Dean was getting involved. Although, so far, she wasn’t really asking much about them, at least she seemed to be trying.

“Are you two gonna keep the sigils on?” she asked quietly, looking more at her beer than at either of them.

The brothers exchanged a look, having a silent conversation, which they did often. It was something neither of them had discussed, and they weren’t entirely sure how her powers would affect them. “We hadn’t talked about it,” Sam replied and sighed, “We just don’t know the full extent of how your powers will affect us. We’ve been hunters a long time and were just doing it as a precaution. It’s nothing against you,” he tried to reassure her.

“Well, uh, mine is mostly gone anyway,” Dean said, fidgeting a little, as he hadn’t said a thing to his brother about it, “Pretty sure it’s useless right now.” Then he finished his drink and poured himself another.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, although frustratedly, giving him a look to match. Dean just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, then leaned back in his chair, drink in hand. He glanced over at her just in time to see her smile a little.

“I’ve never hurt anyone, just being around them,” she said quietly, then finished her beer.

Sam got up, grabbed a six-pack out of the fridge, then returned to the library, setting it on the table so he and Maria could both reach it when they needed another. He was slightly frustrated with his brother, but at the same time, if his suspicions were correct, the sigil was pointless for Dean.

“We get that. We just had to take precautions. Like I said, it’s nothing against you,” Sam again tried to reassure her.

“So, uh… what do you guys do when you aren’t hunting?” she asked quietly again, getting herself another beer.

“Well, we watch movies, play phone games sometimes, listen to music,” Dean answered, still with that happy, stupid smile on his face that he couldn’t get rid of, even if he’d wanted to. She was kind of adorable when she was being shy.

“Some of us read too,” Sam added, side glaring slightly at his brother.

She chuckled quietly, “I like to do those things too.” 

To the brothers, she still sounded nervous, “What kinds of things do you like to read?” Sam asked.

They both noticed how she bit her bottom lip nervously, not really looking at either of them. “Mostly fanfics on Tumblr. But I like sci-fi stuff,” she replied, still in that quiet, nervous tone.

“Why do you seem so nervous?” Sam finally decided just to ask her.

She sighed, taking another sip of her beer. “Most people just think I’m weird with the stuff I like, so I don’t usually tell anyone,” she answered quietly.

Both brothers chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re not most people. Our lives are like a sci-fi novel or movie,” Sam told her, stifling another chuckle.

“Or like Halloween, every day of the year,” Dean added, pouring himself another drink.

She looked up at the two of them, and all Dean wanted to do was go hold her. She looked so sad to him, causing his smile to fade. Now, all he had to do was figure out what he could possibly say to get her to smile again.

“Weird is kind of our thing. It would be weird if our lives were normal,” Sam told her softly.

“So, you don’t think I’m weird?” she asked, sounding slightly nervous.

“Not really. Not in a bad way anyway,” Dean told her, trying to think of something smooth to say. His mind kept going blank. “You seem like our kind of weird.” Then he wanted to kick himself for saying that, at least until he heard her giggle.

“I don’t think anyone’s told me that before,” she giggled quietly again.

Sam saw the huge smile that Dean got, it went from ear to ear, “Honestly, Maria, just be yourself. Most people would probably find us weird.”

She smiled a little, “I think everyone should be at least a little weird. Normal can be boring,” she stated, finally finding a regular tone and not being as quiet as she had been. However, she was now on her third beer.

That got both brothers laughing. At least she seemed to start opening up. Either that, or she was getting buzzed, helping to lower her inhibitions.

An hour later, she’d had five beers total. The room had been filled with laughter, and now, she and Dean were arguing with Sam.

“Bacon is a meal, and there’s no way you can convince me that it isn’t,” she said with stubborn confidence.

“God, you and Dean both need a new diet. That much grease isn’t good for you,” Sam tried to argue back, making them both laugh again.

“Death by bacon. I can live with that,” Dean mused, sipping another glass of whiskey.

Sam couldn’t believe the statement that had just come out of his brother’s mouth, “You do realize that is an oxymoron, right?” “Whatever it is, I can live with it,” Dean stated, causing Maria to laugh again. It was like music to him, and he never wanted it to end. Then there was her smile, which could brighten any room. 

“So, what’s the weirdest case you two have had to go on?” she asked, still laughing some at the bacon argument.

“Uh, that’s a tough one,” Dean replied, leaning back in his chair again, thinking back over all the cases they’d had over the years.

“We’ve had several weird ones,” Sam chuckled, thinking back.

“Well, what was the weirdest?” she asked again, seeming utterly curious.

“There was that time we were cartoons,” Sam mused, as that had been really weird for him.

“Wait, you were a cartoon?” she asked, seeming surprised and even more curious.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah. It was a ghost that was haunting a TV. I got for the Dean Cave. The ghost pulled us into an episode of Scooby Doo. Velma kissed Sam.”

She laughed at the story. When she caught her breath, though, she looked at Sam, trying to stop the continued giggles, “So, how was it getting kissed by a cartoon?”

He was still slightly embarrassed over that ordeal, “It was… kinda weird.”

“What do you mean by weird? Like, how the kiss felt or just the fact that you were a cartoon?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

Sam chuckled, “Kissing a fictional character that is a cartoon.”

“What about you, Dean? Did you get to kiss Dapne?” she asked, turning to him and raising an eyebrow.

If only she knew how incredibly adorable he found her, “No. She’s got a thing for Fred,” he chuckled.

Then, out of the blue, Sam put his hand on the side of his head, a look of realization crossing it, “I know why Crowly wants her, before her powers awaken.”

Great way to ruin the mood, Dean thought to himself, but he was also now curious, “Well, spit it out already.”

“Rowena’s his mother. She could perform the spell, to awaken her powers, leaving Maria indebted to the both of them,” Sam told them, finally having put the pieces together.

Maria grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and drank at least two shots worth, “Wonderful,” she grumbled, setting the bottle back where she’d gotten it from.

“That explains what Crowley told her, about when she changed her mind,” Dean sighed. At this point, he was just hoping that they could keep her safe. If she believed in soulmates or was even open to it, things could go differently, and Dean knew that.

The one thing the brothers could tell about her was that she wasn’t the kind of person to not find a way to pay back a favor or act of kindness. The mood of the evening quickly shifted. Both brothers noticed how she seemed to get uncomfortable with the revelation.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” she said fairly sullenly.

“I’m sorry Maria. It just came to me, and I blurted it out without thinking,” Sam apologized as she stood up, carefully picking up the sleeping dragon.

“It’s okay. I should get some sleep anyway,” she replied, although she sounded like something else was on her mind.

“Okay. Try to get some sleep,” Dean told her, softer than he realized.

She didn’t look back at them before she left them alone in the library and headed to her room.

“Dude, Seriously?!” Dean turned to Sam and told him, frustrated, “That could have waited till later.”

“I said I was sorry. It’s not like I was purposefully trying to upset her. Although, it’s kinda cute how you’re smitten with her,” Sam replied, teasing his brother a little. He really couldn’t resist.

“Jerk,” Dean mumbled, finishing his drink.

“Bitch,” Sam chuckled.

“Back to the Rowena/Crowley thing. He can’t get in here, but she can. Now what are we supposed to do?” Dean said, trying to figure out how they would get around this one.

Sam leaned back in his chair, beer in hand, “There’s not much we can do about that,” he sighed.

The problem with witches is that they were human, so a lot of things wouldn’t repel them or keep them from entering a home, like salt to ward against demons or ghosts. Rowena was also the most powerful witch alive, being over three hundred years old. They didn’t know all of what she could do, but they wouldn’t put anything past her abilities. She had removed the Mark of Cain from Dean, after all. On top of that, she knew where the bunker was, having been there several times to help with certain things when it was in her best interest.

“I might be able to find a protection spell, though,” Sam finally said, breaking the silence and getting on his laptop.

Sam had learned a few tricks from his interactions with Ruby many years ago. Then there were all the books in the bunker, several of which were spell books. The Men of Letters believed in using magic. It was a means to an end.

“Okay, just, don’t forget about us. The last thing I want is to piss that woman off too badly. She’s got a temper,” Dean told him.

So Dean drank while Sam poured through his laptop and books for the next several hours, far into the night. Maria never came back out of her room, and Dean hoped that she was sleeping and not sitting awake and alone.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 19

Tag List: @djs8891 @deans-spinster-witch

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[gcslingss]

don't wake me, i'm not dreaming. sierra six.

chapter 02: phantasm.

you can also check this fic out on ao3!

summary: six had an old friend from his time in prison. he never expected her to come back.

timeline: post-gray man movie

pairing: sierra six/court gentry x oc (atlas wright)

warnings: for this chapter, swearing, mentions of weapons (guns)

word count: 2.97k

notes: i did not proofread this yet :) i also fucking hate the way I've written this one but uhh i hope u enjoy anyway

███████, 2014

“You’re awfully good at what you do. I’ve only ever met one other person like that.”

The Ghost smiled underneath her mask. “That’s a compliment, I hope.”

“Not exactly. Because you don’t work for us.”

“That’s true. But I haven’t done anything risky for the country.”

“Yet. No guarantee you won’t in the next few years,” Fitzroy replied, his fingers drumming on the chair. “There’s always a deal good enough, at some point in time.”

“What’re you suggesting, sir?”

Fitzroy paused, but his fingers kept drumming.

“You’re still here, alive and well only because you saved my niece from Basset. You nearly died in that process, and it would be wrong of me to not acknowledge that.”

He folded his arms over his chest, giving Atlas a plain gaze.

“But that doesn’t mean,” he ominously continued, “That you aren’t a potential threat to the safety of our nation.”

“Fair point.”

“We will be keeping tabs on you. I’m doing you a favour by warning you that if you let a single toe go out of line, you will be eliminated. Is that clear?”

Atlas looked up at the man and nodded. “Crystal.”

SPRINGFIELD, MISSOURI, 2021

The cellphone on the standalone started to ferociously ring, disrupting Atlas’ deep sleep.

Disgruntled, the woman tossed in her bed so she could reach the damned thing and connected the call.

“Ghostie!” A voice greeted. “Remember me?”

Oh, great.

“Lloyd.” Atlas closed her eyes with a frustration only few could understand. Not everyone received a call from a sociopathic torturer at seven in the morning.

“You don’t sound happy to hear from me.”

“What’d you expect?”

Lloyd tched. “I thought we were friends, Ghostie.” “Look, could you just tell me why you called, for fuck’s sake?”

“I’ve sent you a little message.”

On cue, Atlas’ phone pinged, with a notification from an unknown number. There seemed to be images attached.

“What’s this?” she asked, hesitant to open it.

“A job. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

That could’ve meant anything, but considering Lloyd, it was probably a level 10 difficulty job involving bleeding fingers and lots of blood.

She opened the message, and saw a few pictures that were taking a minute to load. Then she saw a number that made her choke on absolutely nothing.

REWARD: $50,000,000

“What the hell is this, Hansen?” Atlas hissed, and Lloyd chuckled on the other side of the line.

“Pretty fucking amazing, isn’t it? All that money’s yours if you complete a simple task.”

“Which is?”

“You ever heard of Sierra Six, Ghost?”

Atlas frowned contemplatively. “Never had the pleasure of meeting him, but yes, I know who he is. It’s hard not to hear of him. ”

“That’s good, cause there’s a drive in his possession that we’d really like back, and you’re gonna have to get it. Maybe put a bullet in that Ken Doll’s skull on the way.”

“Firstly, odd comparison.,” Atlas said, rolling her eyes. “Secondly, who’s ‘we’? Doesn-”

“You don’t need to know that,” Lloyd cut in. “All you need to know is that you hit the jackpot if you get that drive.”

“Hold on, mate.”

The pictures had finally downloaded. They looked like low quality surveillance cam stills, and in those stills was a man Atlas instantly recognized.

Her breath hitched when she zoomed in on one of the videos and saw Court staring at her, before shooting down the camera.

He was the infamous Sierra Six?

Well. Shit.

“You’re… on your own, Lloyd,” she said, with no hesitation at all.

“…Come again?”

“I’m not doing this. I’m pretty sure you’ve got shit tons of other people looking for him. You’ll be fine without me.”

She could her Lloyd click his tongue, and sigh.

“That’s quite disappointing,” he said flatly.

“I can’t do anything about that.”

The call disconnected.

A sigh escaped Atlas’ lips when she kept the phone aside reburied her face into her pillow, her dark, short hair uncomfortably tickling her face.

That was a whopping amount of 50 million she’d just declined. There was a 90% chance that she could’ve gotten it, if Lloyd stayed as partial as he usually did with her and she performed to her best.

She could’ve done it. But she refused.

Why did she turn down such an offer?

“Because I’m scared,” she mumbled to herself in the pillow. “I don’t know if I can face him without losing focus again.”

As hard as it was to admit, it was the truth. It was unprofessional, but the truth.

It was as if she was being forced to encounter him again by whatever entity existed. To finish, to come full circle.

He hadn’t appeared in her life for ages, and suddenly she was seeing him twice in under a year. It didn’t make sense.

She could only hope it ended there.

… … …

In recent times, it had become clear that the CIA had stooped very low in order to get what they wanted, and that included recruiting the Lloyd Hansen, being cause of multiple shootouts and large scale tussles across the globe, destroying a monument, and possibly more that Atlas hadn’t heard of yet.

Her sources also told her that Lloyd was dead now, and she wanted to feel bad, but her days of working with that arsehole made it hard.

It seemed that now, as part of one of these terrible plans, Atlas had been called by them for some task she wasn’t aware of yet.

She was sitting in a dark but well-furnished room, at the moment, her knee bobbing in impatience as she waited for whoever was supposed to tell her why she was here.

Someone came in after a few minutes, someone with short blonde hair and a crisp suit that suited her well.

She was kind of hot, honestly.

“You’re the Ghost?” she asked, her face maintaining a stoic, slightly irritated expression.

“Correct. And you are?”

The lady didn’t respond. She glanced at the door as another man entered.

He looked like a solid prick, and with the way he settled in his chair with an unnecessarily smug demeanour, Atlas could tell that this bloke probably couldn’t keep a woman for longer than two days.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m assuming you called me here.”

“You assumed right. I’m Denny Carmichael.”

His eyes were focused on his hands.

“Do you know why you’re here, Ghost?”

Atlas shrugged. “Judging your recent massive blunder streak I assume I’m here because something went very wrong during your little escalation and now you want me to clean it up.”

Carmichael looked unamused.

“Clearly you’ve been doing this for a while, and that’s good. It tells me that you won't fuck up, and if you did, it would be entirely your fault.”

“How about you tell me what I’m doing first?”

Carmichael gestured to the lady agent standing behind him, and Atlas picked up that her name was Suzanne, who handed him a file that looked suspiciously empty.

“There’s a certain agent of ours who’s gone…rogue, and is to be considered a potential threat to the security of our nation,” Carmichael explained. “He’s extremely skilled, and funnily enough, until a few months ago, we didn’t know shit about him, except that he’s a fucking war machine.”

That sounded interesting. Half the people Atlas had dealt with with were generally not even worth being called a vending machine.

“He’s got a young girl with him, a girl related to someone in the CIA, and he’s holding her for ransom.” Suzanne seemed to react to this.

“Denny-?”

Carmichael waved a hand. “She needs to know this, Suzanne.”

Suzanne frowned, but stayed silent. Atlas pretended to ignore this interaction - she wasn’t entirely sure of its implications, so it was best not to speak yet.

“We want you to find out where they are, and bring them back to me. Both of them.”

“And what do you plan on doing to him?” Atlas asked.

Carmichael vaguely replied, “Whatever needs to be done.”

Carmichael finally tossed the file over to her across the desk. She flipped it open, and saw a page with a bare few details. She began to read them, running a finger over the text as she did, aand the finger ceased when she saw the two names written on the sheet.

SIERRA SIX  CLAIRE FITZROY

…What?

She hastily flipped to the second page, where she saw two pinned photos, the first one of Claire Fitzroy and Court conversing with each other on a street. Her eyes locked onto the girl’s cheerful, young face, and it struck a chord in her.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s going to be okay,” Atlas reassured, taking the trembling girl’s hands in her own.  “What’s your name?” 

The girl managed to stutter out, “C-Claire.”

“That’s such a pretty name.”

“Than-Thanks,” she whispered, her throat sounding tight and her lips quivering.

“Stay here, Claire, okay? I’ll come back and get you - just give me a minute.”

Claire nodded, but her hands were tightly clutching Atlas’.

She smiled and eased her hands away, before cocking her gun and stepping out of the little garden shed, ready for a good fucking fight.

“This girl’s the one being held for ransom?” Atlas asked, her tone flat and heavy.

“Correct. And her life’s in danger.”

Atlas glanced at Court’s face. She didn’t want to believe what Carmichael was saying. It didn’t seem possible for someone like him to do something like this.

But then again, people changed.

“I’ll give you 25 million dollars if you do this right,” Carmichael offered. Atlas couldn’t help but scoff.

“25? Your friend Lloyd offered 50 million for one man.”

“And look where it got him,” Carmichael sneered. Atlas noted how he didn’t question that she knew of their connections. Fair enough.

“What if I say no, Carmichael?” Atlas said. The man shuffled comfortably in his chair and she already knew the answer. This wasn’t her first offer.

“You know my name, Ghost. You know what I look like. You know Suzanne now. You know what we’re doing.”

Carmichael leaned forward, smiling. “You can’t.”

Atlas sighed, scratching the side of her head. “Am I the only one who’s been set on his tail?”

“Obviously not. well, not yet. Soon enough.”

Atlas took a moment, then closed the file and slid it across back to him.

“Fine.”

“Great.”

15 minutes later, she was being escorted out of the building with two agents on her side, her mind unusually blank - probably the result of extreme confusion and difficulty processing that she had to face an old connection, something she had never wanted to happen.

Fucking Court. War machine, was it?

Last time she’d seen him, he couldn’t even say goodbye right.

Hah, wait, that was wrong - she’d seen him even after that, hadn’t she? That’s where this fucking mess started.

As they walked down the corridor, another agent with a short black bob came heading, apparently absorbed in her own thoughts, unaware of her surroundings, because despite the two agents’ warnings, she bumped right into them.

Something small and heavy fell into Atlas’ pocket, and the woman left just like that, walking away behind them.

She didn’t react, not until she was safely taken back to her hotel room, and she took out the object that turned out to be a little burner phone.

She flipped it open and the small screen lit up, and as she turned it over in her hand, the phone vibrated, signalling a new message.

It was a bit of a risk to interact in any way, but her curiosity got to her - besides, this lady was in the CIA building, so that meant she was mostly safe.

She opened the message, and she was rather piqued when she saw the text.

9:00 pm. Outside, behind your hotel. You will regret not coming.

“Well, isn’t that polite,” Atlas muttered to herself, almost smirking.

Well, then.

9pm behind the hotel it was.

…

The night air was cold, biting and suddenly very ominous. Or maybe that was just for Atlas, who stood by the side of the hotel’s backdoor, clad in nothing but her cotton shirt, shorts and a thin red jacket she bought for 45 dollars, having no idea what to expect.

Her hair was blowing in her face, annoyingly disturbing her curls.

it was 8:59pm.

“I see you’ve received my message.”

Atlas would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t literally jump in her spot, but she managed to calm down by the time the sillhouette that had just addressed her got close enough.

In the dim moonlight, she could see that it was the same woman that gave her the phone. She was a proper 4 inches taller than herself, and that pissed her off, but just a little. It wasn’t entirely her fault she was just five feet tall. She also had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hello,” Atlas said unsurely. Her hand was cautiously clamped on the stock of the gun in her back pocket.

“Leave them alone,” the woman said. “Or help me keep them safe. Choose one.”

“I’m - I’m sorry, what?” Atlas said. She wasn’t picking up on the context. “Could you use more words?”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t do well with mysterious spy talk, because the mysterious part is more like absolutely blank to me. Elaborate, will you?” she asked, and she could see the other woman look visibly taken aback at what she said.

“Six and Claire,” she snapped.

“Oh, oh, right.”

And then Atlas laughed, because what the hell.

“I’m sort of in the dark here, yeah?” she said, frowning. “I don’t know who the hell you are, why you’ve called me here, or what the fuck you mean by giving me those two options. Or why I should listen to anything you’re saying right now.”

The woman aggresively cocked her gun and pressed it into Atlas’ sternum faster that she could react, and she could feel her breath against her face as she growled, “If you don’t listen to me, Ghost, I will make sure you end up in the gutter right outside this place, bleeding out and very injured.”

If that wasn’t the hottest thing that had ever happened to her.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” she said, raising her hands in the air as if in defeat. It was the only thing she could think of at that moment. “Maybe I can get your name? Instead of calling you ‘Cute Girl’ everytime in my head, and then you can take it from there and explain things a bit?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“I know that Carmichael put you up to finding Six and Claire’s whereabouts and bringing them back under his custody,” she said lowly, “And I also know that he told you Claire was being held for ransom.”

“Yeah, I mean - that’s all correct.”

“No. The second part of it is bullshit.” The woman looked like she couldve pushed the gun straight through Atlas’ flesh. “Carmichael lied.”

“Oh?”

In all honesty, that sounded believable. He looked like he lied on a daily basis. It irked her, but she wasn’t surprised.

“But wait, so-“ she took a second, processing what Cute Girl had just said.

“You’re saying Claire isn’t being held for ransom? Then why the fuck is she with him?”

Cute Girl stared intensely at her, before slowly replying, “He’s all she has.”

Oh. That was a…solid sentiment. And it most certainly wasn’t a lie.

“Carmichael wants them captured and under his control, possibly even killed. That way he doesn’t have to ever worry about them,” she said, and it was clear she hated this guy as she spat, “he’s a fucking psychopath and a puppet, and I can’t let him lay a single finger on either of them. That means I will not hesitate to put you down if you listen to him and step where you shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

Now. This changed things.

Clearly, Court wasn’t a bad guy after all, he and Claire were in danger from Carmichael, and this woman here had deep connections with them, connections enough that she was willing to double cross for them.

Fact was, Atlas completely understood that.

“What do you want me to do?” she questioned, her tone no longer joking. The woman picked up on it, and the gun withdrew by an inch.

“I’m giving you two options - you can take the hush money and leave them alone, or you start working for me, and you keep them away from Carmichael’s eyes.”

Atlas smiled. “I have a feeling you’ve already picked the option for me.”

The woman gave her a stare that confirmed her statement.

“It’s the second one, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

“I don’t have any problem with that, frankly,” Atlas said, as she softly pushed away the gun from her ribs, “Because I know them both, and I’m entirely willing to help them. And because Carmichael is a fucking dick for lying to me,” she added.

The woman paused, looking Atlas up and down, then kept her gun away.

“I’m Dani Miranda,” she said.

“That’s nice.”

Dani dropped the bag in front of her, and said, “That has 15 mil. Do what I tell you correctly, and I’ll give you the other 15.”

Atlas didn’t try to hide the surprise on her face.

“What, really?”

“Yes. But step out of line even once, and I swear, I will kill you.”

Atlas nodded. “Yeah, ‘course. Got it.”

“What if I need to communicate, thought?” she asked.

“It’ll only be from my side. I’ll contact you when I need to.”

With that, Dani left, as mysterious as ever.

Atlas stood, a little baffled, as she glanced at the bag on the floor.

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 22

Summary: You and Andy celebrate impending parenthood…and then welcome your new addition.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer. I do not consent to my work being translated or posted elsewhere. If you see this fiction on any site other than Tumblr it has been taken without permission.

W/C: 7.3k

A/N: Thanks to my beta @spectre-posts​

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 21

Andy’s hand was clasped around yours as you sat on the chair outside the radiographer room. You stole a glance at your husband as he sat, his eyes focusing on a spot a little way away.

You gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and he turned to you, smiling.

“Can you believe we’re here already?” You said softly, “five months?”

"No, to be honest, it's flown." He gave your hand a squeeze in return and kissed the back of your hand.

It felt like time had stopped for you both and took ages for the nurse to call your name. The two of you stood and with his hand on your back, and yours on your bump, Andy guided you to the nurse waiting in the open doorway.

You were directed up onto the bed and got yourself comfortable as instructed and then smiled at the Doctor as Andy took a seat besides you. Once again, he fell silent and you knew why.

Today you found out if Baby Barber was pink or blue.

In all honesty, you’d been happy to leave the sex a total surprise. But when you’d asked Andy, he’d confessed he wanted to know. And he’d never admitted out loud why, but you knew. If it was a boy, he wanted to be prepared.

"Hey," you said softly, "I know."

Andy looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face and you gently took his hand again, pressing a kiss to his knuckles just above where his platinum wedding band sat.

"Alright, Mrs Barber, tuck your pants down and pull your shirt up to your bra band. Let's see what we have today, if Baby Barber is ready to show us of they're a boy or girl."

You did as told and that seemed to jerk Andy out of his contemplation and he smiled at you, his eyes flicking to your bump before they looked back at your face.

You beamed at him, the nervous excitement in your bones coming through your smile. It was time and no matter what, it would be different than the last for him. You knew deep down Andy feared raising a boy and having things in his life go the same way they had with Jacob.

Very quickly your own thoughts were silenced as the sounds of your baby's rapid heartbeat filled the room and you felt your cheeks pinch from your grin and your eyes sting from the burn of happy tears.

Your doctor typed in a few codes and measurements on his pad and looked up at the screen pointing out the baby's perfect shape and image, reading the heart rate and circumference of their head.

"Everything looks text book. They're right on schedule and I'm going to guess you're due on time so far still, and while it's still a bit soon to tell, they'll be around six pounds maybe seven and a half at delivery. But we'll see." Then he smirked, "you ready for the big news?"

You looked at Andy and he nodded, sitting up as he took a deep breath.

“Yeah…” you smiled at the doctor. Your fingers remained laced in Andy's hand while your other arm settled above your head.

A few adjustments of the ultrasound wand and a little roll of the ball on his keyboard and your doctor turned the screen towards you and Andy, more dead on. "Baby Barber is a baby girl."

“Oh…a girl?” Andy whispered, his lips curling into a smile. “Angel…”

“Yeah…” you sniffed.

He leaned over and gave you a soft kiss as you spluttered a laugh. "A little girl...."he cried against your lips. His forehead pressed to yours and you reached up, wiping the tears from his eyes with your thumbs.

“You okay?” You asked him gently.

"Yeah," he nodded and whispered. "I love you, so much, Angel."

“I love you too.” You smiled as he pulled back.

“Do you guys want a copy of the scan image?” The doctor asked and you nodded.

"Yes," you both said together and couldn't help but laugh at yourselves.

"Congratulations! Let me get this printed up for you and we will schedule your next appointment at the desk."

Fifteen minutes later you were heading back out to the parking lot, Andy’s arm around your waist as you walked, the photo in your hands.

“Best start thinking about names, huh?” Andy pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Yeah, suppose so." You sighed contently.

“You hungry?” Andy asked as you stopped at his Audi and he opened the door for you.

"I could eat, I could always eat."

“Patti’s? We’re not due back in the office until 2.”

"Patti's is great." You nodded. "A cheesecake snack sounds delicious!"

Andy chuckled as he made sure you were settled and comfy before he headed around to the drivers side. Once he was behind the wheel, he took a deep breath and turned to you.

“You do know, if it had been a boy…I wouldn’t have loved him any less.”

“I know.”

"I mean it, Angel," Andy sighed as he started the car. "I..."

"Andy, I know." You turned to him as best you could, "and I would expect the apprehension. But I understand. I always have."

The drive to Patti's was quiet, both of your minds on what led ahead. A new baby girl, a first daughter for Andy and clearly your first baby. It was a huge deal, a happy one that you couldn't describe entirely. His hand held yours and every so often his lips would find the back of your hand as he drove through town.

“So…” you grinned at him as he held the door open for you, “I had an idea about how we could tell everyone.”

"Yeah? Tell me, honey." His hand fell to the small of your back again as the two of you waved at Patti as she stood behind the counter.

“Imma record the bit on Jurassic Park where Muldoon says clever girl…” You revealed your plan just as you and Andy slipped into the booth and he roared, quite literally roared with laughter. So much so that his eyes watered and his cheeks flushed above his bearded face.

You grinned, as Patti walked over, her brow arched.

“Something tickled him…” she observed and you popped a shoulder.

"Yeah, our baby....girl!" You grinned at the woman who'd become a surrogate family member over the years.

“Ohhhh!” Patti clapped her hand over her heart, “a little girl, to wrap him around her little finger!” She bent over to hug you, “that’s amazing”.

"Thank you, Miss Patti," you grinned.

She then turned her attention to Andy and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and hugged him tightly. "I'm thrilled for you both, I truly am. Lunch is on the house, and cheesecake to go."

“Look, we gonna have the usual argument where I just stick a twenty in the tip jar?” Andy arched his brow

"Yup." She winked and quite literally hopped off with a bounce in her step.

"How do you feel about the name Patti?" You looked at Andy, before he burst out laughing. "Okay, yeah me too," you snorted. "But I love that woman."

"Maybe she has some ideas," Andy plucked a menu, even though he wasn't going to order from it as his order was always the same. "You know, kick start our minds."

"Well, think on it," you sighed, "what would you choose?"

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I always thought maybe I’d name a girl after my mom but the more I think about it, the more I don’t want anything connected to my past, at all.”

“Yeah…” you bit your lip, “I know what you mean.”

"We have a little time, Angel," he reached across for your hand, "let's enjoy it." He sighed softly, "a girl. It's still settling in, you know."

“I know.” You smiled, “it’s all still sinking in for me.”

Andy couldn't help but smile as Patti set your drinks before you. A coke for Andy and a water with lemon for you. It wasn't until halfway through your lunch that Andy shook his head, "you know what, we're not going back to the office today. Fuck it, we're going home, I'm going to treat my ladies to an afternoon and evening of pampering at home and we are going to let everyone know about our little girl."

You blinked before you shook your head, “double T is already moaning-“

“Fuck her.” Andy snorted.

"She wants to fuck you," you rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna kill her."

“No you’re not.” Andy chuckled.

"No, but I mean, I'm capable," you joked.

Andy's face froze and his expression hardened. "That's not funny."

You looked at him with mischief in your eyes and a twitch of your lips, "I thought it was."

He sighed, “don’t…”

"Alright, fine." You sighed, "I'm sorry. It was a poorly timed joke."

“Hmmm,” he arched a brow, “when are your jokes anything but poorly timed?”

"At least mine aren't permanently dad jokes." You sniggered.

Andy shrugged and popped a shoulder, “you love my dad jokes, Angel,”

"I do, I really do," you winked, "you old bone, you."

At that he leaned down a little, his arms resting on the table and his voice dropped. “I can give you an old bone if you want.”

“Andrew Steven Barber!”

"What?" He snorted. "I mean how else did you think I was going to pamper my wife."

“Oh, I dunno…maybe a massage, foot rub, facial…”

"I can give you all of those," his gaze went dark for a moment.

You grinned as you bit your lip. “Yeah?”

He hummed deeply, "mmhmm."

"And the facial?" You raised a brow.

At that he smirked, “it’s supposed to be very good for the skin…”

“What- oh my god!” You reached over and slapped his arm, “you’re vile!”

Andy nearly choked on a fry and you shook your head at him. "Let's get outta here," he winked.

****

That afternoon you got your ‘pamper’ and more, which was the way your entire pregnancy went down.

Andy couldn’t have been any more attentive if he tried, sharing in your excitement at every little milestone as if this was his first time too.

Your hunt for a new house had been put on hold when at sixteen or so weeks you’d suddenly come across all funny when viewing a place in the suburbs. You'd only just made it to the bathroom in time to throw your stomach contents into the immaculately clean toilet bowl, and Andy and you had decided then and there to wait until your baby was here and you’d both got more time and head space to think about purchasing somewhere and no doubt wanting to decorate it throughout.

Time felt like it flew after your gender scan. Family and what friends you both had were thrilled and high amused at your gender reveal and you'd started your list of names around six months.

But it was a list that seemed to grow and grow instead of shrinking. And by the time you were five weeks off giving birth, you had twelve choices, and neither of you were any closer to making a decision.

"This is crazy, Andy," you said with a hefty sigh as you sat in your glider, watching him put together your daughters crib.

“You know, if we can’t choose, we could just put the names in a hat.” Andy teased as he worked.

"Maybe we just have to look at her. Then figure it out?" You shrugged. Grant whined as you pushed his heavy head off your lap. "I'm too hot, Grant." And you were, despite the December weather.

“I still like Holly,” Andy looked at you, and you chuckled.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas,” you grinned. “You’re feeling festive.”

Andy popped a shoulder and then stood, admiring his work as the final piece was secured. "Suppose so."

The speaker which was playing a selection of random tunes that Andy had on his Spotify, flicked over to something non-festive which you vaguely recognised but couldn’t quite place as you held out your hand. Andy tugged you to your feet as you wrapped your arms around him, as much as the basketball in your belly would allow.

“Good job, BB” You beamed and he chuckled, kissing your head.

You stood, Andy humming along to the music slightly as you looked around the fully decorated nursery before you then heard the bridge and chorus of the song as Andy gently sang along.

“Lucy in the sky with diamonds…” His soft baritone filled your ears and you smiled, before you pulled back, a warm feeling filling your chest.

"Andy...That's it. Lucy.”

Andy looked down at you, “huh?”

"Her name.... Lucy."

Andy blinked and then looked at you, before he chuckled. “That was my moms middle name, well, Lucille.”

"Oh, well, we don't," You sighed. "Back to the list."

You knew how he felt about names of the past just as much as you did and you hadn't even thought of it as you'd said Lucy.

“No…no, I…I like it.” He smiled as kissed your head, “and wanna know some random, pointless trivia from the depth of my mind?”

"Humor me."

“Lucy comes from the Latin word ‘lux’ meaning ‘light’. And she's our brightest light, like you were mine." You couldn't help but sniff, your hormones getting the better of you. Andy smiled, his face soft as he cupped your face. “Yeah. Lucy Barber, I like it.”

You blinked slowly, "its beautiful. Now her middle is all we need."

At that, Andy looked a little sheepish, “yeah…erm, I kinda had a thought already…just a little one, and it’s just now making me feel a little like a total hypocrite as I know I said I didn’t want anything connected to the past…”

"Okay," you dragged out.

“Well, when I was swimming yesterday, I was thinking about when me and Laurie were deciding on Jake’s name,” he took a deep breath, “and, well, cut a long story short, his middle name was Owen, his initials being J and O. So…how would you feel about Jo?”

"Lucy.. Jo.. Barber is the perfect name for our little girl, Counselor. Well done, Daddy."

He sniffed as he smiled and nodded. “Lucy Jo it is.”

You beamed as he whispered, "thank you."

"For?"

"For her brother being here even if..."

You silenced him as you stood on your toes to give him a kiss. "Enough."

He gave you an apologetic smile and you pulled away, his hand reaching down to your bump. A smile spread across his face as his hand gently moved, mapping his daughters movements beneath your skin.

“She’s wriggly, huh?”

“Very." You giggled. "Let's order pizza and sit on the couch, you can tell her her name."

“Sure, you head down, I’ll just clear this lot up and be right with you.” He gestured to the various plastic and cardboard wrapping the crib had been in, and his tool box.

"Okay," you kissed his bearded cheek and made sure to allow it to linger. "I love you, Andy."

“Love you too, Angel. So, so much.“

Andy watched you go before he turned and looked around the freshly decorated room which was now pretty much complete and ready for your baby girl when she arrived in the new year.

Whilst you’d both considered the fact you would be moving house eventually, you’d still wanted to decorate for your new baby. The walls were an off white colour, bar the one against where the crib lay, which was a pale dusty pink. The shabby chic decor was sweet and simple, pure and innocent. Andy took it all in and and felt his face tingle with emotion. This was his life now, the most valuable second chance he'd ever be given.

Taking a deep breath, he tidied his tools away, gathered the various wrappers the crib had been flat packed in and scooped it into an awaiting trash bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, his heart full.

He smirked to himself, 'Lucy Jo', he thought. "Always with me, bud."

You'd changed into your pyjamas; which by now were merely a sports bra and a pair of Andy's sweats before padding down into the living room and taking up refuge on the couch in Andy's spot. The chase lounger had become more comfortable for your back and swelling ankles lately and he didn't mind it one bit. He did however hate how Grant still attempted to burrow his spotted bastard way into your side and would take his sweet ass time, stretching, grunting and moaning as Andy waited for him to move.

You picked up your phone, called in your typical pizza order and waited for Andy to join you.

He walked into the living room, giving you as smile as he headed through to the kitchen, then out to toss the bag of trash.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” He exclaimed as he came back in, shutting the door quickly. He looked at you with your belly out and in his pants and your full breasts spilling out of your sports bra.

"I'm sweating!" You snorted.

"I was going to start a fire." He plopped down onto the couch.

“Please don’t!” You groaned as he looked at you, his eyes twinkling in the light of your Christmas tree.

"Then keep me warm!" He joked as he wrapped himself around you, the feeling of his cool clothes and cold hands on your body made you moan in comfort and relief as he did so. The tip of his nose buried into the joint behind your ear his lips pressed into your neck.

You shuddered a little, turning your face to meet his, “how exactly do you propose I do that?“

"I mean we've got ways," he kissed you again.

Soon enough you were naked from the waist down, straddling him, his cock deep inside you as you rocked gently to and fro. Your swollen belly rubbed along his solid abs and hairy chest.

"Andy, I'm close."

“Me too, Angel…” his hands held your hips, palms resting either side of your bump.

"Feels so good... I can't... I gotta...." You tensed trying to hold off until he was right there.

“Let go, honey…” his lips softly kissed at the swell of your cleavage, “I gotchu…”

Your head titled back as you came, a silent 'oh' curving your lips as your body gave way around Andy.

“Atta girl…” he grunted, thrusting up into you, his feet planted firmly in the soft shag of the rug.

It was long and intense, your hormones making you crazed and sensitive, soaked and so pliant to his ways. You were that far gone, you weren’t aware Andy was quickly reaching his own end and barely registered the groan and soft whimper of your name as he stilled his movements, before two shallow thrusts saw him sag back in the seat, a hum rolling in his throat.

"Fahk, Angel." He panted. "You alright?"

“Mmmhmmm.” You managed, your face burried into his neck as his hands smoothed up and down your back.

Then he had to chuckle as he felt a little flutter at his belly, where your bump pressed against his abs. "I think we woke Lucy up."

“Well, sure she will be getting her own back when she’s here.” You sat up and looked down at him. “I do love that name you know, I hadn’t even considered it until before but…it’s so beautiful.”

"Like her Mom," he sighed. He helped steady you as you sat up and climbed off him, finding your panties and his sweats from the floor. A knock sounded and Andy bolted upright, tugging his own sweats up and snatching his shirt.

He pulled it over his head as he headed to the door, grabbing the pizzas and handing over a tip before he kicked it shut and made his way back in You were waddling back into the living room having grabbed him a beer and you a water.

"I'm starved."

“Yeah me too.” Andy opened the boxes as you sat down and once settled he placed one on your lap, grabbing his.

You happily twitched your feet as you dug into your anchovy and pineapple pizza, each bite making Andy gag internally while he enjoyed his combo slices. Grant stood at the end of the couch waiting for a drop of anything the entire time.

As you ate, you flicked through Netflix, settling on a crime drama thriller flick that Andy picked apart the whole time.

“Oh my god!” You slapped his arm as he pointed out the ridiculous error one of the cops had made in the investigation, “will you stop!”

"It's fahking ridiculous!" He snorted.

"This is why we can't watch these movies. You can't see the entertainment value and not go full DA, every time!" You laughed.

“The least they could do is make them realistic…”

“They’re not supposed to be, they’re entertainment!” As you spoke, a big kick from Lucy made you suck air in through your teeth.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, even she’s thinking you’re being a douche!” You laughed as you rubbed your belly.

"Or its the disgusting pizza you plagued her with." He sighed and handed Grant the last of his crust.

“She’s the reason I wanted that!” You scoffed as he placed the empty boxes on the table and moved. His hand gently splayed over your skin and he bent down.

“You think your old man’s an idiot already, huh Lucy Jo?”

Your fingers ran through his hair and scratched at his neck as he talked to your stretched out belly. It was the start of your nightly routine where he'd talk to her for a long while and you just listened, feeling her moving through you and watching his body language and eyes react. But tonight, hearing her name from his lips choked you up.

He chuckled at something he’d said and then sat up, his eyes meeting yours. “You alright?”

"Yeah," you sniffed. "Perfect."

****

The happy mood stretched over the holidays, your parents flying out the day before Christmas Eve and staying until the 3rd January. And then, you really were on the home stretch. You finished work the day before your parents arrived to start your maternity leave, and in the days running up to your due date, Andy was on high alert.

He called you at least twice an hour from the office, and every single little movement or twinge you felt had him dashing for the keys and your hospital bag that was permanently by the door.

"Andy, settle down," you laughed on one evening.

He had barely come home from work when he’d demanded to know in full details how you felt, despite the fact you had told him less than an hour ago when he’d called to say he was leaning the office. And now, the two of you were squabbling playfully over what to eat for dinner.

He chuckled a little as he held his hands up. “Fine, okay, you want the chicken then…”

"Yes, please."

“Okay.” He moved around you to pull the accompanying veg for the tray bake out of the fridge.

Andy roughly chopped the veg before tossing it into a roasting tin along with the chicken thighs before coating it in oil, herbs and spices, and placing it in to the oven. Grant whined at your feet as you sat in the stool at the bar watching your husband and soon to be father of your daughter.

“What’s up with him?” Andy turned from where he’d been cleaning down the side and you shrugged.

“Dunno, he’s been like that all day.”

"Huh," Andy shrugged. “I’ll walk him after dinner.”

In thirty minutes your food was served as the two of you sat at the dining room table just off your kitchen. Grant remained under your feet as you and Andy ate the meal he prepared with a sparkling water in your glass and a beer in his.

You ate some of it, but then started to feel a little uncomfortably full, heartburn your worst enemy at the moment and you pushed your half full plate away and exhaled.

"Angel...."

“I’m full,” you shrugged, before you burped slightly and slapped your hand over your mouth, “and this heartburn is a bitch.”

Andy chuckled a little at your mishap and smirked. "I'll clean up, go relax."

“Okay…” you took a deep breath as you pushed your chair back and made to stand. But then a wobble came to your legs and you leaned forward, a hand to your belly, the other to the table top.

Andy was up like a shot, speaking your name as his hand gently came to rest on your back, the other curling around your arm in support. You inhaled through your nose and slowly through your mouth. "I'm okay... I think."

He gently rubbed your back until you straightened up and took a deep breath. The unasked question hung in the air and you looked at him, “I don’t know…”

"Okay. Let's just take it slow, see how it goes." Andy helped you do the couch and you listened as he went back to clean up from dinner. Grant didn't leave your side as he did so.

When Andy joined you not even ten minutes later. You felt flushed from the inside out and your skin tingled.

"I think I want to stand for a few minutes."

Andy didn’t even question you. He stood and helped you to your feet. Thirty minutes from your first weird feeling, you had another, just as you were pacing the living room floor.

You gripped Andy’s shirt, the material in the palm of your hands as you breathed deeply, the pressure building in your back and belly.

"Angel, I think we're having a baby."

“Yeah… yeah me too.” You exhaled and looked up at him. "Andy, I want to sit down again."

“Alright…” he helped you down and then crouched in front of you, hands on your knees. “I’m gonna load your bag into the car, then I’ll come back and we’ll just sit quietly until it’s time to go, okay?”

The cramping wasn't intense at the moment but things were definitely happening. You nodded, focus shifting from his voice to your body. He stood, kissing your head, one hand gently on your bump before he left the room.

It took another couple of hours as late into the evening your labor progressed and Andy felt confident enough to persuade you to go to the hospital.

And it seemed he was right, as when you stood to head to the car you felt a wet trickle down your leg.

“My waters…I think…”

“Okay…” Andy smiled, his face beaming with excitement and nerves. “Let’s quickly get you changed and we can go.”

"Yeah, okay, okay." You did what he asked of you. He grabbed a clean change from the laundry room and a towel, dropping everything at your feet and helping you change. Grant whined and paced as you went about.

"Andy...." You strained as a contraction came and came strong.

“Okay, honey…” he stood, your arm curling around his bicep as you breathed in and out, a low groan slipping from your mouth, “just like in the classes…in….out…”

"Wow, this hurts," you ground out.

"Let's get you to the car and we'll go," he stated calmly.

“Grant…”

“Don’t worry about the dog, I’ll call Ron.”

"And my parents. Oh God and Eva, Amber, my sister. Jo, oh Andy, you've gotta call Jo."

“Stahp, okay.” He chuckled, “all in good time.”

"Okay, yeah, okay," you swallowed. "Oh here we go again"

Andy waited for you to ride through the contraction before you both headed slowly to the car. The hospital wasn't far but with the icy road and cold weather, Andy took no chances. He had anxiety in his stomach about the conditions but he was in control, he had to be. He set the 4x4 into the tires with the press of a button and off you two headed.

You made it in slow but steady time, and soon you were both heading up to the maternity ward. Checked in and settled into your room, you were hooked up to your IV as your labor progressed. Andy could tell, even before the moans and the sighs of discomfort arrived that a contraction was happening as your conversation would tail off.

"Breathe through it, Angel," he held your hand, the back of your palm pressing against his bearded lips as you squeezed his hand. "You're doing great, baby."

“God, this hurts…” you sagged back, a temporary reprieve as you looked at him. “Where’s my epidural?”

"Soon baby, it's coming Y/N."

You nodded and then looked at him. “Andy?”

"Yeah?"

“I’m real thirsty.”

"I'll get you some ice, you just can't have anything else. I'll ask about a popsicle."

“Oh, yeah…popsicle sounds great,”

"Cherry or grape?"

“Both?” You asked, hopefully

"We'll shoot for one."

“Cherry then “

"Okay." Andy let go of your hand and headed to the door, poking his head outside into the hall. He quickly came back and behind him was your anesthesiologist.

“Mrs Barber, I’m here to do your epidural.”

"Oh thank God," you chuckled dryly.

The man smiled softly and shortly, you were all done, epidural administered and you could finally have your coveted popsicle

You felt much more relaxed as your contractions were pressure filled rather than painful. You and Andy passed the time by talking and him gently encouraging you to rest and close your eyes for a little while because your time to push would soon be upon you and your entire world was about to be rocked again, and very happily so.

You woke a little later, to see Andy dozing in the chair by the bed.

“Andy…”

He stirred, and cracked one eye open, before he smiled and sat up, “hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, what time is it?”

“Erm…” he reached for his phone, “just gone 2am. You’ve been out an hour or so.”

“Did you-“

“Spoke to your mom before,” he nodded, “and Ron has been to collect the spotty bastard.”

"Stop calling him that," you sighed. "Can you help me turn, I can't feel anything but I need to move."

“Yeah, sure.” He stood up, stretching and cracking his neck. “Dumb question but apart from the obvious, you feeling okay?”

"Yeah, I'm tired though. Just can't seem to get comfortable enough to rest long enough."

"You're almost there, Angel, I promise." Andy sighed, helping you roll from one side over to the other. He ran his hand over the top of your head, tucking a strand behind your ear. "I love you." He smiled softly.

"I love you, too." You matched his expression.

“I’m so excited to meet her,” he whispered

Your hands settled atop your massive bump, "me either. Andy... I've waited so long for this. Something I never thought possible until you."

Just then your doctor came in with a nurse. "We're just going to check your numbers and cervix, see how you're progressing. If you haven't dilated much more we might want to start considering Pitocin to help you along a bit. I don't want you to go too long with your water broken."

“Okay,” you nodded.

Andy held your hand as the doctor took a look and she smiled, looking at the nurse then to you. “Your fully engaged, we’re on the home stretch now, Mrs Barber. When you feel pressure, you're going to want to push, alright?" He turned to the nurse, "Let's get her ready."

After a bit of reshuffling and moving you where they wanted, you were ready and sure enough, ten minutes later you felt the band of pressure as it tightened around your back and abdomen

"I need to push," you told everyone.

“Okay, chin to your chest…” the doctor instructed.

You nodded and tucked your chin down. Andy’s hand gave yours a squeeze as you did as told, gritting your teeth.

You pushed for thirty minutes, completely spent but had one or two more to go and your daughter would be taking her first breath.

“I’m so tired,” you looked at Andy as he leaned over, his lips brushing your head.

“You’re doing so well, Angel, so well.” He coaxed, “you got this, okay. A few more…”

"I can't, Andy, I just can't." You started crying from hormones, emotions and exhaustion.

“Yes, yes you can.” He gave you a soft kiss, his voice calm and gentle, but also firm. “I know you can.”

"Her head is out, one more, Mom, you can do it," your nurse encouraged.

Your hand tightened around Andy’s as another contraction hit you, and you summonsed every last bit of strength you had. You pushed, letting out a loud groan and cry as you did.

And then, your ears picked up the loud cry of a baby coming into the world. You'd done it, Lucy Jo Barber had taken her first breath of life in the world.

“Oh, Angel…” Andy sniffed, tears in his eyes, “you did it. You hear that? Oh I’m so fahking proud of you…”

"You got a job to do now, Dad," your doctor summoned him.

“Yeah, erm…”

Despite yourself, even in your tired and drained state, a smile spread across your lips as you watched your usually composed husband flap a little as he hurried down to cut the cord

And as he did so, Lucy was placed on your chest wailing and flailing about, beautifully colored with life and breath, messy with birth muck and you sobbed as your hands reached for her.

“Hi, Lucy…” you whispered through your tears as you pressed your lips to her head, “hi baby…oh, Andy….”

The trauma of the past completely overcome with the beauty of your future and your entire world that screamed in your arms. Andy let out a sob as he wiped his eyes, one large hand cupping the back of his baby girls face. "Hi, Bunny…” he whispered softly. You smiled at his nickname, one he’d come up with a few months back when you remarked she felt like she was jumping around inside your belly one evening, the first time you’d seen the movements from the outside as well as felt them

“Angel, she’s beautiful.” He kissed her forehead and then your lips before his nose tucked into the crook of your neck as he just sobbed.

“I’m sorry…” the doctor spoke gently, “but we just need to borrow her for her scores and then you can have her straight back.”

Andy moved back, wiping his eyes and when the doctor and nurse briefly took Lucy for her vitals and measurements, he kissed you deeply.

"I'm so proud of you, so wonderfully proud of you, Angel."

You smiled and then once Lucy was cleaned up and wrapped in her little blanket, Andy was offered his chance to hold her for the first time

You watched him, your heart soaring as you took in the sight of him with a baby in his arms and how natural he looked. His tired eyes, red and swollen from tears of joy, his lips pursed and puckered, softly moving as he whispered his secrets to her. His bearded cheeks catching those said tears. She looked so tiny with him, and she was.

"Lucy Jo Barber, born at 2:47 am." Your nurse spoke softly, "six pounds, seven ounces, twenty inches long."

You were cleaned up and stitched up as Andy held Lucy and all you could do was watch and feel the intense love you now had for them both.

"You ready for her, Mom?" The nurse wondered, and you lit up like it were still Christmas.

With a vigorous nod, you allowed the nurse to help you prepare to hold Lucy for the first time. You were going to attempt to nurse her with those first vital drops of life serum from your breast and then get an hour of just the two of you together, skin to skin, resting and bonding.

You took her in your arms, and after a few attempts she latched to your breast and started to take her first meal. You looked up at Andy who stood in dumbstruck awe.

"My girls," he sniffed.

You smiled at him, words escaping you

Once Lucy had finished her few little pulls and you'd switched her to your other side, her naked little body bar her newborn diaper rested against your bare chest.

Andy’s finger gently stroked down the side of her cheek as she lay, eyes closed, nuzzling into you, those precious grunts and squeaks of a new born filling the silence between you. "How you doing, Mommy?" He whispered.

"I'm good, so good."

“You hungry?”

“Yeah, and thirsty.”

"I'll make sure you get something real soon," he nuzzled you. "I'm gonna grab you some water though."

“Thank you,” you kissed him softly as he stood up from where he’d been sat on the bed.

Again he went into the hall, and once he closed the door, a great wave of emotion overtook him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but thing about the last time he’d been in a hospital. The day he had to make the decision to turn of Laurie’s life support a month or so after they’d lost Jake. Wiping a hand down his face, he composed himself and flagged a nurse down who promised to bring you a jug of water, and also said that your meal would be along shortly. He then took the chance to fire a few messages off, not surprised in the least when your dads number flashed up on the screen.

“Hey,” Andy greeted him softly,

"Congratulations, son," your dad's wet words clearly audible. "She's beautiful. How's my little girl?"

“She’s great, amazing…I’ve no words,” Andy beamed as he spoke, clearing his throat, “both doing well, healthy…Y/N is exhausted but…fahk, I’m so proud.”

"Yeah, I would be too. She's a looker, Andy. You and Y/N did real good. Her mom is just besotted. Made me call because she can't get the words out. Once you get home, we'll be right back out."

“Of course,” Andy smiled, “be good to have you all, and no doubt Y/N to have her mom around too.”

"Got the flights on standby, you just gotta say when. We'll drag Penny along too."

“Sure thing,” Andy chuckled.

“I’ll let you go, give her our love won’t you?”

“Of course, and I’m sure she’ll call once she’s rested.”

“Take care, Andy. Look after them and congratulations again. We love you all, buddy.”

"Love you guys too," he beamed.

The call cut, Andy placed his phone in his pocket once more struck by the difference in the situations. When Jake had been born, Laurie’s parents, had been pretty hands off when all was said and done, not that it bothered Andy really. Whilst they’d been close in their own way, he had never felt like part of their family. Just the person their daughter had fallen pregnant to and then married. But this…well, this felt different. He loved your family, like they were his own, and when he thought about how your dad would fire him a filthy joke pretty much every day, or message him about the Red Sox or Patriots, it filled his chest with a warm feeling.

And he understood why. Because he felt part of a family unit, not merely the patriarch of one.

The responsibility wasn’t all on his shoulders, he had people he could look up to, turn to, a mother and father in law who he knew wouldn’t judge if he fucked up or needed some advice.

And most importantly, he had a wife that loved him despite his chequered past, because you too knew only too well how the ghosts of time gone by could come back to haunt you when you least expected. You allowed him to talk about his feelings, he didn’t have to hide it when he had a thought about Jacob or Laurie, and likewise neither did you when you had a flashback or something triggered a memory that you didn’t like.

It worked because you both just understood. And that made it liberating, leaving him free to enjoy this second chance at fatherhood. Not in a better way, but a different way.

Stepping back into your room, Andy heard you whispering to your daughter and he stood back behind the curtain to take it all in.

“You’re so loved, Lucy Jo, so loved already, your daddy is going to be the best man in your life, just like he is in mine. And your Grandpa, and Nanny… and Auntie. Not to mention everyone else that’s there too…”

“A big, dumb four legged spotty bastard no doubt ready to eat your dirty diapers…” he spoke softly as he stepped around the curtain and you looked up, chuckling.

"Don't listen to Daddy, Grant is going to protect you and spoil you rotten with his love." You said softly.

"I talked to your dad, he says he's proud of and loves you."

You beamed, “I’ll call them later. The nurse said I can eat once we get up to recovery."

“Yeah, she said she’d make sure of it, did you get your water?”

"I did, just before you walked in."

“Good,” he smiled, raking up his precious place on the bed next to you. “How’s she doing?”

“Sleeping,"you beamed up at him. "She's perfect, Counselor."

“She’s part you, how could she be anything but,” he chuckled, “can I have her again?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

You watched as Andy took his shirt off and settled back in. Gently and carefully, you lifted Lucy off your chest and settled her onto his.

With a gentleness you’d fast loved from the start, Andy’s large and strong arms held her close as he settled back, bending over to kiss her head. He led the blanket over her as you covered up and relished now in the view you had.

“Hey, Looby.”

“Looby?”

He shrugged, and looked at you a little sheepishly, “Lucy Loo, kinda sounded like Looby Loo… you know the song? My mom used to sing it to me when I was little.”

You smiled softly, "sing it for her."

With an arch of his brow, Andy swallowed and took a deep breath, Lucy rising and falling against his chest. “Here we go Looby Loo, here we go Looby Light, here we go Looby Loo, all on a Saturday night…” He chuckled a little and looked at you, “I used to swing Jake around all over the place singing that to him, he used to giggle up a storm.”

"Now she will too," you sighed.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

"Talk to me, BB."

“I can’t…I really can’t explain it,” he looked down at Lucy, “I’m just utterly in love, again. And it feels amazing.”

You knew what he meant and yet you didn't. And you were perfectly fine with that. It meant the world to you, the situation you were in and you couldn't have been more grateful.

“When she’s old enough, we can tell her all about Jake,” you looked at him, “she’ll know about her big brother, and what he means to you.”

The wobble in his lips told you you'd hit the soft spot and your tired and sore body leaned forward to kiss him.

"I love you, Andrew Steven Barber, more than I could have ever imagined myself loving anyone again." You whispered against his bare and tattooed shoulder. "Thank you for this life. Thank you for our baby."

“Oh, Angel,” his voice cracked, “it should be me thanking you. You gave me a second chance, not a do over a such, but another pass at fatherhood. Something I never, ever thought I’d want to or get to do again.”

"Then we're even."

“Yeah…” his lips kissed Lucy’s head again as she slept, safe and warm in his arms. “I guess we are.”

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu​ 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates. 

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens. 

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class. 

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him. 

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all. 

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly. 

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months. 

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got. 

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career. 

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course. 

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.” 

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you. 

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen. 

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.) 

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side. 

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly. 

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester. 

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness. 

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you. 

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face. 

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!” 

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things. 

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone. 

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought. 

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you. 

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news. 

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward. 

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason. 

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away. 

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom. 

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same. 

Apparently not. 

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed. 

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile. 

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.” 

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck. 

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot. 

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi. 

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.” 

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.  

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face. 

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments. 

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.” 

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.” 

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character. 

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester. 

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right. 

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile.  He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.” 

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?” 

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh. 

This man was dangerous for your heart. 

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.” 

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you. 

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well. 

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook. 

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[savagesbonergarage]

Nightsister OC pics and backstory ❤️

So I kinda got my Nightsister oc worked out today!

Meet Eilantha!

No makeup and with makeup since I like both. :) I know her outfit is Rey’s, but it turned out to be the one I liked best after going through all of them. This was so much fun to do! I’m on mobile rn so I don’t have a link, but search ‘rinmaru star wars avatar creator’ and it should be the first result.

The nightbrother is also an oc called Sever. He’s more bulky in my head and his tattoos are different and more brown than black, but whatevs. Also he looks more like a teenager here, which is NOT the vibe, lads. Mans is in his late 20's-early 30's. 👍

I know I’m sorta biased and all since she’s mine, but I’m in love with her? I’m not a huge fan of the Nightsisters and their misandry and general terrible-ness, but this girl is the exception. 💕 Learn more about her under the cut if you’d like. :)

She was born in 46BBY, making her around 27 in the final year of the clone wars. From the time she was a youngling it was clear that she had a natural affinity for magicks and spellcasting, which allowed her to participate in more advanced rituals and rites from an early age. This inevitably caused some contention among the sisters in her age group that felt this privilege was wasted on her, and therefore she had few friends during her time within the coven. She didn’t really mind, as she preferred to spend her days on her own anyway, learning as much as she could about whatever she fancied (usually spells that piqued her interest whose texts she discreetly snuck from within the cavern).

When she wasn’t studying, she loved music - writing, playing, and singing. It wasn’t anything like the typical malicious sounds of tribal chanting and drums you’d hear from within the grotto; not that she didn’t appreciate that also as she practiced it well, but her heart leaned toward a softer, more soothing genre of arias and melodies, bordering on lullabies based on her wanderlust, and, though she’d never admit it, her loneliness.

As she reached adulthood, she underwent the trials for her dark baptism as all Sisters did, which consisted of returning from a challenging hunt to add a token from her kill to the Water Of Life, and receiving her ichor tattoos that signified her coming-of-age before being ritualistically bathed in the ominous liquid which sanctioned her as an active member of the Nightsisters.

After this, I have two different routes (or however many, depending on who I’m shipping her with at the moment 😅 bc I ship her with everyone, no lie) that I like to take with her story. The first is expanded upon in the fic by @fallenrepublick here (still my favorite thing!) where she starts sneaking away into the nightbrother village and befriends Savage and Feral before they go through Asajj’s selection trails. This is the nicer, less-traumatic arc.

This next one gets really, really dark. I'm not going to post it all here bc honestly this post doesn't need all that angst, so I'll save that for later. Essentially, I like to think that Eilantha did at one time have a nightbrother of her own (Sever) that she actually loved, rather than treated as a slave. As you can imagine it doesn't end well, but we're not gonna get into that. We'll talk about how they meet. :)

Instead of sneaking away to the village, Eilantha is pressured into conducting her own selection trails by Mother Talzin. She doesn’t inherently have any reason to object, after all, she was taught that this is was simply the way of things. Part of her even looked forward to obtaining a manservant, whose loyalty would belong to her and her alone.

Perhaps he’d be a useful asset when it came to sneaking spelltomes to and from the vaults, and maybe he’d even be the only one staying by her side while she practiced her songs. What if he’d even appreciate them? Not that he’d have much of a choice, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

From the moment she stepped foot in the village, all she could focus on was the feeling of the uneasy and fearful gazes of the men who undoubtedly knew more of what was to come than she did. She chose her roster at random, unsure of what she should have really been looking for or what she actually wanted from a servant. Even before the fighting, she knew deep down that she didn’t want to inflict any unnecessary harm on them…but why? From what she’d overheard at home, the violence was half the fun.

It wasn’t.

She evaded and blocked every blow with ease, yet avoided retaliating and taking the offensive in any manner that would prove fatal, causing the battle to go on far longer than anticipated to the point where Brother Viscus insisted that she take the next opening for the kill. With reluctance, the blade of her weapon collided with the ribs of the next brother to reveal himself a target. She watched in horror as the light faded from his hateful, reflective eyes, and she was nearly sick. She didn’t want to do it, but it had been done, and it couldn’t be undone. His body thudded against the ground and she screamed.

“Enough!”

The battlefield went silent, and as she came to her senses she attempted to save face.

“I’ll have none of them!”

Before Brother Viscus could interject with any alternative propositions, she was gone. She ran, fleeing as far away across the rocky terrain as she could. She didn’t cry; at least not until she was certain she was alone. She felt so pathetic - Nightbrothers were meant to be disposable, yet she couldn’t handle killing one. Her shame shifted into heartbreak, and she crouched low and wept for the death of the brother she’d just caused, as well as for all those who came before him. All the needless, thankless, mindless deaths of these men whose lives may not have mattered to the Sisters, but they mattered to someone.

As night fell, she trudged along the jagged landscape and thought of what explaination she’d give to Mother Talzin upon returning home. She had run in the opposite direction of where her speeder was stationed at the base of the village, so she had plenty of time to consider on the long journey back. She casually hummed a tune to herself in some meager attempt to self-soothe, which served to distract the shadow that had been trailing her for some time. The sound of a twig snapping in the rocks behind her alerted her to the presence and she confronted him.

"Are you lost?" she asked in a derogatory tone after he revealed himself.

"I'm not."

Of course not, this was his home, after all. She couldn't say the same for herself, however, she pressed him further.

"Then why are you following me? I never asked for an escort."

The amber-skinned nightbrother looked as though he were choosing his words carefully, though if his aim was self-preservation he'd done a terrible job of it.

"I saw you crying."

Eilantha was hit with a pang of embarrassment, though she feigned otherwise as her eyes met the ground.

"Well, you can forget what you saw. Now leave me alone."

She turned away, but the brother remained there in quiet contemplation before he spoke again.

"I've never seen a Sister cry. I've never seen a Sister feel."

Something about those words struck her directly in her heart. The confirmation that she was inherently considered to be a heartless monster in the view of these villagers hurt a little more than anticipated, though she had no right to refute it. No amount of apologies would ever remedy the divide that separated the Nightsisters from the Nightbrothers, regardless of how she felt. She clenched her fist as she turned to face him again.

“I said, leave me alone. Don’t make me-”

She actually choked on her words, unable to say the rest.

Don’t make me put you in your place.

Despite her partial warning, the nightbrother stepped closer. He grabbed the edge of his already tattered tunic and tore a piece of it off, inspecting it for cleanliness before holding it out to her. Eilantha froze, uncertain of what to make of this interaction.

“You aren’t done,” he explained.

She hadn’t realized that her hot tears continued pouring down her cheeks during her retort. She accepted the cloth with some reluctance, her dainty fingers lightly brushing against his as she took it and dabbed it against her wet face. He promptly turned and started walking away, as instructed. This strange...kindness, or rather, strange act of servitude via obligation perturbed the young witch, whose thoughts were now fixated solely on the zabrak male.

“Wait, Brother,” she implored.

He paused, resuming his attention to her after hearing the endearing use of “brother” from a Sister’s lips for the first time. She continued, an unusual softness in her tone.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Sever,” he revealed, “May I ask yours, Sister?”

She repeated his name in her mind, determined never to lose it.

“Eilantha.”

He did the same, only out loud. Gods, it was an enticing sound.

"Will you be returning?"

This was a question she wasn't prepared to receive, and one that she herself didn't fully know the answer to. Her reply was engineered from a concerned sigh.

"I'm not sure. It might be problematic returning to the coven empty-handed. I may come back, I may not. I don't know what the future holds."

Sever pursed his lips slightly.

"If you do find yourself here again, will you..."

He coughed into his fist and centered himself before continuing.

"Will you consider me?"

Her eyes shot up to meet his hopeful gaze, a golden yellow in the night. She had a hunch as to what he was alluding to, but a little clarification was needed.

"Consider you...?"

He swallowed, his countenance displaying concern that perhaps he was stepping too far out-of-bounds this time, but he wanted to know all the same.

"As your mate."

Eilantha clutched the piece of fabric in her hand. This man was offering himself to her. The images of all the nightbrothers staring her down when she first arrived with fear in their faces raced through her mind, revealing the dread the men felt when they were met with her kind, and yet this one was volunteering. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry, as any other Sister likely would be at a savage that dared to seek special permissions. Of course, she wasn't like that.

Imagining him as her mate, however, was certainly...something. She thought of how she would discover just how much of him was tattooed and he would learn the same of her. She could claim him right then and there if she wanted, and he would be obliged to obey. It would solve her worries about returning home if she decided on a servant after all, although, her soul was unsteady. Though she was entitled to any male she desired, she couldn't allow herself to do it. Even though this man was offering, it would weigh on her conscience knowing that even a part of him would only be with her out of fear and obligation, rather than his own free will. This nightbrother wasn't free. None of them were.

"I'll consider it," she replied genuinely.

This news seemed to please him to some extent, a tiny smirk curling at the corner of his lip.

"I'll look forward to the possibility of serving you, Sister Eilantha."

She watched as he turned a final time and disappeared further into the darkness, leaving her alone with her busied mind.

The course was set for the Nightsister temple once she finally got to her speeder, servant-less. She looked over her shoulder to see multiple pairs of glowing golden eyes quizzically prying at her in the darkness, and she smiled before taking off.

It was a long journey home, and the entire trip her mind was occupied with thoughts of the intriguing zabrak male who saw her for what she truly was. She pulled out the tattered cloth from her pocket and pressed it against her chest as the wind rushed all around her before bringing it to her lips and kissing it.

It became her greatest treasure.

That is, until she finally had the real deal in her arms months later when the separation became too much to bear, and they arranged to meet in secret during their first rendezvous of many.

Sever, my treasure.

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 4

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

3326 words, 3rd person POV

Took a little bit of a breather so I don't burn out because this one is big! I'm going to have some mature content in future chapters btw so the rating will bump to 18+ for those. I will mark the chapters with that content appropriately so minors please do not interact with them!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Some weeks passed and Jason and Lijah had gotten quite comfortable with their new routine. Jason had started to come by early every evening and leave before midnight every night, though Lijah still occasionally fell asleep while he was still there. Jason didn't mind these times. He took them as opportunities to watch Lijah without question or making him feel self conscious, as Jason rather liked the way Lijah looked and never grew tired of seeing his face. He still had sporadic thoughts of inappropriate things, but those showed up more now when he was alone and only thinking of Lijah.

The thoughts were troubling nonetheless, as Jason often found his mind wandering to daydreams of Lijah in the shower or how swallowed up by Jason's arms he would be if he held him. He even had thoughts of kissing Lijah, wondering just how soft those lips would feel. The images were innocent enough, but Jason still worried that he was sliding down a slippery slope by having them at all. He could hear Mother's voice in the back of his mind explaining how this was only the beginning. It would start with innocent curiosity and then, before he knew it, he would be consumed by lust and never be able to return home. The most troubling part about it all was that there was a frighteningly big part of him that didn't want the thoughts to stop.

In the silent moments that Lijah was asleep while Jason sat with him, Jason's strongest desires were to touch him. He didn't feel that these yearnings were particularly wrong in that he was only really interested in touching Lijah's hair and face, but he resisted out of concern for the progression of these urges as well as not wanting to wake Lijah. Still, the allure of his soft looking woody brown locks and even softer looking freckled skin called to him, inspiring a great many of his fantasies.

There was also the worry that Lijah would start to hate him like everyone else did. He was terrified that the instant he removed his mask, Lijah would never want to see him again. He could feasibly tolerate his presence now, but if their relationship progressed into something else, then what? Could Lijah stand to be with the monster who murdered so many people? The freak with a face so repugnant it instilled a murderous intent in others? Jason couldn't stand to think of betraying Lijah, but he also wished to find some kind of happiness for himself.

In the beginning, if Lijah fell asleep next to him, Jason would leave soon after to let him rest, but as their friendship went on, he would stay for at least an hour to enjoy the peacefulness of the arrangement. He would sometimes read one of Lijah's books, though usually he would sit and enjoy the calm atmosphere of existing in a safe location with a trusted friend. It was through these quiet nights that he learned Lijah was a sleep talker, and a relatively clear one at that. It had startled him the first time it happened; Jason thought that Lijah had woken up. He quickly understood that they were mumblings of a blissfully unaware Lijah, and soon came to enjoy listening to the odd phrases he would come up with while dreaming. A request to place a bag of fruit on a shoe rack, a denial of cream cheese spaghetti, occasional laughter...it was all somewhat funny to Jason until he heard his own name.

Lijah called out to Jason quite a few times in his sleep, increasing in frequency as time went on. The scenarios were often mundane - asking Jason to move from the hallway or how he was doing. Jason paid close attention any time these dreams occurred, curious about what Lijah was seeing. One instance, however, caught his attention like none of the others had before.

Lijah was sleeping curled up on his side, facing the wall. Jason was reading the final chapter of one of the adventure novels and the scene was coming to a thrilling climax. He heard Lijah murmur his name and turned to see if he was awake, as was the norm. Lijah's eyes were closed and he drooled slightly on the pillow, answering that question instantly. Jason returned to his book, but kept his ears focused on any further commentary.

"Don't go," Lijah whispered, his voice tinged with unmistakable sadness, "...want you...stay with me, Jase...please..."

His full attention now on Lijah, Jason's pulse quickened. He wasn't sure what to do to alleviate the distress Lijah was having in his dream. Eyes searching for a solution, Jason found himself fixed on a section of hair that had fallen across Lijah's face, hanging over his eyes and nose. Clenching his jaw muscles and praying he did not wake him, Jason reached out to push the hair off Lijah's face. He hesitated before touching him, beginning to panic, but then Lijah sighed his name again, his eyebrows furrowed with whatever upsetting images he was forced to see. Jason took a deep breath to steady his hand, then gently brushed the hair back.

Lijah's hair was even softer than Jason had previously imagined, like a young deer's fur. He couldn't resist running his fingers through to the ends, watching them slide effortlessly as if he were passing his hand through tall grass. Lijah's expression instantaneously relaxed as Jason combed his fingers through his hair, and he tentatively repeated the action. He stroked Lijah's hair several times like this, slowly, tenderly, fascinated by its soothing effect on him. Soon, Lijah had slipped back into a deep sleep, looking more comfortable than before.

Jason, on the other hand, could not be more energized. His touch was good for something other than bringing pain and death. He could be gentle and comforting. He had been uncertain before, but this proved it. He was capable of changing after all, not just in his mind.

He could not remain in the room for long after, his energy much too high to sit still or move quietly enough to not wake Lijah, so he left earlier than he wanted to. He spent this wild energy in the woods that night, hunting and trapping small animals to add to his own campsite's food stores. He felt deliciously alive in a way he was not used to.

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

Jason didn't tell Lijah about the nightmare. He worried that it might unnerve him that he stayed in the room while he slept, and Jason's top priority at the moment was keeping Lijah's favor. He had never really had crushes before, having no one around other than Mother, and could now somewhat understand that intense desire to be around the other person and ignore the world. Before now, he wasn't even sure that men could be attracted to each other. It was never in the stories Mother told him, and he had never seen it in his few ventures to the camp. He thought it must be extremely special, given that it was not as prevalent, and wondered why he hadn't heard of it before. Perhaps it was only heterosexual couples who were sinful and needed to be bound by marriage to erase that sin? He determined he would look into it later if it became an important question.

The desire to touch Lijah's hair again became much stronger after doing it once, however, and Jason resisted the urge each time he saw him. He could feel Lijah getting suspicious though, and didn't want to hide his feelings for much longer. What would Lijah think if he told him he liked him? He had told Jason he wasn't interested in dating anyone, and Jason was almost certain Lijah was only interested in a friendship with him. He wanted to at least tell him he wanted to explore a more sensual relationship, holding hands and hugging, perhaps, but he wasn't sure how to express that without seeming creepy. While he had no idea how romantic relationships worked, Jason had only the slightest inkling of how friendships worked, and didn't want to ruin this one by saying something weird.

One rainy evening, Lijah returned to the cabin with more energy than usual, claiming it was a slow day with the kids due to the weather, and he got to relax for most of it. This led to him excitedly showing Jason one of his favorite movies on VHS, setting up the living room with popcorn, extra blankets, and soda (though Jason politely declined the beverage and requested a water instead). Mother never showed Jason movies like this at home; he wasn't even sure they owned a VCR. When he was younger, they did have a TV and he would watch the occasional broadcasted movie, but once it broke, they never replaced it. As a result, he never cared much about catching up with popular media. There were chores to complete and plenty to do outside, so he'd never needed the extra entertainment. Still, it was nice to see Lijah get so worked up by watching the story on the screen, and Jason found it interesting as well.

The pair moved back to the bedroom once the movie was over, Jason having helped Lijah clean up the living room first, and Jason quietly read as Lijah did his bedtime routine. Jason had noticed he was growing rather smelly lately, more so than usual. He never cared much about hygiene - the smell didn't tend to bother him - and bathed infrequently with little water from creeks. Being around Lijah, who smelled so pleasant all the time, however, Jason was picking up on his own scent a little more, and found it potentially offensive. He remembered Lijah offering the shower to him, and contemplated using it at least a couple times a week so as not to offend his nice smelling friend who was surely not saying anything to avoid hurting his feelings. When Lijah returned from the bathroom, Jason wrote,

"can i use it to?"

"Use what?" Lijah asked, still toweling his hair dry, "The shower? Yeah, absolutely! There's plenty of soap in there and an extra towel. If you want, while you're in there, I can sneak over to laundry to wash your clothes for you too."

There it was. Jason grimaced. He was slightly embarrassed by offending Lijah, but grateful that he was being so casual about it. He nodded and awkwardly shuffled around Lijah to get to the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing deeply. He began undressing, becoming more uncomfortable feeling that his shirt stuck to his skin. How had he gone this long without noticing? He found the spare towel Lijah mentioned and wrapped it around his waist to cover himself before opening the door to pass his dirty clothes out to Lijah. Lijah took the pile, cheerful as always, and promised to be back soon. Jason was trying to avoid making eye contact, but he saw that Lijah's cheeks flushed when he was met with the sight of Jason in the towel. What could that have been about?

Enclosed in the bathroom once more, Jason dropped the towel next to his boots and removed his mask, placing it on the sink. This room was even smaller and more cramped than the other rooms in the cabin, leaving barely any space for his large frame to navigate. It was a simple setup of only the essentials: a toilet, a sink with a mirror over it, and a narrow shower stall. Jason stepped inside the stall and pulled the curtain behind him. The air still smelled of clean steam from Lijah's shower: a calming scent. Jason had some trouble figuring out the knobs, but managed to get the water running. The spray felt glorious on his skin, and he took a moment to bask in the warmth of the water. Certainly, this was a feeling he could live with a couple times a week.

Once he was done washing and rising the soap from his body, Jason turned the water off and stepped out, feeling almost brand new. He dried himself with the towel, but had not heard Lijah come back in yet. He put his mask back on and tentatively opened the door, keeping the towel tight on his waist. He peered out, but there was no sign of Lijah yet. The laundry room was probably in a different area of the camp, he considered, and it would take a little time for him to get back. Jason retrieved a book from the bedroom to occupy the time while he waited.

Lijah did return shortly after, bringing with him Jason's now clean clothes. He handed them off, blushing still, and left Jason to get dressed. What was getting him so flustered? Jason rejoined Lijah in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"How do you feel?" Lijah asked, fidgeting with the ends of his hair.

Jason nodded and gave a thumbs up gesture, admittedly feeling much better now that he was completely clean (and smelling almost as good as Lijah).

"Good! I've gotta say, though, that's some tough material. I wasn't sure the washer could handle it."

He touched Jason's arm as he spoke, feeling the fabric of his jacket. Jason stiffened, caught off guard by Lijah's touch. Lijah immediately retracted his hand, his eyes worried.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Was that wrong?"

Jason thought a moment, but then felt the strong yearning he'd had before to touch Lijah and run his fingers through that soft hair again. He shook his head, but felt a sudden, unexplainable distress that shortened his breaths. He reached for Lijah, who did not flinch or move away, and wrapped his fingers around his slim upper arm. Lijah's skin was so soft, so compliant to his touch...Jason released a shuddering sigh at how nice it felt. Lijah touched his arm again, running his hand up to Jason's shoulder.

"Wow, you're super touch starved, aren't you?" he said, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze. Jason had never heard of the expression, but it made sense to him. Wanting to feel Lijah ached like a hunger, and being touched by him satisfied that hunger. He nodded, rubbing Lijah's arm as gently as he could, but still pushing him slightly from sheer size difference.

"Can I hug you?" Lijah asked, "I think that'll help the most."

Jason nodded, a little too exuberantly, and Lijah pulled away from him to hop off the bed. He faced Jason, his expression unreadable, then climbed up onto Jason's lap, straddling his thighs, and pulled him into his arms. Jason gave a small grunt of surprise, but melted into Lijah's embrace, clutching him tightly. The feeling was indescribably soothing and overwhelming at the same time, sending tingles throughout his body. How was it that Lijah always knew what he needed?

It was undeniable at this point that Jason loved Lijah. He loved everything about him. He loved the feeling of Lijah's breath against his neck. He loved that he was so small and delicate compared to Jason, and he loved holding him close. His scent was all Jason could perceive outside of the embrace and the sound of rain tapping on the roof of the cabin, that light, clean scent he could never get enough of. This moment was perfection to Jason. The only thing that could make it even better was...no, he shouldn't wish for such indecent things, especially not when this felt so wonderful. He also knew that there was a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. He wasn't sure how to tell the difference, but assumed he would know if it happened. So far, he knew he loved Lijah, but didn't think he was in love with him (yet).

Lijah pulled back slightly to be able to look at Jason. His face was placid and reflected the happiness Jason felt.

"You've got some big, strong arms," he said, rubbing Jason's upper arms as he spoke, "I bet you're a fantastic cuddler."

Jason shrugged. He would not know, but from the way Lijah said it, he would like to find out.

"Gosh, you're cute," Lijah mumbled, "You don't even know how worked up you get me, do you? I'll give you a hint...I can't get that image of you in that towel out of my head and I don't want to."

He ghosted his fingertips over Jason's mask, his eyes lowered to where Jason's mouth would be under it.

"Is it all right if I take this off?" he whispered, "I would really like to kiss you right now."

The thought of kissing Lijah made Jason's heart flutter, but he did not want to frighten him with the face that earned him so much hatred as a child. There was also the matter of what his mother would think, with Lijah's bottom so dangerously close to his most private area, tempting him with physical pleasures. Would she be upset? Or would she not mind as much, given it would only be a kiss? At this point, it was not a question of whether or not Jason wanted it, but rather should he give in to what he wanted and disrespect his mother's wishes?

Pulse racing as he began to run out of time for an answer, Jason forced himself to make a decision. It would just be a kiss, right? There was no need to overthink. Definitely no need to read too far into what he said about the towel...He lifted his hands and slowly pushed the mask up to just under his nose. He could no longer see Lijah like this, but he didn't need to.

Lijah did not hesitate to close the space between them. He didn't kiss the way Jason had seen others before. This wasn't sloppy or aggressive...it was soft and warm and sent tingles throughout Jason's entire body...it felt nice. He slid his hands up Lijah's back as he dissolved into the kiss, an intense blush creeping into his cheeks. Lijah in turn pressed his hands to the sides of Jason's neck, holding him just as close. The slight movement of their lips together felt so incredible....Jason almost forgot that this was supposed to be wrong. He curled his fingers into Lijah's t-shirt and sighed softly as their lips parted. He didn't want this to end.

Lijah pulled back, Jason leaning forward as he went, not yet ready to stop. Lijah laughed, that beautiful, musical laugh that made Jason feel wonderfully weak, and playfully pushed his face away.

"Give me some air, big guy!" Lijah giggled, "Believe me, I want more too."

Jason pulled his mask back down so he could see his breathless partner. Lijah's face was flushed and he smiled serenely at Jason, resting his forearms on Jason's broad shoulders. Jason couldn't help but to smile himself. Was this how normal people felt all the time? Was this what it felt like to be attractive and wanted? But then again...Lijah felt this way about him as he was. He was attractive to him.

Jason thrust Lijah to his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Whoa!" Lijah cried out, startled by the sudden movement, "Easy there! You okay, Jase?"

Jason nodded into Lijah's shoulder, giving his body a brief squeeze. Lijah grunted softly and gave another short laugh.

"Remember how small I am," he said, returning the hug, "I don't mind getting a little manhandled but don't break me."

Jason couldn't fathom breaking Lijah. He wanted to keep him and protect him from the everything. The little kisses Lijah planted along Jason's neck were more valuable than any luxury he could imagine and touching their foreheads together fulfilled him more than any prior achievement he'd made. He was in bliss, and that bliss was named Lijah.

[blacktalonsb]

Chapter 1 - First Impressions

AN: This is the first chapter to a story I'm writing with my OC Raven. I'm not sure how often I'll get new chapters up right now. I'm very critical of my own writing and it makes for difficulties writing let alone posting.

Universe: DMC

Warnings: typical sibling rivalry, fluff, and general children being children.

Modeus x child!OC I have plans to make an x reader version, but wanted to post this part first..

Thanks to @milkybonebroth for writing for my prompt request and inadvertently sparking inspiration. Go check them out they write good stuff!

If you have ideas for childhood hijinks (I don't have sibs so not sure what to add in) suggest something and I'll see if I can fit it story wise. If you like what you read please tell me! I like feedback but please be respectful. As much as I want people to read what I write it isn't necessarily the end goal. Also please if you do reblog don't edit or claim as yours.

.:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~:.

“Daddy, where are we going?” asks the small girl as she pulled at the taller man’s large warm hand to get his attention. Modeus looks down at his daughter and smiles softly. He is still surprised at the miracle that brought her into his life. She was the spitting image of her mother, who left him shortly after their daughter was born. Her long onyx locks pulled back into a simple braid and tied at the end with a ribbon of brilliant sea foam green. Today she was wearing dark brown boots with corded laces, dark blue jeans and a shirt of a matching green to her ribbon.

“Birdie, we’re going to visit my friend and his family. He also has children, twins, but they are a bit older than you.” Modeus knelt in front of her and lay his right hand upon the crown of her head. Gently he tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear with his thumb, and rubbed the faint point of her ear. Giggles erupted from his daughter as she looked at him smiling widely and happily.

“Ok, Daddy.” Then her brows furrowed as she contemplated asking him another question.

“Are you going away because of work?” She pauses here a moment then continues with, “Am I staying with them? Are you gonna be gone long? Are the twins gonna make fun of me?”

Modeus sighs, pulling her into his arms. That last question was new. The young lady that was tutoring her, Rosalia, had mentioned that some of the girls she was sometimes around made fun of her ears.

“Birdie, you’re very special and these boys are also special, much like you. I don’t think they’ll make fun of your ears, but boys can be mean too. Just make sure you speak up for yourself and tell them to stop.” He gave her a final reassuring squeeze and stood. He took her hand once again and led her to the large front door of Paradise Manor, his mentor Sparda’s home.

As they made their way in through the front entrance Modeus could see Eva, Sparda’s wife, already scolding the twins at the foot of a grand staircase. From the looks of things the boys were fighting again. Their clothes are thoroughly rumpled and their hair disheveled. The boys were unaware of his approach so he made sure to step a bit heavier. After all it wouldn’t be good to scare them unnecessarily. He glanced down and saw Birdie copying his change in step.

Eva half turns and smiles at him, her gaze dropping down to his daughter. Eva’s features soften and it seems as if her gaze is a bit longing. Perhaps Eva wishes to have a daughter Modeus wonders. Modeus smiles, filing away the thought to pose to his friends later. Modeus then glances towards the boys. Dante already messing with Vergil’s hair. Vergil turns, smacking his twin’s hand away from his hair, and for good measure pushes him hard enough that he stumbles backwards. As Dante trips and tumbles to the ground, Modeus stifles a chuckle by clearing his throat. Both boys freeze and while Vergil hurriedly rushes back to a more formal posture Dante takes his time getting to his feet.

Eva claps her hands together turning fully to the boys again. “Vergil, Dante, this is Modeus. He’s a friend of your father’s,” her left hand sweeps towards Modeus at the introduction.

“Surely I’m your friend as well, Lady Eva,” Modeus states with a soft smile. He takes her hand and places a light kiss to her wedding ring. His long brown hair slips forward slightly covering one eye as he bows over her hand. This is his way of showing his respect to his mentor. He feels Birdie’s hand slip from his as she ducks behind him, grabbing onto his long black trench coat.

“Lady Eva, truly, thank you for agreeing to watch Birdie for me. I hate to leave her in the care of strangers.”

Eva laughs lightly, waving away the comment. “You mean you hate to leave her behind at all. It’s alright Modeus, really. I would love the chance to have another girl around. I feel a bit outnumbered.” Modeus laughs softly at being called out, eyes shifting slightly away. Eva glances towards the boys as Dante makes a rather loud and fake yawn. Vergil, on the other hand, is trying to look behind Modeus without moving from his spot.

Modeus also sees Vergil’s curiosity and reaches back to place his left hand upon his daughter’s hair, gently pulling her out from behind him. He takes a step towards the twins noticing that her foot falls have returned to her normal soft and quiet steps.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself Birdie.” Modeus watches as his daughter looks at the boys with curiosity, but then drops her eyes back to the ground. Modeus’ brow furrows slightly. His little Birdie isn’t shy, but perhaps the recent teasing has made her a bit self conscious. Modeus sighs at her continued silence, and places a hand on her back to encourage her to take the last step forward.

“This is my daughter Raven.” Modeus turns his warm gaze upon the twins. “She’ll be coming with me when I come to visit with your father.”

Vergil glances to his mother as she smiles and nods in encouragement. Vergil swallows and takes a deep breath determined to prove that at least one of Sparda’s sons had manners. He takes a small step forward and holds out his hand to the younger girl.

“Lady Raven, welcome to our home. Would you like me to show you around?” Raven lifts her gaze to meet his with curiosity clear on her face. He’s momentarily mesmerized by her deep brown eyes. Vergil had thought she looked nothing like her father, but her eyes were just as warm and brown as his. Vergil’s moment of hesitation cost him as Dante jostled his brother out of his way.

“Hey I’m Dante!” he beamed at Raven. “I’m way better at showin’ you ‘round than my brother.” At this point Dante turns slightly to smirk at his twin. “It’ll be more fun with me anyways. I’m not gonna bore you with history or whatever.” Dante lightly punches Vergil’s arm, then turns back to the girl in front of him. “I’ll show you some cool stuff.” Dante boasted. Raven turns her curious gaze toward him and tilts her head to the side.

“What kinda cool stuff?” she asks him her voice soft but clear. Dante stumbles a bit over his words upon hearing her speak.

“W-well I can..” Dante begins but is quickly cut off by Vergil.

Vergil huffs at his twin, turning back toward Raven. He holds his hand out to her again. “Raven you’ll be safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” That last bit definitely directed at his sibling though Vergil doesn’t look at him.

Raven reaches out with her left hand to take Vergil’s right hand, but hesitates as her eyes flick toward Dante. She quickly reaches out for both boys’ hands and holds them tight. Almost as if she’s afraid they’ll both pull away from her.

Raven smiles at both in turn and says, “How ‘bout you both show me ‘round. I don’t wanna leave either of you behind.” Her smile is infectious and the twins smile back at her. The back of Dante’s ears turning pink meanwhile Vergil’s checks are dusted in an equally pink hue.

“Looks as though Birdie has two protectors now.” Modeus chuckles happily as the three walk away hand in hand. He turns toward Eva.

“Yes I just hope the twins will refrain from fighting while she’s here.” Eva shakes her head and smiles. “Oh Modeus, Sparda said to have you go directly to him. He’s in his study at the moment. Don’t worry, I’ll feed them shortly.” Eva smiles kindly at her husband’s friend.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter seventeen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): quite a bit of unsettling/paranoia themes around the middle of the chapter (again in regards to stalking from fans). Also, some making out that alludes to more after it ! 

Word count: 5481

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Headlines of multiple news sites, trending hashtags, and seemingly hundreds of threads in online forums center around the topic that goes viral the day after. With SoundWave wasting no time to act subtly, choosing to take a blunt rebuttal of the independent release of music, they announce a separation of SUGA from the label. Without offering much other than the central reasoning in the official statement attributing a lack of loyalty, and openly rebellious attitude in the way of involving his personal relationships into his music without consent of the company, Yoongi’s public reputation takes a giant strike.

The primary attitude of his fanbase is startled confusion, as is similarly the feelings of pop culture commenters, who all agree that this action made by SoundCloud seems incredibly rash considering how high of status the title SUGA has in the music industry. A threshold of rumors contaminate social websites, all trying to gauge underlying motivations for the company’s decision to completely drop Min Yoongi from the label, feeling like there has to be more words each side could make but holds back.

With slowly passing weeks of conversation stirring faster from the sensationalized wonder that accumulates in the silence of both involved parties, fandoms grow impatient. A future tour scheduled to begin early next year is obviously squashed, and the subtle hints of new music thrown far from any burner of focus. Worry holds a multitude of loyal fans who are eager for clarification from their favorite idol, but no answers are clearly given. Blurry images of Yoongi to and from SoundWave only serve to prove that there are talks going on, especially when sightings of him and Taehyung begin growing consistent as well as thought to be moving vans relocating assumed sound equipment.

Naturally, frustration builds. Latching in tight grips onto every instance your name or image appears on the internet, angry shouts question your involvement with this entire ordeal. Confused as people are, they have little doubt that you deserve the bulk of blame for this dissent between Yoongi and SoundWave. After all, everything had always seemed steady in growth for SUGA’s career before your public involvement with him.

You realize this isn’t true. So much of the situation still lingers in the darkness, far from cameras and microphones to state the severity of everything that led the sequence of events to this point. You know that this whole problem isn’t entirely your fault, but it feels like it. Words cling to your psyche every time you try to peruse even the filtered social media feed of those you follow on instagram, but the comments still remain and grow on every one of your own posts, making you delete the app after only three days into the chaotic situation.

Apologies become common, though usually squashed within your reply to whenever Yoongi tells you them. Worry brims in his eyes just as well as his chest every time he notices anything off in your expressions that relate to all of the responses online. You’re quick to state that this isn’t his fault either, and not to worry about the silence he’s forced to keep while legal affairs are being handled. You’ve already settled yourself with the high chance that he won’t ever be able to make a statement that gives out the picture, just like you won’t ever be able to without losing every royalty you have.

While the online response does burn on your nerves, you can calm yourself by remembering it will eventually blow over to a new topic. It could take a lot of time, but eventually you’ll be able to not be the villain in every assumed narration of Yoongi being fired from SoundWave. Instead, concern wraps around any thoughts you have towards a new job.

With your work history visibly clean of any ink on your resume, you don’t have much to say to combat the fact. And as such you simply use your degree as well as projects from when you were a college student to talk yourself up. But you aren’t naive-- you realize that the gap of time from you receiving your diploma to the current date unease potential employers.

At this point, you’re no longer surprised. The man sitting across from you sits tapping his pen on papers in front of him. They’re spread in a controlled mess on a folder you brought. His eyes scan the words over, but because of the minute hand on the clock behind him reaching a new number, you’re inclined to believe the silence so far isn’t favorable.

Answering the initial questions isn’t usually difficult. In fact, you believe you win over a few uncertain glances in the way you speak with experience, but any opinion gained usually diminishes at the skinny portfolio you present. Every time you’ve passed it, you also feel underwhelmed by the humble sight of it, garnering none of the weight you should have the thin wings filled with. All of that is within your mind.

All of the tension in your mind fills more and more, contemplating what there is to take away from your meager showings of visible experience. This tension comes to a throbbing disappointment when the majority of those who have looked at the portfolio mention Yoongi’s name under their breath.

A large part of you becomes increasingly defensive from these tiny comments. Controlling your mouth from blurting questions in reply to their intentions is a difficult task, especially when the issues have been consistent. Multiple misinterpretations veil over the actual situation underneath the media’s depictions and what your residual contractual obligations to SoundWave will let you fix.

The man’s eyebrows furrow, his head tilting as something he sees perplexes him. You don’t openly react, simply sitting in the chair, legs not particularly tensely poised on the floor and your back only erect enough to be formal. Posture forgot a few interviews ago in favor of knowing glances at the employers body languages when reading through. This subtle confused realization on his face is familiar, but you smile politely as he gets up stating he needs to step out for a moment. As though he’s the first one to go ask questions about you to other people.

Walking into the lobby from the small meeting room, you do little more than sigh, reaching to rub your shoulder as you contemplate your next action. The man’s voice when he came back to the room and stated you’ll get contact in the future if they’d like to explore job opportunities was entirely monotone, and you can’t even be offended by the fact at this point.

Still, reality weighs on your shoulders, growing uncomfortably nagging, and at quickening paces when televisions like the one hanging on the opposite wall post pop news stations with Yoongi’s pictures and titles of dissention between himself and SoundWave.

“Oh,” A voice from the side disrupts the settling glare in your eyes. Softening your expression to one of surprise you turn your head as a figure comes to you. A smile on her face that seems disingenuous, but fitting when matched with the consistent brand name on each article of clothing apparent. “It was Y/N, right?”

In the medley of companies you set out to try landing jobs at, you didn’t take into consideration their current idols. More interested in just getting a place to continue working. But as Seulgi approached you from the way of the elevators, there’s a piece inside of you somewhat glad you’re likely to be rejected from this one. “Yeah.”

“What a coincidence to run into you here.” She says as she places her phone in her handbag. “Looking for work? Heard that you’ve taken a chance at the music production world.”

For the sake of pleasantry, you don’t irritably sigh from having to deal with this immediately following an unsatisfying industry. Instead just shrug your shoulder, “Something like that.”

“Guess it hasn’t been going well,” You’re unable to stop your eyebrows from narrowing at her, but Seulgi is unhindered from your evidently growing annoyance. “It’s a hard thing getting through scandals, especially when you don’t have anything to show for yourself.”

“Such a hard thing that you didn’t mind shoving your boyfriend into it.” You roll your eyes, head shaking as you start to walk away.

“Well, actually,” She catches up to your pace, overlapping you to cut off your trec to the front doors. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hoseok could use a hand, right? If you want to try to get some work, why not ask him? Independent work is good to help build a resume-- though, I guess Hoseok’s reputation and Yoongi’s current one don’t make companies feel comfortable-”

“What are you trying for here?” Your tone causes a falter of expression in Seulgi’s face, shifting it into a muted shock. Her smile replaces itself with pursing lips, then eventually the picturesque way she poses her shoulders also deflates. Appearing much less superficial, though now openly tired with frustration from the little act she tried to play with you.

“What? I can’t try and do a nice thing for my ex?”

“Ex that you threw under the bus.” Unhesitant. You cross your arms. “Why in the world would I think you’re not trying to gain something right now too?”

“You’re just like Yoongi--I get the relationship now.” She sighs, playing with her hair as her eyes trail off to nowhere. “Well, the relationship you ended up getting yourself after all.”

Your arms tense over your front, quietly startled that she seems aware of the false beginning with your relationship with Yoongi, and even acknowledging that it’s currently real. Part of you wants to question how she’s found out the tidbit of information, though it’s not a top concern of yours. The small fact that she has methods to get information throughout the industry is odd, but you doubt it needs to be a worrisome issue.

“Anyways, I was just offering a suggestion. Three songs aren’t going to cut it to get top companies like this one to let you in.” As if you needed her to say that when the past week has only been proof of that. Seulgi adjusts the hoodie she wears so that it no longer falls off a shoulder, and her eyes appear introspective for the moment of silence before speaking again. “You’re not going to get anywhere without stepping on a few people along the way. You can’t play along with all the rules and expect to succeed.”

If her tone remained snarky, you would have shot a comment in return, as the instant thought in your brain relates Seulgi’s words to her actions against Hoseok in the past. However, the simplistic way she spoke was calm, almost bordering into a somber timbre hidden beneath the surface. At that moment you feel like you see something inside of that shadow, but you don’t have the liberty of pondering it.

“Seulgi, I thought you were using the big dance studio right now.” A voice enters into the conversation, making Seulgi’s head turn back towards the entrance. Looking beyond her, you see a face you again would have expected if you took any consideration to the companies you were skipping through for interviews. “Oh,” Jeongguk’s eyes widen, catching sight of you, a smile forming as he speaks on in happy surprise, “Y/N! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“Hi, Jeongguk.” You give a little smile and nod as a greeting.

“Yeah, I’m late.” Seulgi speaks up while she takes a step to begin a smooth leave, eyeing Jeongguk then you in curiosity of how there’s a mutual connection. But her final words have nothing to do with questions. “Sorry about that whole thing at my party, by the way. Taking your date and all. Just getting a conversation Yoongi owed me.”

Her vague insinuation makes your eyes narrow, following her figure as she casually goes. Already knowing the content of the conversation she had with Yoongi, you’re left to assume that she speaks in a way to ingrain seeds of uncertainty or jealousy under your skin, but all the needless comment does is further you from any positive opinions of Seulgi.

“Something about that seemed hostile.” Jeongguk states as the two of you watch Seulgi disappear down a hall. Instead of screaming out intelligibly from the frustration of your day so far, you just exhale a long sigh, turning your head back towards Jeongguk. His mouth curls into a slightly uneasy smile, not sure of what he just stumbled in on, “Everything okay?”

“I can’t wait to go home and sleep, to be honest with you.” You admit, trying to get humor into your voice, but you’re sure your expression betrays any chance of a joking ambiance as Jeongguk slowly nods bouncing his long locks of soft, warm-toned pink. “Your band is going to be performing at the river festival this weekend, right? Saw online.”

“Yeah, we have a set in the late evening. You going?” His demeanor is wholly casual, pronounced further in the relaxation of his shoulders and lazily situated hands in the pockets of his big hoodie.

“I would, but now’s not really the best time for me to be doing much out.” You smile as your eyebrows furrow a bit. For a moment you consider the fact that he may not know anything, as you recall him not being one to peruse comment sections of social media sites. But as Jeongguk’s lips cast into a frown, he recalls the news your words refer to,

“Oh, right; I heard about that all.” He bites his lip, while removing a hand from the confines of his pocket to push back hair from his face. “Actually, I’ve been out of the country with my group for almost six months now, and, it’s not really my place to ask, but have you been okay since,” He pauses, quickly taking a scan around the area like others may be listening in. “Well, you know.”

You nod your head, understanding that he means to inquire about your state of mind since breaking things off from Jimin at the beginning of the year. “For awhile I really wasn’t,” You admit, but find yourself able to smile as you continue on with full assurance, “But I’m more than okay now. My career may be sort of crazy, but I have people that care about me, so I’m fairing a lot better than I would’ve ever thought.”

“That’s good.” Jeongguk smiles, and parts of you are sure that perhaps he’s even the smallest bit sad that there isn’t hesitation in your voice because his friendship with Jimin would likely root for the fact. But he’s not unfair in that regard, always having been a supportive, close friend of Jimin, but not to the extent of harboring ill sentiment about things like this. “If you’re looking for song writing work just let me know; my band liked the three tracks you and Yoongi released, and I always thought it’d be cool to work with you on lyrics anyways.”

“What?” You blurt in surprise, eyes widening from the easygoing proposition, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk grins in return, wondering silently if the offer is odd because of your reaction. “I mean, why not, right?”

“Even if I’m not an employee here?” You question, still in disbelief at how simply he’d asked for even bits of collaborative work in the future. Where you have been learning to anticipate a lot of hesitation, and even flat out refusal from all of your interviews so far, Jeongguk breaks the cycle out of nowhere. Perhaps you should not be as excited from the simple prospect as you are, but you’re unable to stop yourself from the little success making you vibrant with joy.

“You don’t need to be an employee of any company, Y/N, your skills already speak for themselves to me.”

When you step outside of the building, Jeongguk’s words remain at the forefront of your mind. You type a location on the map digitally showing on your phone screen, unconsciously setting up a call for a taxi, but you think only of the small piece of hope given to you from the offer. The more you consider it, you believe there exists a deeper lesson from that small interaction. It’s like he said to you; the company isn’t as important as your own skills.

You bite your lip, thinking of any contacts made throughout the years. Frankly, not many people beyond SoundWave met you because of your job, but there were still some small acquaintances you’ve gained. Some friends as well, though fewer than you could count with your fingers perhaps. It’s unlikely many would jump at the opportunity to work with you in light of the current news, but perhaps there’s something to consider down that avenue.

Your spine tightens slightly, and suddenly you feel overly aware of the area around you. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to across the street beyond cars going along to wherever. People walk normally as the beginnings of evening traffic occur as they would any day of the business week. With a small shake of your head, you ignore the suspicion in your nerves, letting yourself check notifications on your phone instead as the taxi descends towards you from a few blocks away.

Alerting Yoongi that you’re going to head to his apartment to help him move around items delivered from the company, you eventually press the lock on your phone screen and turn your attention down the road to see if you can spot your taxi’s license. In the same direction is the stairwell into a subway station with its constant flood of people in and out that never remain in the area longer than it takes them to walk. But perched with their elbows on railings overlooking the descent into the subway is a small group of three similar in age to the ones assumed to follow you to Namjoon’s cafe.

Your eyes linger on their figures for a noticeable amount of time, and you don’t believe them to care that they’ve been spotted. You bite your inner cheek, and look back to the taxi app for the time of arrival. Your stomach knots, but you try not to focus on it, because of this occurrence being more regular in the past couple of weeks. If you kept your mouth shut and thoughts from roaming frantically, it would be over just as soon as you stepped into the taxi.

A bump on your shoulder startles you, shaking your heart around in the ribcage, as your throat assumes the worst by trapping air. A businessperson continues along, however, simply going up the road as they chatter away on their phone, completely unaware of the tiny collision. You swallow the air back down, squeezing your phone tightly as it vibrates a tiny series of beats to signify the taxi is soon to arrive.

As you look on at the back of the random person, you notice more eyes in your direction. These ones from a college-age duo, you think. But they’re clearly focused on you, walking on the sidewalk in your direction. Your leg muscle tightens, becoming highly alert of the phone’s they have clutched close to their chests with the camera lenses evident.

The abrupt stop of brakes in front of you brings you back to your current position as does a quick honk from a car bothered by the stop of your taxi as it drives around. Without hesitation you enter inside, stating an affirmative as the driver asks if you were the one with the given destination on his GPS. You can’t contain the sigh of relief flooding out of your lungs as he merges into the flow of traffic and away from the individuals whose walk stopped to stare at the leave of the taxi.

You have high doubts that if the people were truly fans that they would berate you or angrily yell, but nonetheless you didn’t want the onslaught of questions they more likely had prepared to be said in civil voices. You already had the displeasure of weaning along a forceful and awkward conversation on a subway train days earlier. Leading you to start avoiding that means of transportation entirely now.

Arriving at Yoongi’s front door, your finger presses to ring the bell. Listening to the muted sound on the inside you feel your shoulders jumping ever so slightly at the sound, but you shake your head to rid away the sensitivity. Really no one had been belligerent towards you, you were overthinking any of the things that could have happened. Another twitch in your shoulders induces with the knob twisting and with it the door opens to reveal Hoseok whose face eventually slips into a pout,

“Wow, don’t look so disappointed.” He teases you as you roll your eyes and walk inside. “You should be thanking me since I did most of the heavy lifting before you got here.”

“Thanks,” You smile at him in an overly polite manner that causes Hoseok to scoff and shake his head in amusement. “I’m sure you were more than willing to since Yoongi offered to get you a fancy dinner as payment-”

“Wait, don’t tell him that; I was going to avoid it.” You turn towards the way of the bedrooms as Yoongi walks into the living area from it, hair tousled from moving furniture and a loose t-shirt hanging off his shoulders comfortably. You watch him grin as Hoseok shouts an irritated rebuttle about Yoongi’s deflection of payment for helping. As Yoongi comes to a stop a mere couple of feet from you his eyes look towards you and before you know it the teeth peeking from his joke drift away while his brows furrowed with concern, “Angel, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to disburse the worry in your shoulders that you apparently had not been successful to not think about. Wordlessly Yoongi steps closer, initiating a hug that you finish by clinging your arms around his torso.

Hoseok frowns in confusion since you had seemed fine when he opened the door, but glancing up at Yoongi whose eyes are just as unsure of the problem Hoseok decides it’s probably the result of some kind of build up. “‘m going to get that last box unpacked.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi says as his hands rub trails on your back, waiting for Hoseok to leave the room before speaking up again, “Baby, do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m just overthinking something.” You mumble against the cotton soaked in the familiar scent of laundry detergent. With a small sigh you adjust yourself to look up towards Yoongi whose attentive gaze meets yours. Gently he presses a small kiss against your forehead, settling his hands on your sides to give a little comforting squeeze.

“Was it more people following you around?”

“Yeah,” You hide your face against his chest again as you put the problem in the air. “It really, really wasn’t anything much. I just want a hug. It’s been a long day because of the whole job interview session parade I went on too.”

“I can do hugs,” Yoongi nods before perching his chin atop your head. The moment lingers on, granting a warming comfort as you remain encapsulated in Yoongi’s arms. But he can’t help a final, quiet question that is likely the reason for the rate of his heartbeat in your ear. “Did anyone do anything to you, angel?”

“No.” You squeeze your arms around him. “I doubt any of them really would. They probably just want to get information. It’s just uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” Yoongi’s chest fills from the breath of an inhale as he thinks of all the other instances since news of him being let go from SoundWave released. “I’m sorry, angel, once all the paperwork is done, I’ll try and figure out something to say to the press about everything.”

“It’s okay, Yoon.” You pull away to press a pecking kiss against his lips. He notes your expression to be considerably calmer than minutes earlier. “Really, it’s okay. It’s not your fault anyways. But besides that all, I do have some good news.”

“Oh, yeah?” He keeps his hands on your waist while your arms drop from their gentle encapture of his frame. Your quick nod matching the beginnings of a smile on your lips give Yoongi more cheerfulness as well, “Tell me then, sweetie.”

“I saw Jeongguk earlier and he said he’d be willing to work on songwriting together sometime.” You explain, allowing the excitement you felt then to take over the bulk of your tone. Inquisitively Yoongi’s head tilts,

“Jeon Jeongguk? Where did you see him at?”

“His company after I got interviewed--oh, right, I don’t think I’ve mentioned to you I know him.” You ramble along earning a chuckle from Yoongi as he nods to that fact as well. “Well, I met him through Jimin a couple of years ago, but he’s really nice. It was just an innocent offer on his part.”

“Yeah, I believe that-- he’s really easygoing.” Yoongi nods, turning his head to the hallway as yours looks in the same direction at the sound of Hoseok cursing as he hops on one foot into view while his other foot stays clenched between his two hands.

“I hit my toe on the corner of the door into the room-” He says with a wincing voice, “Didn’t mean to interrupt the emotional fest-- it just really hurt, and I think I should be owed more than just a fancy dinner because of it-”

“If it keeps you from suing me.” Yoongi shakes his head and refrains from laughter like the kind leaving your mouth as you listen to their conversation. Yoongi goes back to resting his head on yours, this time pressing his cheek on top of your scalp when you hug him once more. “But I’m picking the place to eat at.”

“That doesn’t even make sense if it’s supposed to be a payment to me.” Hoseok scoffs as he dramatically hobbles to the couch where he collapses himself onto it. “Y/N, if you asked your best friend to help you move your heavy equipment and this same friend stubs his toe doing it-- and this best friend and you are also getting into a partnership, would you just give him a dinner as payment?”

“Partnership?” You repeat as your eyes narrow, honing in on the one word that slipped into Hoseok’s monologue. “And no I’d buy my friend at least a house.”

“See!”

“A house,” Yoongi murmurs through pouting lips as Hoseok claps his hands to your method of penance. “He already has a nicer apartment than mine-”

“Wait, what did you mean about a partnership, Hoseok?” You ask, poking Yoongi’s stomach to get him to quiet from the tickling sensation. Hoseok actively twiddles his thumbs instead of a verbal. He glances towards Yoongi who responds to his antics with a sigh as he tugs himself off the comfort of hugging you.

“He and I were thinking we’d start our own label.”

“What!” Your eyes grow wide glancing towards Hoseok then back to Yoongi. “Your own music label? Like an idol company too?”

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi says without a lot of conviction as he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how many people would actually want to become an idol through us, but at least for Hoseok and I it would be a good way to keep doing music. And on our own terms.”

You stand looking at him awestruck, not at all anticipating the two of them to come to this type of business plan for the future. Frankly, you weren’t sure at all what Yoongi intended to do without SoundWave, but you would have sooner assumed he would simply relocate to another company. The requests for him to do so would no doubt flock after a month or two of the current news becoming history.

“Hey,” Hoseok gets up from the couch, phone in hand as the two of you look over to him. “I’m meeting a friend in a while, so I’ll get out of here. Don’t forget that you owe me a really fancy meal-”

“I get it, I won’t.” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he follows Hoseok towards the front door to see him off. You simply watch, still in a stupor from their casual way of telling you that their idea is to create their own fucking company. You wave at Hoseok as he shouts out a goodbye to you and walks out the door. Yoongi turns towards you as it shuts with an electronic click, finding you still baffled by the news. He rubs the back of his neck as he returns towards you. “We sound crazy?”

“No,” You shake your head and let it tilt as your imagination takes over to see an outcome where the two of them operate a successful idol company. With their production skills and overall talent with music, it didn’t seem far fetched that they at least make a small company that runs well. “I think you both should do it.”

Yoongi smiles gently at the hopeful gleam in your eyes. His hand falls from toying with the small hairs on the back of his neck to find itself entangling your own appendage with a delicate hold. “You’re free to do anything you want, angel, but I was thinking--and Hoseok agreed-- that you could join us and be a producer if we make a company.”

“Me?” Your voice barely mumbles the response, eyes struck wide in surprise at his offer.

“You don’t have to at all--I really understand if you don’t want to take the risk of it instead of finding a place that’s already settled, but,” Yoongi bites his lip, fiddling with your hand as he holds it. He finds your eyes as he sweetly smiles “It can be an option for you.”

With the two happy surprises of the day swimming in your chest, you stand in a stunned quiet as you take them in. For Yoongi and Hoseok, despite their respective scandals, you don’t have any doubt that they could definitely make something out of this idea for themselves. Especially happy about Yoongi being able to do as he wants for himself if they start a company. He’d be completely in control of his representation in the way that he hasn’t had ever since his debut.

And his offer gives the same freedom for yourself to create songs like you’d always wanted as well.

“Of course, I’m sure there’s a lot we have to do to get everything going, so really don’t feel bad about saying no-”

Interrupting his sentence by pressing your lips onto his chattering mouth, You let your arms wrap around his neck, silently grateful for Yoongi's hands steadying the two of you by finding a firm grip on your hips. “I say yes.”

Anticipation and excitement ricochets throughout your chest, exuding outwardly in your smile that you find Yoongi quickly returning with a growing grin. Running his hips in lips trails along your sides, he keeps silent in favor of kissing you again, practically bruising your lips with his own. Your hands mesh into soft locks of black hair, keeping Yoongi held in place as the kiss deepens into an oxygen depriving attachment.

Allowing time for air only when your mouth gasps as Yoongi’s hands find your backside and with a squeeze pulls your waist against his own, your eyes open along with his as you both take in quick sips of air, momentarily frozen from continuing action. Yoongi’s jaw clenches shut as you very obviously allow your hips to grind friction. He watches the beginnings of a smirk take over your expression, and stops the teasing attitude to dip his lips down to your neck.

There his trails tiny molten kisses along the skin, searching until your fingertips curl against his scalp and a small whimper casts out of your mouth. Attaching to the spot, his mouth blisters in a garden meant to flourish red and purple by next sunrise, and his hands continue to press into your ass riding up the fabric of your skirt as a moan escapes your lips, “Yoongi-”

“Do you want me to stop, angel?” He asks with a rough timbre the contrasts the soft ministrations he trails from the love bite to reach your mouth once more. Kissing the outline of your jaw, he hums against the skin waiting for your reply which comes as your hands remove from his hair to cup his face and bring his lips back to yours,

“Not at all.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

also yes ik this chapter cuts off right before the smut lsjkdfkfdghg it’s also not going to be continued into the next chapter sO lkjdsffgdsfjkfg if it’s something you’d like to read as a blurb on its own lmk while commenting on this chapter hehe shameless incentive and i’ll try to write it as an additive piece to the story!

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​ @tsvkino-usagi​@xionysus​​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​

[hows-it-holed-up]

Perfunctory Photo Recap: Alias 1x01

After starting off with Gossip Girl and swinging wildly in the other direction for my second post, I decided a happy medium for No. 3 would be that early-aughts ABC classic, Alias. The show premiered basically immediately after 9/11, and I started watching it in 2002 with its mid-season premiere – meaning I missed the first half of the first season and didn’t get to watch it until it RE-AIRED over the summer of 2002. (How did we ever live without streaming apps? Unfathomable.) Anyway, I was obsessed with this show when it was on, and I suspect it’ll hold up pretty well, even though we’re the better part of 20 years out from the pilot. Let’s get our spy on!

My Disclaimer: None of these posts will be in any way comprehensive, because I’m lazy. All of them are probably going to have spoilers of some sort for the entire series…or at least what I remember of it from when I last watched it an eon ago. Exactly what you want in a recap!

The Prophecy: Our heroine Sydney Bristow thinks she works for the CIA, but learns pretty quickly (after they murder her fiancé) that she’s been a bit of a dummy! She actually works for the bad guys – an organization called SD-6. Will she just sit back and accept it? That would make for a pretty short series! 

Fresh off his thrill-a-minute action masterpiece Felicity, J.J. Abrams stays brand consistent, opening his new series with some light waterboarding. 

We cut almost immediately to Sydney in a college classroom (there we go, J.J.), where she’s scribbling furiously in a blue book and giving me anxiety-induced flashbacks. She meets up with her BF...

Who proposes to her on “the quad” while singing “Build Me Up Buttercup” at the top of his lungs. I remember finding this adorably romantic in high school. If someone inflicted this on me now I would literally walk away and never speak to them again. 

Syd here seems to be contemplating the exact same thing. But she (somehow) gets over it and says yes.  

Wow, there it is! “The CIA.” Honestly, Sydney really should have figured out this wasn’t legit almost immediately. No way the vibe at ANY CIA office is industrial chic. There’s barely a fluorescent light to be found! 

LOOK AT BABY BRADLEY COOPER! (Yes, this screengrab was very strategic.)

He’s so crestfallen when she tells him she’s engaged to Doug or Dave or whatever his name is. Poor BB. Don’t worry Bradley! He’ll have shuffled this mortal coil by halfway through the episode.

Annnnd this is why:

Big no-no!

He freaks out and I guess runs off. When they meet up again it’s at some oil-pumping hoosit in Bakersfield or some such, and she gives him some cringeworthy line about having always hoped she’d find someone to give her life meaning and he’s the one etc. etc. GROAN. 

Then she jets off on her latest mission, where the best part is she gets to use her real accent for about 10 seconds. 

As a southern(ish) lady myself, I always get a little delight when I hear a good southern accent! Everyone seems to think they can do a flawless one, but it’s almost impossible to find someone who’s not from the region and can do it properly. The attempts are usually skin-crawlingly bad.

Anyway, after the mission, she returns home to a not-very-nice surprise. 

J. Garn is VERY good in this scene. 

After a wee confrontation with her boss about the small matter of murdering her fiancé, we cut back to the torture scene, where Sydney’s got some jokes! 

LOLLL!!!!1! But to be fair they did shoot her full of a big ol’ syringe of something we’ll assume is affecting her frontal lobe, or whatever. You try being funny in the middle of a drug-enhanced torture session. 

Anyway, we cut back to Dorian’s funeral, where we get eyes on Will’s (Bradley Cooper’s) sister, who happens to have fire-engine red hair and be dressed like a British goth-punk from the ‘70s. Super approps funereal attire. And also probably nothing to do with Syd’s lil future disguise – just a total coincidence. 

Then over to this image of me, every night of this COVID-19 quarantine. Note the bottle within arm’s reach. By tomorrow I’ll probably be foregoing the glass altogether. 

When we check back in with our girl, it’s been 3 months since she’s been into the office. Prob b/c of the whole “murdered her fiancé” thing but who can say really. Anyway folks aren’t super pleased!

Like really not super pleased. 

There’s a whole fighting thing, and as Syd’s struggling to escape her dad dadus ex machinas on up:

He tells her the people she’s working for are actually the bad guys. And she’s like NUH UH! And he’s like “So then how come you’ve never been to Langley? Also come on have you seen the offices?”

Not really being able to argue with his logic but also not really trusting him, Syd runs off and steals Will’s sister’s identity (SHOCKING TWIST!). Because as all great spies know, you want to stand out as much as possible – so best practice is to dye your hair the brightest color you can manage and dress like it’s Halloween so that everyone will notice you. 

Anywho, all of that somehow works, and we arrive at the part of the narrative where she gets captured and tortured. But because she’s the star of the show, it probably won’t come as too much of a surprise that she escapes! She runs off to find the thing she was supposed to find at the beginning of the show:

A highly coveted floating clown nose! (No but actually it’s much more sinister than that and is a big deal later in the series.)

She gives it to her boss so he knows she’s back onboard:

Then heads straight for CIA HQ, where she writes down her story for this handsome fellow and offers to be a double agent for them:

Sigh. I remember being very into these two as an IRL couple and finding out they broke up immediately before a French test. I also remember I did not do excellently on said French test. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I had no interest in studying. I would probably be fluent now if it weren’t for them. 

Anyway, the CIA verifies her statement and sends an asset to let her know that she’s in:

Yes that’s what I just said. 

It turns out that papa Bristow is ALSO a CIA double agent! What a good reveal to end on! Great job J.J.! 

Debriefing:

- After spending 20 minutes searching for a free, not-illegal way to watch this sucker online (because I’m a cheap bitch), I finally gave in, swam around in my massive hope chest and literally dusted off this DVD, which it turns out I still own. Did I buy a DVD player just so I could watch my Alias, OC and Friends DVDs? Who can say! 

- I didn’t realize they introduced the Rambaldi mythology in the first episode. It’s actually pretty impressive they could maintain that as a narrative thread throughout the show. Also we’ve got a “47″ alert at 12 minutes in. 

- They have Jennifer Garner speaking a ton of languages throughout this show, as I recall. I wonder if she’s any good at any of them? She sounds vaguely convincing in the pilot, to me, but what do I know?

- I think we can all agree that Merrin Dungey is a national treasure and deserves to be a bigger star than she is. I’m always so happy to see her when she pops up in other things. And she’s great in this show. 

- Overall, the Alias pilot holds up REALLY well. It does an amazing job of giving depth to all of the characters and really making the audience care about them – even the ones who only appear for a few minutes. The plotting is strong, and the groundwork for the rest of the series is laid without being even remotely heavy on eye-rolly exposition. Plus the actors’ performances are all *CHEF’S KISS*  

[fanfictrashdump]

Queening a Pawn, 4

Last of the night.

TW: Small (barely worth the warning) mention of suicidal ideation, drug effects.

Summary: During the Time Heist, Loki stole the Tesseract and escaped. He did not expect, however, to be pulled through a Time Loop that delivered him to a Midgard more than a decade older, wiser, and bitterer. Having just lived through his unsuccessful attack in New York, Loki must learn to live in Midgard after the defeat of Thanos (post-Endgame). The question is, who is Loki without a quest for a throne or total domination?

Loki x OC

=

"Delilah, you have a visitor." FRIDAY echoed overhead, making the only occupant in the room start from her slumber.

Lilah groaned in bed, turning her back to the door and burrowing deeper into the bedsheets. "Nope."

"They're kind of insisting, Del."

"What time is it, FRI?" Delilah wiped at her eyes, whining pitifully into the darkness that surrounded her.

"It is three forty three in the morning. The temperature outside is twelve degrees and internal temperature is sixty seven degrees, Fahrenheit. Do you want to know the weather?"

Delilah growled. "Just tell me who's at the door, FRIDAY!"

"Rock of Ages is–"

"For fuck's sake, Loki," she grumbled. "Let him in and just… he'll figure it out."

The door slammed open a second later and heavy footfalls followed. "Lilah! Deh-LI-lah! Where's your hidey-hole –hahahahaha, hole… Delilah?" Just as she sat up in bed and contemplated going to her living room, her bedroom door swung open. "Hey, pocket pixie. Are you awake?" He was whispering with all the grace of a rambunctious three year-old.

"Lord above, Loki, what is going on?" She growled, as he suddenly flipped the light switch and turned the dimmers up to an almost sun-like glow. She shielded her eyes against the light as Loki nosed around her room. "Are you drunk?"

He paid no mind to her queries. "You said we were friendly, but Thor told me you were my only friend because no one wanted to work with me after the… you know… the genocide," he added another whisper.

"You had other friends, Lo." Delilah peeked with one eye to watch the pacing demigod. He looked probably worse than she did right now. His hair was disheveled and his button-up had become crumpled and had, at some point, been taken off, as it was currently mis-buttoned.

"No! I had colleagues with which I shared mutual tolerance." He pouted severely, staring blankly at a corkboard full of pictures before letting out an insane cackle. "You're making funny faces in this photograph." His hand reached out to touch a rabbit plushie on the table below. "Oh, this is so soft."

"Oh, fuck. You're tripping balls." Delilah gently herded him away from the stuffed animal, dumping him into an armchair in the corner of her bedroom. "Loki, what did you take?"

Loki smiled and patted her hair down from the bedheaded mess it was in. "Dinner with you and some more beer with Thor." His smile faltered and his hands fell to hers. "You should have stayed. We had a bad talk." Loki's eyes shimmered with tears that were gone as soon as they appeared. "Your eyes are so green."

Lilah chuckled, despite herself. "So are yours, buddy. Or they would be if your pupils weren't blown as hell." She tilted his chin to focus him back on her. "What else did you have?"

"I had a headache, afterwards. I walked around to find something to get rid of it and the nicest agent gave me some pills." He turned his face and placed a kiss on her bare wrist before cackling again. "I feel great now."

"Alright, then. That's good, bud." Lilah puffed out her cheeks and pondered. She had not had the privilege of dealing with someone who was this sort of high before. After all, stoners were a lot more chill than this. Though, mercifully, Loki was entertaining himself by wrapping his fingers in locks of her hair until they became a curl. "Hey, FRI. Awkward question, how can I tell what kind of drugs someone is on?"

"Any answers to that will have to be on record, Delilah."

"OK. How do I know whether someone's heart will give out and die?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"If they are awake and alert, there is little risk of overdose." Delilah breathed, wincing when he tugged on her hair just a little too hard. "Loki's vital signs are within normal range, if that Is what's worrying you."

There was silver lining in this hazy cloud, after all. "Thanks, FRI. Could you–"

"Completely off the record. Keep subject hydrated until they come down."

The tears were back, and this time they had run down the sharp planes of his cheekbones, unhindered. "Will do, FRIDAY. Thanks." Sighing, she brushed away at the trails on his cheeks using the hem of her oversized sleep shirt. "Hey." His lip quivered at her soft tone. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"My mother is dead."

Lilah winced at the pain in his tone. "I know, Lo. I'm really sorry."

"I am adopted, a monster, a genocidal prick, my mind was controlled, and now my mother is dead. Must I be a walking curse? An omen of ill will?" His voice was shaky, same as the hands in her hair and clasped in her own. Delilah felt awkward. He was never a touchy-feely kind of guy, but it seemed that being high out of his mind and without his magic left him vulnerable.

"You are Loki and you are whatever you want to be, all the time. Today is no different."

He scoffed, his eyes hardening and his jaw tight. "Dead sounds like a pretty good option, at the moment," he muttered.

The snap of her hand on his cheek broke the undisturbed silence of the night. He had yelped, releasing his hold on her hair to soothe the digits-shaped mark. For a moment Lilah was glad he was out of it, or he would have definitely injured her without a second thought in a fit of rage. Instead, his lower lip quivered more, tears flowing freely.

"That's my friend you're talking about. You don't say shit like that, got it?" Face to face, they were mirror images of each other, tears forming salty trails down both of their cheeks before Delilah hastily wiped her face, palm still stinging. "I'm gonna get you some water."

When she returned with two large glasses of water, Loki was still rubbing his cheek, though now it was simultaneous with doing the same to the armchair. "So soft," he kept mumbling, over and over.

"God, you're high as a kite." He looked up with bright, glazed eyes, looking conflicted as to which hand he wanted to unoccupy for the task and not making any headway. "I'm not going to hold the cup for you, Loki."

"But it's so soft! I can't let go now! What if it changes?" He cried, his brow furrowed in concern.

Delilah swallowed the retort bubbling in her throat. "If I'm ever this high, you better take care of me, Lo." The glass tilted towards his lips and he greedily drank the liquid down, some dribbling out the sides and down his chin to land on his shirt. He didn't seem to care, as he finished the first glass and quickly asked for the second, drinking with as much fervor as before.

"You're a pretty Midgardian, Delilah." His hand had migrated from his cheek to his hair, and through the still-flowing tears, he let out a peal of laughter. "Delilah cut my hair and now I'm weak, just like… er… What's-his-face!"

"Samson–"

"Samson!" Loki giggled, though his smile turned back into a frown a second later. "Samson was liked, though. He was a hero. I'm a no-gooder. I deserve to be weak. All Samson did was love!"

"OK. You're clearly spiraling. How about we get you in bed, buddy?" With a few tugs, she managed to get Loki on his feet and travel the short distance to her bed. He instantly reached for the teal fleece blanket she had been snuggled under before her slumber was rudely interrupted. "Sleep it off, OK?"

"Don't leave!" He called just as she was about to flip the lights off and crash on the couch. "My skin is ants and I don't want to be lonely in case they eat me."

"You skin is… ants?" He nodded frantically. Her hesitation only bought her an exaggerated pout that made her feel guilty. Groaning, she flipped the switch off and slipped into bed beside him. His left hand drew large circles onto the fleece blanket, but his right burrowed under her sleepshirt and made tidy circles on her stomach. "That is… an HR complaint. For sure."

"So warm. And soft."

"Loki, you need to be quiet and sleep now," she whispered, ignoring the flutter of his fingers over her skin. To his credit, he tried to still himself beside her, though his body was still practically vibrating. It was going to be a long night.

...

"This is your wake-up call, Delilah," FRIDAY announced, just as the sun was streaming in through the windows of her bedroom.

"FRIDAY, tell Sam I am going to be late and cancel my eight am, please. Wake me in another hour," she growled, pulling her blanket closer. Except her blanket was not a blanket, it was a white Oxford button-up shirt and its owner was plastered against her back, snoring.

"Should I tell Thor his brother is here?"

Delilah pressed her eyes tight, trying to pretend that the world outside was non-existent. "Take a wild guess, FRI."

"Thor is looking for him."

"He's indisposed." Loki whimpered in his sleep and tightened his grip around her stomach. "And crushing me."

"Thor is asking for GPS tracking."

"For fuck's sake, just tell him that Loki will meet him in a half hour in the canteen, OK?" Loki started at her half-yelled response, clutching his head immediately after at the sudden jolt. "Lights on at ten percent, please."

"No," a voice hissed darkly into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Leave me in the dark to rot." His face hid itself into the crook of her neck and groaned miserably.

She patted his hand, trying to squirm out of his steel grasp. "Loki, I need to pee." With another groan, his fingers reluctantly left the comfortable heat of her stomach and he faced the dim lighting overhead.

"My face hurts," he grumbled, rubbing the cheek she remembered plainly striking the night before. "Oh, Hel. My head." Without so much as a backwards glance, she scurried off to the washroom, taking her sweet time brushing her teeth and washing her face, hoping against all hope that the Asgardian left on his own. Delilah was never one for awkward conversations, and she was more than certain that this would be the awkward chat to end all awkward chats.

When she re-emerged, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, head hung between his shoulders in a pitiful stance. He had, fortunately, managed to sling his shirt back on, though it hung open over his frame. "You still breathing there, bud?" Loki barely nodded. Her traitorous legs moved on their own accord, stopping only when she reached him. Unsure on a course of action, she waited quietly for him to acknowledge her.

Loki's eyes swept slowly from the ground, up her form until they reached her own. There was the slightest shadow of lavender dusted on his cheek that made her stomach churn. "Do you always attend strange men who call in the night in your underthings?"

Delilah frowned, glancing down at herself. Her sleepshirt was several sizes too large, and covered her thighs, but she had definitely not had the opportunity to put on shorts before letting Loki in. "In my defense, it was three in the morning when you barged into my bedroom  and I, frankly, had more important things to worry about." He dropped his head again, without so much as a snarky comment, which was more worrying than not. "Your brother is looking for you."

"I heard." He whispered.

"Do you need help getting back?" Her tone matched his. She assumed it was for the benefit of his head.

There was a long stretch of silence and Lilah wondered whether or not he had even heard her. "I don't know why I came to you." The sentence held no malice or mocking, just an expression of confusion to a question she had not even asked.

"I don't mind, actually." She carded her fingers through the gnarly mess of her hair, wincing when her fingers met the occasional knot. "Hey, Loki?"

"Yes?"

Now came the awkward part. "If you were to see the agent that gave you the pills, would you recognize them?" This drew his attention back to her face. His brow furrowed as he gave her the slightest of nods. "Good… because I am going to need to fire them."

Loki's eyes drew closed with a sigh. "Don't make yourself enemies for my stupidity. I should have just come to you last night."

"I'm required to, by law." She raised her hand to halt his protest. "Someone deliberately drugged you and they may not stop at doing it to you out of spite. You were buzzed, but some human might die."

Her hand patted his cheek on its descent, and she was startled when his own grasped it as she pulled away. A ghost of a smirk was forming onto his lips, the dark circles under his eyes making him look manic. "Why does my face hurt?" Loki held her fingers in almost the exact place the had made contact during the night.

"I was trying to slap some common sense into you. It didn't work. Your skull is too thick," she replied, deadpan. "Can I get some clothes on, now?" With a half grin, he released her hand. "Thank you. Do you need help getting back to your room?" He shook his head in the negative. "Want me to grab you on my way to the cafeteria?" He nodded, but didn't move. "Cool. Can you get the fuck out now, or…?" 

With a chuckle, Loki stood, making his frame as large as possible and forcing her to take a step back. When Lilah didn't make a surprised expression, he held her gaze in an irritatingly intense lock, but she seemed to not even blink at the challenge. After another moment, he stepped away, skirting around her, not even bothering to listen in to the muttered cursing she was doing as he left her abode.

[jinterlude]

This Little String

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used. 

➳ Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (female OC)

➳ Genre(s): Soulmate!AU, College!AU, Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, & Slight-Angst

➳ Words: 5.8K

➳ Summary: Legend has it that the other half to your heart is currently out there, patiently waiting for their soulmate to surface. Yeah...there’s a tiny problem with that... You love the idea of being alone. Why? Well, You always found it a tad strange that a person would suddenly go from being independent to dependent in a split second, especially when he or she is on top of their academic game. Also, it doesn’t help that you tend to get a bit bored after being with someone for more than 2 weeks—so, why settle? Unfortunately—whether you like it or not—you do have a soulmate, and his curiosity has been piqued. 

Lively chatter becomes muffled. The sounds of your fellow college students fade away as you place your noise-canceling headphones over your precious ears. The power of your headphones is truly amazing. Every time you have put them on, everything and everyone disappear into the background. It’s as if they are to become pieces of furniture or a new painting that’s added to enhance the overall atmosphere.

With the lightest of touch, your phone unlocks, revealing your home screen. A faint smile graces your pretty lips as you recall fondly of the memory that the picture took place. It’s photo of you and your best friend, who is practically your sister, Sumin, and the two of you are smiling brightly and flashing the “peace” sign. Your eyes remain focus on the picture as you begin to purse your lips, contemplating what on Earth happened between you guys. Before, it’s just the two of you. The two musketeers. Then—suddenly—Sumin has announced that a particular string appeared on her left pinky, and the rest was history in your book...

You perk your eyebrows up as you tried your hardest to contain the laughter that bubbles within the pit of your stomach. You always do find entertainment in another person’s misery. Dark, huh?

        “It’s not that big of a deal, Min...” You say, doing your best to comfort your frustrated friend.

Sumin frowns and her eyes narrow at you as she takes a break from looking for a pair of scissors in your shared dorm.

        “Not that big of a deal? Not that big of a deal?!” She shrieks, causing you to quickly shield your poor ears from the high-pitch scream that emits from her lips. Seriously, for a small young woman, she can really produce a loud sound. Maybe that will be your next case study.

Sumin flashes her left pinky finger, “This is a HUGE deal!” She pauses, taking a deep breath before resuming her rather interesting rant, “I went from being blissfully unaware that I have a soulmate to ‘Oh, look! Your other half is closer than you think!’” She finishes, flopping on your bed.

You suck in some air, concocting the best plan to approach your grieving bestie. You tilt your head to the side as your eyes focus on one section of the dull, white ceiling. This might be a little harder because out of all your years of knowing her, none of your go-to tactics is going to cut it. Right now, she’s beyond a Code: Blue. She’s like a Code: Rainbow. She’s experiencing every single meltdown behavior known to man.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling nice and slow, you push yourself off the comforts of your wall and stride over to Sumin. You gently take a seat next to her and display a warm smile. You cautiously place a comforting touch on her thigh as you continue to witness her trying to suffocate herself with a pillow.

        “First off, why are acting like me? This is something I would do,” You take the pillow off from Sumin’s face, “Second, since when did you find this whole soulmate stuff terrifying? Again, you are behaving like me.” You finish, poking fun at the fact she’s indeed acting like yourself. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Sumin props herself up, looking defeated as she always hates the fact that you are right.

Though...

Someone has to be between the two of you.

A long yet faint groan escapes her lips as she continues to pout cutely. She crosses her arms over her chest as she rests her head on your shoulder. Out of instinct, you place your head on top of hers.

        “It’s not that I find this situation terrifying, but the idea of not knowing who my better half is? Yeah, that’s the scary part. What if the person is this serial killer? What if he’s going to murder me in my sleep and sell my organs on the black market?” Sumin fires question after question. However, the last question causes a small giggle to leave your mouth. She spends way too much time with you. You two need to stop.

You eye her with an amused smirk, “The black market?” You repeat.

        “It was the first thing that came to mind. Leave me alone.” Sumin replies, defending her choice of words.

You chuckle softly as you begin to ease Sumin’s worries away. You start to tell Sumin that you highly doubt that the romance Gods would pair her up with a serial killer, and that maybe her destined pair is someone that is going treat her like the princess that she is—especially after her previous failed relationships with sad, immature little boys.

        “I truly believe that this person is going to make you the happiest you have ever been, and you will forget all about Choi Junhong, Choi Seungcheol, and what’s his face...,” You trail on, snapping your figures as you hope that the last name will pop in your wonderful mind, “Ah-ha!! Chae Hyungwon! Now I remember!”

Sumin laughs softly before hugging you in a thankful manner.

        “What would I do without you?”

       “Probably settle for that one annoying pretty boy that keeps pestering not only you, but myself as well. Seriously...can’t he take a hint?”

        “Do you want to try and work your booby magic, again?”

        “Maybe...maybe...”

Now bopping your head to the music, you find yourself lost to the words that the musician sang. The haunting melody is oh so addicting that you can’t help but hum along as you lazily scroll through your Instagram feed, liking every other post and obviously skipping the ones about your friends gushing over their significant other; their one true love.

With a heavy sigh, you close the app and place your phone gently down on the table. You pick up your fork before digging in your healthy lunch. Funny. Sumin suggests that the two of you eat healthier and try and have your meals together yet, here you are, sitting at a table that’s against the window and you are alone—or so you think.

As you lift the fork, with a few pieces of mixed greens, to your mouth, you notice a couple of figures in front of you.

Suddenly, your body shakes. Your heart races and pounds against your chest. A few pieces of your salad fling over to one of the intruders as you swiftly slide your headphones off.

Your hand clutches your chest as you glare at the people who dare sneak up on you.

        “Hey. How about a warning next time?” You “politely” ask the two invaders.

        “Sorry hubby... You just look so lonely, so I thought Mark and I should sit with you!” Your mind registers Sumin’s voice as your vision finally focuses on the two bodies that currently sit across from you.

A soft scoff exits your lips as you lean back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

        “Oh, you mean the child you babysit every single day of your life?” You question; your tone lace with nothing but pure attitude.

Sumin’s soulmate, who is the sole reason why it’s never just the two of you anymore, rolls his eyes as a snarky comeback slowly brews inside his brain.

        “You know... Now, that you said that, your soulmate is going to be this 80-year old, sickly man.” He snaps back with an overly friendly smile.

The bottom of your lip disappears as this dark cloud glazes over your eyes. You slowly nod as you revert back to your original position. You calmly sit up straight, crossing one leg over the other, as you maintain direct contact with Mark freaking Lee.

Is this kid serious?

Is he honestly thinking that he can step up to you? The master—no—the queen of clap backs.

Oh boy…this is going to be fun.

         “I actually find that to be a positive thing,” You take a swig of water then quickly swallow, “If my soulmate happens to be this elderly gentleman, then that means that he would want to do everything and anything with me before his time on this realm is over. For instance, he would want to take me out on a nice shopping spree or shoot, he might even pay for my college tuition,” You lean back again, turning your attention towards Sumin, who’s busy shaking her head, “I always wanted a sugar daddy, right Min?” You ask.

Sumin nods as she stares at her poor boyfriend with an apologetic smile. She rubs his lower back gently, whispering comforting words.

         “I can’t win with her, can I?” Mark Lee muttered as he stares blankly at you.

         “Nope.” Sumin says shortly as she leans back in her seat.

You smile brightly at the college freshman before continuing your healthy yet hearty lunch. You mix up your salad, coating the dressing over the nutritious leaves again. You make sure to grab a bit of everything. A few pieces of the mixed greens, a piece of chicken breasts, and can’t forget the tiny shreds of cheese.

A content expression washes over your face as the fork nears your lips.

As the green barely touches your bottom mouth, a strong force causes your left hand to jerky suddenly. Your eyes widen. An almost giant “O” forms as you see Mark Lee now decorated with a small portion of your lunch.

         “I am so sorry…!” You say slowly before dashing off to grab some more napkins. You may dislike him for taking away your best friend, but you don’t hate him enough to purposely fling your food at him.

That bit of action is purely reserved for your dates, especially if you can’t think of any other way to get the unfortunate soul, who you’re on the date with, to be turned off.

You rush back to the table and hand over the paper product to Sumin. Sumin quickly says, “thank you”, and proceeds to clean up her better half. She makes sure that his shirt isn’t stained with the salad dressing. Once she deems his shirt passable, she kisses his cheek sweetly and kindly reminds him that you haven’t found your soulmate yet, and you flinging your food is 100% accidental.

Mark Lee mumbles a few profanities under his breath; his mind telling him that you are trying to sabotage his relationship with the woman that he has pined after for years. Then, he soon realizes that you want Sumin to be happy, so it doesn’t make sense for you to try and tamper with their relationship.

         “It’s all good. Besides, whatever that salad dressing is, it smelled bomb, so I might want to go buy some for myself.” Mark Lee says, smiling, as he stands up. He quickly asks Sumin if she wants anything. Sumin thinks to herself, tapping her chin lightly, before giving him some money to buy her a peach mango smoothie.

         “Put your money away girl. I got you.” He states, winking and clicking his tongue, as he walks away, leaving you and Sumin alone.

You feel a heavy weight lift off your shoulder. While you do like poking fun at his age, you never want him to despise you or hold a grudge against you. He doesn’t know this, but you would protect him since he’s protecting Sumin in your place.

         “He hates me.” You declare, shocking Sumin.

Sumin is alarmed by your bold statement.

         “Mark can never hate anyone. He’s too pure for that.” Sumin waves away your declaration, “Seriously. He doesn’t hold any grudges. If anything, he’s making it his life goal to come up with the perfect comeback to clap back with,” She flashes a reassuring smile, “Trust me. He doesn’t hate you.” She declares.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth, wanting to state another point, that same strong force from earlier tugs your body to the side, causing you to topple over.

A long groan escapes your lips as you remain lying on the floor.

Sumin shoots up from her seat and dashes over to your side. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her kneeling beside you.

         “Stupid question to ask, but are you okay?” She inquires; a sense of worry laces her words.

You tilt your head towards her, “Just peachy.”

Sumin laughs as she helps you up from the ground, checking your body once more for any visible injuries.

         “I wonder who’s causing your body to react like this?” She questions as the two you take your seats.

         “Maybe my dad finally kicked the bucket and he’s haunting me from his grave.” You snort as Mark Lee returns with his food and Sumin’s smoothie.

         “What did I miss?” He asks, taking a seat and handing Sumin her smoothie.

         “Don’t worry about it kid.” You reply, looking indifferent.

         “For the last time, I’m not a kid! I am a nineteen-years-old college student!” Mark states firmly; his voice raising in pitch.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to entertain this little man any longer,

        “Yeah…if you’re not old enough to share a few shots of vodka with me, then you’re still a kid in my book.” You argue back.

        “Well, I’m legally able to in…let’s say… Germany! There, I’m allowed to drink beer and champagne since you have to be sixteen in order to do so,” Mark stands up, “BOOM! Got you there!” He declares proudly, wearing a smug smirk.

         “Yeah, but are we in Germany right now? No. Therefore, you are still a child to me. Boom! Got you there!” You kindly point out, mimicking him near the end with a sweet smile.

Mark huffs and sits back down, earning a sympathetic smile from Sumin while she pats him on the shoulder.

         “I’m going to win against you one of these days. Just wait and see.” He declares, slowly nodding his head with a determined grin.

         “Looking forward to that day. Until then, I’m just going to sit back and sip my favorite cocktail, which you are not allowed to have because you’re still a baby.”

         “God damn it!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of your campus, a small group of young men are currently huddling over someone. A man with raven black hair examines his friend’s pinky finger, taking in the detail of a red string that is firmly tied around it.

         “I don’t know what to tell you, Taehyung. Maybe the romance Gods have a sick sense of humor.” The black-haired college student says, creating distance between him and this Taehyung fella.

Taehyung frowns as he examines the red string himself. This has to be joke. He doesn’t have a soulmate, especially, when he’s so close to confessing his feelings to you.

Well, by close, he’s working the courage to actually say hi to you. Since the first day of your art history class, you have intrigued Taehyung. The way you puff out your cheeks as you answer one of the many short answer questions on the exam. The way a few strands of hair cascade gently down the sides of your face while the rest of your hair is tucked away in a messy bun.

Honestly, he can write an entire book on why he likes you so much, but his friends have told him that would be pretty creepy, and you’ll more than likely file a restraining order against him.

         “Wait! What if she’s my soulmate?!” Taehyung exclaims; his optimism showing. His eyes practically sparkle. That’s how happy he is thinking about the possibility of you being his soulmate.

The rest of his friends stare at him in complete disbelief. They turn to one another, unsure who should speak first. Yeah. None of them wants to crush his hopes and dreams.

The youngest, Jungkook, volunteers himself and stands next to him. He places a warm hand on Taehyung’s shoulder and with a grin, he suggests,

         “Hm…why don’t you tug on it again and the rest of us will look out for anyone who stumbles over?”

The older fellas give Jungkook a look; their mouths either agape or pursed. That has to be the stupidest idea that they ever heard.

         “I don’t think it works like that, Kook.” Pointed out a boy with hazel frame glasses.

Jungkook grins widely, “I think it does, Namjoon. I mean, it worked for me.”

Namjoon raises his brow then sighs. He doesn’t want to argue with the youngster. Usually, it ends with him in a headlock by the muscle head.

Jungkook remains smiling as he tells Taehyung to give his string a good old pull. Taehyung’s still unsure, directing his focus on to the little red string that is tied firmly around his pinky finger. A short hum continues to emit from his lips until he eventually gives in to Jungkook’s strange suggestion. I mean, it doesn’t to try again.

Third times a charm, right?

With one final deep breath, Taehyung’s left-hand wraps around the red thread and then with all of his strength, he pulls it.

The second he did that; the rest of his friends snap their heads in every direction known to man. Their eyes scanning the school’s courtyard.

They seven young college students patiently wait to see if anyone would feel the string’s pull. They decide to wait for a few more minutes before the second oldest, Yoongi, says that Jungkook’s idea is stupid and that he shouldn’t have suggested it during the school’s peak hours.

Jungkook holds his hands up in surrender, “Well, it was a good idea in my head…”

Yoongi scoffs, “Uh-huh. You always say that whenever your plans fail.”

Yoongi’s response causes the others to laugh, except for Taehyung. He frowns because he silently hoped that Jungkook’s plan would lead him to you.

Oh well…

         “Well, this has been eventful,” Seokjin begins as he picks up his messenger bag from the ground, “Come on, Tae. You, Jimin, and I got astronomy in 20 minutes.” He says, causing both Taehyung and Jimin to grab their respective bags.

Jimin flings an arm around Taehyung as they trail behind their oldest friend.

         “Don’t think about it too much, Tae. Your soulmate will appear to you when you at least expect it.” He tells him, comforting his distraught friend.

Taehyung fakes a smile before getting lost in his thoughts…

         “I still can’t believe that you tripped walking out of the dining hall…” Sumin comments, digging out her sunglasses from her backpack.

You mutter a few curse words under your breath as you screw the cap back on your water bottle. Seriously, talk about poor timing. You have just finished eating your lunch and as you near the entrance, you feel that same foreign pull on your left pinky finger and you nearly end up tripping.

You make a mental note to murder your soulmate because he or she has done nothing but cause you to injure yourself and embarrass yourself in front of your peers. You’re pretty sure that your professor has seen you spill the rest of your iced tea all over you.

Like…

What…?

You have always thought that your soulmate would be someone that betters you. Is this payback for making fun of Mark Lee and Sumin’s relationship? The age difference between them is honestly not that bad, but for some reason, you have always imagined Sumin being with someone older. Not younger.

Okay…

This is payback…

You have determined that.

         “Penny for your thoughts?” You hear Sumin ask as the two of you walk up the horrendous number of stairs.

You hum in response as you continue to trek up the steps; you feel the air in your lungs leave with each step.

         “I know that look. Okay. Emergency talk session after class!” Sumin states, clapping her hands. In doing so, she unintentionally alerts the attention of three young men. However, you’re too lost in your thoughts that you don’t care to check who the people are.

You mumble a quick, “okay”, as the two of you continue to your last class of the day. Thank God for only having two classes for the day.

         “Hey, wasn’t that your future wife?” Seokjin asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Taehyung’s head instantly snap towards the opposite direction, however, he’s too late. You magically disappear from his sight and all he sees is a sea of people either going to class or leaving it.

Today is not his day…

Now, currently settled in your class, you pull out your notebook and a pouch filled to the brim with pens. You unzip the bag and pick out a few colors that you have assigned to this class.

You write today’s date and wait for the long lecture to begin, mentally counting down to when class is over.

Scratch that.

You are counting down to when this horrid day is over. Finish.

The sounds of your professor’s voice slowly becomes muffled. You feel your eyelids droop; a tired sensation enters your body. Your head starts to nod as you continue to fight the sleep that your body desperately wants. While this is a boring class, you need it for your major, especially if you want to remain on track for graduation.

This is why failure is not an option for you, and the mere thought of having a soulmate will only be a major distraction. You are quite content with being independent with your main focus being on your studies.

Casual dating is fine with you but not anything long-term.

         “Remember…eye on the prize…” You chant over and over as you muster all your strength to stay focus and jot down anything that seems important.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sumin observes your unusual behavior. Most of the time, you’ll take a few notes and then rely on her for the rest. Yet, right now, it seems like someone or something possessed your body to behave this way.

Honestly…

It concerns and frightens her. She definitely needs to talk to you…

         “Remember class, next week, your midterm papers are due by midnight.” Announces your professor as your classmate begin packing up their school supplies.

         “Well, that lecture was stimulating…” You hear Sumin say sarcastically as the two of you stand up, quickly shoving any remaining items in your backpacks.

You chuckle softly, “Yep…which reminds me…did you start on the research paper?” You ask as you exit the classroom.

         “Surprisingly no. Mark has been having trouble with chemistry, so I have been helping him out.” She replies, causing you to smirk as you eye her with a perverted gaze.

Sumin gawks, “NOT LIKE THAT!”

You laugh loudly as you fling an arm around her shoulders, “Whatever you say babe.”

Sumin sighs loudly, causing you to laugh some more, as you two continue your little adventure back to your dorms.

And for some strange reason—you enjoy this little walk a smidge more because once again—it’s the two musketeers.

Just like the old times…

Currently settled in your favorite lounge chair, you prop your feet up on the coffee table before abruptly taking them as Sumin’s quick to scold you. What a motherly friend you have.

You grin widely at her as you take out your laptop and turning it on. Since you know that Sumin is going to talk about what happened today and the whole idiotic idea of “soulmate”, you want to be distracted when she does. The less you pay attention to her, the more of a chance you have to concoct the perfect plan to escape.

What?

You aren’t one to talk about your feelings—unless you’re crazy drunk.

You hear a glass clink against the coffee table, causing you to peek up from your Twitter feed and raise your brow. You eye the clear liquid in the crystal-clear glass, trying to decipher if it’s water or vodka. You conclude that it’s the first option, however, a tiny part of your mind doubts that it can be just water since Sumin knows you.

She knows that you’re more willing to pour out your emotions if you’re slightly buzzed.

You make an unsure face and reach for the glass. Just as the rim touches your lips, you hear Sumin say,

         “It’s not vodka, if that’s why you’re taking a sip.”

You playfully wink at her as you take a few sips of the ice-cold water then gently set it on the coaster.

Sumin lightly shakes her head with an amused, lopsided grin as she sits directly across from you.

         “Okay. Spill. What’s going on in that intelligent mind of yours?” questions Sumin as she types away on her phone. More than likely messaging her other half that she’s going to put their study session on hold.

You blow some air out before leaning backwards in your chair. You sit there in silence, hoping that your lack of response will give Sumin the clue that you don’t want to talk about the whole soulmate thing right this moment.

Unfortunately, she’s stubborn and decides to press your buttons. She knows the exact combo that will get you talking.

Why are you guys friends again?

A displeased expression glaze over your face as your eyes remain lock onto hers; your blank stare peering into her concerned ones.

         “Nothing is the matter.” You say shortly, closing your laptop and setting it aside.

Sumin clicked her tongue, “Don’t give me your usual lie. I know you more than you know yourself and vice versa. Now, talk.” She demands, showing the tough love that you have shown her whenever the two of you engaged in these types of talks.

A loud groan escapes your lips as you stand up and walk away from her.

Honestly, you know what she’s going to say before she even says it. She’s going to hit you with the harsh truth quite frankly, you aren’t ready for it. You aren’t ready to allow some stranger into your heart. To allow some random person to make you laugh…to make you feel unconditionally loved…to simply make you…happy.

You shake your head as a fake, forced airy chuckle leaves your lips while you scan for a way out.

Then, your eyes immediately zoom in on the window. You always do joke about escaping out the window. Might as well give it a shot.

You casually head over towards the window, causing Sumin to look at you with a confused gaze. You pry it open and then peek over the ledge until deeming it safe to jump.

You hook one leg over the ledge, causing it dangle lazily.

         “What are you doing?” Sumin asks. Her mouth slightly open and her brows raised.

Just when you are about to answer her, that annoying pull occurs, causing you to topple over and land in the hedges.

Sumin’s jaw nearly drops to the floor before running over to the window. She pokes her head out and shouts,

         “Holy shit…! Are you okay!?”

Instead of answering, you remain lying awkwardly on the wide plant. A few faint groans escape your mouth as you stare at the pastel colors that slowly paint the sky. Giant pink clouds, reminding you of delicious cotton candy, appear in your line of sight.

A soft breeze fan your skin, creating tiny goosebumps on the sides of your neck.

Yeah…

It’s time to get leave the bush before bystanders think you’re strange.

You untangle your limbs from one of many children of nature and pull out any foliage that cling to your luscious locks of hair. You wipe away any dirt, not wanting your favorite jean jacket to stain, and begin walking towards the campus.

You might as well grab a cup of coffee from your favorite café.

         “Where are you going?” shouts Sumin, wanting to make sure that you’re okay enough to be alone.

Not turning around, you give her a thumbs up as you continue on your merry way.

         “I wonder if they can add more than ten shots of espresso…” You snort at your thought as you arrive at the crosswalk.

The same soft breeze brushes against your skin once more. For some strange reason, you can’t help but feel tranquil. You just feel at peace with yourself as you drink in the evening atmosphere.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a few couples talking and eyeing each other with nothing but pure love. Then, your eyes notice the red thread of fate on their pinkies.

You take a deep breath and exhale nice and slow as your mind quickly berates you for mocking the idea of having a soulmate. If you haven’t mocked it so much, then your soulmate would be standing by your side right now.

He or she too looking at you as if you’re the most prized treasure that he or she owns.

You don’t know what possessed you, but you lift up your left pinky finger as the crosswalk signals you and the rest of the herd of people that it’s safe to cross the street.

Your pupils examine the fine thread and then a lightbulb lights up in your brilliant mind.

If that person has been tugging in on your string all day, then it’s only fair that you return the favor.

Standing in the middle of the courtyard, you lightly pinch the thread with your right thumb and index finger. You utter a quick prayer before tugging on it with your eyes tightly closed.

You peek one eye open; your lips grimacing as you think that this is a terrible idea. You wait a few more seconds before tugging it again. Maybe you haven’t pulled hard enough.

You repeat your earlier action, but this time harder.

You quickly scan the sparse quad area, hoping to see anyone who have perhaps stumbled while walking or even have their hand jerk.

Nope.

Nothing.

Nada.

Maybe this is your punishment.

Destined to be forever alone, unaware of who your soulmate is.

You sigh softly before tucking your hands in the pockets of your jean jacket and continue your journey for nice little pick-me-up.

As you take another step, you attempt to pull your hands out. You manage to free your right hand with ease, but with your left hand, it’s proven to be difficult. That stupid string managed to get itself snagged on something.

You continue to fight to free your hand, struggling. You even allow some other fellow coffee lovers to go in front of you because your phone also happened to be inside the left pocket.

You tug, and you tug until with one final strong effort, you free your hand.

In doing so, you unintentionally cause the string to be pulled back—and someone else to fling a rather hot beverage across the establishment.

         “Ooh…my…God…! I am deeply sorry!” frantically shouts a deep voice. A voice that sounds a tad too addicting for your taste.

         “I don’t know what possessed me to do that, but I swear it’s an accident!” adds the person with a bass for a voice.

You quickly scan the café until your eyes lock in with the person that you at least suspected.

         “Taehyung? Kim Taehyung?” You question to yourself or—so you think.

         “Yeah?” answers the person with the voice that sounds almost magical to you.

Your face flush in embarrassment as you awkwardly nod your head before dashing out of the coffee place.

No.

That can’t be.

He can’t be your soulmate.

He deserves someone who quite frankly isn’t you.

You glance up to the sky and in a questioning tone, you mutter,

         “Really? Him? It’s fine that you despise me, but why do you have to torture him too?”

         “I don’t think of it as torture. If anything, I say it’s a blessing because they answered my prayers.” Says a voice behind you, causing you to flinch and grasp your chest.

Why do people like sneaking up on you?

You roughly turn around; your expression remaining neutral as you mask the fear that’s trying to surface.

         “Well, you’re going to regret saying that because I shouldn’t even be your soulmate,” Your strong tone of voice wavering, “I’m completely wrong for you and will only leave you in heartbreak,” You sigh, “Do me a favor and cut that string and put us both out of our misery.” You request even though you’re fully aware that nothing and no one can terminate the connection the two of you share.

You can still dream, right?

Taehyung smiles, finding your little speech rather adorable. You’re scared, and if he’s being honest to his innermost feelings—the secrets that not even his close friends knows about—he’s terrified as well.

Yes, he has remained optimistic about the potential chance of you being his soulmate, but he has never once believed that it’ll come true.

He has read many books about this tiny string, and he has his fair share of experiences with his buddies all finding their one true love. Yet, he still feels under prepared for it.

You are his soulmate and you are standing right in front of him.

The person that he says will be his future wife. The future mother of his children. His everything.

Out of habit and with a nervous grin, he rubs the back of his neck while focusing his gaze onto the concrete sidewalk.

         “Well…I might not be your first choice…but I’m willing to give this adventure a shot, if you are.” He says softly, stumbling over a few words.

His words catch you off guard. You stare at him, briefly taking note of how the sunset is creating a beautiful aura around him. Your lips slightly part while your heart begins to race.

Is this the sensation that Sumin felt once she gave in to the soulmate connection she shares with Mark Lee?

All of her fears vanished the moment she surrendered?

You think it is. You too feel the same burst of warmth in your heart as it spreads towards the rest of your body.

A genuine, sweet smile slowly graces your lips as you step closer to Taehyung. The boy you know has been staring at you in class. The boy that you notice in the background whenever you’re third-wheeling on Sumin’s and Mark Lee’s dates.

The young man that is going to take your hand and venture on this journey of uncertainty. He’s going to prove you wrong. You just know it.

         “Just a heads up, I tend to get bored after week six so…” You tease as the distance between your chests is pretty much nonexistent.

Taehyung laughs; his smile shining so bright, “I’m not worried. If anything, that makes it a challenge for me to keep you interested even with our special connection.”

This time it’s your turn to laugh and smile so wide that your cheeks are actually hurting.

         “I wish you luck then. I hear that I am quite difficult to please.”

         “We shall see about that, my lady. We shall see.”

A/N: This little one shot is dedicated to @softjeon​, my soup friend/hubby. Without her, Our Second Chance wouldn’t even have five chapters planned, written, and published (the 6th chapter shall be written either over the weekend or next weekend once this is published!) I also wouldn’t even have an overall plot idea for my upcoming Detective!/1940s!AU Mark Lee story. She is my go to brainstorming buddy, and I am forever grateful to have her as one of my close friends!

Let me know what you think about this one shot! This is my first time writing a soulmate!AU :) 

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/message in my inbox! I love to hear your thoughts!

- Kim

[angrylizardjacket]

All That Glitters {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 1917 words! Hi, okay so this is really a bit of a weird one. It’s difficult to try and demonstrate such a visual medium through, you know, writing. So this is the teaser trailer for Giselle’s biopic that’s being made around the same time as BoRhap, or like, a little bit before. I think I’m gonna make the plot a separate post, so I guess enjoy this trailer lmao. Big Love to @ginghampearlsnsweettea, who I love and would die for, for being the co-captain of this runaway OC that’s gotten much more involved than I thought it would. I’d really really appreciate feedback on it. 

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

All That Glitters (2018) | "Midas" Teaser Trailer [HD] | 20th Century FOX

[id: It’s a close up on Young Giselle’s hands playing the piano, playing the opening notes of what is recognisable as Trot, Canter, Pirouette (The Show Pony Song), she is wearing gold nail polish. The background is blurry but it shows a pale cream lounge room, an indistinct painting on the wall, and a beige sofa. Her father sits on the sofa, he wears a pale yellow sweater and beige slacks, and sits with one leg crossed over the other, he’s reading a thick, old book.

[GISELLE’S FATHER] Have I ever told you the story of King Midas?

Young Giselle’s hands still on the keys. The image fades through as the brass and drums section of the song come in and Trot, Canter, Pirouette (The Show Pony Song) plays over the following scenes;

We see a hazy room filled with golden light streaming in through a set of blinds on the right. Giselle sits in the middle of the shot, not facing the camera, on a brown leather sofa. Gold records lining the walls, and in front of her is a large, wooden desk with an ashtray on it, the person behind the desk is blocked from view mostly by Giselle, but it’s Ray Foster; he’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt.

Cut to; Giselle in a classroom, studiously taking notes. It’s mid afternoon, the light coming in hitting her face is a pale, cool yellow; mid-afternoon sunshine. She sits at a pale wooden desk, hunched over, wearing a soft orange sweater, but her pants are not visible. She’s surrounded by other students, all in greys and beiges, all taking notes; she stands out, vibrant amongst them. She looks up sharply, as if to take more notes and we cut to;

She’s sitting alone in a dressing room, looking into a mirror lined with golden bulbs; her hair is slicked back, she’s wearing a white silk slip dress; she’s wearing eyeliner and red lipstick, and is looking at herself a little disbelievingly. She turns to look over her shoulder, as if hearing her name; the camera pans to follow the movement and;

The camera keeps panning, keeping the movement kinetic as we see her on stage, looking back at her band with a nervous smile. She’s wearing a black velvet bouffant number, and the band are all dressed in black waistcoats ensembles with red pocket squares matching her lipstick. The camera pans around until it’s behind Giselle and she’s silhouetted by a warm white light against the darkness. After a beat, the lights come up on the audience to reveal a full house cheering for her.

Cut to; the lights are down on the audience but it’s a close shot of John Deacon watching her from the audience with an expression of awe, stage lights shining in his eyes; he’s on the very right of screen in the foreground. He’s near the middle on the bottom level of the theatre, the people in front of him as all standing, dancing together, some are jumping trying to get her attention. Giselle in the background, out of focus, is swaying to the music, eyes closed as she sings.

We see a wide shot, John and Giselle facing away from the camera, with Freddie Mercury, Roger Taylor, and Brian May in that order facing them. They’re in a rehearsal room, space half setup with a drum kit at the left of screen, a guitar case on the floor to the right of Brian, and a bass leaning up against the wall. The walls are dark wood varnish and all four members of queen are wearing pale or white clothes. Giselle wears a yellow sundress, her shoulders are tense.

Close shot of Giselle and Freddie shaking hands, both in profile, Freddie grinning and Giselle wearing a small smile.

Cut to; Giselle in Ray Foster’s office, the light is still golden, coming in through the blinds, but Giselle looks relaxed, her hair slicked back and wearing a black blouse and pencil skirt, one leg crossed over the other, arms out across the back of the brown leather sofa. She wears a smug smile.

[RAY FOSTER VOICE OVER] I’ve never had a single go gold like this before.

[GISELLE] It’s a blessing and a curse.

The music starts to really pick up as we get into the chorus, overladen with shouts of various and indistinct reporters as we fly through various headlines (‘A GENERATION’S INFATUATION WITH MEDIOCRITY’, ‘STEALING FROM ROYALTY’ accompanied by a picture of Giselle and Freddie having lunch together, ‘“JAZZ ROCK” PERFORMERS, POINTLESS AND PANDERING?”) and interviews with various people (‘The Secret Life of Giselle’ a very smug looking former assistant smiles at the camera, sitting primly as she’s interviewed. / ‘She Should Be So Lucky’ an angry reporter in a suit rants at the screen, flicking back and forth between the video of Giselle’s ‘the should be so lucky’ comment. / ‘Songbird of a Dying Genre’ interviews with critics (all of them old white guys) who just wave her off and roll their eyes.)

We zoom out of this final clip to see a wide shot of Giselle sitting at a desk at the very right of the screen, lit by the warm white light of a lamp while the rest of the room is lit by the cool blue light of the night sky streaming in through a large set of glass doors that separates her from the television that’s running the slander piece on her.

Close up over her shoulder reveals her to be writing the lyrics for Dinner and a Show and the music seamlessly transitions into a fast-paced version of Dinner and a Show as she rips the page from her notebook. The page moves to cover the screen for a moment and when it comes away we’ve transitioned to;

Giselle in her first performance at Top of the Pops, singing to a cheering crowd. She’s wearing a black, floor length slip gown with glass beaded detailing, and black gloves with red glitter and sequins on the hands, reminiscent of blood. Giselle belts along with the music as the song ends and there’s an extreme close up on her lips, painted red, with red glitter trailing from the corners. She takes in a shaking breath. The cheering grows louder, drowning out the final notes until it becomes overwhelming, and we can see that Giselle is still breathing hard, shaking a little. The sound and the picture fade out.

[GISELLE] (She sounds tired, a little forlorn) Everything I touch turns to gold.

It shows a close shot of Roger Taylor smiling mischievously at something on his left, he’s holding a cymbal in one hand and offers the other.

[ROGER] Is that a promise?

Cut to a shot of Giselle, standing up and looking over him, smirking and raising her eyebrows at him.

[GISELLE] (far happier, a little amused) I think it’s a threat.

Wide shot; she takes his hand. Trot, Canter, Pirouette (The Show Pony Song) picks up as soon as their hands touch. The song slowly gets faster over the following images.

Smash cut to the two of them on stage holding their joined hands above their head as they take a bow, in slow motion, facing an arena crowd in the middle of the day. Brian, Freddie, and John stand either side of them, but they’re the only two holding hands. Queen, again, is very casual attire, pale jeans and t-shirts and singlets, and Giselle wears a blood orange cocktail dress, off the shoulder, fitted until it flares out around her hips, falling just above her knees.

Cut to Giselle leaping into Roger’s arms wearing a white, flowing dress, and him in a fitted black tuxedo, he spins her around, kissing her passionately, and the camera spins the opposite way around them. They’re outside, under fresh green trees and dappled sunlight.

Cut to; Giselle and Roger are sitting on either ends of a sofa, their backs to the audience, watching the Rolling Stone Reporter pace back and forth, talking animatedly; the setting is a lot like Ray Foster’s office, however the decor is all modern, slick and white, and the fluorescent light bathes them all in a cold white light. Giselle and Roger share an amused look.

There’s a top-down shot of the two of them lying side by side in bed, but not touching. The bed is large with cream coloured sheets that are slightly tousled and plain white pillows, there’s a lamp on either side, illuminating them both in a peachy-gold light. Giselle wears a pair of pale blue pyjama shorts and a matching singlet top. Roger’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and an open fringe vest. Neither looks happy; Giselle is contemplative and Roger is frowning. Giselle turns to look at him and the light around the room starts shifting until it’s made clear that these are two different shots side by side, spliced together. Roger reaches up and turns off his light, the whole room bathed in blue light, and he sits with his head in his hands at the edge of the bed. Giselle is still looking at the point where he was, squinting as a few golden-orange rays of a sunset hit her face. Roger looks up, as if he hears something, and walks out of shot.

Cut to a camera whip-panning to a moment during Freddie’s birthday party. Freddie stands in the middle of the frame, back to the camera, wearing his military jacket and ostentatious crown. The world around them is bright and joyful, with gold lights overhead, and the crowd in brown, yellow, and orange attire, but Giselle is wearing a midnight blue cocktail dress and a silver shawl, and Roger’s wearing a white blazer with blue shirt underneath. Freddie is standing between both of them in the foreground, separating them visually, and both look shocked, but Giselle doesn’t even look at Roger before she stalks off camera. He chases after her, both of them heading to the left and we crash cut to;

The music cuts out and we hear and see a door slam in Roger’s face. He’s still in the same outfit as the previous shot, but he’s put in sharp relief by the cold white light of a streetlamp, the rest of the world a dark grey-blue behind him. We fade to black.

A golden spotlight fades in with the first notes of Ache being played on piano, and the very faint roar of a crowd. All that can be seen is Giselle, illuminated by the singular spotlight, wearing a cool-toned copper, crushed velvet slip dress, tears in her eyes, everything behind her is a void of darkness. She’s holding a microphone, taking deep, shaking breaths.

[YOUNG GISELLE VOICE OVER] It sounds like he got everything he ever wanted.

Giselle takes a deep, shaking breath, closing her eyes, the sound of the crowd roaring and of Ache’s beginning dies down and a singular tear escapes her eyes.

[GISELLE’S FATHER VOICE OVER] Yes, but at a terrible price.

She opens her mouth to sing but we cut to black.

The title card; “ALL THAT GLITTERS” lights up in a block font, with lights in the letters, reminiscent of a Broadway sign. We hear Giselle sing ‘I feel the ache, feel the ache, feel the ache.’ but it’s just her vocals, ghostly, echoing, and a little ethereal. End id.]

[tonystarkbingo]

Week 29 Roundup!  THIS IS OUR LAST ROUNDUP BEFORE THE OFFICIAL END OF THIS ROUND!  Our next and very last roundup for Round Two will be put out on September 2nd, when the event has officially concluded.  As we reach the end, there are a LOT of fills being posted, so make sure to read through and take a look at what all our glorious creators have been up to!

Title: Explaining Graphically Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: R1 - comics Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: not Team Cap friendly Summary: Tony is sent a bunch of comics, ostensibly from a fan. The comics are not what they seem but the outside impression is very valuable. Word Count: 878

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Title: Abandonment Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: A2 - AU: Adventurers/Explorers Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: not Steve friendly, darkish Tony Summary: Steve Rogers is the leader of a team of adventurers. When they're hired by Tony Stark to find an ancient temple, he thinks it'll be an easy job for good money. Instead, some old chickens come home to roost. Word Count: 2303

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Title: i wanted you to be better Collaborator: cvdmus Link: AO3 Square Filled: R2 - A Battle / Fight / Confrontation Ship: Peter & Tony Rating: Gen  Major Tags: post-Endgame, fixit of sorts, hurt Peter Summary: Peter takes the gauntlet from Tony before he could snap. He has a healing factor, so why let Tony Stark die? Word Count: 3168

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Title: Between What is Said and Not Meant Collaborator: deathofthestars Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - Miscommunication Ship: Stuckony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content, Winter Soldier programming, accidental voyeurism Summary: Tony has a bad habit of not sleeping for far longer than he should when one of his lovers is on a mission. Over the years Steve has developed a particular way of dealing with the problem. While adjusting to their new relationship, Bucky stubles upon them in the act. When Steve asks Bucky to look after thier other lover while he's on a mission, some issues occur. Word Count: 3139

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Title: Try to Remember Collaborator: 27dragons, tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Music Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: no powers AU, enemies to lovers, neighbors Summary: Bucky was one of the best violinists in the country -- perhaps in the world -- until the accident that took his arm six months ago. All he wants now is to settle into his new apartment and try to recover even a fraction of his ability with the new prosthetic that he hates almost as much as he appreciates. Tony moved out of his parents' home to get away from their memories and so he wouldn't have to endure quite so many of Obie's bracing pep talks. Tony just wants to get drunk, get laid, and get his invention on. Unfortunately, his new downstairs neighbor seems to feel obliged to practice his music at some ungodly hour of the morning. Word Count: 3599

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Title: Rebelmeg Drabbles - Chapter 3: Partners Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: A2 - Tony/Rhodey/Pepper Ship: Pepperony, MIT Brothers Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble Summary: Tony contemplates a new trend in his life. Word Count: 100

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Title: Down the River Collaborator: MassiveSpaceWren, tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: For tisfan,  A2 - Damsels in Distress Ship: Teen Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mad Max fusion, kidnapping, implied/referenced torture Summary: Ten Rings let a captive escape to play a little cat and mouse. They didn't count on anyone getting in the way. Word Count: 6273

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Title: Stark and Pepper Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 - image of Iron Man flying over a woman and child Ship: Iron Family Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: Iron Family moodboard

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Title: Reverse, Rewind, Play Again Collaborator:  katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - Picture of Pepper looking up at the face of the Iron Man armour Ship: IronStrange Rating:  Major Tags: JARVIS lives, bad team dynamics, not Team Cap friendly Summary: When something strange happens to Tony on a botched Avengers' mission, Pepper and Rhodey are left wondering what happened and keeping things together. Then Tony comes back and the whole world is going to change. Some time changes in this one, in that the events of Doctor Strange play out a little differently and occur not long after Age of Ultron instead of around the time of Civil War. Word Count: 2504

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Title: Your Heart/My Heart - Chapter 3: A Mistake Here But Not There Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Old Team Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Mature Major Tags: break up, angst, time skips, getting back together, pining, love confessions Summary: When they're young, James and Tony break up for basically no reason. It takes them twenty years to get back together. Word Count: 3292

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Title: Mistakes Were Made Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - cliche Ship: FrostIronStrange Rating: Teen Major Tags: not Team Cap friendly, kidnapping, canon divergence Summary: Tony has been kidnapped more time than he cares to admit. It's almost always cliche and the kidnappers always seem to make the same mistakes. Not that he minds. Those mistakes are always to his advantage. Features a confused Sam Wilson and a not-the-damsel-in-distress Tony Stark. Word Count: 1623

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Title: Rebelmeg Drabbles - Chapter 4: Adoptive Family Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - jealousy Ship: Pepperony, Pepper & Phil Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble Summary: You can adopt a grown adult, can't you? Word Count: 100

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Title: The Echo Of Silence Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: R1 - alien planet Ship: Tony & Nebula Rating: Teen Major Tags: vignette, calm, angsty, Team Tony Summary: Thanos is gone and everyone had faded into dust. Only Tony and Nebula are left. Just a little character piece looking at the beginnings of their friendship after IW and before things get really bad on their trip back. Word Count: 909

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Title: Regal is an Attitude Collaborator: katling Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - survival in the wild Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: canon divergence, not Steve friendly Summary: When T'Challa finds out Rogers and Barnes left Tony Stark behind in Siberia, he chooses to be the kind of king who looks out for the people rather than on who only indulges his personal whims. Word Count: 1757

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Title: I'm already gone Collaborator: FeyRelay Square filled: S4, T1  Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/20306299/chapters/48140029 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Starker (no underage) Warning: Murder Mystery, References to Suicide/Death, Absurdist Humor, Unreliable Narrator, Established Relationship, No Powers, Film Industry AU, Aged-Up Peter Parker Summary: A Clue AU, but not... quite... what you might expect. Peter is acting in the film Tony's directing, and it's complicating their new relationship and Peter's burgeoning career; Peter's just... done. He's over it. And that was before he got dragged to this dinner party. Word Count: 4,223

-------------------------------- Title: No one will be watching us Collaborator: FeyRelay Square filled: R1 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335060 Rating: Mature Pairing: Starker (no underage) + female OC of little to no importance (Christine Everhart's niece) Warning: Threesome, Implied Het, No Actual Smut, Getting Together by Proxy, Jealousy, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Sex for Favors Summary: Tony's reputation precedes him and maybe that's the problem; Peter has been looking for someone to help him measure up to Tony's legendary, GQ-worthy experience, and he's been looking in all the wrong places. This contains no actual smut because it was a counted word challenge. 2000 words on the dot. Word Count: 2,000

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Title: i am a dream, i am - Chapter 8: viii. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen, justanotherpipedream Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - resurrection Ship: Steve/Natasha/Tony, past Tony/Ty Stone Rating: Explicit Major Tags: dubious content, past domestic violence, alcoholism, anxiety attacks, explicit sexual content, gaslighting, breaking up and making up Summary: In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn. - Octavia E. Butler Word Count: 16,423

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Title: In My Sights (With These Hungry Eyes) Collaborator: eirlyssa Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A4 - AU: Urban Fantasy Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: Werewolf Bucky sees Tony, laughing, for the first time across the room at the supernatural bar he’s visiting, and he’s instantly enchanted. Werewolves really only mate once, after all, and they tend to know their intended mate by sight. Now if only Tony would get with the program…

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Title: Take me to the magic of the moment - Chapter 3 Collaborator: Menatiera, nomdeplumeria Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - Sex Magic Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: mild dub-con, explicit sexual content, BDSM, fantasy/magic AU, getting together, happy ending Summary:  "Tony was wondering how he, the fucking best tech-mage of the kingdom (or maybe the whole continent, or the whole world, if he didn't want to be humble) ended up here.  (...)  Which was exactly what had happened in their neighboring kingdom just a few days ago. Daddy Dearest apparently had gotten himself into some huge mess with his mages. Howard was probably dead by now, Tony at least was sure of that, knowing said mages personally.  Oh yeah, that was the reason why Tony was sitting in Barnes's room in nothing but a robe."  *Tony is the best tech mage, and has to work with Barnes, the best nature mage, in order to save their kingdom. It... doesn't exactly go as they planned. It goes way better than that. And way, way more intimate. Word Count: 10,302

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Title: Modern Art Cross-Stitch Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R2 - seeing red Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: craft Summary: A cross-stitch of the “modern art” in IM2 

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Title: Secured in the Penthouse (Hopefully) Collaborator: Cipher_Stars Link: AO3 Square Filled: T1 - Knotting Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: ABO dynamics, explicit sexual content, Winter as a separate personality Summary: Tony Stark is in heat and locked in his hopefully secure penthouse with a bunch of alphas trying to get in. Word Count: 2102

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Title: A2 - Kink: Wax play Collaborator: Menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A2 - Kink: Wax play Ship: Stuckony Rating: Mature Major Tags: Light BDSM Summary: Moodboard and headcanons for the boys Word Count: 336

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Title: A Tangled Web Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - Natasha Romanoff Ship: Tony & Natasha Rating: Gen Major Tags: IM2, Natalie Rushman, going undercover Summary: Natasha Romanov goes undercover to determine whether Tony Stark and Iron Man should be considered for the Avengers Initiative. Word Count: 743

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Title: Iron Man Word Search Puzzle Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R4 - puzzle Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: word search  Summary: Iron Man word search puzzle

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Title: I fall in love (everyday with someone new) - Chapter 31: Picture of Tony working on his suit (R3) Collaborator: scriptatur Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - image of Tony working on his suit Ship: Peter & Tony, Tony & Rhodey Rating: Gen Major Tags: polyamory, Endgame fix-it Summary: "Waking was- surprising. He woke up slowly, like drifting through mist or sirup or- something. He was kind of confused, if he is being perfectly honest. Confused about his own metaphor, a bit, but mainly confused by the fact that he was, well, waking up. That was not something he’d expected to do, after all." When Tony Stark wakes up after the final battle against Thanos, he decides that there will be nothing more that stands between himself and happiness. He goes home with Pepper and Morgan and it doesn't take long for Steve and Bucky (and other (ex-)avengers) to follow. Basically, this is the fix-it that I needed. It's very self indulgent and mostly fluff. Word Count: 22,348

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Title: I fall in love (everyday with someone new) - Chapter 32: AU: Cyberpunk (S2) Collaborator: scriptatur Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - AU: Cyberpunk Ship: Tony & Nebula, Tony/Pepper/Rhodey, Stuckony Rating: Gen Major Tags: polyamory, Endgame fix-it Summary: "Waking was- surprising. He woke up slowly, like drifting through mist or sirup or- something. He was kind of confused, if he is being perfectly honest. Confused about his own metaphor, a bit, but mainly confused by the fact that he was, well, waking up. That was not something he’d expected to do, after all." When Tony Stark wakes up after the final battle against Thanos, he decides that there will be nothing more that stands between himself and happiness. He goes home with Pepper and Morgan and it doesn't take long for Steve and Bucky (and other (ex-)avengers) to follow. Basically, this is the fix-it that I needed. It's very self indulgent and mostly fluff. Word Count: 22,348

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Title: I fall in love (everyday with someone new) - Chapter 33: Friday (K2) Collaborator: scriptatur Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Friday Ship: Tony & Nebula Rating: Gen Major Tags: polyamory, Endgame fix-it Summary: "Waking was- surprising. He woke up slowly, like drifting through mist or sirup or- something. He was kind of confused, if he is being perfectly honest. Confused about his own metaphor, a bit, but mainly confused by the fact that he was, well, waking up. That was not something he’d expected to do, after all." When Tony Stark wakes up after the final battle against Thanos, he decides that there will be nothing more that stands between himself and happiness. He goes home with Pepper and Morgan and it doesn't take long for Steve and Bucky (and other (ex-)avengers) to follow. Basically, this is the fix-it that I needed. It's very self indulgent and mostly fluff. Word Count: 22,348

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Title: I fall in love (everyday with someone new) - Chapter 34: Zombie (K5) Collaborator: scriptatur Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - zombie Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: polyamory, Endgame fix-it Summary: "Waking was- surprising. He woke up slowly, like drifting through mist or sirup or- something. He was kind of confused, if he is being perfectly honest. Confused about his own metaphor, a bit, but mainly confused by the fact that he was, well, waking up. That was not something he’d expected to do, after all." When Tony Stark wakes up after the final battle against Thanos, he decides that there will be nothing more that stands between himself and happiness. He goes home with Pepper and Morgan and it doesn't take long for Steve and Bucky (and other (ex-)avengers) to follow. Basically, this is the fix-it that I needed. It's very self indulgent and mostly fluff. Word Count: 22,348

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Title: Magic Man Collaborator: ethereal-lullabies Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K2 - Fusion Ship: Kaecilius/Tony Stark Rating: Teen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: MAGIC (good Kaecilius)

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Title: Never Let Me Go - Chapter 2: And I'm Going Under Collaborator: Iron_Eirlyssa (Eirlyssa) Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - Phobia Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: developing relationship, asexual Tony and Bucky, cuddles, panic attacks Summary: The second chapter, filling square S1 - Phobia for my Tony Stark Bingo, in which Bucky is still an incredible sweetheart and Tony desperately needs some hugs. Word Count: 4703

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Title: Life is the Flower (Love is the Honey) Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R1 - Flower Shop AU Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: no powers AU, language of flowers, fluff, florist Tony, mortician Bucky, getting together Summary: Every Friday, Tony sets up his flower shop on the corner so he can see his favorite person on their way home from work. Today, however, is special. Word Count: 2076

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Title: Mid-youth crisis Collaborator: Menatiera Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Holiday fic Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Avengers Academy, college AU, roommates, pining, friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, comedy of errors Summary: The Avengers Academy fic where the Academy closes its doors and Bucky has nowhere to go afterwards. Naturally, his friend (and secret crush) Tony is there to the rescue - what would be better than to move in together? It goes just as well as you expect it. Word Count: 1688

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Title: we rattle together in a bed of honey Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - first kiss Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Mature Major Tags: Fem Tony, MIT era, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse Summary: Toni first met James Rhodes in Cellular Neurophysiology and Computing, when she was fourteen and trying very hard to stay in the shadows. She stumbles into the classroom, clutching her books and binders and pencil case close to her chest, as she stares at everything, wide-eyed and hungry and terrified. She seizes on the contempt, the confusion, the incredulity of the other freshman who look at her like she’s an incongruity – she’s used to that look, all that hate and derision. She eats it up like chocolate cake. Much to her luck, all the seats are filled, all except for one towards the middle of the row, a table shared only by a tall, handsome black boy, sleeping on top of the counter. Word Count: 5661

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Title: I Won't Give Up On Us Collaborator: Eirlyssa Link: AO3 Square Filled: A2 - Asgard Ship: ThunderIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: genderfluid character, arranged marriage, developing relationship, betrayal, war Summary: When a marriage is finally arranged for the crown Prince of Asgard, his wife-to-be isn't what Thor had expected. He is far, far better. Word Count: 4736

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Title: The Red-Head Harem Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - Warm And Fuzzy Feelings Ship: Tony/Natasha/Bethany/Pepper/Wanda/Gamora Rating: Teen Major Tags: polyamory, domestic fluff, teasing Summary: Tony and all his red-headed girlfriends get along quite nicely. Breakfast fluff and teasing are commonplace. Word Count: 792

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Title: Tell Me a Story Collaborator: newnewyorker93 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - abandonment issues Ship: Tony & Morgan Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble, bedtime stories, fix-it Summary: Morgan doesn't like her bedtime story, so Tony changes the ending. Word Count: 100

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Title: Mid-youth crisis moodboard Collaborator: summerpipedream Link: AO3 Square Filled: T4 - Avengers Academy Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: “To prevent this universe from unraveling–” It seemed like an ordinary day at that point. “Avengers Academy will close its doors.” And then it didn’t. It took only six words for Bucky’s thoughts to collapse into chaos again. Avengers Academy couldn’t close!

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Title: Promises, Promises Collaborator: MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne) Link: AO3 Square Filled: R5 - Didn't Know They Were Dating Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: mob AU, Romeo & Juliet romance Summary: Mob AU. Bucky needs a favor from his Captain, but first he has to admit to dating the enemy. Word Count: 2026

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Title: S4- Skrulls Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - Skrulls Ship: Gen Rating: IronFalcon Major Tags: canon divergence, skrulls Summary: It's the first time Tony's met Sam, but somehow Sam has met Tony before. Word Count: 625

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Title: Happy Moodboard Collaborator: newnewyorker93 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R4 - Happy Hogan Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, art Summary: I wanted to make a moodboard & was getting frustrated looking for pictures, so I decided to experiment with drawing one instead!

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Title: A Race to the Finish Collaborator: celtic7irish Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Image: Tony in Race Car Driver Uniform Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: race car AU, pre-relationship, preserum Steve Summary: Tony Stark was said to be the best driver in the history of the sport, and looking at his record (well, listening to Steve ramble on about it), it seemed it wasn’t just baseless boasting. The driver for Stane Industries was rich, handsome, and liked fast cars. And fast women, if even half the rumors about him were true. Or: A Race Car AU where Bucky & Steve save up to go to a race car, Bucky gets to be a hero, and Tony gets his flirt on. Word Count: 3635

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Title: T4 & A1 - Chapter 1: T4- [Image from IM3- Tony zip-tied to a bed-frame] Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: T4 - [Image from IM3- Tony zip-tied to a bed-frame] Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: bad puns, Justin Hammer is a dick, kidnapping Summary: Hammer is up to something, which means it's the Avengers job to stop him. Word Count: 1857

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Title: T4 & A1 - Chapter 2: A1- Damsels (And Others) In Distress Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 - Damsels (And Others) In Distress Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: bad puns, Justin Hammer is a dick, kidnapping Summary: Hammer is up to something, which means it's the Avengers job to stop him. Word Count: 1857

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Title: Trial and Error - Chapter 4 Collaborator: martianwahtney Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - WTF Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Gen Major Tags: getting together, parent Tony, protective Tony and Rhodey, manipulative Fury Summary: where Harley puts his foot down and forces a confession Word Count: 3108

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Title: T1- Confession in Desperate Situation Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: T1 - Confession in Desperate Situation Ship: Pepperony Rating: Gen Major Tags: Endgame, missing scene, pregnancy Summary: Avengers Endgame missing scene of Pepper telling Tony she's pregnant. Word Count: 1033

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Title: Aftermath Collaborator: LBibliophile Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - unreliable narrator Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: poetry, moodboard, collateral damage Summary: When real life superheroes saved New York, it was like a something out of a story. But then the cleanup began. And continued, and continued... New York, Greenwich, Sokovia, Lagos. Suddenly, superheros are a lot less exciting. Rubble all looks the same, whether it was made by the heroes or the villains. Word Count: 165

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Title: Steamships, Cyborgs, and Self-Determination: A Steampunk Story - Chapter 1 Collaborator: JacarandaBanyan Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Steampunk AU Ship: Stuckony Rating: Not Rated Major Tags: developing relationships, steampunk AU, comic book science, angst with a happy ending, mild gore, body horror, cyborgs Summary: The Cyborg Assassin formally known as Bucky Barnes is sent on a double assassination mission. His Targets: Anthony E Stark, brilliant inventor and scientist, and Steve Rogers, subversive artist. Word Count: 2711

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Collaborator: LBibliophile Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: crafts Summary: Tablet woven braid made with crochet cotton. Iron Man colours with pale blue triangular ‘arc reactors’.

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Title: indeed a beautiful thing - Chapter 1 Collaborators: Fluffypanda, justanotherpipedream Link: AO3 Squares Filled: For Panda -  R1: Resolve For Summer -  K3 - AU: Adventurers/Explorers (Summer) Ship: Stony Rating: Teen Major Tags: fantasy AU, fusion AU, anthropomorphic, plot twists, bandits and outlaws, swordfighting Summary: Rebellion is brewing in Velmar and Captain Steven Mouser has been sent to the city of Iron Landing to investigate. He is to secure the cooperation of Lord Stark if he is ever to find the elusive leader of the rebellion, but there is more to both of them than meets the eye. Word Count: 1478

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Collaborator: hereandnowwearealive Link: Tumblr Square Filled: T5 - Edwin Jarvis Ship: Tony and Edwin Jarvis Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: art of Edwin Jarvis and Tony Stark

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Title: A Call From a Kitten Collaborator: Cipher_Stars Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 - Pornstar/Sex worker/Rentboy Ship: IronPanther Rating: Mature Major Tags: call girl, dirty talk, phone sex Summary: Tony Stark falls into the 'call girl' industry after Afghanistan to fulfil his craving for intimacy. Word Count: 1981

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Title: R4 - Kink: phone sex Collaborator: Menatiera Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - Kink: phone sex Ship: Stony Rating: Mature Major Tags: moodboard, sexual content, ficlet Summary: Steve and Tony regularly try to have phone sex, but are always interrupted by Steve’s dog demanding attention.

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Title: Fractures beyond the looking glass - Chapter 1 Collaborator: justanotherpipedream Link: AO3 Square Filled: S5 - Gossip Press Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Victorian AU, canon typical violence, gothic romance, supernatural elements, dreams and nightmares Summary: The world spun round and round, the trees blurring past him as Bucky skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He laid on the ground with a gasp, gritting his teeth as his ankle continued to throb with a dull but insistent pain. For minutes or hours, Bucky couldn’t tell, he hobbled as best he could trying to find the familiar path back to the village. However, the impressive outline of Stark Manor had Bucky pausing at the edge of the trees. Everyone in the village knew of the rumours surrounding the estate. These days, people wondered if the infamous Lord Stark still lived there, or if he was merely a ghost story, haunting the halls of the vast manor on the edge of the woods. Word Count: 1508