#I go back in next wed for 7 week scan

[whentherewerebicycles]

baby is in the right place I saw the heartbeat 😭

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Episode 8

have been away so this one was a bit slower but!! martells are back. you can probably tell where this season is ending now.

timeline-wise, think this is all still roughly in line with canon dates! will be skipping forward two years next (wonder what for)

Prev: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7

Next: Episode 9

title for this one (like two weeks later cos I forgot): my big fat targaryen wedding idk

One year since our last nonsense!!! We open on Shipbreaker Bay, where a ship is… breaking lol. Steffon Baratheon clings to the splintered remains of the Windproud, desperately scanning the chaotic scene for his wife Cassana. Sees her drowning some feet away, and makes his way towards her only for a HUGE WAVE to crash over them both. obliterated 😔

Robert (17) and Stannis (15) at a window; Robert makes to go down there himself, but is restrained by his father’s men - he howls in grief and rage. Stannis remains stood stiffly by the window, a vague tremor about him. Cressen places a hand on his shoulder. Baby Renly howling in the background…..

....turns to baby Viserys howling in Rhaella’s arms as Aerys tries to pry him out of them. Aerys looks like shit: his nails are longer, his hair somewhat unkempt (olaplex isn't 4 him), and he seems to have aged more than the year that’s passed. Clutching a squalling Viserys, Aerys takes his son to the dragon skulls lining his throne room, naming each as they go. Viserys eventually quiets. Finally, they come to stand in the mouth of Balerion, and both father and son stare in awe as the skull appears to swallow them

Opening 💃 creds 💃

The King’s council. Aerys receives news that things have…. not gone well with Steffon Baratheon :/ He immediately looks to Tywin, who does not look back, and rather moves on to the question of Baratheon succession. Aerys interrupting like HOLD UP who is supposed to marry my son now then!! Tywin looks at him like ‘you know what I think’ but he won’t deign to put that forward again. Aerys’ council mention that the Princess of Dorne is still touring the Seven Kingdoms seeking a husband for her daughter Elia - they've been travelling a conspicuously long time, as it goes. Might they invite the Martells to KL???

Fast forward a month or two: we’re in the Martells’ carriage, with the Princess of Dorne, Oberyn and Elia. POD fusses over Elia's tiara, but Elia is feeling sceptical: she’s heard the Prince is a bit weird. Oberyn like ‘can’t be as weird as those twins at the Rock’, tries to make his sister laugh, but her nerves are high

Rhaegar and Arthur together in the library at King’s Landing, as fucking ever. They’ve been up late, and now watch the rising sun. Rhaegar notes that the woman his father hopes to betrothe him to is due to arrive today; Arthur asks if this is what he wants, and Rhaegar states that what he wants doesn’t come into it - but the sun looks like his dreams this morning

The Martells are welcomed to King’s Landing in the courtyard. Oberyn pulls a face at Elia when they see the King (and the absolute state of him), but Elia is hesitant to return it. The Queen looks equally haunted. Between them, Rhaegar: he’s beautiful, but it feels like he’s not altogether present, and Elia is uneasy. Meanwhile, a cold look from Tywin Lannister to the Princess of Dorne. The POD smiles back

A feast in the Great Hall to welcome the Martells. Aerys sits at the head of the table, watching as each dish presented to him is tasted first. The POD attempts to make conversation with her old friend Rhaella, but Rhaella does not prove receptive. The POD senses something is terribly different about Rhaella, but the Queen seems too fragile to be pushed on it. Asking if she might meet the Prince Viserys, Rhaella tells the POD her son is not permitted visitors these days

Rhaegar has not said a word to Elia all of the feast, and she looks thoroughly dejected - till Rhaegar stands, and asks her to take a walk with him. Oberyn is unimpressed by Rhaegar and not entirely subtle about it, but the POD encourages Elia to follow the Prince. Rhaegar walks with Elia about the hall, asking after her journey to the capital. Then, cutting to the chase, he tells her that he believes he’s dreamed of her - Elia is stunned. Rhaegar asks if Elia has had dreams of her own, Elia replies only the simple kind - but finds she is intrigued

Rhaegar doing his thing with the harp after the feast: Elia finding herself slightly swept up. Oberyn tries to translate some of the Valyrian lyrics as Rhaegar sings, finds they don’t make sense, but the POD only hushes him

After the feast: the Princess of Dorne goes to Rhaella’s chambers, bringing wine and hopes of a discreet chat. However, she finds Rhaella surrounded by chamber maids who won’t be dismissed. Conversation proceeds awkwardly and self-consciously, till the POD gives up

Meanwhile, Aerys in his solar; it’s late, but someone has arrived to meet him. A knock at the door, and Aerys is presented with Varys, whose work they’ve heard so much about.....

The following morning, in the Great Hall: Aerys announces a betrothal between his son and Princess Elia. Elia shy, POD proud, Tywin raging as ever, young Cersei raging right beside him… and Rhaegar, looking distant, like he expected this but something still isn’t quite right

Skip forward to the wedding itself: both Rhaegar and Elia look resplendent, as do all of their guests. When the new couple dance together, everything seems to click - but then we see Aerys sat at the head table, somehow looking worse than ever, tapping his hands erratically on the wood. His mood is only lifted when entertainment arrives in the form of two pyromancers, who have promised the assembled guests ‘dragonfire’. This comes in the form of wildfire, wrought like a nuclear firework display. The guests applaud, Aerys most vigorously

Later the same night, Rhaegar lies awake beside a sleeping Elia, staring at the ceiling. After a moment he rises, and goes to a castle by the window. Faintly, he waves his hand over the flame, and winces slightly when it burns

[pbandjesse]

I was pretty productive today. Even if I didn't feel super great. I feel a little less congested right now but I also tried to just be soft with myself today. And that started with sleeping in.

I woke up enough to say goodbye to James and ask for a second blanket. And slept until 930.

When I woke up I made the bed and got dressed. I made a big breakfast. The same one I made the other day with the eggs and potatoes. While the potatoes soaked I worked on gathering all my camping stuff. And had my excellent breakfast. I had a nice morning.

I left here a little before 11. And drove to the musuem.

I was happy to see James. And we would go over some desk stuff so I would be successful while I was covering the desk for the rest of the day. They would run around and do some tasks. And I posted up at the desk with my knitting.

I also got to start and figure out the embroidery project Rosia is commissioning from me. And I think I have a pretty solid idea now so I'm looking forward to having this project next week. And hopefully it goes smoothly.

Jordan would come in and we kept offering tours but no one took us up on it. Instead me and him talked a lot. About religion and work and stuff. I got a few lines of knitting down over the afternoon. It was a good day.

And we did have some really nice guests. Some really lovely conversations and even sold some stuff which is always good for the musuem.

We also had some wedding tours come through to check out the space. I would get word from James that they were at the game (it's opening day) and that the family says howdy.

We finished up the day with me failing at I understanding how to transfer calls and panic calling Mike for help and then panicking because I couldn't hold two phones at once and it was a mess. Everyone was laughing including me. Felt really silly. But it was the end of the day and I was able to go write in my time and say goodbye.

I drove over to awah to drop off my bags. There was only a few cars there so I wasn't sure if anyone was there but they were. Only two people and I had a nice chat with them before I headed home.

When I got back here I sat in the car for a while doing some paperwork on my phone for awah and then jumping into my new project: completely finding the sources for my tour.

There has been a lot of conversation this week about updating our info and fact checking and making sure out stories aren't just telephoned through each other. So I used talk to text and told my entire cannery tour. And once I was home and after I had a little snack, I would spend 3 hours on the couch editing it and citing my sources.

I would end up with 6 pages of single spaced writing, with 69 footnoted facts. And I had a blast working on it. Sweetp was trying to sit directly on me which made me a little upset only because I was a little touchy from not feeling well. But I really enjoyed the research and googling. I found both scanned books, old articles, government sites, op-ed pages, and blog posts. And it was really great. And I feel good about everyone I am sharing and now I have some evidence to back it up and that feels good. I also spoke to Meril, who had been in the museum earlier in the day starting to look through the archives to find sources, about collaborating the research I was doing and hers as well and that's just really going to be fun.

The Orioles would win the game and James was happy. Paul was also at the game and caught a foul ball. It sounded like a good time. And I was happy when they got home around 7.

They would bring all my camp stuff down to the car. And then came upstairs and had some Mac and cheese. And we laid on the couch for a long time.

Eventually I went and took a shower and washed my hair. And now we are in bed. And James is mostly asleep. And I am going to go dry my hair a little and get ready to sleep.

Tomorrow I am going to sleep in and get ready to go meet Jess for our camping trip. We are going to elk neck and last time I was there we had bad cell service. So if I don't post tomorrow I promise it'll go up as soon as I can get service again! They will still be written.

Let's hope that camp is fun though!! I have high hopes for a restful time. Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourself!!

[theodorecanaryhood]

Sudden urge to play date

Jason Todd x female reader

Jason is a single Dad to a little boy and reader is a single Mum to a little boy too, the boys are best friends and go to the same school, Gotham Junior’s.

Jason and reader meet on parent teacher night, the boys try to play matchmaker.

Jason’s story:

He met Louise about 6 years ago, the two began dating and quickly moved in together as e year passed.

Within another few months Louise told Jason she was pregnant. Jason was thrilled, being a Father wasn’t something he always thought would happen for him, but here he was.

Jason proposed to Louise after the first scan, and the two began planning for the new addition to the family, and the wedding that would follow.

However, after Jackson, or as he is more lovingly known, Jack was born there was a few issues with Louise.

She was found to have a Blood clot, which was treated but not all of it. A complicated birth and a complicated health issue after, unfortunately Louise haemorrhaged and didn’t make it.

Jason was heartbroken and lost for words, as he held his few weeks old son. Jack became Jason’s everything and one and only in a matter or minutes.

Jason never got to marry his forever girl, but he got the most precious thing out of it. He got parenthood.

Y/n’s story:

6 years was all it took for your life to change dramatically, all it took was poor decision.

You met Steven 7 years ago but you were both friends first. Becoming closer and closer, you eventually became a couple.

A year into the relationship you discovered you were pregnant, that’s when the relationship became stale for you and Steve.

Steve lost his job not long after your son, Theo, was born. It became difficult to pay bills so you started working two jobs.

Two jobs, full time parenting, a couch potato boyfriend and a sick mother who eventually needed help.

You were stressed and couldn’t sleep, you started to get snappy and a little mean. When you started getting snappy with your toddler that’s when you realised you needed help.

Steve was sitting around all day everyday and wouldn’t help with your sick Mother, you had to leave your jobs and take care of her and eventually your son was being neglected by Steve too.

You lost it and packed his stuff and kicked him out of your house. Your siblings helped look after your Son and Mum while you went back to work.

You’d made quite a good name for yourself, working hard and getting a raise. Even getting holiday pay so you could take Theo on trips.

Now:

Jason sat in the living room watching some cartoon while Jack played with his toy cars. The 5 year old was a little terror now but Jason knew parenting was a challenge itself.

He was patient with him but firm and never let him get his own way within reason, but sometimes he was guilty of not being able to resist his little boy.

‘Daddy, can my friend come over?’ Jack asked his Dad, Jason smiled softly at his mini copy and nodded.

‘Of course, what’s his name?’ Jason asked as Jack sat on the couch next to him. The little boys face lighting up.

‘Theo, he’s my best friend’ Jason laughed softly as he scooped Jack into a hug.

‘Really? Well I would love to meet him’ Jason smiled more as he held his son in his arms. Sitting in the couch watching the cartoon that was on.

‘Daddy he’s here’ Jack practically screamed as he ran to the door of the apartment. Jason trailed behind him.

‘Ok open the door little man’ he called as he came up behind Jack. Jack stood on his tiptoe to open the door as he squealed to see Theo.

‘Theo’ he smiled as Theo rushed over and hugged his friend, the little boys really were trying their hardest to stay on the feet but both boys got excited and fell onto their butts as Theo Mother walked in.

‘Theo what have I said about walking in?’ You laughed, noticing Jason.

‘Hi’ he smiled as he held his hand out to you, ‘I’m Jason Todd, Jack’s Father’ he beamed, you shook his hand.

‘Y/n y/l/n, Theo’s Mum’ you smiled in return, ‘sorry he usually has more manners’ Jason just shrugged.

‘He’s cool, a sweet little boy’ Jason smiled as he pat Theo on the head.

‘Thanks, he takes after me’ you joked making Jason laugh.

‘I bet, we’ll can I get you a drink?’ Jason asked you politely as you smiled, shaking your head.

‘Thank you, but I have to go take my Mother to a Hospital appointment. I’ll be back around 3, I can come and get Theo then’ you said as you got on your knees and hugged Theo, kissing him in the head.

‘I love you’ you whispered to your Son, he whispered it back, ‘be good for Mr Jason ok?’ You said as you walked over to the door.

The whole week Jack would not stop talking about his friend coming over, and now the two were running riot in the apartment.

Jason was laughing as the boys kept playing and making silly faces at Jason, Jason forgot the last time he smiled and laughed this much.

‘Where’s your Mommy?’ Theo asked Jack, Jack pointed to upwards as Jason felt a lump in his throat at the question.

‘Where’s your Daddy?’ Jack asked Theo, Theo shrugged. Jason noticed the little boys response and felt bad.

‘Is it just you and Mommy?’ Jason asked Theo, Theo nodded in response. Jason was curious as to where his Dad was, but didn’t badger the kid for a response.

…

‘Daddy, my Teacher wants to speak to you’ Jack held his Father’s hand as he pulled him toward the classroom door.

‘Ok, we have to wait till we’re called in’ Jason replied, he didn’t want to admit that the boys pull was strong. Considering he is a big guy.

‘Mr Todd, please have a seat’ the Teacher smiled as she pointed to the opposite side of the desk.

‘Mrs Green, lovely to see you again’ Jason flashed a charming smile at her. Mrs Green just sat down as she went a little red.

‘Jack is a lovely little guy, one of my favourite students. He has a good attitude and always ready to learn’ the teacher began. Jason sat with his arm around his Son, smiling as he took on the Teachers words.

Losing track of time the Teacher rise to her feet, telling Jason about all the stories of what Jack gets upto in class.

‘Well until next time Mr Todd’ she smiled as she shook his hand.

‘Till then Mrs Green, what do you say Jack?’ Jason beamed at his little boy.

‘See you Monday Mrs Green’ he smiled, Mrs Green pinched Jack’s cheek as she walked to the door with the man and little boy.

‘Oh Miss y/l/n and Theo, my second favourite’ Mrs Green said as she opened the classroom door.

‘Hi, hope I’m not interrupting’ you said as Jack and Theo instantly began playing.

‘Not at all’ the teacher replied, Jason smiled shyly at you as he took his Son’s hand.

‘Jack come on Buddy’ Jason said softly, you looked at the boys who were already trying to run off together.

‘They can play, can you watch Theo while I talk to Mrs Green please Jason?’ You asked politely with a slight smile. Jason had never heard his name sound like that before, you said his name almost like a love song.

‘Of course, we’ll give you two some privacy’ Jason said as he took the boys into the corridor.

After about 30 minutes or so you returned outside the classroom with a smile, winking at Jason.

‘Thanks for watching him, I owe you’ you said as you kissed your little boy’s head.

‘No problem, he’s golden, good news I hope’ Jason rose to his feet as Jack walked over to him to be picked up.

‘Yeah, Theo just needs a little help with his numbers’ You chuckled as Theo rushed to you. Standing by your side.

‘Well Jack is good with numbers, I’m sure they can help each other’ Jason politely suggested, truth be told he liked Theo for Jack. They were both well behaved and got in really well. Almost like brothers.

‘Mommy can we go to Mr Jason’s for dinner?’ Theo asked you, you looked at your little boy.

‘Not me you should ask Theo, have you asked Mr Jason?’ You asked him softly. Jack shot his head to his Dad.

‘Daddy can they? Please’ Jason looked at you and Theo then his Son’s big eyes, the eyes he used to get his own way.

‘If Theo’s Mommy is ok with it’ you just shrugged with a smile.

‘Don’t see why not, they get on’ you laughed as Jack and Theo cheered. Jack wanting to get back on the floor as he ran off with Theo.

…

Dinner at Jason’s house was a different experience as you saw how well behaved the boys were. Theo even helped Jason clean up in the kitchen.

‘You sure you don’t want me to do anything?’ You asked as Jason shook his head.

‘No of course not, you guys are guests’ You smiled, Theo sitting in the floor with his best friend.

You stood up as you looked around at all the photos on the wall, noticing a couple of Jason and a woman, then Jack as he went from new born to now.

‘Jason who is she?’ You asked politely as you pointed to a young woman in a framed photo, Jason looked over your shoulder.

‘Jack’s Mother, Louise’ Jason replied, you took a mental note of his face and the pain in his voice when he answered the question.

‘What happened to her?’ You asked, Jason looked at the ground then back to you.

‘She died shortly after Jack was born’ you have a look of shock as Jason side smiled. Avoiding crying in front of you.

‘I’m sorry’ you replied, Jason took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

‘That’s ok, was a long time ago’

Theo and Jack looked at the two of you together and smiled at each other, Jack whispering something in Theo’s ear as the two boys stood up and snuck out of the room.

‘What happened to Theo’s Dad?’ Jason asked you, you walked over to the table and sat down on the chair. Jason sitting opposite you.

‘We’ll, he was cruel and neglectful so I told him to leave, I never stopped him from being Theo’s Dad but he took the initiative to cut ties’ you answered, as simple as you could, Jason just rested his head in his hand as he looked deep in your eyes.

‘My Mother got sick shortly after Theo was born, Steve lost his job and I couldn’t work on top of caring for my Mom and being a parent. My brother and sister helped me in the end as I couldn’t pay rent. Steve just left and disappeared when I told him to leave’ you continued, Jason had a look on his face.

Sympathy, he always had sympathy for single parents as being one himself. Jack’s birth made him appreciate Bruce a lot more and even made the two closer.

He also had a look of anger, anger towards Steve for just abandoning his child. You can’t bring a life into the world and not bother to help take care of it.

Jason’s free hand found it’s way holding yours from across the table. You clocked in and returned the gesture by gripping his hand slightly, using your thumb to rub his knuckle gently.

‘Boo’ Jack and Theo screeched as they both jumped up between the two of you, making you both jump as the two boys squealed with laughter.

‘Nice one boys’ you laughed as you tickled Jack’s face and gave a kiss to your Son Theo.

‘Daddy, are you gonna ask y/n on a date?’ Jack asked as Jason choked on his drink, you blushed a little.

‘What?’ Jason asked his 5 year old, who just beamed brightly as Theo wrapped his arms around your neck.

‘Are gonna date y/n?’ Jack asked, Jason was a little surprised by the question, but not offended by it.

Jason had been on a few dates here and there over the past couple of years, but the women either made an exit when he mentioned he had a kid or would not get on with Jack if they ever met him. Honestly, Jack never liked any of the women his Dad brought home either.

‘If y/n would like to go out?’ Jason answered almost as a question as he looked at you, you just smiled a little red in the face as you nodded.

‘Theo, would you like me to go out with Mr Jason?’ You asked your son, Theo nodding his head violently.

‘Ok, y/n would you like to go out?’ Jason asked you, you smiled.

‘Yes’

‘Told you it would work’ Jack smiled at Theo as the two boys walked into another room.

‘Did they just play matchmaker?’ You chuckled as Jason stood up.

‘Yup, kid’s have game’ he laughed, you stood up too as you grabbed your shoes.

‘Theo, we have to leave soon’ you called out, Jason handed you his number as you took it a little sheepish.

‘I’ll text you when I get in, I’m free this weekend if you are’ you beamed, you hadn’t dated in so long you forgot the etiquette of what to say to a man.

‘That’s fine with me’ he smiled at you as Theo hugged his friend goodbye, then rushing over to hug Jason good bye.

‘Goodbye Mr Jason’ Theo smiled up a the man cutely, as he hugged him Jason knelt down and hugged him back.

‘Goodbye my little man’ Jason whispered as he kissed his head, you gushed at the sight of Jason hugging your son. Jack came over to you, studying your face.

‘Can I give you a hug?’ Jack asked you, you smiled and knelt down.

‘You don’t to ask me’ you replied as you hugged him, smiling as the little boy held onto you.

The beginning of a beautiful relationship that could potentially grow to more, started with the two little boys showing love and affection to both of you equally.

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

[madaboutmunson]

Everlong - Part 2 - Next To You (Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 2)

Warnings: References to violence, murder, injury, imprisonment. Fluff, intimacy, failed relationships, This Au's Steve Harrington's entire brood of kids, 50+ Steve Harrington, Vampire Eddie, weird dreams.

Summary: Having successfully proved they no longer need to be under 24/7 surveillance by Henderson's high tech security systems, reader moves into the basement of Mr Harrington's home. With a new found freedom, after nearly two years, you get to see Eddie in person, but something has changed. An unexpected letter arrives.

Thank you @portaltothevoid for all your help. Much appreciated 💚💚💚

@munchabunch

Since moving into the basement of Mr Harrington's house, security had been pretty tight. It was only in the last week or so it had let up a little. They had to be careful to not freak out the Harrington kids. Luckily the two eldest were living elsewhere, leaving a little bit of space, but it was still quite a squeeze with eight kids to contend with ranging from the age of two to eighteen.

Sebastian, the youngest boy at seven years old, had sat next to you one night, with stacks of photo albums to explain everything to you, just as it seemed, someone had explained it all to him.

In 1995 Steve had met Meredith, who, when observing her photos, looked extremely familiar. Her big brown eyes, long tendrils of almost jet black hair. Ripped super baggy jeans, t-shirt and long cardigan, the sleeves pulled over her hands, as she posed outside of a concert. To be specific, she looked like a female Eddie, but older.

So it was no surprise at all that the hair and alternative style passed on to their two kids, the eldest of the Harrington brood, Charlotte (Cas) and Oliver (Olly) both with those deep dark eyes both with voluminous curly hair. Cas's cropped short to her neck. Olly's trailing down to his lower back.

Next a wedding picture but not with Meredith, this was Cassandra. She had a sleek chic french Bob of naturally light blonde hair, her gown of pure white satin, no embellishments and her bouquet a simple wreath of green leaves. Their kids were the eldest that remained in the house, Ava, 18, James, 17 and Evelyn 14.

Mr Harrington had always wanted 6 children, but had seemingly grown tired of trying to find his perfect partner. So he elected to go through quite a process to find the perfect surrogate. He waited patiently for his next beautiful babe, except for when the scan showed them, there were actually three of them all snuggled up together in there. The identical triplets were 11 now, Philomena, Lucy and Jo.

Then there was Sebastian, who advised that though he did have a mommy once, he didn't anymore, and that's why Mr Harrington became his Dad.

And last but not least, two year old Edina, who according to Sebastian, just turned up one day. She was so small, a newborn. She had screamed the roof off for a few days, and seeing his Dad was so tired, Sebastian wanted to help.

He read about babies and sounds, music and different types of noise too. So he'd sat beside her crib one weekend and played her all different genres. The only combination that worked for the baby was a mixture of Metal and white noise. When Sebastian had shown his Dad his discovery, he was so pleased he "picked me up and squeezed and I thought I might die".

Mr Harrington had knelt down to Sebastian and told him, "That's your little sister in there, she's gonna look up to you. So just like today, even though she's gonna be annoying sometimes, you gotta be kind, ok? We all look out for one another here, don't we?"

Sebastian had nodded "It's the Harrington House number one rule."

And then Steve had asked if Sebastian had any idea for a name for the baby, as they both got up to gaze down into the crib at the sweet little baby, finally sleeping soundly.

Sebastian looked down at the playlist he'd crafted, "Adema?"

"Yeah, Edina. That's a good name." Mr Harrington had misheard, but the name stuck.

Whilst flipping through the photos one thing was abundantly clear: Mr Harrington loved his kids. His face when he was in pictures with any of his children, whether that was individually, birthday parties, Christmas card photos or family portraits he always had the biggest genuine smile.

The same could not be said for his love interests. Whilst he looked happy enough, it wasn't the same. After his marriage ended it was just person after person, a lot of whom Sebastian didn't know so he just moved past them. It was interesting though that Mr Harrington had kept pictures of each of them.

"There are other ones, if you wanna see?" Sebastian offered, "When Dad was at school, so funny. The eighties must have been a weird time, because the fashion…urgh."

"Thank you so very much for all of that, but maybe another time?" You felt swamped with information, but it was enough to get by on.

"My pleasure! I know everything there is to know about all of us," he said, lifting up his phone and snapping a picture of you, "and now we can add you too. Maybe we'll get more pictures if you stay?" he looks up at you hopefully.

You smiled back at him, "I'll be staying here for as long as I can I think."

You'd help out around the house where you could, but it was a very delicate line to tread. You didn't want to become missed when you might eventually leave, but you also didn't want to be seen as a sponge, so you did most of your helping on an individual basis or when the house was emptier.

The remainder of your time was spent practicing guitar, and working in the back room at Harrington's, the record store.

You were absolutely not allowed front of house.

Mr Harrington occasionally gave you the freedom to walk around town provided you wore a disguise of sorts. Just because of pure fear of messing up, you didn't stray far from the store, opting for a nearby park, for a short walk, or to just sit on the bench in the fresh air. Something you'd taken for granted nearly two years ago, but now was as precious as gold.

Today's park stroll was one that you'd been nervous about for a few weeks, for the first time in nearly two years you were going to be able to see Eddie. Not a glimmer of particles, not a voice in your head, but actually here in person.

As dusk rolled in, you had so much pent up nervous energy, sitting was no longer an option, so you paced around the bench itself. You practice how you would say hello in your head as you walk around the bench.

Hearing a twig snap, you quickly turn around towards its direction. In the shadows you can just make out his frame, of course his hair, and the unnatural glints in his eyes.

You stay very still, unsure of what to do as a whirlwind of emotions courses through you in those moments, "How long have you been there, creeping about in the shadows?" You joke.

"Oh, long enough," you hear the smirk in his voice. As he steps forward into the light of the lamppost, you are pretty sure your jaw drops a little. He's even more beautiful than you remember. His skin is pale like moonstone, his lips a rich red, and the rest of his features dark like the void. You feel like the ground is a sticky goop holding you to the spot. Your breath shakes in the cool night air, as you look him over, trying to take in every detail you can.

Fuck. You are certain that even if he wasn't trying to read your thoughts, he could hear your pulse go into overdrive. You take a deep breath and try to get it under control by looking at everything else in the vicinity. You spot a snail climbing the lamppost and try to focus on it for a few seconds, taking in all its details.

Then a sharp pain in your side makes you wince and your eyes fall back onto Eddie. Suddenly an exigency fills your mind. You charge towards him, trying to throw your arms around him, but he catches your wrists before contact, stopping you in your tracks.

"Whoa there!" He chuckles, his hands tightly grip your wrists in between you both, you can see him checking your hands.

"Um…sorry…I don't know…" you stumble over your words like someone in stilettos scrambling up a scree hill.

He gently releases you from his grip, his eyes fall back onto yours, and you look away fast. Like looking into his eyes might cause something terrifying to happen. You’ve gotten so used to the threatening drone following your every movement that you are now always cautious of your body’s natural reaction. Quickly you decide that walking beside him might be more comfortable, so you fall in next to him.

You can absolutely feel his eyes on you, but you resist looking for now. "Sorry if I scared you," you say apologetically as your fingers play with the inside of the cuffs of your jacket.

"Scared is a bit of a strong word, concerned maybe?" He says with a small laugh as he takes the first step of the walk and you follow suit.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that. It was weird." You say half joking. It was weird, but it didn't feel wrong until you'd been stopped.

You walk around in silence for a while, now this is definitely not right for the two of you, and it does feel desperately awkward. You're very much accustomed to your own awkwardness, but from Eddie? No, this was top tier strange.

"Soooo it's good to see you. You know, in person" he says, trying to make things more normal, but your brain isn't really listening, because you're still replaying what just happened in your mind.

"Did you think I was gonna try to hurt you?" You say in almost disgust, and this time you look at him, expectantly. How could he think that, after everything?

"I…I guess I wasn't sure, especially when you came at me so quickly…just you know…habit," he says, acting out a few jabs and ducking and weaving as you walk.

This was new, you hadn't really heard him stumble over his words before that was really your department. He only returns your look once, before looking ahead again.

"Well" you say, unable to disguise the little sprinkling of hurt in your voice, "I wouldn't do that. I would never do that."

"If I told you the amount of times I've heard that lie, you wouldn't believe me," he says with a laugh.

That feeling happens again, an urgency, and you reach out grabbing his arm, stopping your stroll. He looks down at your hand and looks back up at you. You give him a serious look, "Never. Ok?"

His eyes move between yours and if you didn't know any better you'd swear he sighed. You let go of his arm and turn to continue your walk. In the lamplight something catches your eye and you run towards it. A flower. One from your dream. You run over to it and pluck it from the ground and look at it in the light, "Hey, random question, but do you know what this is?"

Eddie catches up and looks at it, "Yarrow?"

You grab your phone and do a quick search, "How did you know that?"

"I know tons of useless shit," he puts his hands on his hips, "though this one in particular isn't all that useless, maybe?"

You tilt your head at him in confusion.

He returns your look of puzzlement, "So you just ran over here to pick a pretty little flower, did you? You've no idea what this is?"

"Well. I don't know what it is, but I didn't pick it because it's pretty. I keep seeing it in…" you trail off. You sounded mad, you were sure of it. But this was Eddie, surely raving about a vivid dream wasn't that mad, when you ripped a hole to a different dimension together?

Maybe this was a very common flower. You'd seen it a bunch of times,so then it appeared in your dream.

Rather than taking the flower from you, Eddie takes your hand that is still holding it and holds it up to inspect it. "Yep, it's soldier's woundwort alright. Where do you keep seeing this, then?" he lowers your hand, but keeps looking in the same place to put his dilated pupils directly in your eyeline.

"In a dream. It's crazy. Maybe it's one of those things, you see something once and you can't stop seeing it everywhere." His eyes still trained on yours, makes you swallow nervously, "Do you still dream? You know, even though you're different?" You try to distract with a question

Eddie's other hand moves to your side, and he walks you backwards until you bump into the back of the park bench "There's nothing in my dreams, just some ugly memories," he sings deeply, but quietly. His eyes scan over your entirety, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You smile trying to not let your nerves show, "I know that one…Gimme Danger, little stranger."

He nods, still staring down into your eyes, speaking softly, "Do you know the next line?" He squeezes your scar tissue gently, and it's like a wave of intoxication sweeps up and crashes down on you.

"Are you…are you doing that thing you do?" You ask dreamily, remembering being caught up in this before. Unable to move, completely hypnotised by him.

"No," he says in a whisper, moving his body closer to yours, "It's not me." His eyes trace a familiar pattern, your eyes, your mouth, your neck.

Not taking your eyes from him, you gently push back your collar to reveal more skin to him. An act of submission or a silent pact. His eyes flash for a second, and his fingers dig into your side. Maybe this was a temptation too far.

Snap! A twig crunched somewhere in the darkness.Both of your heads snap towards it in alarm. You instinctively move yourself in front of Eddie. Frantically searching the darkness for anything.

Your brain scrambles like you change radio frequency. What time was it? Shit! "Listen, I'm sorry, I have gotta go. I didn't realise the time. They'll stop me coming here." The panic rises in your voice as you clutch at your chest.

"Hey, hey, ok just take a deep breath, ok? Just tell them you got distracted by something pretty, yeah?" Eddie smirks, brushing his hand over your hair, and placing the yarrow flower behind your ear.

"Yeah, you're right." Despite his teasing, it was actually reassuringly normal and stopped you from spiralling, "Maybe next time, this can be less…um…weird."

"Or weirder…" he grins. He creates some space between you, he's still smiling with his hands in his pockets. "There is something different about you though. I don't know if it's because you've been cooped up, or what, but…" he bites his lip and looks you up and down.

"Me?! I'm different. What about you? You're different too!" You protest only to be met with Eddie shaking his head.

"Nope, not really. It's just your feelings have changed," he shrugs as if to shirk off all responsibility.

"Hey, didn't we say the whole thought reading was reserved for when we aren't in person?" You are a little annoyed at this violation of trust.

Eddie's smile turns into a wide grin and he leans in, so he's close to your ear, running his fingers along your collar bone area to your other scar, the one no one asks to see. The reminder that you threw yourself in the way of that stake to save him. "Oh, I didn't have to telepath shit, Sweetheart."

You close your eyes and inhale, before shaking your head free of this witchcraft. You gesture into the night, before moving away slightly.

Faster than you can fathom he grabs for your belt loop and pulls out your phone out of your pocket. He starts tapping into it, "No passcode?"

"Not allowed," you reply sheepishly.

"Hmmm better keep it coded and PG then, right?" He says and can't help but smile as he makes you embarrassed. "There, I doubt 'Ambrose' will cause too much of a problem." He puts your phone back in your pocket, "Until next time," he says walking away, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder. A small laugh escapes each time you catch him.

It doesn't elude your knowledge that choosing the alias of Ambrose puts Eddie's fake contact at the top of your list.

You race back to the basement and burst through the door, panting.

You drop your things and race up the stairs, "S-sorry I'm late, I got distracted b-by something," you say trying to catch your breath.

Mr Harrington lowers his paper to reveal himself and Edina sitting in his lap, "Late!" She says loudly.

"That's quite right, they are late. What do you have to say for yourself? " He says with his eyebrows raised.

"I was doing my park walk, and I got distracted by something beautiful." You point up at the flower behind your ear.

Mr Harrington smiles and shakes his head at you, "Ok, well, next time, call, alright?"

You nod in agreement and head back downstairs.

You flop down on your bed and look up at the ceiling. Removing the flower from behind your ear, you hold it up in the false light, turning it around in your fingers. Your eyes grow heavy, and your blinks grow slower until finally you drift into sleep.

You open your eyes to the summer sky, a bumble bee bobs around for a few moments before landing on your chest.

“Eh, I don’t think so, Ol' Mr Bumble, that’s my flower only!” You hear a sweet Irish voice beside you playfully complain, making you giggle and the bee buzzes away. “Thas right ya coward, ya wanna buzz off now!” the voice shouts into the sky. You turn towards it, a feeling of pure happiness makes your head swim as the view changes to one of the apothecary’s apprentice sitting up and shaking his fist at the bee.

He lowers himself back onto his elbows and looks over at you, “Fancy that! Bold as anythin’ ” tutting at the bee. “I coulda taken him.” His big broad grin lowers as he looks into your eyes and then quickly back out into the distance, gently twisting the blade of grass between his fingers.

“Y’know” he says quietly, “Dere gonna come a callin’ soon.”

The blue sky disappears behind a sudden influx of heavy dark grey clouds, but he does not appear to notice at all, “I’ll have to go,” he adds.

Your hand touches his arm through the soft billowy fabric of his shirt sleeve and works its way down his forearm to intertwine your fingers.

“I hear ya, love. We could run away. Unfortunately fer you, yer mans a lotta things, but a cowards not one of dem.”

His fingers squeeze yours, “I’ll come home. Don’t you worry bout dat. Can’t get rid o’ me dat easily, I’m afraid.” He half turns to you and smiles, but you can see the worry lurking in his eyes. You sit up and reach out to stroke the back of his hair and the nape of his neck.

“I heard dey were havin’ trouble identifin’ dere soldiers. So I mighta dun something so dere’ll be no mistaken’ me.” He rolls up his sleeve to his shoulder a picture of a Rose with the name Yedda over the top and Aimon underneath.

He laughs and wipes his hand over it, “No darlin’ no amount water or dirt’ll move this. It's one of dem tattoo tings.”

You wipe your hand over it too, it doesn’t smudge or disappear. You hit him on the arm, and he laughs heartily, “Wha? Ya tink dis town doesn already judge us? Anyways dey won’t know bout it, but we will, my sweet. We will. You’ll always know it's yer man,” he nods and smiles at you lovingly before pulling you towards him ,wrapping you in his arms, and the sky turns to blue again.

It's the soft plinking sounds of your alarm sound, you get up and head upstairs to grab some breakfast.

Mr Harrington is at the stove, towel over his shoulder. The triplets in a row next to him making a pancake production line. Jo to his left, mixing up a storm, to his right Lucy is adding fruit to the stacks, and Philomena is last, blasting the towering breakfasts with syrup.

"Morning," you say cheerfully, grabbing a ready serving, and sitting down to eat.

"You've got a letter." Mr Harrington says turning around, pointing the spatula at the middle of the table.

You pause for a moment, who would be sending you a letter? Maybe it was the fan mail. You snatch it up quickly, excited almost. The envelope of textured paper is already opened as you expected.

You pull out the letter inside, and scan your eyes over it.

You must have read it four or five times to make sure you aren't dreaming, and you gently place your fork down on your plate, as the tears well up in your eyes.

"They've asked me to play a song with them…on stage…my old band…when they play Indianapolis," you lift your eyes up away from the paper and Mr Harrington is already waiting for you. His face is so proud, he quite forgets the pancakes and Lucy snatches the spatula from him, so they don't burn.

He takes a seat next to you, "What do you think? Do you wanna go for it? Everyone…well, ok…mostly everyone is ok with it, but no one is gonna stop you from playing. You'd have the normal ankle tag, and they'd have to bring back that stupid drone thing, but you'd be up there with your friends again."

The word friends stings a little. You weren't sure if that applied, but a chance to play on a stage that big was extremely tempting. "I'd be a fool not to, right?"

Link to Next Chapter Everlong Chapter 3 - The Killing Moon

Link to Everlong Chapter 1 - Stacked Actors

Link to Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 1 Chapter 1

Link to Fanfic master list

Songs you might want to listen to whilst reading this chapter:

[lostinthewiind]

Forget Me Not: Part 1

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, Kuroo Tetsurō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: five years after graduating high school, you're invited to Kiyoko and Tanaka's wedding and find yourself back in Japan. Surrounded by your old classmates and volleyball buddies once again, not only are old friendships rekindled, but old feelings start to resurface as well. Did five years change you and your friends too much, or did it change you all just enough?

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Next → Part 2

Being back in Japan filled you with a familiar, comforting feeling that spread throughout your entire body. The country where you had lived most of your life and been educated from kindergarten to high school in brought back childhood memories that you had not thought about in nearly five years.

And now, here you were, attending the wedding of one of your best friends, whom you hadn't seen in way too long, and surrounded by people who shaped your elementary and teenage years.

It wasn't until the reception that you got to actually catch up with your childhood friends, but the ceremony had certainly gotten you thinking. With the beautiful decorations strewn all over the venue and Kiyoko's breathtaking dress—and the way Tanaka teared up after seeing his future wife coming down the aisle—you had begun to wonder, as one who is still single would, if that would ever be you; all dressed to the nines and ready to devote the rest of your life to one person.

The fact that you were deep in thought must have been visible on your face because it wasn't long after that Kiyoko made her way over, gently placing her hand on your shoulder and asking if you were all right.

Startled out of your internal dilemma, you assured her that you were fine and just caught up with your own thoughts. "Sorry," you apologized with a lighthearted chuckle. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me at your wedding."

Taking a seat beside you at the rather empty guest table—more than happy to get off of her feet after Tanaka had been swinging her around the dance floor for hours—Kiyoko sighed contently and brushed off your concern. "Oh, please, make up something if you must." Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder at her new husband, who was currently preoccupied with something Noya was saying to him. "I need a break. If this is any indication of what the rest of my life is going to be like, I'm going to be eternally exhausted."

You laughed, having completely forgotten about what you had been thinking about. "You chose to marry the boy who spent all three years of high school chasing after you and you're surprised that he's over the moon 24/7?" You cocked a brow at her jokingly. "Don't say you weren't warned."

Kiyoko giggled at that and before long you and your best friend were laughing together just like when you were teenagers. It was like nothing had changed; like the two of you had been transported back in time five years.

"In all seriousness though, are you happy?" you asked her as you grabbed for your champagne flute and took a sip. "Because that's all that matters."

A light dusting of pink rose to Kiyoko's cheeks. "I'm ecstatic." She beamed as she looked back at Tanaka again. "I mean . . . that's my husband!"

"Good. I'm happy that you're happy."

Kiyoko nodded in agreement before turning back to you. "So, when is it going to be your turn?"

You thought about asking her what she could possibly be talking about but there was no fooling Kiyoko; she already knew that you knew. Not a week had gone by since you had moved away where she hadn't asked you if you had found yourself a man yet.

You just rolled your eyes. "I would have to be dating someone first in order to start thinking about getting married."

"Okay, so we start at the beginning." Kiyoko started surveying the gorgeous outdoor reception venue as if you didn't already know pretty much everyone who was there.

You scoffed. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You act like I haven't always been invested in your love life." She waved you off, never taking her eyes off of the bustling crowd. "Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . you need someone with a stable career, handsome, and, most importantly, someone that I approve of."

"Yes . . . most importantly." You took another sip of your drink and let your eyes scan the crowd as well, mostly because there wasn't much else for you to do. Eventually, your gaze settled on a table in the back corner where five men sat, engaged in a conversation with one another. It took you a few minutes to make out the face in the dim lighting, but when you did, you were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.

There, in a convenient group, as if they had all collectively been waiting for you to spot them, were five of your dearest friends from high school: the captains from the various boys' volleyball teams. Since you had been the captain for the girls' team at one of the rival schools, the six of you had started as acquaintances who bonded over being captains and soon grew into an inseparable friend group. The only person you had been closer to in high school was Kiyoko.

Sawamura Daichi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, and Kuroo Tetsurō.

They all looked just like how you remembered and yet you couldn't help but notice from afar the ways that they had matured over the past five years. You had been given a brief chance during the ceremony to say hello to them, and during that brief moment, you weren't ashamed to say you would admit they had all grown into handsome young men (not that any of them had been hard on the eyes in high school by any means.)

"Oh, so we're going for the classic 'high school reunion' trope." Kiyoko's face was suddenly right next to yours, startling you once again. "Which one are you looking at?"

Ripping your eyes away from the group of men who had thankfully not noticed your staring, you shook your head. "It's not like that," you sighed.

"Oh, yeah . . . okay." Kiyoko's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine, you don't have to choose right now. You could probably have whichever one of them you wanted anyway considering they all had a crush on you in high school."

It had been a big mistake to try and take your final gulp of champagne right then. As soon as you had heard what Kiyoko had said, you jolted in surprise and the alcohol went down the wrong way, causing you to begin coughing and sputtering rather loudly and aggressively.

Of course, that was when the five former captains turned to look at you after hearing the commotion. To be fair, a lot of eyes were on you then as you frantically reached for a napkin to dry the champagne that had spurted out of your mouth and Kiyoko patted your back comfortingly.

"Jesus," you managed to choke out. "Warn someone before you say something like that."

Kiyoko grabbed another napkin and began dabbing at the little wet spot on your dress. "You act like you didn't already know."

"I didn't already know."

Kiyoko looked up at you in shock, her hand ceasing all movement. Thankfully, she had pretty much dried your dress completely by then anyway. "What do you mean you didn't know?" she inquired quizzically, almost like she suspected you of lying.

"What do you mean they all had a crush on me?!" You remembered to lower your voice at the last second to avoid screaming such a personal conversation.

"How could you not have known?!" Kiyoko retorted with another question. "It was so obvious!"

"We were all just friends!"

"Just friends?!" A deep voice from behind you interrupted before you or Kiyoko could say another word. "You aren't talking about us, are you?"

You could pick that voice out of a lineup and consequently, your face turned bright red and you swallowed hard. Had he heard what you and Kiyoko had been talking about? How long had he been standing there?

Turning in your chair, you looked up at Kuroo, who was standing behind your chair, and the four other guys standing behind him; all of whom had apparently made their way over after witnessing your struggle with the champagne.

Before you had the chance to work out a suitable answer and attempt to explain away what you and Kiyoko had been discussing, Kiyoko stood from her chair and offered it to Kuroo, motioning for the group to sit down with you at the same time.

"Well, I'll leave you guys so you can all catch up." She smiled wide, throwing you a quick wink when no one else was looking. "I'm sure Tanaka will start searching for me soon anyway. I can only leave his side for so long before he starts causing chaos."

"Looks like the chaos has already started." Oikawa pointed to the head table where Tanaka was pouring liquor straight down Hinata's throat while Noya and Tendou counted the seconds out loud at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, good God." Kiyoko excused herself without another word, rushing across the room to put an end to her husband's antics. The six of you were left chuckling and watching as she snatched the bottle out of his hand and made quick work of reprimanding the men.

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from you while the other men took their seats as well. Having been the team captain of Karasuno and on a volleyball team with Tanaka for two years, he knew all too well what it was like to have to keep him in check constantly. "I will never understand how he suckered her into marrying him," he commented.

"Because love." You shrugged. "It makes you do stupid things."

Just then, a waiter came by and placed a fresh glass of champagne in front of each of you. "Ain't that the truth." Kuroo rose his glass and encouraged everyone else to do the same. "To love and other stupid things."

"To love and other stupid things," the remaining five of you repeated before clinking your glasses together and taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol.

Bokuto, who already seemed a little too tipsy for his own good, downed all of his in one go before scooting his chair closer to yours and throwing an arm over your shoulders. "So, tell us, what have you been up to?!" he chirped happily. "We all missed you when you left, you know."

After assuring Bokuto about four or five times that you had missed him as well, you gave the group of eager listeners the short version of what you had been up to since graduation. You explained your boring job and the fact that you played volleyball as often as you could. They asked about other aspects of your life as well, and when the topic of significant others came up, you shyly admitted that you were, indeed, still single.

"Hey, it's not like any of us can judge you for that," Ushijima told you. "None of us have anyone in our lives either."

Oikawa scoffed. "You make it sound like I'm hopeless."

"You are hopeless," Kuroo laughed. "You spent how many years in Brazil and still couldn't find a girl to date you? You moved to Argentina and still nothing. Doesn't that say anything?"

"Leave it to Oikawa to make it all about him," you commented, mindlessly taunting the setter like you used to do all the time when you were younger.

Your jab earned a few amused chuckles from the others and even Oikawa cracked a smile; and just like that, it was like you were back in high school with five of your closest friends, shooting the shit like you always did.

Before you knew it, the six of you were talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Even Ushijima, who was usually the quiet one of the group, was participating more than you ever remember him doing so. The awkwardness from the first few minutes of interaction and the burning embarrassment of what Kiyoko had told you had melted away so seamlessly that you didn't even notice; suddenly you just found yourself comfortable and feeling rather at home.

Daichi told you about how his job as a cop was going and even shared a few exciting stories—stories that the others had clearly heard many times before if their bored expressions were any indication.

Kuroo talked about his job at the Japan Volleyball Association Sports Promotion Division, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. You were kind of envious of him for managing to stay in the world of volleyball without actually having to keep playing.

Then, of course, Bokuto, Ushijima, and Oikawa discussed what it was like playing for the MSBY Jackals, the Schweiden Alders, and Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina, respectively. Oikawa, much like Daichi had been, was very excited to have someone new to tell his stories to—although his stories were about Argentina and not being a cop.

It made you feel a little sad when you realized just how distant you had grown from your friends and how much of their lives you had missed, but you had to admit that getting to play catch up was extremely entertaining.

After what felt like only twenty minutes or so, but was probably closer to two hours, the reception started winding down and guests started heading home for the night.

Pulled from the happy little bubble the six of you were existing in by the sudden realization that the party had a lot fewer people than you remember, you checked the time and noted that it was rather late.

Daichi, who had been oblivious to the rapidly passing time as well, muttered something about having to work the next day as he reached for his suit jacket that he had draped over the back of his chair at some point and started putting it back on, indicating that he was getting ready to leave.

Bokuto began to pout jokingly and tightened his hold on you, his arm never having left your shoulders the entire time. "You're not going home right away, are you?" he asked you, his wide eyes ready to guilt-trip you into staying longer should he need to. "You're staying in Japan for a while, right?"

"I'll be here for about two weeks or so," you told him, patting his cheek lightly and chuckling when his expression changed on a dime and he smiled wide. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you again so soon."

"Then we will have to get together for dinner or drinks or something," Kuroo suggested as he too stood from his seat. "Have you changed your number since high school?"

You shook her head. "Nope, it should be the same one you all have."

"Excellent!" Oikawa cheered. "I've got to head back to Argentina in a week or so as well so we definitely have to get together soon. I have first dibs!"

"Y/N is a person, not the last piece of food," Ushijima huffed. "You can't call dibs."

Oikawa just scoffed. "Sure I can, Toshi. I just did."

"I told you not to call me that."

The two professional volleyball players glared at one another and you wondered how it was possible that they stayed friends for so long, let alone became friends in the first place, considering they were always at each other's throats.

"Okay, you two, don't make me escort one or both of you home in a cop car tonight," Daichi warned. "I'm not in the mood to babysit."

"If I promise to behave, will you promise to use your handcuffs?" Oikawa winked, earning a few hushed chuckles and an obviously disappointed look from Daichi.

"Well, that's my cue to call it a night," Daichi announced as he made his way over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "It was lovely seeing you again. I'll call you and we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"

You smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

With that, Daichi took his leave and the others were soon to follow. Bokuto, who was the last to leave your side, had somehow swindled you into promising to play a volleyball game with him at some point before he bid you goodnight as well and left you to collect your thoughts before catching a cab and heading back to your hotel room.

On your way out, you thanked Kiyoko for inviting you and congratulated her and Tanaka on their marriage. They too insisted on getting together with you once more before you left and you happily agreed, already dreading having to leave your friends again.

As you climbed into your cab that evening, drunker than you had been in a long while and filled to the brim with joyous memories and content feelings after being reunited with so many old friends, you couldn't help but linger on one thought in particular . . .

The fact that all of your former captain friends had grown into handsome men with stable jobs, they were all single, and the startling new discovery that they apparently all had crushes on you in high school.

Did they still feel the same way? Or, more importantly, did you feel the same way?

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 9: Plans

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[masterlist]

“Hey, love. I saw this Tiktok...” You sigh heavily as you hear the words come out of Kuroo’s mouth. Every time he shows you a video from that app, he follows it up with a, “let’s do it.”

“What is it this time?” Your eyebrows are furrowed, expressing your disagreement already. You’ve been peacefully relaxing on the bed and your husband really wants to destroy that peace of yours.

“So you rate my exes, and I rate yours. Out of 10,” Kuroo says and you squint your eyes at him in suspicion. There has to be something behind the sudden interest in remaking it.

“Why?” is all you can say at his request.

Kuroo shrugs, a smug look on his face. “Why not?”

He takes out his laptop and opens a social media platform. Placing his laptop on his lap, he pats the space beside him, a sign that he wants you beside him. You sit beside him and he immediately types out a name.

“This was my first girlfriend back in middle school.” He describes and clicks on one of the girl’s posts.

“She’s so pretty. Is that her kid?” You point at the child his ex is holding in picture. Kuroo nods. “So was she nice? I have to rate her through her personality.”

“She was nice. But she left me for a college student,” Kuroo explains.

“Oh, so she’s a victim?” You snicker, and Kuroo chuckles at your statement. “A 6/10. She's pretty and she looks nice. But minus points for dating a college student while she was in middle school.”

He proceeds to search for his next ex. “I know her,” you say as soon as you see the picture. “I was the one who planned her wedding a year ago. I believe she gave birth just a month ago.”

“She did. She was my upperclassman in Nekoma when we dated. I think I was in my last year of middle school and she was graduating high school,” Kuroo elaborates and you laugh. “What?”

“You’re also a victim.” With that, Kuroo starts laughing with you. It takes some time before the two of you stop giggling like kids.

“Since I know her, a 7/10. She was really polite when I was planning her wedding,” you explain while panting, recovering from your fit of laughter.

“This is the last one,” Kuroo says as he searches and you look at him in shock, not believing him.

“You only dated thrice?” You ask him and he nods proudly. “But you did have a lot of flings so still a bad boy,” you tease and Kuroo rolls his eyes. He shows you his screen and you look at the girl in the picture intently.

You glance at him and then his ex, and then him again, then back to the screen. “You’re lying.”

“About what?”

“Are you sure you dated her?” You point at woman at the screen.

“Yes. Ask all of my friends. They’re witnesses.”

“You dated a famous idol...”

“Was an idol,” he corrects you. “She’s quitting the industry because she’s pregnant.”

“I love her group’s songs. I give her a 10/10. But I still can’t believe you managed to pull someone like her. Kenma said that you weren’t famous amongst girls in high school...” you state, remembering his best friend’s words when you had dinner together just a few nights ago.

Kuroo simply shrugs, “I guess she really liked me then.” He lays his gadget on your lap, waiting for you to type in. You become nervous. How are you supposed to tell him that you’ve only dated seriously once in your life? And it’s someone he sees quite often in your workplace.

“I only dated once,” you tell him calmly, trying to conceal your shaky fingers as you type. Pressing enter, your eyes immediately look away. “You know him, right? He’s our cake maker at work.”

“How was he as a boyfriend?” Kuroo simply asks and you nod nonchalantly. “He seems like a nice guy whenever I see him at your office.”

“Really sweet. Baked me goods everyday and even brought me lunch boxes,” you reply rather confidently. “We dated back in high school.”

“9/10.” Kuroo rates with a pout. He knew he was going to get jealous, but he still dug his own grave for his. His plan being:

‘To subtly hint that he wants a baby.’

All of his exes now have children, and he is not competing with them at any means, but maybe you’ll get an idea about his baby fever if he shows you that most people at your age have children.

Now that his Plan A has failed, he’ll have to proceed to his Plan B.

Kuroo patiently waits for you at his car, ready for your first date after a long time. As he sings along with the song on the radio, he scrolls through his Instagram and sees Sakusa’s post about her daughter.

“Must be nice to have a kid,” Kuroo sighs. Seconds later, he realizes what he said and puts his phone down. “No. No. No. I can’t feel this way yet. It’s too early. But we’re already in our mid-20s so a kid won’t be weird. No... Does she even want kids? My kids?”

A knock on the car window disrupts his soliloquy. He turns his head to the glass and sees you waving outside. He quickly unlocks the door, allowing you to enter. “Hi, love. Who were you talking to?”

“I was talking to Kenma,” he reasons before he leans in to capture your lips into a greeting kiss. “How was work?”

“It was tiring. The Kitas sent an invitation by the way,” you answer as you pull away from him. “It’s for the triplets’ first birthday.”

“Should we buy their gifts today?” Kuroo asks you, starting the engine of the car. “I think we’ll find something while roaming around. What about you? You said you had to buy something.”

“Bikinis,” you say nonchalantly and don’t see Kuroo’s eyebrow raise from your response.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I forgot to tell you. I’m going to Okinawa with my high school friends next week. You know them, right? Makki, Mattsun, Iwa, and Oikawa,” you respond and Kuroo becomes silent, not knowing how to react. He doesn’t care that you’re going with guys, but how did you forget to tell him something important?

The ride is serene. Kuroo’s hand not leaving your thigh the whole time. Your hand is on top of his, your fingers tracing the protruded veins in his arms. Landing on his ring finger, your eyes scanned the body part. You don’t have a wedding band yet. The two of you have never thought of getting a pair.

The two of you arrive at your destination so get out of the car. Kuroo takes your hand immediately, sliding both of your hands into his jacket’s pocket. You smile at the romantic gesture, something you’re yet to get used to.

“Should we buy your stuff first?” Kuroo questions, looking down at you. Nodding, you lead him to a bikini boutique.

As soon as you enter, Kuroo closes his eyes. The store you entered doesn’t only sell bikinis, but lingerie as well. He has to keep his lids shut or his imagination will go everywhere. Noticing how wary he is about the surrounding, you smirk.

You hook a finger on his collar and pull him down. “Choose anything you’d like to see me in.”

After the not so quick shopping trip at the garment store, you have noticed how fidgety Kuroo is. He wouldn’t stop squeezing your hand and giving you cheeks kisses. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just excited to see you in this,” he reasons, lifting the paper bag with sets of lingerie he has chosen. You hum, your attention going back to the racks of baby clothing in front of you.

While you’re focused on the baby items in front of you, Kuroo is panicking. In his mind, he’s about to explode. You in lingerie + his baby fever= a kink he thought he’ll never have. He’s trying so hard not to think about your mini me’s, but seeing the tiny pieces of garments is making it hard for him.

“My love, the triplets are boys. But knowing the Kitas, they wouldn’t mind dressing up their sons in that dress you’re holding,” you point and Kuroo snaps back to his senses. He looks down and sees that he is holding onto a yellow dress with ribbons and ruffles. He didn’t even know how he got the dress on his hands.

“Oh,” he chuckles awkwardly, putting the dress back on the rack. “I just thought it was cute.” You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion and he forces out a laugh. “It would look cute on Sakusa’s daughter. The two of us are kind of close.”

“Really? I always see him post about her. She would look very cute in that. Should we buy it?” Your confusion about his actions are thrown away by his reason. He sighs in relief as you look away, the dress now in his cart.

‘Our daughter would look cuter,’ Kuroo thinks and he smacks his cheek, causing you to look at him in shock. It was a rather loud and heavy smack. “Mosquito.”

His Plan B is a fail.

You’re eating lunch together the next day at your office as usual. It’s quiet before he flashes his phone screen in front of you, showing you a picture of three familiar small boys. “Look at the triplets.” You continue to eat after taking a look at the picture, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Kuroo hums happily. “Aren’t they cute?” You only nod to his question.

“Look at Sakusa’s daughter. I met her last time and she’s such a charmer,” Kuroo narrates, letting out a giggle. The interaction replaying in his head. The interaction that caused his sudden baby fever.

It was a busy day at work since the Olympic team had to take their profile and poster pictures. Kuroo was talking to Bokuto when a child suddenly latched onto the spiker’s leg.

“My favorite teammate, you’re here!” Bokuto beamed and picked the child up. As she rested in his forearm, she looked at Kuroo in curiosity. Normally, children would get scared of him, but she wasn’t, which made Kuroo happy.

“Hi. My name’s Kuroo. What’s your name?” Kuroo asked the girl. She smiled at him before answering.

“Kia! Do you have a girlfriend?” Kia asked, taking Kuroo aback. It’s not everyday that a 4 year old would ask you about your relationship status.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a wife,” Kuroo replied, which made the little pout.

“Since you only have a wife, I can be your girlfriend,” Kia proclaimed. Kuroo smiled at her statement. The girl suddenly made him think what his daughter would be like if he ever gets to have one.

“I’m sorry but my wife would be upset if I have a girlfriend, so I can’t be your boyfriend,” Kuroo explained to her, hoping she’ll learn something from it. You could subtly teach them about what’s right and wrong at a young age.

“Then, I’ll date your child, father-in-law,” Kia claimed which Kuroo patted her head for.

“I’ll remember your words, future daughter-in-law.”

“What are you smiling for?” You ask Kuroo and he looks up to you, his attention now on you.

‘It’s now or never. This is the perfect chance.’ Kuroo thinks, placing his chin on the palm of his hand. “I was just thinking about how cute our children would be.” You ignore his words and proceed to clean up your lunch box. As result, Kuroo frowns. He mirrors your actions, keeping quiet. Maybe it was wrong to mention it.

Your secretary knocks on your door before announcing that your client is already waiting outside. Kuroo put back the chair back to its proper place before walking over behind the table to give you a quick hug. You can feel his sadness radiating off him and you’re sure it’s from your silence.

His baby fever wasn’t unnoticed. In fact, you knew about it the moment you saw him scrolling through baby videos. He wasn’t very subtle about it, too. From showing his exes, to bringing you to the baby store, to sending you pictures of babies, to mentioning children all the time, you definitely knew about his baby fever.

But you don’t want a baby yet. You had just gotten steady recently, and having a child will wreck that steadiness for sure. You want to keep him to yourself as much as you can, and a child will take your time with each other away. Yet, you don’t know how to tell him that, because he’s determined to have one as soon as possible.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll pick you up later,” Kuroo speaks. He plants a kiss on your forehead before turning away. The way he turned his back at you, the way he frowned a little, it broke your heart. So you grab his hand and pull him back towards you. “Yes, my love?”

“Should we start trying for a child?” You look up to him with shaky eyes, and he saddens at your expression. He wraps his arms around you, your head falling onto his abdomen, while his hand pets the back of your head.

“Love, I’m not asking for a child immediately, so don’t get pressured. Just take my baby fever as a promise that I want to start a family with you and only you,” he reassures you, but you know he’s partly lying about it. Kuroo is a man who doesn’t give up until gets what he wants.

Kuroo’s Plan C has failed. He has no choice but to do his Plan D. (Will be posted soon 😉 if you know, you know.)

——————————————————————————

Facts:

Fevers turn on the body's immune system. They help the body fight infection. Normal fevers between 100° and 104° F (37.8° - 40° C) are good for sick children.

Fevers only need to be treated if they cause discomfort. Most fevers don't cause discomfort until they go above 102° or 103° F (39° or 39.5° C).

Most fevers from infection don't go above 103° or 104° F (39.5°- 40° C). They rarely go to 105° or 106° F (40.6° or 41.1° C). While these are "high" fevers, they also are harmless ones.

Fevers that don't come down to normal can be caused by viruses or bacteria. The response to fever medicines tells us nothing about the cause of the infection.

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Taglist: Still can’t tag smh T^T the app keeps crashing every time i tag more than 5 people 😭

[comfortscripts]

May I Have This Dance? ¬ Steve Rogers

Plot - After retiring his shield, Steve's partner realises that he seems to be missing something.

Requested? Yes/No

Genre - ☁️️Fluff ☁️️

Note/Warning - Steve didn't return to Peggy after Endgame (I refuse to accept that ending honestly), I think this is GN but please let me know if I have used fem!pronouns, also the reader wears a dress in this so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware.

Word Count - 1.7k

After your husband Steve retired from the superhero living, life seemed dull in his eyes. You could see that his once vibrant baby blues had lost their sparkle, their joy for life.

Whilst him having more time meant that your relationship thrived, Steve was missing something and you were missing him being truly happy.

It was Sunday and a rule of the Rogers relationship is that Sunday was an "Old School Day".

No technology, no going to the city and no current news or media of any kind.

It took a while to get use to but you soon learned to love it because it meant that you had the whole day with your soulmate, no distractions. But today was different, there was one thing that had taken up your entire focus all day.

A few days prior, you were in line at the supermarket when you spotted a flyer.

DANCE YOURSELF BACK TO THE 40s!

Have you ever wondered what a 40s dance was like?

Well if the answer is yes, get yourself down to the Michaelton Hall this Sunday at 7:30pm

The cashier was a motherly looking woman in her late 60s named Dorothy, her family had owned the supermarket here since the 1920s and being a cashier here was her first job. Twice a week she would come down and "relive her youth" as her husband always jokes.

"I thought that might catch your eye" Dorothy spoke after watching you inspect the flyer. "The old music, the clothes and just that feeling of a simpler time. I'm hoping to convince William to take me but getting him to dress up like a princess is more likely than getting him to dance."

You laugh at the woman's joke but mainly at the idea of William in a frilly dress. William and Dorothy had been married for 52 years but the only time William ever danced with her was on their wedding night, a story that you thought was sad but Dora took it in her stride.

"Well I am thinking that this might be a good way to get Steve out of his funk, even for only a night" You say with a wistful look on your face whilst piling fruit into your shopping bag.

"What a wonderful idea my dear!" Dorothy exclaimed whilst scanning the final item "There is a quaint little vintage store about half a mile out of town, I am sure you'd find a dress to knock Steve's socks off"

Smiling at the woman, you hand her some cash before taking one last look at the flyer "You are like a fairy godmother Dora. Have a lovely day and hopefully see you at the dance".

By the next morning, you were keen to start prepping for the Sunday surprise. Giving your husband a kiss goodbye, you headed off to 'run some errands'.

First stop was buying the tickets, then that left you with finding the perfect 40s dress.

You headed out of town to the vintage store Dorothy mentioned but you were not prepared for how beautiful the shop was. Flowers in corners all over the place, fairy-lights decorated the clothing racks and old pieces of sparkling jewellery was displayed throughout the store.

You could have spent hours in there, it felt like a visual time machine but it seemed luck was on your side. As you strolled further into the store, you noticed a stunning pastel floor-length satin dress with light embellishments near the sleeves. That was exactly what you needed.

Everything was ready. Tickets were bought, dress was found and Steve's old military suit was ready to be worn. All you had to do now was keep it from your husband till Sunday.

Making it to Sunday evening was difficult, you had nearly exposed the plans twice but thankfully Steve believed the excuses you came up with. But now it was time to get ready.

"My love, guess what I found the other day in the attic" You call out to your super-solider husband. "Your old army uniform. Perfect condition as well".

Handing the outfit to Steve, you see his eyes light up with the memories of his time back in the 1940s. Although he looked only slightly older than he did the last time he wore it, it was like looking back in time.

"Wow, I didn't think I would ever see this again." He spoke caressing the material.

"Steve, do you think you could maybe try it on again? I would love to have a glimpse of what use to be the fashion" You asked carefully, trying to make sure he didn't suspect anything else.

A small smile graced his face. "Of course, I probably would have wanted to try it on either way" And with a laugh, he headed upstairs to suit up.

Whilst the super-solider was getting ready, you slipped into your dress and quickly slipped on an oversized shirt which made it look like you were wearing a long skirt and t-shirt. Applying a bit of makeup before double checking that your purse was ready with the tickets, car keys and some other essentials.

Hearing footsteps descend your staircase, you turn around to a fully suited and confident looking Steve Rogers. This man has managed to make you fall more in love every day for the past 6 years but in this moment, he took your breath away.

"You look so handsome. How did I ever get lucky enough to call you my husband?" You express as you reach up to lay the corner of his collar down. Even though you compliment your husband all the time, Steve still flushes a bit red at the sweet words.

Leaning in to give him a small kiss, you suddenly remember that you are on a time constraint. You pull back with a mischievous grin dancing on your face.

"Oh no, I know that face. What have you done?" Steve asks with a little chuckle. Instead of responding, you grab his hand and head out to the car. After instructing him to get into the passenger seat, you settle yourself in the driver's seat and start the car whilst Steve sits beside you watching like he was trying to solve a puzzle - the puzzle being you.

"I have a surprise for you but I am going to need you to put this blindfold on whilst I drive us there" With a grin on your face and your hand offering a silk blue blindfold to your incredibly confused but handsome husband.

Cautiously Steve reaches for the blindfold and puts it on, he would trust you with his life so why not trust you with a small surprise.

After driving for 15 minutes or so, Steve feels the car stop and turn off.

"Wait one second" You say before he hears you open your door.

Bubbling with excitement you quickly discard of your t-shirt, place some kitten heels on and apply a sultry shade of red on your lips before throwing anything you don't need in the trunk.

Walking over to Steve's side of the car, you calm your nerves slightly with a deep breathe. Opening the passenger door, you take a hold of Steve's hand and carefully guide him towards the entrance of the hall.

Sounds of Moonlight Serenade songs fill his ears as he enters, still completely oblivious to his partner's scheme. He notices that it is far warmer in this area and that he can smell a mix of perfume and whiskey.

"Okay baby, when I count to 3, you can take off your blindfold" You finally say.

"1"

"2"

"3"

As Steve removes the silk blocking his vision and is immediately hit with a feeling of nostalgia. The hall looked like something out of his memories; men and women dressed in 40s fashion dancing the night away, a small band playing all the most popular songs from the decade he yearned for, men who reminded him of Bucky trying to pick up girls at the bar.

Steve thought that he was blown away until he saw his Y/N. The person who made life worth living, who made everything seem light again. There they stood, looking like they had just walked off the silver screen from an old movie. Steve never really believed that he could live such a happy life but somewhere along the way, he must have done something right because now he is married to an angel.

Walking up to you, he placed his hands on your waist and looked deep into your eyes. Drowning in Steve's ocean blue eyes was a favourite past-time of yours but this felt more than that.

"I noticed you have been a bit down since you gave up the shield and I couldn't see you frown anymore." You whisper quietly as if you were nervous that this plan wouldn't work.

"I know I say it constantly but I love you, Y/N Rogers. Your kindness, your care, your effortless beauty, you." Steve recited, filling every word with pure love and appreciation. "Sometimes I think that I am no one if I am not Captain America or I don't belong in this world but you. You, Y/N, you made me realise that you are my home, not the past. You are the only one I need in this life-time or any other life-time because you taught me who I am beyond the shield."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you hang off his every word.

"This dance is amazing but what makes me happy is that I get to spend tonight and every night with my soulmate" Steve takes a step back and extends his hand. "So, may I have this dance my darling?"

Reaching for his hand, you make your way onto the dance floor amongst the other couples. As the song dies down, Stella by Frank Sinatra starts filling the hall with a romantic atmosphere and you feel Steve place his hand on your hip before placing another in your hand. This was truly a night to remember.

As you sway with your husband, you let your eyes wander to the other dancing couples and near the centre of the dance floor, you spot Dorothy and William smiling and swaying like teenagers again.

All you can do is hope that you and Steve will be dancing together when you are old and grey.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (7/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: NSFW (at end of chapter)

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, sexual content (consensual)

Word Count: 3715

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: No notes really. Sorry for the wait.

Enjoy

***

Mother & Father,

(y/n) and I will be continuing our honeymoon for at least an extra week. We will be traveling outside of Paris. I will send an owl once we are settled in the hotel.

Walburga stares down at the letter. 

Cold shock fills her at her new daughter-in-law willingly is staying past the allotted time Regulus had planned for the couple's honeymoon. 

Walburga thought them to be so indifferent about one another that they would have arrived home days earlier than planned, not extend their time alone together.

Hopefully, though, this meant the next heir of the House of Black would be on the way.

Part of her knows her son will continue to be stubborn, casting those infernal charms. Walburga didn't understand why her son insisted on-- engaging with his wife if he was just going to waste the attempt with a literal flick of his wand. The way he ignored his duties to his birthright was infuriating. She had thought she had raised this son to honor his pure blood and pedigree. To never ignore the responsibilities he had to his family.

Walburga glares at her husband. Blasted Orion had been the one to teach Regulus the contraceptive charm. Although she is glad no bastard children are running around, something she knew Regulus was aware could not happen, she wasn't happy that her golden boy is presently defying her wishes. If Orion hadn't insisted on taking her son to his-- whores, they wouldn't be in this position. Regulus shouldn't have been exposed to those dirty blood, good for nothing tarts. 

Tainting one's flesh was as good as tainting one's blood, in Walburga's mind. Not that she'd express her thoughts to anyone of their status. Men of Pureblood never seemed to view things of this matter as she did.

She knew this from experience.

Walburga sets the letter down on the breakfast table, "Regulus and (y/n) will be extending their-- holiday for another week yet."

"Is that right?" Orion says absentmindedly, continuing to scan the Prophet. She can tell he isn't listening to a word she says. Even after all these years, Orion's inattentiveness still boils her blood to an extent. You would think one would get used to being ignored, especially after all the years she has had to get used to it.

"I wonder where he will be taking our daughter-in-law."

"Yes, very weird."

Walburga's expression sours-- further. She snatches up the letter from Regulus and storms out of the breakfast room without another word.

***

I bustle around the room when Regulus is away, posting another letter. The afternoon and night before had been nice, to say the least. Regulus had been sweet, almost affectionate, the entire time we spent together. It was a big change in a short amount of time, which worried me a bit. Hopefully, he wouldn't revert back to his old ways in the next few days. Merlin-- I hope he won't at all.

I rearranged the bed pillows for the sixth time, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.

The door's key noise disturbs my thoughts as Regulus steps into the room.

"Hi," I rub my hands down the front of my dress.

We stare awkwardly at one another for a moment before he speaks.

"I've been thinking about traveling outside of Paris. Would you be interested in extending our-- honeymoon?" 

I'm taken aback by his sudden choice in conversation, "Where outside of Paris?"

"We can go wherever you please," he holds my hand, pulling me closer to his chest. This is the closest we've been since before he committed to trying our relationship out.

I clear my throat, "I-- guess that I'm just not really picky about where we go."

He smiles, "Well, then I guess you'll just have to trust that the places I want to go are places you want to go."

***

Together we pack up our belongings, casually swapping small talk.

"Do you want to write to your parents?" Regulus looks up from packing his trunk. "I mean, you haven't seen them since the wedding."

"What?" I give him a weird look, "No. I don't have anything to say to them."

Regulus looks slightly alarmed, "What do you mean?" 

"No offense to you, but my parents practically forced me to marry you. I'm not too keen on speaking with them right now."

"You shouldn't just-- I mean, they're your parents."

"Doesn't mean what they did wasn't insensitive. I wasn't theirs to just... give away."

He reflects on my words before taking my hand in his, squeezing comfortingly, "Sorry."

"For what? I know you were coerced into marrying me. It's not your fault."

"I know that. And at some level, I was pushed towards-- doing the right thing-- but I also had the right to refuse, and you were not granted such a right."

I nod, looking away as tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, "It doesn't matter--"

"No, it does matter. You do matter." I meet his eyes. They're steely, the furrowed brow and sour expression I know are not for me. "Don't you see why I use the bloody contraception charms now? They've taken too much from us already (y/n). They're not going to take that away from us as well."

I blink again, "That's why?"

"Of course it's why. We're not-- we're people for Merlin's sake. You're not property (y/n). I won't let anyone treat my wife like that." I'm not sure what to say to him. Thank you? Maybe that would be appropriate. "Besides, we're too young to think of such things. Maybe in ten years--"

"Ten years?" I laugh, "you really think I can keep them at bay for ten whole years? Your mother would be calling in every fertility specialist in the wizarding world, insistent that something must be wrong with me. Certainly, she wouldn't believe the problem was you."

Regulus sighs, "Okay, fine. Not ten years, maybe-- five?"

"Regulus," I laugh, "I know you don't like it. I am completely aware that you don't like being pushed around and knowing that I feel bad for trying to trick you into doing what I wish. But, like you said earlier. You can refuse, do as you please, but I only have one option laid out before me as your wife. And, I can't wait forever for you. I don't have that option. In a much wider social stance, people will talk and make my life miserable. Along with that, your mother and my own will also make my life miserable. There's nothing I'd like to do more than to-- take time for us, or even just me, but that just isn't the life we can lead."

Regulus looks down at his packing. I have to change the subject, feeling that we've exhausted this conversation enough for now.

"Who are you sending letters to?" 

Regulus looks up, "Well, the first one was for my brother, and the one this morning was for my parents."

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking to your brother." I'm suddenly reminded that Regulus hadn't answered my questions.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you now to tell me about your childhood now?"

Regulus looks uncomfortable immediately. He rubs the back of his neck, "Um-- Sure."

I reach for his arm, hoping that my touch is just a little bit comforting, "You don't have to, Regulus. If you don't want to."

"No," his eyes look so... serious as he collects his thoughts, "I want to be honest with you, and this is a part of who I am." I smile at him, my fingers moving to intertwine with his. "My parents are-- well, they clearly are in a situation like ours. Except it has been a very long time now, and nothing good came from the union."

"Well, not exactly nothing," I squeeze his hand.

Regulus rolls his eyes, "I'm not sure Sirius and I are something good, but okay, yes. Not everything was bad if you insist." His reserved smile has butterflies exploding in my stomach. "Anyways, my father has always chosen to be... well, he's always strayed from my mother. Even when I was a child, I'm sure he chose to be unfaithful even before Sirius and I. And-- uh..."

"What?" I'm not sure I want to know. He's developed a pink flush on his cheeks, not meeting my eye suddenly.

"Well, I was just going to-- confess, I suppose, about his favorite whorehouse."

Frowning, I ask what he means by confessing? What in the world is the connection between Orion's favorite whorehouse and Regulus.

It dawns on me exactly what he's confessing to, right as he speaks.

Regulus reddens further, "I'm sure you understand where I am going..."

I guess I have no reason to be upset over Regulus's past trysts. He was older than me, and most importantly, he was a pureblood man who was expected to... well, act as a pureblood man acts. And that included sleeping around as a bachelor, or in the Black family's case, sleeping with a select group of people their patriarch has chosen.

"Orion thought that we should uh-- learn in preparation for our marriages. Get out any wildness in our systems with the protection of women who were paid and wouldn't try to blackmail with a bastard child." 

I feel the cold glacial feeling of guilt rise up from the pit of my stomach all the way to my skin. Had I been-- Had I been causing him to relive a painful moment when I demanded--?

"And well, there are plenty of other things that were-- questionable about my parent's parenting style. My mother, you probably recognize she is a cruel, cold woman. A part of our recently exchanged letters, my brother and I were talking about a memory of our mother. Before she was the woman, you know, she was, well, a much more loving mother to the both of us. You actually were the one who brought forth the memory."

"I did?"

Regulus nods, reaching to cup my cheek in his hand, "It was the night we went to that-- the restaurant my father suggested. You said something about-- uh, a potential child giving you the love you seek from me."

I look away, feeling embarrassed by my words. To some extent, I do-- or did believe that having Regulus's heir, that a child's love could replace the feelings that should be between us as a couple.

"I--" I'm not even sure what to say. "That was wrong of me. I mean, eventually, it has to happen but pushing you-- or well attempting to trick you actually, because I thought..." What did I think? That he was hopeless? That I'd be stuck in a marriage that would parallel his parents and every other miserable Pureblood couple that has come before us.

"You have to remember that I am far from-- where you want me to be." Regulus's thumb traces under my eye, "But I certain I want what you've been asking me for."

***

Our packing takes longer than we'd expected as we spend more moments in conversation about our pasts, present, and hopeful future.

Regulus tells me about his first owl, a little brown owl originally named Maverick but nicknamed Rick because Regulus hadn't been able to pronounce it at age six. He tells me about family vacations that ended in disaster and his first date with a half-blood girl in year four that went terribly wrong. He reluctantly tells me about losing his virginity after I argue he already knew my story. With each moment, I feel more connected to him. How you feel at the beginning of the relationship when you're getting to know someone, the silly stuff that matters because you want to know them.

Checking out of the hotel is a bit-- strange, to say the least. As my husband talks to the witch at the front desk, who introduced herself to me as Seren, has been grinning an extra amount at Regulus, who appears to be oblivious to the flirtatious nature of the girl.

I'm surprised by the annoyance I feel as she flirts with my husband right in front of me. Without a second thought, I reach for his hand. I make sure that the ring Regulus gave me is obviously placed as I look Seren straight in the eye. Her eyes fall on the large purple jewel before her eyes shoot back up to mine. She at least has the decency to look embarrassed, her cheeks pinkening. Regulus frowns slightly at the interaction before going back to paying the witch.

I can't say that I'm not glad when we officially check out and walk out of the door. The jealousy is alarming, but what am I supposed to do when someone is ogling my husband? 

"I'm not completely oblivious, you know." Regulus glances at me, a small amused smile on his face.

"To what? The girl flirting with you?"

He chuckles, "That and your possessive behavior."

I look at him outraged, "I was not possessive."

He holds up my hand, "What was this about then? You casually wanted to hold my hand?"

"So what if I did?" 

Regulus rolls his eyes, "If that's what you really believe you were doing and not claiming me--"

"Claiming you?" I snatch my hand away.

"What else are you doing when you're showing off that ring?"

"I'm hardly claiming you. She was just-- too comfortable for my liking."

Regulus makes a sound in the back of his throat, "If you say so."

I bite the inside of my cheek, "Why didn't you do anything?"

He tries to hide a smile, "I hardly was indulging her."

"You didn't tell her to--" fuck off.

"I guarantee you, my dear wife, I have been deflecting her attempts all week." Oh, so maybe this wasn't exactly Regulus's fault... completely.

"You have?"

He stops me on the sidewalk, "Yes, of course. Do you really think I would flirt with another woman? Especially now?"

I shrug, "I guess-- no. I don't think you'd do that."

He shakes his head, "Of course I wouldn't."

***

I hold (y/n) tight against my chest as I apparate us to our new destination, remembering how she reacted the last time we apparated. 

The moment we're safely on the ground, I continue to hold her, asking quietly if she's okay in a hushed tone. (y/n) nods, her fingers gripping the sleeve of my coat.

For a second, I contemplate pressing a kiss to her temple as I rub my hand up and down her back, but I stop myself before I go through with the reaction. Even with the small progress we've made, it feels too intimate, even as a gesture of comfort. 

"Tell me when you're ready," I whisper.

Slowly, (y/n) pulls away from my embrace, (y/e/c) eyes opening hesitantly.

"I really don't like it." She says hesitantly.

"I can tell." We stand still for another beat before she confirms she is in better shape.

"Where are we?"

"Cork, Ireland." 

Her eyes widen with curiosity, "Really? I've never been. Dad's been a few times, but obviously, with school and other things, I hadn't had the chance to successfully convince him to take me with."

"So there were places you wished to visit." I can't help but tease her as she prattles on about the things her father has told her about the city we're visiting.

"Of course, but you spring things on me too quickly. I can never recall things when I've been surprised."

I chuckle, "Fair enough. We should check in soon; it's nearly ten. Whoever's running the front desk won't be happy we've arrived so late."

***

By the time we've checked in and opened the door to the suite, it's nearing ten-thirty. 

(y/n) takes a quick peek around the room before turning back towards me, "I suppose we should unpack--"

I don't let her finish the statement as I take two large steps towards her, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her soundly on the mouth. She makes a sound of surprise but doesn't pull away or smack me or something she ought to do, really. I'm not even sure where this need to kiss her came from. Maybe the way the soft light of the dimmed bedroom lights landed across her person, making her picturesque, ethereal even.

All I do know is that I must have her this instant. Must feel her soft skin under my fingers, feel her silken warmth as we move together atop the sheets of the hotel bed.

I have to have her, and I can only hope she feels the same way.

Tentatively, I run my hand down her spine, fiddling with the ridiculous amount of buttons that I could easily open with the flick of my wand. Something about the thought of painstakingly unbuttoning each individual button was incredibly erotic.

"I can never seem to control myself when you're around," I whisper as I kiss below her jaw. The way she seems to melt under the words has me smiling against her neck as I continue to kiss down to her exposed collarbone. These damn dresses she wears always showed off just enough cleavage to draw my eyes towards the neckline. "Do you wear these dresses on purpose? Torturing me all day, having to see only the tops of your breasts." Her breath hitches, egging me on. "Do you like it when I talk about your body like that? Like the way, just the sight of some of your naked flesh has me turned on? Hm?"

"Regulus--" My name comes from her lips like a prayer. 

"Tell me what you want." My hands worship her body, squeezing her covered tits. I would do anything to get this blasted dress off of her.

"I-- I want you."

"Want me to do what? Use your words, kitten."

Her lips, red and abused, open and close attractively once or twice before she finds her words, "I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck you? You want my cock, huh? Is that it? In any way that I'll give it to you?"

She blinks, a bit confused, but nods. I can't believe I've rendered my wife so speechless, so cock-hungry she can barely articulate what she wants.

"Let's get this off then," I tug at the neckline of her dress, "turn around, kitten." She quickly obeys, and I get to work on the buttons, finding I can release her from her dress easier than I had previously imagined. 

The fabric hits the floor as I gaze at her naked back, "turn back around. Think you've teased me enough. I want to see those tits."

Slowly, she faces me once again.

"I think I wanna fuck these," I say as I reacquaint myself with the feeling of her breasts in my hands.

"You want to-- what?" I often forget that my wife's sexual experience starts and ends with what we've done. She's looking at me like I've said something odd.

"You want me to show you? I think you'd look lovely with my cock between your breasts." I discard my pants, shirt, and jacket, pulling her towards the bed, lightly guiding her down to the floor as I sit.

"What about fucking me?" She frowns up at me.

I chuckle at her indignant frown, "Don't worry, darling. I plan on cumming inside of you. Now, push your tits together nice and tight around me. There we go."

Hesitantly, she does as I say. The sight alone has me twitching. 

Gently, I thrust up. If I thought the view before was good, seeing her innocent face watch as I seek pleasure from a new place on her body. She's radiant, on her knees, watching my cock disappear and reappear. 

"Do you like that, darling? Like watching?"

Her eyes flit up to meet mine, "Yes." It takes nearly everything within me not to cum on the spot. Merlin, what was this girl doing to me?

"Do you want me to fuck you, kitten?" I hold her chin, so she has to look at me.

"Obviously." There's that attitude I expect. Chuckling, I pull her from her knees, maneuvering her on her back.

"So impatient. Just itching to feel me deep inside ya, huh?" She nods, "words, darling."

"Yes, please."

The first inches feel like coming home. She makes those breathy noises I love, pleading with me for more, to give her everything and anything I can. 

It's a symphony in the room, the headboard of the old creaky bed knocking against the wallpapered wall, the noises (y/n) makes every time she moves her hips against mine... There's no doubt that we're alerting the rest of the occupants exactly what we're doing in room twelve. 

This thought stirs something inside of me. Clumsily, my fingers find her clit hoping to get her exactly where I'm at.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop--" her voice is utterly fucked as she practically chants these words.

"Cum for me, kitten. Don't hold back." Merlin-- please don't hold back.

If our neighbors weren't aware of the little-- musical act happening in our room, they were now. (y/n) writhes beneath me, fingernails digging into the small of my back.

"Fuck--" I don't hold back as she clenches down hard. 

Was it ever this good with someone else? I can't think of a single woman who makes me cum as hard as I do with (y/n).

As the weaker aftershocks continue to rack my body, I lay down next to her, pulling her into my embrace. I reach for my wand in my discarded jacket, silently casting the charm.

(y/n) looks like she wants to say something, but I stop her, kissing her forehead.

"I promise, someday. But not today." (y/n) doesn't say anything but nods as she gets more comfortable in my arms. "You know, this is the first time we've done this."

"What do you mean?" (y/n) laughs, "we've done this a few times now."

"Not that. I mean, usually, one of us runs off after we've done that. This is the first time you're voluntarily in my arms."

(y/n) makes a soft noise of agreement, "That's true."

I smile. This was progress.

[bts-reveries]

wishlist

characters: Yoongi x OC!Sohyun and Hana [ft. Yuna and Hoseok, mentions Huimang, Hana’s friends, and Taehyung(the group as well)]

genre: family and fluff

request: [anon] Hi there! My suggestion for the drabble series is maybe Hana puts down getting a baby brother/sister on her birthday wish list, and neither she nor Yoongi knows that Sohyun is already pregnant, so Sohyun gets to surprise her husband and daughter? 💛

a/n: hana is turning eight here (WEIRD.) i know it’s a big age gap, but she turned four in daddy diaries and she was seven by the end of the tmbmil series asdfghjkl this is assuming jungkook and rina got married right after taeyang was born and yoongi proposed right after their wedding and then got married in a few months and then hana’s birthday rolls around after and sohyun is already pregnant by then : D also my sister and i are seven years apart so it’s not tHaT bad~

➳➳➳➳➳➳➳

Hana’s birthday was nearing and it was always a special time for the couple. 

Not only is it almost their daughter’s special day, but also the anniversary of the first time they met and the anniversary of the bakery’s opening. 

Hana was only three when she came crashing into the grand opening of 24/7 Heaven, meeting Sohyun for the very first time. She was looking for the perfect birthday cake then. Now, four years later, the bakery owner became Hana’s mom and the wife of her dad. Yoongi and Sohyun got married not too long ago. 

He proposed to her in the most perfect way actually.

A cake, made by him and Hana, with the words ‘will you marry me’ written on top. 

So it was a special time. It’s their first meet-aversary as a married couple. The bakery was having an event for it’s fourth birthday. And of course, it was the start of getting Hana’s wishlist checked off.

As always, she had the general wishes.

As she got older, they started to change more and more. 

“Have you done your list yet?” Yoongi asks his daughter, peeking into her room. Hana scrambles out of her bed, where she was reading a book, and goes over to her desk.

“I finished it last night, I forgot to give it to you,” she said, pulling out the list from under her other books. “Here you go daddy. Do you and mommy need any help for the bakery’s fourth birthday by the way?” Yoongi was happy to know that as she grew up, she got sweeter and sweeter. 

Maybe it’s the effects of being in a bakery almost 24/7.

“Yes, mommy and I will need help later, but we’ll call you out then. For now, mommy and I will be looking at this,” he says, holding the list up. Hana smiles up at her dad, giving him an ‘okay’ sign. 

Yoongi turns and walks out the door, already scanning the list. 

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Sohyun asks her husband, watching him frown at Hana’s wishlist. Sohyun was on her laptop on the couch, ordering last minute party supplies for Hana’s birthday.

“She wants to invite boys from her class,” Yoongi says, looking up at his wife who starts to laugh at him. 

“Let me see,” she says, reaching out her hand for the paper. Yoongi hands it to her as he sits next to her. 

“It says: invite friends.” She turns to Yoongi with one eyebrow raised. “It didn’t specify whether it was all girls, all boys, or both.”

“Assuming it’s both, I’m sure her boyfriend is in there. She wouldn’t just write ‘invite Taeoh’,” he huffs. 

“Even if it did, you’d still invite him because it’s on your princess’ wishlist,” Sohyun says, knowing she was right. 

“I guess. Let’s look through it and see if we can get some done today. I’ll ask her for the names and make the invitations later.”

“Sounds good. Now let’s see,” Sohyun says, humming as she goes down the list. “Typical Hana, a lot of this is her general wishes. Party, perfect cake, all her friends and family~”

“There’s a back side!” Hana yells from her room. Both her parents look up, turning the paper around and their eyes widen. 

“Baby brother (or sister! That’s okay too)” 

“Hmm,” Yoongi says. “Well that’s a hard one.” Sohyun laughs nervously.

Little did they know.

That’s already one check done off of the list. 

It wasn’t too long ago that Sohyun found out that she was expecting. She figured that it would be perfect to announce it to both Yoongi and Hana on the night of her birthday. Once everyone’s gone and right when Hana thinks the presents have stopped coming.

- hana’s birthday -

“Is that the kid?” Hoseok asks, watching a little boy hand Hana a gift. Yoongi glares at them.

“Mhm,” he says. 

“Thank you Taeoh,” Hana says, taking the gift her friend was giving her. Boyfriend as Yoongi says. 

Hoseok laughs at his hyung, but that smile quickly drops when he sees his own daughter standing next to her boyfriend. Huimang and Hana take taekwondo together and share the same friends. Which is why her ‘boyfriend’ was also at Hana’s party. 

“You boys okay?” Sohyun asks, raising an eyebrow at the two. They both look away from their daughters. 

“Fine, why do you ask?” Yoongi says, giving her a close lip smile. Sohyun laughs at the both of them, turning to look at their daughters.

“They’re just kids, don’t worry,” she says. “It’s just a baby crush.”

“Speaking of babies,” Hoseok says, suddenly remembering what Yoongi had told the boys previously. He mentioned to them about Hana’s birthday wishlist. About how this might be the first year he fails giving her everything. 

Well, until the boys reminded him that four years ago when Hana wrote mommy on her list and he ended up breaking up with Sohyun.

That was something.

“What are you two telling Hana,” Hoseok says with a small laugh. “Should’ve told her to give you the wishlist 9 months ago.”

Yoongi sighs. “I know, I should’ve expected it. She’s been asking for one for so long.”

“I’m sure she’ll be understanding,” Sohyun says, trying hard to conceal her smile. She was pretty excited for the party to be over so she can spend some quality time with her family.

-

“Hey!” Yuna calls, rushing over to Sohyun and giving her a hug. “You’re telling them today, right?” She whispers, glancing down at her stomach. Yuna knew about Sohyun being pregnant.

Actually, all the girls did.

Only because Sohyun threw up at their mommy hangout and the girls had a feeling and told her to take a pregnancy test. 

It was Sohyun’s first test and she was nervous. So of course the girls all helped her out and taught her how to use one. It ended with all of them screaming three minutes later and Sohyun sobbing with tears of joy.

“Yes, tonight right before her birthday ends,” Sohyun answers. “I’m like 95% excited and 5% nervous.”

“Ah!! I’m so excited, tell us everything after,” Yuna says, holding onto Sohyun's arms tightly. Sohyun laughs, nodding her head.

“I will, definitely.”

-

“So, did you enjoy your birthday?” Yoongi asks Hana, laying in her bed. No matter how old she turns, Yoongi promised to give her birthday cuddles before she slept. Hana cuddles into her dad’s side. 

“Yeah, it was fun,” Hana says sleepily. It was nearing midnight, just about 10 minutes before. The group had stayed longer than everyone else (of course). Hana played with her cousins and was given extra hugs and kisses from her aunt and uncles before they left. Even Taehyung was crying, not wanting to let her go because, in his exact words: ‘Aigoo, you guys growing up is making me feel so old, I'm so sad. How are you already eight?’

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to check off everything on your list,” Yoongi tells her, rubbing her arm. He hugged her tightly, pressing his cheek to her head. As much as he just wanted to fulfill all of her wishes, he wanted Hana to have a sibling as much as she wanted one. 

“It’s okay, I still loved everything you gave me. I’d be happy with anything,” Hana tells him, looking up at her dad with a smile on her face. Yoongi pouts, raising his hand up to caress her cheeks. 

“How are you the sweetest girl ever?”

“Knock knock,” Sohyun says, peeking her head into the room. “Can I join?” The two smile up at her, motioning for her to come in. Sohyun reveals herself,  holding a cupcake with a lit candle on top. 

“Oh?” Hana says, sitting up in surprise. She smiles widely as she stares at the cupcake. 

“Another candle to blow?” Yoongi asks. His wife nods, careful sitting beside her daughter. 

“Your birthday ends in like 5 minutes. Is there one thing you really wanted today that you didn’t get?” Sohyun asks Hana. She knew what wish she would make. Hana looks up at her and nods. 

“Okay make the wish then,” Sohyun says. Hana closes her eyes, intertwining her fingers in front of her.

She whispers quietly.

“I wish I could have a little brother or sister.”

It was just loud enough for her parents to hear. Yoongi looks up at Sohyun as Hana blows the candle. 

“Done?” Sohyun asks. Hana nods and Sohyun puts the cupcake on her side table, turning back to her two loves. 

“So that completes everything from the list right?” Sohyun says, looking back at the two. Both Yoongi and Hana looked at her confused. 

“Oh didn’t I tell you two?” Sohyun says with a smile that she could no longer contain. “I’m pregnant.”

Yoongi’s eyes grew big and Hana smiled so wide, her cheeks turned pink. 

“Mommy you’re pregnant?” Hana repeats, putting her hand gently on her mom’s tummy. Sohyun nods, putting her hand over hers. She looks up at Yoongi and laughs.

“Are you okay, hun?” She says, reaching out and pushing his hair back. 

Yoongi’s face broke into a smile.

“Are you serious? Are you really pregnant?” Yoongi asks, hesitantly putting his hand on her tummy as well. 

“Yeah, I found out about three weeks ago,” Sohyun laughs. “I figured I’d surprise you two before midnight.” 

“You did it, you completed my wishes,” Hana laughs, leaning onto her mom and hugging her tightly. Yoongi couldn’t stop smiling as he joined in the hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his two girls. 

At that moment, the clock struck 12 and Hana’s birthday was over. 

They couldn’t help but think that at this time, next year, there'll be another person included in this hug. 

[songbirdsingingthings]

Girls Day - Shoto Todoroki

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Work for you this week was grueling to say the least. Your agency had assigned you to lead a coalition of heroes to take down a group of villains holding hostages, which for you was no problem. What was a problem, however, was the fact that some of the heroes in your group got sloppy which led to some of the hostages getting injured. Thankfully none of the injuries led to fatalities, but a couple came pretty close. This stuck you working in your office for four days straight writing up paperwork and detailing exactly how everything happened. You knew you had no fault in this, and so did your superiors, but you were technically responsible for those who did make mistakes. 

After you finally finished dotting the last i and crossing the last t, you scanned and faxed the documents over to your higher ups, stuffed any necessary paperwork that involved other agendas into your work bag, and finally, finally, turned off your laptop. You took a deep breath and ran a hand through your hair, but stopped halfway when you got a call on your cell. You see your good friend, Ochaco Uraraka, soon to be Ochaco Midoriya, is the contact listed as calling. 

“Hey Ochaco, what’s up?” You asked, fatigue clear in your voice.

“Hey Y/N! Nothing much, I was just wondering if you were free tomorrow! I was thinking of having a girls day - you, me, Momo, Tsu, Mina, Jirou, and Hagakure! You in?” Relishing in the idea of a relaxing day off, a smile spreads across your face.

“Hell yeah I’m in. Where are we all meeting?” You say as you simultaneously begin to shut off the lights in your office.

“Well, those new outlet malls just opened up, I was thinking of heading there! There’s sure to be a lot of cute things, maybe you could get something for a date night with Todoroki!” You blushed lightly as she mentioned your boyfriend’s name and rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, well, we both have to have time off for a date night to happen in the first place. You know both of us well enough to know that we’re workaholics.” You joke. It was true to an extent, though. Both you and Shoto were busy people whose work schedules, more often than not, didn’t line up. The two of you made it clear to each other when the relationship started that you couldn’t really get mad at eachother for occasionally canceling dates or having dinner late. The life of a hero was tough and erratic - you couldn’t really count on when a villain was going to strike.

“If Shoto Todoroki sees you wanting to have a date night, he’s going to make it happen. Add a fancy outfit to that? Girl, you’re set.” You laugh at Ochaco’s statement and lock your door, making your way to the elevator. You give parting smiles to the people still working at the desks on the main floor and a quiet wave to your receptionist. You continue to chat with Ochaco about fun ideas for the day tomorrow like where to eat, if you were going to get your nails done, and maybe heading to the brand new spa. 

“Oh, that just sounds like heaven. I’ve been dying to get a massage - I’ve been stuck at my desk for the past few days and my shoulders are absolutely killing me.” You open the big glass doors that belong to your agency, finally making your way outside to where a certain red-and-white haired man stood waiting with a bouquet of (your favorite flower). Your face immediately softens and you give him a giddy smile. “Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back. I can’t wait for tomorrow!” You and Ochaco say goodbye and you hang up. 

“Who was that?” Shoto asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Ochaco,” you respond as you stuff your phone into your coat pocket, “the girls and I are going out for a girls day tomorrow.” you announce happily, leaning into Shoto to give him a quick kiss. You trade your bag for the flowers, at his insistence, and take his free hand in yours.

“That’ll be nice - you deserve a nice day out.” Shoto says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You hum in response and smell the flowers, sighing at its aroma.

“What about you? Do you have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but it’s a short day for me,” he says, “just finalizing some recruitments for internships.” You smile at his words.

“It’s so great that you're doing that Sho,” you say, “I remember how happy I was when I got to go intern for Hawks. I probably didn’t stop smiling for weeks.” Shoto chuckles at that.

“Yeah I remember. You were practically buzzing with excitement.” Recollection of another memory crosses his mind which makes him laugh harder.

“What?” You say, grinning.

“I remember you calling me and telling me how Tokoyami basically had to shut you up because Hawks was too nice to tell you to stop talking when you were on a mission.” At this point he was cackling. You laugh with him and swat him with the flowers causing some petals to fall away. 

“Ugh that was so embarrassing,” you say, watching Shoto wipe a tear that had escaped as he was laughing, “the hue of my face was practically identical to your red hair.

The drive back to your shared apartment was full of laughter and more memories from your time at UA. When Shoto finally confessed, when your relationship became official, and all the silly moments in between. You finally arrive home and the two of you decide to have leftovers for dinner and watch a movie on the couch. You were so perfectly happy at this moment. You and your boyfriend, unwinding at the end of the day. The fact that you were so comfortable with living with each other now that you could be slouched on your couch, eating leftovers right out of the tupperware, and watching a stupid rom com on T.V. . 

Finally it was time to go to bed. Your eyes were already shut by the time Shoto finished washing up and you feel the dip in the mattress beside you. It was quiet as you were wrapped in his arms. Well, quiet until Shoto nudged your shoulder with his chin.

“Take my credit card when you go out tomorrow.” He says quietly, pressing a kiss against the back of your neck.

“Shoto Todoroki, I will do no such thing.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

“Please?” He asks quietly, making you melt a little, “I want tomorrow to be completely relaxing. I know you credit yourself as a smart shopper, but I want you to just spend whatever you want on anything you want.” He says as he nuzzles you.

“Sho, I make almost as much as you - I can go shopping with my own card.” You respond. However, his next few words make you agree rather quickly to using his.

“The one I’m giving you is tied to my father’s bank account.”

“...Okay deal.”

By the time you wake up the following morning, Shoto is already gone. You stretch your arms and back and groan. You push the stray hair in front of your face behind your ear and see a little note next to a danish and a silver credit card.

“Breakfast for you, my love. Have a great day. Also, I booked a reservation at that fancy restaurant in town that you like for 7:30 p.m. . Go crazy with the card, my father won’t even notice. Love, your Shoto.”

Your heart always flutters when he writes you letters and signs them with “your Shoto”. It’s a sweet affirmation that you have his heart. You nibble on the danish as you scroll through messages on your phone, the most recent ones from Ochaco and the girls.

Mina: We’re meeting at the outlets at 11:00 a.m. right?

Ochaco: Yup! Get excited!

You eventually roll out of bed and stroll into your closet, looking at the array of clothes hanging up. You decide on a casual yet chic outfit and get dressed. You grab the coffee waiting for you on the counter in the kitchen, yet another gift from shoto, stuff Endeavor’s credit card into your purse, and make your way to the outlets by taxi. When you finally get there, you see that the whole group is there. You thank and pay the driver quickly and rush out to meet up with your friends.

“Y/N!” they all say, giving you a big hug.

“Hey guys! Wow, it’s so great to see all of you here together - I can’t remember the last time we all met up!” You say, grinning. As a group you all make your way into the mall, stopping by some high end boutiques and designer stores.

“How’s the fiance?” You ask Ochaco, wiggling your eyebrows. She gives you a smile as she looks through some of the skirts hanging on the rack next to her.

“Oh, Izuku’s great. Couldn’t be more excited about the wedding, if I’m honest.” She says giggling. The two of you talk about the wedding planning and everything for a bit, listening to Ochaco gush about how involved Izuku is with the process.

“What about you Y/N? Any wedding bells in your future?” Mina says, popping into the conversation. You blush and try to make yourself look busy by inspecting the hem on a shirt very carefully.

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, Shoto and I are going super well right now, it’s just that the both of us are so busy. I always thought that we would get married but I don’t really know about how he feels about it.” The girls quirk their eyebrows at this, confused as to how the two of you hadn’t had a conversation about that yet. Quickly, you clear everything up. “I just don’t want him to think of his parents’ predicament - I mean that was his first view on marriage, and I know that he knows that that’s not how marriage works, but I feel like it might be a touchy subject.” The girls nod and give you reassuring smiles.

“Oh Y/N, you have got to try the dress on. I mean, it’s made for you.” You hear Momo say. You follow her gaze to a mannequin and couldn’t even try to hold back the gasp that left your mouth. It truly was beautiful. The dress was navy in color and was clearly made of an expensive material. The sleeves, which were long sleeves, were also sheer and dotted with small pearls. On the mannequin as well were matching shoes and a bag. You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. It was so expensive, in fact, that you had to ask the store manager directly to go into the back and grab you your size so that you could try it on. You had to say, when you put that dress on, you felt like a million bucks. Momo was right, it really was made for you. Sliding the curtain back so that the rest of the girls could see, you didn’t even try to hide your smile as you saw the girls’ reactions.

“Y/N L/N, if you weren’t already taken I would pounce on you myself.” Mina says, making you laugh. You get similar compliments from the rest of the girls, making you smile, and taking the dress and the accessories up to the register. The woman there kindly wraps the dress, shoes, and bag carefully in tissue paper and places the three items into a pretty shopping bag. You had fun during the rest of the day, eating lunch, getting a mani-pedi, and a massage, but you couldn’t contain your excitement at the thought of wearing that dress to yours and Shoto’s dinner date that evening.

After your busy day of shopping, you immediately run home to shower. You had about an hour to wash your hair and body, making sure to shave your legs so that you looked totally put together that evening. You manage to do your hair in your favorite formal style, slip on your dress and shoes, and swing the small matching bag over your shoulder. You put on a tiny bit of make-up, just a light coat of mascara and a sheer layer of lip gloss. You look at yourself in the mirror and almost explode. You even had to admit it to yourself. You. Looked. HOT.

You finally make your way to the restaurant and ask the hostess at the front to direct you to your table. She led you to where Shoto was sitting, looking at the menu. As soon as he registers people coming towards him, he looks up but almost chokes. Seeing you in that dress almost made his eyes pop out of his head. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he mindlessly thanked the hostess and watched you sit down across from him. Smirking, you gently wave a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Shoto! Is someone in there?” You said, giggling softly. The only thing Shoto could say was something that he had been thinking about for the past two years non-stop. With no filter and no reason to stop himself, he made that thought known.

“You wanna get married?”

[flightlessangelwings]

The Interlude: A Marcus Pike Love Story

Chapter 1/7 (complete, more in masterlist, story also tagged)

Marcus Pike x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/warnings: none right now really, no use of y/n, reader’s bf is a douche (it’s not Marcus don’t worry), Marcus is a sweetheart, pining, romance, fluff

I was nervous about this, but @tintinwrites “gently nudged” me into writing this ;)

Marcus Pike couldn’t believe how quickly six months went by since he moved to DC for his new job. He buried himself in his work to deal with his heartbreak over Lisbon, which actually did help. It didn’t give him the time to stay stuck inside his own head and as a result, he had never been more successful in his job. Marcus didn’t even entertain the idea of going on a date or anything, and instead chose to be married to his work.

However, the case he was currently on hit a roadblock. Marcus and his team had been after a prominent art thief for weeks now and they didn’t have a single solid lead. The guy was so elusive that they didn’t even know exactly what he looked like. Somehow, the thief always managed to avoid cameras or any other type of identifier, and it frustrated the hell out of the art theft team.

But, Agent Pike had an idea. It was risky, but he felt backed into a corner and didn’t see any other options. He got in contact with a prominent local artist and got him to agree to set up a sting at his next art show. It would be too tempting for the thief to pass up, and Marcus banked on an appearance from their slippery friend at the show.

It was mid afternoon when Marcus and his team arrived at the gallery to meet with the artist and get themselves set up.

“Johnny Luna?” Marcus asked the man who stood in the middle of the room.

He turned around from the portrait he focused on and greeted the agent with a wide smile, “Agent Pike, I assume?” he extended his hand, “Nice to meet you in person.” Johnny was the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and he had a smile that lit up a room. He had a kind face and flawless skin, and Marcus found himself envious of the man at how effortlessly charming he was.

“Nice to meet you too,” he replied cheerfully, “Thank you for letting us do this. It means a lot here.”

“Happy to help,” Johnny looked around the room, “Just promise me nothing will happen to my babies.”

“We’ll have agents posted throughout the whole gallery, and we’ll stick around all night,” Marcus took note of his team in the midst of their set up, “Nothing’s gonna happen to any of your paintings. You have my word.”

Johnny was about to answer when a figure approached behind him, “Hey Johnny,” your voice broke into the conversation, “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your opinion over here real quick,” your eyes met with Marcus’ and they lit up, “I just need him for a second, I promise,” you added with a quick wink.

Marcus nodded as he watched the two of you walk towards the large painting that was the centerpiece of the collection. As he studied you, he felt something awaken within himself that he tried so hard to keep dormant. You were so beautiful, and there was just something about you that immediately pulled him in, even after just a few words. But as much as Marcus wanted to make a move, he reminded himself about what happened last time and he forced himself to refocus on his work.

“Agent Pike,” Johnny’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts, “Let me introduce you to the best event planner in DC,” he introduced you with your name and swung an arm over your shoulders as you extended your hand to the agent.

“Call me Marcus, please,” he took the opportunity to really study your face, and he couldn’t find a single thing that he didn’t like. He hoped his gaze didn’t linger too long, but he didn’t want to look away from you.

“Marcus,” you repeated his name with a wide smile. The two of you stood in silence for a moment with your hands still connected until you felt the need to talk to him more, “So what drew you to working in the art department?”

“Big fan of art I guess,” he shrugged as he reluctantly let go of your hand and suddenly felt nervous under your soft gaze, “What drew you to event planning?”

“I saw The Wedding Planner when I was young and it sparked the party planner in me,” you replied with a giggle, “Although I have to say I’m a big fan of art and history as well. Federico Andreotti is one of my favorite artists.”

Marcus’ eyes lit up, “The Interlude is one of my absolute favorites,” he felt as if he could run in every direction at once with how much life filled his veins at how perfect you were.

The smile on your face only grew and you felt your heart pound in your chest, “I love that too! Serenade is my personal favorite,” you opened your mouth to say something more but just then, a member of your staff called your attention, “Excuse me gentlemen, duty calls.” You bit your lip before you slowly turned away from the agent and got back to your work.

The two men watched you walk away, and Marcus couldn’t help the question that left his lips, “Are you two… together?” he motioned between you and Johnny and found his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Nah man, she’s my best friend. Known each other forever,” Johnny replied right away as he faced him, “You’re more my type anyway,” he added with a wink. 

Marcus chuckled at the comment, “I’m flattered, but she is more my type,” he retorted playfully. 

Johnny smiled brightly at him, “I knew it!” he laughed as he clasped his shoulder, “And honestly, I know we just met and all, but I can tell already you’d be so much better for her than Tom.” He watched your whole interaction silently, and it made an idea pop into his head. Johnny knew you well enough to know when you liked someone, and he definitely knew you liked this agent.

Marcus’ face dropped, “So she’s with someone?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, a huge douchebag if you ask me,” he scoffed. 

Clearly there was more to the story than that, but one of Marcus’ colleagues walked up then and wanted to go over some details with them. They spoke for a while, and the entire time Marcus snuck glances over at you across the room.

“One thing we have learned about this guy is he seems to take a liking to the ladies,” the other agent said, “The few images we have of him, he’s always talking to good-looking women at galas when he comes to scope it out.”

Agent Pike scanned the room and studied his team and he found himself wondering when so many men were on the art theft team. The only two women were much older, and he knew he couldn’t use them for the setup. Chatter filled the space around him as everyone put in their opinions and ideas; everyone knew that they couldn’t blow this opportunity to finally catch this guy.

“What if I help?” your voice chimed in from behind him.

Marcus jumped and turned around to face you and he wondered how long you had been standing there. “No, this is something for my team to handle. I can’t ask you to do something like that.”

“No offence Agent,” you quipped back, “But your team is kind of a sausage fest. Besides, how much risk can there be in the middle of a crowded art show with a whole FBI team here?” you were light with your words, but held firm in your stance.

Marcus turned back to his team, who all seemed to be in agreement. It was unconventional for sure, but no one saw a better option. With a sigh, he turned back to you and extended his hand once more, “You’re right. I guess you’re an honorary agent for tonight,” he used his humor to hide his nerves before he went through the plan with you and his team. You were to arrive early and wear a wire and a hidden camera while you talked to several men at the show to give them a better shot at identifying their thief. 

Once the plan was set, you left with a nod so you could get ready for the evening. Marcus felt a similar feeling in his chest as he watched you leave. Johnny stood by the door to lock it behind you and he shot Marcus a knowing smile when he turned around and caught his eye. He looked away and pretended to be occupied, but he could still feel Johnny’s gaze on him.

The afternoon flew by and before he realized what time it was, you were back at the gallery, all dressed up. Marcus stopped in his tracks when you walked through the doors in your little black dress, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You greeted Johnny before you looked around, and your face lit up when you met Marcus’ gaze.

“Wow,” he breathed out when you made your way over to him, “You look stunning,” Marcus complimented you as he felt himself get flustered. But he kept it together; he had to be extra focused now that you were involved in the sting here, “You ready?”

You nodded with a fierce determination in your eyes, “I’m ready, Agent Pike.”

Marcus felt a tightness in his chest at your bravery. Beautiful and brave, he hardly knew you but you were already a dream come true for him. And Marcus found that he wanted to do anything to get to know you more, not to mention he felt a fierce determination to keep you protected during the art show tonight. 

He pinned a small hidden camera to your dress and handed you an earpiece so he could stay in touch with you throughout the evening as he explained his plan. You were to float around and chat up men in hopes that they could get enough to successfully identify their culprit once and for all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be close by,” Marcus said in a soft voice, “I’ll watch over you.”

“I know you will Marcus,” your voice was equally as soft as you gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind.

Marcus’ fears were soon pushed aside as the show started and people filtered in. You moved throughout the crowd, and made sure to take the time to talk to any men who lingered. The tech team went right to work and analyzed the images from each of the men you spoke to and so far came up with nothing. And true to his word, Marcus was always close by just in case something went wrong.

As you made your way around the room, you approached a tall thin man who studied the centerpiece of the collection.

“Hey there,” you broke him out of his trace as you cleared your throat. You seemed to startle him, and you couldn’t see his face until you were right next to him. Immediately you became suspicious.

The man soon recovered, however, and he grinned at you, “Well hello there,” his voice felt like ice and you wanted to back away from him. Yet, you stayed determined. “Shouldn’t you be hung on these walls too? Because you are a piece of work.”

You forced a chuckle at the terrible line, “You’re too kind, but thank you,” you shifted yourself to make sure that your hidden camera got a good look at the man, “This is real art though. You can really feel the emotion the artist put into this piece,” you of course knew just how much your friend poured into the painting before you, but you kept that to yourself.

“For you sweetness, I’d buy it in a heartbeat,” he leaned in close to you.

“You don’t even know me,” your reaction was genuine, “Besides I couldn’t ask someone to spend that much money on me. I’d feel too guilty.”

“Well maybe I won’t actually pay for it then…” he spoke under his breath. When you looked at him in surprise, he shook his head and changed the subject, “I mean…” for the first time he seemed unsure of himself, “There’s things other than money that can buy affection. If you get my drift.”

At that, you visibly cringed and took a step away, “I…. I have to go. Excuse me,” you turned around and walked away, suddenly very uncomfortable. You scanned the crowd for a familiar face and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw Marcus in the distance and you all but ran to him.

“You alright?” Marcus asked in concern as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine,” your voice didn’t convince him in the slightest , “He just seriously creeped me out. I did not get the warm fuzzies from him at all,” you made yourself laugh for a moment at your words, and Marcus relaxed along with you.

“You did really good tonight,” he said your name with admiration, “I think we got what we need here so you can enjoy the rest of the show now,” he paused and looked you over once more, “Thank you.”

At his words, your nerves completely disappeared as you looked into his soft, kind eyes. You let yourself exhale as you handed the hidden camera pin back to him. Once your hands connected, neither of you pulled away for a few moments, and you let your touch linger with his. You were about to close your hand around his when a voice called your name.

You jumped and turned around to find your boyfriend, Tom, walked up with a scowl on his face. He was taller than Marcus, and had a lean, muscular body, though he was not as handsome as Marcus or Johnny. “There you are. You haven’t answered your phone. I’ve been looking all over for you,” there was more annoyance than concern in his voice as he spoke to you.

“I’m sorry,” your once confident and sparkly demeanor changed as you suddenly became a shadow of yourself, “I told you I’d be here and I’d be busy.”

Tom sighed as he ran a hand through his light brown hair, “Well, are you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes?”

He nodded with a huff and gave Marcus a disapproving glance before he turned and walked away. You turned back to Marcus and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes like before, “Sorry, I gotta get going. Is there anything I need to do before I go?”

Marcus watched the whole interaction with a subtle frown on his face, but he softened his expression when you turned back around, “No, you’ve done more than enough,” he paused. He didn’t want you to go so he tried to think of a reason to keep you in front of him for even a moment longer, “Here’s my card. It’s got my cell on it so give me a call if you ever need anything,” his breath caught in his throat when your fingers touched again as you took the card from him, “I’ll probably need to follow up with you if we successfully ID our perp.”

You were about to pull out your phone when Tom shouted your name again. You let out a shaky breath before you decided not to irritate him further, “You can get my number from Johnny, just tell him I said it’s ok,” you lingered for another moment, “I’m sorry, I gotta go.” With that, you rushed to meet your boyfriend, who put his arm around you the second you were close enough. But it wasn’t a comforting or loving embrace, and he seemed to treat you more like an object or a possession than a person. And it made Marcus furious.

“I see you’ve met Tom,” Johnny’s voice came from behind Marcus, “I told you: total douchebag.”

Marcus nodded in agreement, “Is he…” he cleared his throat as he struggled to find the words, “He’s not hurting her or anything, is he?”

Johnny shook his head, “What kind of best friend do you think I am? I wouldn’t let her stay with him if he was.”

Marcus sighed as he watched the door in the futile hope that you would walk back inside. The two men stood together in silence for a moment before he remembered, “Oh, she told me I can get her number from you. I need to follow up if we get a lead,” Marcus said.

Johnny smiled widely, “I would love to give you her number.”

Meanwhile, you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car as gazed out the window as he rambled on about himself yet again, not even bothering to ask you about your day. But then again, he rarely did. You were brought back to the present when your phone buzzed, and you looked down to a text from a number you had just saved in your phone.

It’s Agent Pike. Thanks again for your help today, the sausage fest art department appreciates it. I’ll be in touch. :)

For the first time since you got into the car, you smiled.

~

Notes: I’m not sure how long this is going to be, but right now I’ve got it at about 5 or 6 chapters. Most likely though, it’ll end up longer. Thank you to @tintinwrites for encouraging me to write this and for giving it a read over for me! And thank you @thirsty-flygirl for your help on this as well! Taglists are open so let me know if you’d like to be added! :)

Everything taglist: @thirsty-flygirl

Pedro Characters taglist: @tintinwrites @ollypopp @starwarswh0re @emesispo @mrschiltoncat @perropascal @shadow-assassin-blix @huliabitch @randomness501

[rosy-cheekx]

I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

-

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

-

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

-

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

-

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless?  Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (1)

Minnie the Moocher

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

This was started before season three ended, though I was busy at the time and couldn’t finish it. Basically, season 4 never happened, and the Peacock Miraculous is still broken. 

—

At the age of 22, life had a good projection for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She finally got her big break, somewhat thanks to Adrien. She was working at Gabriel, as one of Gabriel Agreste’s lead designers, though she was still technically an intern. Though Adrien didn’t directly have a hand in getting her the job, his continued praise of her work in front of his father probably had something to do with it. 

Though it was never confirmed, Marinette would never have to worry if she got the job on her own merit or not. She did. 

In fact, Gabriel was continually impressed with her work, even after she had landed the position. His harsh criticisms ended with her. Where he never hesitated to rip another designer to shreds for a mistake, Marinette never had to face that rage. 

He just honestly respected her too much to do so. And it helped that she was so gracious with his critiques. Never taking anything personally, and doing everything for the brand. 

Co-workers probably could have been resentful to her, but if they were, it was never outwardly shown. It helped that she readily got along with and tried to be friends with everyone. She took advice to heart, and accepted criticisms professionally. So it was hard to dislike her. Even when she was the one that was accepted into the Agreste Manor to work with Gabriel in person. A rare treat for any employee. And she got to go at least twice a week.

There was just one little tiny problem. 

8 years later, Marinette no longer had a crush on Adrien. Oh no, she was head over heels in love with him. The deepest, most pure, sweet, and sincere love there was. And he had no clue.

It was her curse. As they got older and matured, so did her feelings. He only got more handsome, more friendly and outgoing, and more perfect to her. He learned he was allowed to be affectionate with his friends, her, Alya, and Nino, and didn’t hold back. Marinette was showered in hugs, cheek kisses, and hand holds. All punctuated with the dreaded phrase, ‘you’re such a great friend, Marinette’. 

It’s like he wanted her to suffer. 

As they graduated Collegé, Adrien confessed that he was afraid they’d all grow apart as they went off to University. Marinette took that as a challenge and made sure to invite them to weekly get-togethers. And so friends did they remain. 

And only friends. 

Marinettte came home to her shared apartment with Alya. Her long time best friend was sprawled out in the middle of the living room, surrounded by swatches. 

Marinette laughed at the sight. “Wedding blues?”

“Yes!” Alya shrieked, sitting up. “We’ve been together for 8 years, engaged for six months, and I still haven’t picked our colors yet!”

“I thought you were doing burnt sienna and forest green? You know, a call back to your stint as Rena Rouge and Carapace?” A supposed secret between them up until a few years ago. 

“I can’t. I don’t like the combination anymore. And no matter how temporary, our superhero run should remain a secret. I shouldn’t have even told you.” She started cleaning up the swatches, resigned to know that she wasn’t getting anywhere tonight. “How goes the apartment search?”

Marinette winced. “Not as great as I was hoping. A lot of places that I could afford, but I could afford better with a roommate. I want to have savings, you know?” 

“Did you ask Adrien?” 

Marinette blushed. “You know that’s not a good idea.” 

“Why not? He’s still living at the mansion. And you’re such good friends.” Alya smirked at her. “Or, you could just ask him out. Then live with your parents for a few months until he realizes how perfect you are and proposes.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

“Says you! Look, you’re my maid of honor, he’s Nino’s best man. At least ask him out as a pretense to have an official date to the wedding.” 

“A wedding that’s six months away?” Marinette asked, as she hung up her purse and coat. “And what if something catastrophic happens between then?”

“Then you kiss and make up at my wedding.”

Marinette rolled her eyes before heading over to the kitchen. “Alya, he hasn’t dated anyone since Kagami. I think he’s holding out for someone.” 

“Yeah! You!” 

Marinette fondly shook her head. “He’s not.” 

“He is!”

“Did he tell Nino, and he told you?” 

“Well, no. Nino’s been trying for years to get his crush out of him.” 

“Then, there you go. If it was me, Nino would have found out by now. No, it’s someone else. Maybe a married woman, or a man.” 

Alya laughed at that. “Girl, you always go to the worst case scenario. Just…flirt with him a little, prod him with your womanly wiles.” Then she batted her eyes. “Please? For me?” 

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. You know it’s going to go so well this time, right?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I was being sarcastic!”

Folks here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher,

She was a red hot hoochie coocher,

She was the roughest, toughest frail,

But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale.

The next day at work, Marinette forgot all about flirting. It was a race to finish her project. She had gotten the design approved, and now it was on to start assembling the piece. 

There was a knock at her office door. 

“‘Ome ‘n,” she said with a mouth full of pins. 

Who would arrive except for handsome, angelic, and...pale? Adrien. “Are you busy?” He asked with a small voice. 

Quickly, Marinette shoved the pins into the fabric to hold it in place, and dumped the rest back into the tin. 

“I can take a break.” Anything for you. She thought, offering him a chair. 

“Thanks,” he nearly collapsed into it. Then he looked around the office, for what, she didn’t know. 

“Soooo...what’s up?” 

Adrien didn’t answer right away, still scanning the room, eyes narrowed. He rubbed his palms on his pants. 

“Are you okay?” She pushed a little more. 

“Huh? Oh, uh…” He clenched his fists and swallowed harshly. “Do you…want to have dinner with me tonight?” 

A blush stained her cheeks. “Really?”

“Yeah, um…somewhere private. I want to talk to you about something, but um…it’s a secret.” 

“Well, Alya is going on a late night date with Nino, if you want to come to our apartment. I could just order some Chinese?”

He exhaled slowly and smiled at her. “That sounds awesome, thanks Marinette.” 

“What time? I get out around 6.” 

“I’ll meet you at 7 then?” 

“Yeah, yeah that sounds perfect.” Spurred on by the fact he was finally asking her out on a date, Marinette leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

Adrien blushed furiously before standing. “Um, I’ll see you tonight then. Thanks for um…yeah, I’ll let you get back to work.” 

Marinette continued to grin at him shyly until he left. Then she collapsed in the chair he had occupied. She didn’t have to flirt or do anything! It was finally happening! A date! With Adrien! 

She ran to her purse and snatched up her phone. “Alya!” She called. “Alya, it finally happened! Clear the next 15 minutes and get the popcorn, I need to panic!” 

He gave her his townhouse and his racing horses

Each meal she ate was a dozen courses

She had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes

She sat around and counted them all a million times

That night, Marinette sat ready and waiting. The apartment was spotless. She had ordered his favorite dish, and wore a cute little green dress (his favorite color.)

“Alright, I’m leaving,” declared Alya. “You two behave.” 

“It’s a first date, Alya. Like we’re going to do anything at all.” 

“Puh-lease, the sexual tension between you two is unbearable. He’s going to be on you like white on rice!” 

“Don’t be so vulgar!” Marinette laughed. “Adrien is a gentleman.” 

“Sure. Anyways, I hope you have fun!” 

“I’m sure we will.”

“Bye girl, bye.” 

“Bye girl, bye!” 

And the door closed. 

Any minute now, Adrien would be knocking. And then what? Would he kiss her cheek like she had? A hug maybe? Or both? What was appropriate for her? Offer to take his coat? Yes yes, that sounded right. Was her hair okay? She brushed her teeth, right? 

“Wine!” She announced. “What wine pairs with Chinese food?” 

“Might I suggest Riesling?” Said Tikki, from her hiding place. 

“Riesling! Riesling…I don’t have Riesling! I don’t know what that is!” 

Tikki laughed at her. “Marinette, just relax. Just do a Rosé. It’s fine.” 

Marinette hurried to the cabinet and fetched a bottle and two glasses. Then she poured one for herself and downed it in one go. “I don’t know if I can do this! I’m so nervous!” 

“You and Adrien are great friends, it’ll go great! Just relax and enjoy it. He’s not even here yet, there’s no reason to panic.” 

“You’re right! I’ll just…I’ll just wait!” 

So she sat and fidgeted. Nothing to do but wait.

And wait she did.

8 o’clock came before she knew it. And she checked her phone. Nothing. 

Did you forget about dinner? She texted.

There was no reply.

“It’s alright Marinette, he’ll come. Maybe he got held up in traffic, or his father needed him for something?” Tikki said encouragingly. 

“Yeah, maybe…he’d at least call, wouldn’t he?” Not waiting for an answer, she called him first. 

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…” 

She hung up.

She poured herself another glass. “He wouldn’t just…ghost me?” 

“He cares a lot about you, of course he wouldn’t.” 

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…” Another voicemail. 

9 o’clock. 

Poor Min, poor Min, poor Min

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

The Chinese went cold, and the bottle of Rosé was emptied. 

He never showed up.

--

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

[whats-wild-to-you]

The Perfect Plan (Jay Park fiction)

Part 11

<Jennifer’s POV>

Since it was Friday I was determined to wrap up things at work quickly and enjoy a peaceful weekend with Jay. 

I gathered some material for Phil to look over as I made my way to his office.

"Hey Phil, I brought the stuff you asked me for." I said, my head peeking inside his office.

"Jennie!" He almost squealed, like he'd seen a ghost or something. "Oh, good, good. Just put it on the table."

"So, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah..." He said but he looked stressed, scanning the door with a scared look on his face. 

"Maybe you should take some time off." I suggested, suddenly feeling sorry for him.

"Time off? Well, we’re invited to a wedding on Saturday."

"I mean more time off, like a proper vacation, not just the weekend."

"Yeah, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? I should just ... go on vacation for two weeks."

"Yeah." It became clear to me that his thoughts were somewhere else so I left the papers on his desk and backed away slowly. 

"That’s weird."

Back in my own office I opened my computer and compiled research material for my upcoming interviews. 

Jay had texted me earlier asking me what we should do for the weekend.

I replied right away but that was an hour ago. He was obviously very busy. 

Just as I was about to shut down my computer I saw my phone screen light up. 

How about some tacos for dinner tonight. 

Sure, why not? 

There’s a place someone pointed out to me, I though we could go there?

Oh, really? Yeah, let’s do that! Where is it?

Jay's response came right away. 

Itaewon. 

That’s an odd place to go to if you're someone who values their privacy...

I didn’t know what to say and so Jay texted again, saying he would pick me up at eight. I sent a quick text back and went about my work.

<Jay's POV>

It was already 7:50 PM and I was nowhere near Jen's place. At a red light I texted her quickly.

I will be running late, I’m sorry.

Seconds later she texted back.

No, that’s fine! I'm still on my way home.

I hate to say this, but maybe it would be better if we met there.

You’re right it makes more sense.

Okay I’ll see you there.

I put my phone away and stepped ever so lightly on the gas, moving exactly 3 feet. At this rate I would meet Jen for breakfast.

Finally I arrived at the restaurant around 8.30pm. When I approached our table, I noticed Jen was already tipsy. Apparently Tequila shots had been keeping her company.

"Hey! Here you are! Finally!" She exclaimed as soon as she saw me. I noticed people staring at us, so I quickly sat down next to her, summoning the waitress over so we could order.

"Let’s get some food inside of you, shall we?"

Tacos seemed to have sobered Jen up a little and so we decided to stay for drinks after our meal.

"I need a vacation!" She suddenly exclaimed, banging her fist on the table, causing several people to turn around and look at us.

"I need some time off, I need to fly someplace and just do nothing for two weeks!"

"Hawaii?" I questioned, having had thoughts about a vacation myself.

"I was thinking more about Jeju, but okay, Hawaii! Why the hell not?"

We made plans to go there in April for my birthday, so that gave us about six months to make sure our schedules for those two weeks were clear.

Content with herself, Jen got up off her seat. "Let's go home!"

Like so many nights before, we drove to Jen's place where I stayed over most of the time.

<Jennifer's POV>

After our taco date, our dates became more and more public. Not that I was complaining, it was nice for a change, we were just like any other couple. We went to restaurants, to the movies, even had picnic dates at the Han River.

We were currently on one, sprawled down on a picnic blanket, eating strawberries and sandwiches.

"So, about moving in together." Jay said all of a sudden, catching me off-guard.

"Let’s discuss that after we come back from Hawaii, huh? I just don’t want to stress myself out with vacation plans and moving plans at the same time.

"Okay, yeah, let’s do that after Hawaii!" He said and stuffed his mouth with a strawberry.

"You want some?" I nodded and extended my hand but instead of giving me a strawberry he bit into it and invited me with his index finger to come closer and bite the other half.

"Here? There are people watching!" He shrugged so I moved closer to to him, biting half of the strawberry off. His hand came around the back of my neck, pulling me even closer to him, connecting his lips to mine.

I broke the kiss, looking around, sure that we attracted too much attention.

"Just let them watch!"

An hour later we packed our things and headed back to the car. Jay had cleared his schedule for the remainder of the day so we were going to go to my place, cook something and watch Netflix.

On the car ride there, Jay’s phone lit up, causing his face to scrunch up.

"What is it? Work?"

"Yeah." He said absentmindedly.

"Do you have to go?"

"Yeah..." He said again, his voice trailing off at the end.

"That’s okay, you can just drop me off at work." I said seeing as we were closer to my work than my apartment.

"I’ll call you later, okay?" He said, pecking my lips as he dropped me off in front of my office building.

Most of my colleagues had already left. But there were still a few there, and Phil, of course he was still around, although when I walked past his office he wasn’t in there.

"Has anyone seen Phil?" I asked around, but the others shook their heads. I figured that he must be somewhere around here and so I went to my office to organize some things on my laptop.

The next time I checked my watch, two hours had passed. Surely, Phil was at home by now.

But when I exited my office and walked down the hall, I heard voices coming from Phil's office.

Oh good, he’s still here!

I slowly approached, realizing that his door wasn't properly closed. I figured he must've been on the phone with somebody, seeing as I only heard his voice and decided to wait for him to finish before I went in.

Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard another man's voice. My blood froze in my veins but I carefully placed my ear close to the door to eavesdrop anyway.

"The revenue has gone up significantly. Your brand is profiting, too. From where I'm standing, this is a win-win situation." Phil announced.

"Hmm."

"And, despite your initial concern, the media isn't too aggressive either! That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, and I heard you're going on vacation soon?"

"In a month, yeah!"

"That gives me an idea, I should call my friend in L.A., have him following you guys."

"Following? No!"

"Well, I didn't mean it like that! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about our contract."

"About that, I-"

"Don't worry, Jen will never find out! I know you're not a fan of this arrangement, but you have to agree, I'm a genius! I told you, hiring Jennie would be good publicity for you, and I was right!"

My head started spinning, my vision got blurry, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

Contract?

Arrangement?

Hiring me?

What exactly did that all mean? As I wasn't particularly keen on finding out, I peeled myself off the door and stumbled towards the elevators.

Was my relationship with Jay even real?

***

Part 12