#and THOSE 3 months whizzed by too

[boneblushed]

Untouchable

masterlist | part 3 | part 4

synopsis It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy learn to work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

wc 3.2k

“Alright, so the last thing we need to — guys,” you falter, scrubbing a tired hand down your face. Though you’re well aware that Friday afternoons are the worst possible time to hold a prefect meeting, they’re a once monthly affair that are otherwise unavoidable.

“Oi!” yells Rafe beside you, his voice commanding where yours is frustrated, rough around the edges.

He crosses his arms in the pause that follows, the broad expanse of his bicep nudging body heat into your shoulder. And it doesn’t help that he smells of familiar things — chlorine and sweat, notes of patchouli with vetiver musk. “Y/L/N’s speaking. Show some respect, yeah?”

The room quietens almost immediately, because of course it does.

You try to be grateful for his presence, you really do. But when the upperclassmen near the back—who haven’t so much as made eye-contact with you over the past half hour—straighten at the sound of his voice, it replaces any appreciation you had for him with ever-growing indignation.

Sure, Rafe Cameron may be bigger than you, more intimidating, with stronger forearms and broader shoulders and a shadow of rough stubble that — wait, what were you talking about, again? You blink. He needs to stop stepping in like he is and veering you off course.

Right. Rafe Cameron as the intimidating one.

How you recognise that his exterior may be more daunting than yours is, and presume that what you lack in height and width you make up for in tenacity. Doggedness. Why can’t they listen when it’s you making the announcements?

This isn’t the first time you’ve needed him to step in, either — at prefect meeting number three, now, it’s clear that the pair of you have opposing strengths and weaknesses. And in theory, this is probably a good thing; you as the organised one, him as your glorified bodyguard.

Except that, stubborn as you are, you don’t think that you need one of those. Especially not one with as big an ego as Mr. Kook Prince of Kildare Academy, Ward Cameron’s eldest son.

He glances down at you encouragingly, his features faltering at the expression on your face. Somehow, you’re able to make unimpressed look almost pretty. “First home game tomorrow,” he explains under his breath. “Probably why they’re all so distracted.”

You meet his eyes briefly, balk a little. He’s standing closer than you’d expected him to, the blue in his irises speckled by sunlight yellow. “Whatever.” You cough, turning back toward the classroom. “Alright. Do I have everyone’s attention?”

Beside you, Rafe shifts inscrutably, sending the room a remonstrating glare. If you weren’t so intent on proving your independence, you might’ve even found his dedication a little endearing.

But you don’t, the thought whizzing through your brain like the fleeting tail of a firework. “So,” you continue, “the last thing on our agenda is divvying up prefect duties for next month.” You duck down and pull it open on your laptop, the projector screen behind you flashing on in tandem. “To save everyone the trouble, I’ve gone ahead and drafted a rough schedule based on last month’s one.”

“Football season’s started though!” calls Kelce from the back, bolstered by grunts of approval from his teammates.

Rafe’s about to reprimand him on your behalf when you turn toward him, eyes widening pointedly. Don’t, you seem to say, to which Rafe’s brow furrows in a why not? sort of way.

You glare: I got this.

Rafe raises his eyebrows: I never implied that you didn’t.

You shake your head ever so slightly, stern, looking back to Kelce without another word. Rafe’s gaze lingers. “I was getting to that,” you say, frowning reproachfully. “The spreadsheet will be edit-able over the weekend, so feel free to get into it and make any changes you need to. Obviously, no duties should be left unfulfilled, so if you aren’t able to make one, you’re going to have to find a way to swap with someone who can.”

“Just the weekend?” Connor pipes up, followed by a murmur of collective assent. “But training’s tonight, game tomorrow —”

“How long is a football game, Walters?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Kegger right after,” he adds pointedly, raising his in tandem.

You roll your eyes. “You know there are two days that make up a weekend, right?”

“We’re meant to sort this shit out when we’re hungover on Sunday now, Y/L/N?” Kelce asks, a glint of mischief in his otherwise dark irises. He’s pushing it, he knows he is, but he wants more of Rafe defending your honour to rub in Dalton’s face.

“Yes,” you deadpan.

“If you can handle an eighteen-hole at the fucking Club on a Sunday morning, Smith,” Rafe adds, much to your chagrin. “Then you can handle a prefect duty schedule.”

“Damn,” Kelce grins triumphantly, sitting back in his chair. “Aye aye, Captain.”

Rafe furrows his brow again, looking over the rest of the classroom, a warning. “Anyone else with something to say?”

There’s a low murmur of dissent, and several people shake their head in response. An angry warmth creeps up your neck, diffidence mixed with indignation.

“Alright then.” You can feel Rafe looking down at you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “That was all from me… anyone with any last minute notices?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Rafe says then, angling back toward the crowd. His shoulder nudges yours again, too-broad and too-close, another waft of chlorine and musk. “My dad’s outta town this weekend, so party at mine after home game.”

As the room erupts into excited chatter, he ducks his head to eye-level, his rough timbre raising goosebumps on the shell of your ear. “You’ll come?”

The prefects are beginning to pack up their things, signalling the end of the meeting, so you allow yourself to turn your head and look up at him, your glare growing weak at the closeness of his face. “Why would I come?” You ask, breaking away abruptly and gathering your own belongings.

Rafe does the same, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I’ve never been to one of your parties before?” You return, like it’s obvious. As you turn away and begin to walk toward the exit, you assume that Rafe will rejoin the boys in his football team. They straggle near the doorway, no doubt waiting to head for the locker-room, but he refuses to accede so quickly, following you out instead.

You glance up as he falls into step, his rough hand mussing his overgrown locks. “Can I help you?” You ask, bemused.

“That was before,” he says, answering your previous question. “We’re partners now.”

“Cameron!” calls Kelce, “Bro, you coming?”

“I’ll meet you guys out there,” Rafe replies easily, not bothering to turn his head to address him. “C’mon, Y/L/N. It’ll be fun.”

Maybe it’s the tone he uses, quietly superior with pity lacing the edges. Like you never get invited to parties. (You don’t, but that’s besides the point.) Like you aren’t capable of fun and he’s doing you some kind of favour.

You halt abruptly, pivoting to face him head on. He’s taken aback at first, but the surprise in his blue eyes melts away very quickly. Gives way to something deeper, thick as brown molasses.

You force yourself to ignore it. “You need to stop doing that,” you order.

“Doing what?” Rafe asks, frowning bemusedly.

“Stepping in and telling them off,” you sigh, grimacing abashedly. “I had it handled.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Half of them were falling asleep, Y/L/N. I just thought I’d wake them up a little.”

“What?” You accuse, folding your arms across your chest stubbornly. “Because I can’t?”

“Oh, you definitely can.” He raises his arms in surrender, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he looks over your pretty features. Something sultry about it. “This right here? This is you handling yourself just fine.”

You make a face, as if your heart isn’t stuttering at the timbre of his voice. “Then why?”

“Because we’re a team,” Rafe repeats, dropping his arms again. “I mean, shit Y/L/N, I wasn’t trying to undermine you. Not everything I do has some kind of ulterior motive.”

“Debatable,” you mutter.

“Including,” he adds pointedly, raising his eyebrows. “Inviting you to my party.”

“That I’m not going to,” you clarify.

Rafe shrugs. “Just being polite.” Just want to see you in something other than school uniform.

“Cute,” you say, turning away again. “Not happening.”

“Busy?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you come?” Rafe asks, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Your turn to shrug. “I just don’t want to.”

—

Rafe tries not to let your non-attendance get to him, he really does.

Tannyhill is a site to behold against the glow of purple dusk — alive with technicolor lights, the heavy bass reverberating through chilly Autumn. Upperclassmen flood every inch of the ground level of the mansion, empty bottles strewn over smooth marble countertops, outdoor beer pong games gaining momentum.

He just wants to be helpful. He feels guilty enough as is that you’re the one that’s organised almost every speech and conference so far — it’s the reason he’s piped up at every prefect meeting you’ve had, desperate to fill a role, prove he isn’t deadweight in this partnership.

But clearly that’s the last thing you want.

So he decides to change tact. If not to gain your approval, to have an excuse to text you in the middle of a fucking party that he’s hosting.

As if that isn’t the most pathetic thing ever.

“Oi!” He calls out, his voice still low and gruff, sweetened by the slur of liquor in his system. “Prefects only in the living room. Can the rest of you fuck off for a second?”

The space empties diligently, pulling in any prefects that were straggling on the deck. As his gazes moves over the group, he realises that every single one came to his party except you. His chest lurches abruptly.

“Alright,” he clears his throat, trying to ignore this feeling. Failing miserably. “Everyone get out their phones and open up the schedule spreadsheet.”

Kelce shares a knowing look with Dalton, triumph edging on amusement. “The prefect duty one?” He asks, feigning bemusement. “Why would we do that?”

“Because we’re all here,” Rafe replies, sliding his own phone out of his front-pocket. “So organising swaps will be real easy.”

Kelce raises his eyebrows, accedes. “Right.” He fake coughs, and it sounds like, “Simp.”

Connor, half a bottle of Fireball down, makes a noise like a whip-cracking from the back of the room.

“I’m serious,” Rafe says then, evidently unperturbed. “Get your phones out. I’m not going to ask again.”

“Dude,” Dalton replies, actually bemused now. “Relax. It’s a party.”

“Exactly,” Rafe responds, his gaze glued to the phone in his palm. “So the faster we do this, the faster you can get back to hitting on freshmen.”

The jibe pulls some stifled laughter from the crowd, and Dalton scowls abashedly, his stubbled face flushing.

It’s enough to force him to oblige, the rest of the prefects way ahead of him. As they converse amongst themselves, editing the spreadsheet as necessary, Rafe manages to capture a photo of them to send to you.

Cameron: [attached a photo] swapsies > pong

Maybe he doesn’t expect you to reply so quickly.

Y/L/N: are you trying to prove a point or something?

He frowns down at the message thread bemusedly; this isn’t the reaction he’d expected from you. He’d thought you’d be grateful to see them sorting out the schedule — to see him organising it, him being responsible for once.

He imagines pretty you in your pyjamas, rolling over on your bed to sigh at the photo. He realises that he’s already conceptualised a concerning amount of your room decor — simple, tidy, organised. Like you. In this imagined scenario, you’re wearing sweatpants and a singlet with a wafer of bare waist in between them.

His thoughts snag at the latter, the promise of glowing skin becoming quickly overbearing. He realises he thinks about touching you a lot, far more than he should.

Cameron: prove a point?

Y/L/N: that they listen to you more than they listen to me

Cameron: you know not everything’s a competition, yeah?

Y/L/N: maybe not to you

Cameron: I think the word you’re looking for is thank you, Y/L/N

Y/L/N: bite me

Rafe shouldn’t grin at the message, but he does anyway. He knows it’s the closest he’s going to get to gratitude; he can imagine you sighing again, rolling your eyes at the message before responding to it. The hem of your singlet riding up as you shift in your bed. More soft skin for him to touch.

He swallows thickly. He’s totally fucking fucked.

Cameron: gladly

—

“Well,” Cromwell beams, his crows feet deepening reverently, “it sounds like you two are really embracing your roles as head students.”

His rises from his chair by way of dismissal, looking between you genially. “Same time next month?”

“Looking forward to it, Crom-dog,” Rafe replies, grinning handsomely.

The nickname never fails to make you grimace—he’s the headmaster, for God’s sake—but you’re quick to fix your features, nodding and smiling in tandem. “We’ll get that plan for winter formal written up.”

“Always two steps ahead of me,” Cromwell resounds, making a noise of approval. “I like it.”

You smile wider, warmed by his praise, before turning and exiting the office. Rafe is close behind you, his chlorine and patchouli scent ever-present, and he’s quick to fall into your step as you enter the hallway.

“Winter formal plan?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “Already?”

“Two steps ahead, Cameron,” you say, tapping your nose conspiratorially.

The gesture swells something fond in his chest, a wave before it crashes ashore. He taps his own nose, a question. “What does this mean?”

You fix him with a significant look, brushing the side of your nose again.

Rafe grins, resisting the urge to reach forward and do the same. The want to touch you is honest-to-God unbearable. “Fine. Don’t tell me. When’s our next meeting?”

“Friday?” You ask, turning away again.

You’re nearing the double doors that bring you out into the Academy’s entranceway, brilliant steeples shading the flagstone pavement. Beyond it is the carpark where Rafe’s pick-up sits.

“Friday,” Rafe confirms, and then he pauses, running his fingers through his hair. In the mood to play with fire, he adds, “You walking home?”

“Yeah?” You glance back at him, balk a little. There’s an alarming amount of sincerity swimming within his blue irises.

In the beat that passes, you think, he’s sweet when he wants to be. The other day, he’d offered to cover your lunchtime duty when you’d told him you had an assignment due. And he’d sent you that meme last week, the one about Taylor Swift that’d made you laugh unprompted. Sweet.

He gestures toward his pick-up in the distance. “Need a ride?”

Before this year, you would’ve declined almost immediately. There’s nothing you hate more than being indebted to someone, especially when that someone has an ego as big as Rafe’s.

Maybe you’re just being polite. Maybe you believe that it’s futile to fight it. Or maybe, and this revelation terrifies you the most, you’re starting to realise that he’s got a heart big enough to match it.

You shrug, changing trajectory and making for the carpark. “Yeah, sure.”

Rafe tries not to look taken aback. His eyes widen for a fraction of a second before his expression relaxes again, a roguish grin pulling up at his features. As he catches you up, he says, “Damn, Y/L/N. You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

You roll your eyes in response, fighting the smile that’s threatening to break through. “Not if I can help it, Cameron.”

You walk in tandem toward his pick-up truck, your shoulders brushing intermittently. Sudden jolts of static that you pretend—he pretends—aren’t leaving imprints of heat on your skin.

“Good.” Rafe nods approvingly, sliding his keys out of his back-pocket. “Need someone ‘round here keeping me in check.”

“Thought that’s what your dad was for, Cameron,” you muse, your tone playful.

Rafe hesitates, stumbling a step before regaining momentum. It makes you frown, this sudden break in his composure, how quickly he goes from faltering to pretending that he hasn’t.

“He’s outta town this weekend,” he coughs, avoiding your gaze. He tries for nonchalant, mussing his overgrown locks and adding, “You’re just gonna have to work overtime to make up for it, Y/L/N.”

Again? You want to ask. Is he ever actually around?

But that’s overstepping. “Maybe if he pays me for it,” you say, glancing over at him again.

There’s a pause as your eyes meet, something strong, almost aching, pulsing in the air between you. A crisp Autumn chill with a side of something sweeter.

You look away first.

“You can do better than Ward Cameron as your boss,” Rafe says, and you’re sure he’s insinuating something; you just don’t know what.

“Right,” you reply awkwardly, halting at his pick-up truck.

Another pause. “Shit, anyway,” Rafe says then, breaking the silence by patting the hood of his car. He clears his throat and plasters on a grin, the same blend of charming and handsome, clearly done talking about his father. “Shall we?”

You eye the vehicle faux-dubiously, sending him a pointed glance. “You’re not one of those, trigger-happy, love-to-rev-their-engine wannabe racer boys, are you?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his expression akin to mild amusement. “Careful Y/L/N,” he says. “That’s enough adjectives to tell me you’ve thought about this before.”

“Not an answer, Cameron,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he raises his arms in surrender, “I’m not any of those things when there’s a pretty girl in my car.”

You make a face, compensating for the way your cheeks warm at his words. “You better not be.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods sincerely, opening the door for you before jogging to the driver’s side. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

You buckle in, raising your eyebrows at him. “Good.”

He returns this with a faux-glare, turning on the ignition. “No talking, Y/L/N. Best behaviour means concentrating on the road, and the road only.”

As his gaze moves down toward the gearshift, it snags at your bare thighs on the seat, your uniform skirt hiked up ever so slightly. So much for best behaviour. You in his pick-up truck is like an agonising game of look don’t touch.

The ride home is silent, as promised, broken only by the intermittent whistle of Autumn wind.

Once he’s pulled into your driveway and switched off the ignition, he makes a show of letting out an audible sigh of relief, wiping non-existent sweat off his brow.

“Funny,” you try to deadpan, though the mirth on your features shines through easily.

Rafe angles toward you seriously, and you’re struck by how much larger he looks inside his pick-up truck. He folds one of his arms around your head-rest, fixing you with a significant look. “Can I get you to fill out a quick survey before you leave?” He asks, pulling out his phone and turning the screen toward you. It reads: Were you happy with your service today? If yes, please tip, with buttons for 5%, 10%, and 15% below it.

A peal of laughter bubbles out of you, somewhere between exasperated and amused. “Funny,” you repeat, shoving him back playfully.

He cracks a grin, the spot in his chest that you pressed against glowing a metaphorical amber. “Have a good weekend, yeah?”

You smile in tandem, unbuckling and opening the door. “And you.”

“Oh, I will,” he replies, a rare moment of candour from easy-going, ego-as-big-as-his-heart Rafe Cameron. “Weekends without my dad around are always better than the ones that he’s here for.”

[harrison-abbott]

Most of us were young and almost

All of them were loud. You were by

Far the quietest and thrown into this place

Of mayhem. With the steam and shouting

And the radio music, and the different

Accents whizzing about. The job was dull

But it was easy and there was never a non-

Eventful shift … You learned how other

People talk in a manic environment and

You learned to raise your voice a bit.

It was hard at first but you got there.

You met other people who were interested

In music and you got jamming with them.

You met girls and learned how to speak

To them and you’d always been super shy

Around that lot and so this was beneficial.

You learned how to stay stuff that was

Funny, and how to avoid saying things

Which were mean. You wrote songs on

The side in between this and university.

Almost every night you’d head out on

The town and drink the beers and you’d

Go home at 3 a.m. and the bakery was

Open with its yellow windows. And you’d

Be able to head into work again without

Being comatose. All of the colleagues

Were ace. There was loud bantering Dave,

And mischievous Steven, and foul-mouthed

Tracy, and big chubby friendly Calum,

And flirtatious Joe, and half-serious half-

Fantastic Pawel, and mentally ill Katia,

And stick-thin Lewis who played electric

Guitar and who joined me on stage; and

Irish Laura with the dyed hair who became

His girlfriend; and Katie with the ginger

Hair and baritone voice; and Scott who

Was totally useless with his job and

Never put any work in but everybody

Loved him because he was funny. That

Was all back in 2014. And I’m remembering

It now because it was ten years ago this

Summer. And the World Cup was on in

Brazil. And they gave all of the staff these

Little mini Brazil tops. Just cheap things.

That was the good thing about soccer.

It brought cultures together. And even

Though it was only a part time minimum

Wage job cleaning dishes it was fun and fine.

Was a real lively environment in which to work.

…………………………………………………

And the World Cup ended and then it slipped into

The autumn and things began to change. First thing

Was that Steven left the kitchen, and a lot of

The banter died with that. He was replaced with

Zoe, who was okay at first. But she got heavily

Overworked because a few other chefs left

Too, so she had to work about 70 hours a week.

She got ratty and she took it out on the colleagues.

And Joe left, and that took a lot of the humour

With him; and the manager friendly Calum

Was replaced with another manager who changed

A lot of the rules. And then the manager above

Him made us close an hour later at night, whilst

Also cutting our hours. So we had less money

And we had to work longer into the night.

And then loud bantering Dave left too.

And so it was just me, Zoe, and a handful

Of others in the kitchen. We had to put up

With Zoe’s wrath, whenever she felt like it.

Lewis and Laura were on the floor staff team.

Lewis got her pregnant. She went four months

Without knowing she was pregnant and then

They were shocked when they found out and

They didn’t feel they were equipped enough

To keep the baby so they decided to give it

Up for adoption. And many of that old 2014

Team left the city altogether. So they weren’t

Even around for pints in the evening. Those

That had replaced the old team weren’t into

Hanging out after the shifts. Lewis and Laura

Had the baby and then they passed it on for

Adoption, and then they left the city too.

And so it was pretty much me left in the joint.

That would have been in the autumn of 2015.

It’s crazy how much can change in a year.

Whereas I had been cheerful going into

Work the previous summer it was all but

Miserable now. I stayed on (miraculously,

Now that I think about it) for another couple

Of years, only because I needed the money

And because I was still studying. And there

Were a few colleagues who came in who

Were sound enough. On the floor team,

A few other cats who were nice folks.

It’s just that that ’14 period was never

Reincarnated. Lost forever. I miss it.

[acaplaya-musings]

VoicePlay Visuals - what I got wrong (and other cool BTS stuff) (part 1/3)

So for those of you who still are unaware, I'm currently a member of VoicePlay's Patreon (and Geoff's too) (just for a few months), and I've been having an absolutely great time so far, especially in now having access to Behind-The-Scenes (BTS) content of each of VoicePlay's videos!

However, as I was whizzing through the BTS stuff, I was thinking about my VoicePlay Visuals posts, and about some things I said that weren't entirely true - whether I said something I believed to be correct that wasn't, or whether I simply made a wrong guess. I wanted to share my newfound knowledge with all of you (which is fine btw, people share this sorta stuff in the comments section of reaction videos all the time), but I didn't want to go back and edit a bunch of posts or reblog a bunch of them to add addendums, so I thought I'd do a sort of "addendum compilation" instead! (In three parts, just to keep these not too long). I'll also share some stuff where my guess was right, and additional interesting things I didn't originally know/notice. And you don't have to read a bunch of my previous VoicePlay Visuals posts before reading this (and I won't be mentioning every single post/video anyway), but if you wanna find the original posts I refer to, they're linked in each title.

Part 1 below the cut!

This Is Halloween: "I don't really have anything to say about J's full transformation, but it would be unfair of me to not include him as well, and it's definitely a very impressive costume. Almost like one of those rubbery fully-covering-the-head costume mask things, but like it's his actual face?" - I was pretty close! For the "full Wolfman" look, J was wearing a special prostethic face/mask thing, specially sculpted to fit his face, with just his mouth/chin area left uncovered! - Additionally, Eli's fake chin prostethic thing actually also goes up and over his cheeks, making them look puffier and making them look puffier and "blending" it all together more effectively. - And bonus fun fact: It was apparently Earl who carved all those pumpkins, except for like one that was done by Geoff 😁

Bang!: - Found out what leopard-print article of clothing Layne was wearing! His belt is leopard-print, apparently! (Okay, I can't actually take credit for this one, someone in the comments of the BTS pointed it out and I took their word for it as I forgot to look myself, lol) - The place they filmed the video really did have all those cool backdrops, and so many more, split between two large rooms! - J was the one who got to throw the giant rubber duck at Layne 😝

Butter: "Geoff is looking at his phone, Layne is taking selfies on his phone!" - Not quite! They were both filming! (At one point in the video anyway). The footage they took got included in the BTS video, it's great 👌 - Also the reason the height difference between Layne and Eli in the group shots doesn't look quite as stark as in something like the Wicked Medley is because here Eli was standing on a short wooden box or something like that, not even kidding 😂

Halo Theme: "Those shoes are definitely cool. Who was wearing them, I wonder?" - It was Scott! - Also when that blue pulsating light thing landed on Scott's shoulder in the video (the "red team! blue team!" bit), there was actually a blue light being shone on him from the side to get the proper lighting effect. - (Also did you know that Rek Dunn (whom the video is dedicated to) used to help film some of the BTS content? I realised when I was watching the BTS for the Panic Medley that he was the one holding the camera and talking to the guys for some of the clips)

Wicked Medley: "Love the giant clock backdrop, very cool" - Yeah, turns out the whole background is one giant flat backdrop, and it took like 4 hours to full set up! Man!

"I adore Emoni and Rachel's makeup looks in this one." - The makeup looks even better in natural light! - All VoicePlay videos are filmed after the audio of the covers has been fully recorded/completed, obviously, duh. Often the vocallists will be properly singing at least some of their parts during videoshoots, but the audio all gets dubbed over for the final product. Rachel was purely lip-syncing in this video, because she had lost her voice! Thankfully/obviously it happened after she had finished recording her vocals, but she still did a great job of making it look "realistic" in the actual video.

The Dragonborn Comes: "Apparently what Cesar is wearing is like legit chainmail or something and was fairly heavy. Go big or go home I guess?" - Yep, it weighed 20 pounds apparently (approximately 9 kilograms). In between takes, Cesar would often just lie down on the floor on his back to try and rest/not have to feel so much of the weight, rip - The metal-looking gloves were real as well - they came coated in some sort of anti-rust oil that had to be wiped off prior to filming - And yeah Layne's hair really was a vibrant blue - I'm guessing Rick did it with coloured hairspray or something.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

[guyawks]

Boys, Don't Play in Bunkers

“Boys, don’t play in the woods! If you get mauled, you could die out there.”

That was the warning parents in our town told kids like me and my friend Beckett.

Technically, we obeyed them.

About a mile into the woods near our street was an abandoned bomb shelter. In the middle of the clearing was a slanted door jutting out of the ground, with two outward swinging metal panels that could be deadlocked from inside.

The furnished bunker had been stocked by some insane doomsday prepper in the 90s before they deserted it. Beckett and I discovered it unattended ages ago, making it the perfect safe, secret weekend hangout for two 10 year olds.

In the fall of my 5th grade school year, my parents announced that we were moving.

For old time’s sake, Beckett and I decided to chill one last time in the bunker. Saddened, I said goodbye to the piles of canned food, bottled water, flush toilet and electric generator.

“Pity you won’t get to try all this stuff” Beckett sighed. “Someone could survive for like 3 months with all the things down here”.

“Maybe” I laughed doubtfully.

Afterwards, I bid goodbye to him, shut the bunker door and went home. My family moved across state the next day.

I didn’t think about Beckett much after then. I’d made new friends and assumed he did too, which I imagined was why he never wrote.

In the winter of my 5th grade school year, that bunker suddenly re-enters my mind.

While opening a stationery cupboard in my classroom, the door jams. I can’t open it until I notice a chair blocking it from the outside. That’s when an insidious thought invades my head.

Could the same thing have happened to Beckett on that night? Could he be missing and alive in the bunker? I remember those words: “Someone could survive for 3 months down here”. Which means…

Immediately, I race from the school in panic, whizzing past confused students and teachers. Paranoid, I board a bus straight back to my hometown.

Reaching that sloped door on the forest floor, my worst fears are confirmed. A heavy boulder is perched on top, obscuring it. It must’ve rolled down the hill and pinned the door shut after I left. Adrenaline screeching, I throw myself at the boulder and heave it off.

Nothing could have prepared me for the unfathomable sight I see when I pry open the bulkheads. The boy I’d said goodbye to in the bunker is no more. In his place is a yellowed, emaciated, incoherent, balding, bearded…man.

While I went to college and became an elementary teacher, Beckett was trapped in that hole, screaming every night, completely alone.

If my mind ever recovers enough for me to teach 5th grade again, I’ll have a lesson for my schoolchildren.

Boys, don’t play in bunkers. If you get trapped, you could survive down there…

…for 20 years.

[lunafeather]

How does it feel to be an actress in your 30s in Los Angeles?

Oh well this is a nice surprise ask! I’m curious why you ask? Reader beware: I go into depth below with a lot of feelings!

To be fair I am early 30′s :P Honestly, it’s hard. A lot of people outside of the industry think you have to start young to be successful as an actor, and many older people who want to act use this as a reason to not even try -- but a lot of famous (and amazing) actors started in their 30′s/40′s/50′s/60′s. I mean, obviously it helps to start as a kid or teenager, but not everyone has that opportunity.

The key thing is that most actors have this sweet spot where their age matches their look perfectly, and that’s the best time to be working -- not that you can’t otherwise, but work is easier to come by if you find that sweet spot.

I am both lucky and not lucky in that I have a very young casting for my age. I can play 20-26, which is an age range that has a lot of roles, but unfortunately also a lot of competition, especially for white women (though I am privileged in that productions favor my ethnicity).

I’m lucky because it means I will continue to look a decade younger as I age, and will have more longevity. I also have a look that will hopefully age well and thus also contribute to that longevity.

But I am also hyper aware of every single sign of aging that comes in your 30′s, because my casting won’t have those signs. Grey hairs (more and more are coming in!), wrinkles between my eyes/on my forehead/under my eyes, skin redness (though I’ve had that since I was a teenager due to eczema damaging my skin), different body parts sagging (this is more noticeable because I am losing weight) -- and not having the money to purchase high end treatments that can curb all of these.

Just general physical stuff really bothers me, though it shouldn’t. In fact, last night I was panic searching make up tutorials for hooded eyes because in a consultation with a working actor last year, she told me that I looked tired in all my self tapes. I was going through my journal and stumbled on the entry right after the meeting and it launched me down a rabbit hole. How could I make my hooded eyes -- which naturally make someone look tired or sad -- look bright and awake?? Which led me to revisiting eyelid surgery (which I will have to get in a decade or two anyway, as natural aging will cause the skin to droop until it obscures my vision), which led to me breaking out my old make up and trying out the tutorials I found, which just made me hate my eyes more, which then made me FURIOUS about why MEN get to have wrinkles and folds and hooded eyes, and it makes them dignified, but for women it makes them tired and sad?? I hate make up! I want to be bare faced and rocking it!

But then if I dye my hair pink, my casting will change -- likely to characters who DO wear make up. And I have to take that into consideration.

I also lament not going to college and getting a degree in acting solely for the relationships you form at school. I am lone shark, wading alone in this very fast and very full ocean.

ANYWAY, it’s hard, anon. It’s hard getting older, it’s hard because the industry is so competitive and harsh (especially towards women), it’s hard because I already struggle with my mental health and my self esteem. I am hyper critical of not only my acting, but also how I look (which you can’t help, with on camera work).

At the same time, I was so soft in my early/mid 20′s. Even though I’m still sensitive and vulnerable and doubtful, I’ve developed my skill for the past few years and built a hard shell around myself to the point that I haven’t given up yet -- and I might have, if I chose to seriously pursue this earlier. I’m also lucky that the last 5 years or so have ushered in more body positivity and inclusiveness in the industry (though I still fall in the dead zone of not skinny enough but not fat enough either), because that didn’t exist ten years ago.

All in all, I am so happy that 7 years ago I chose to pursue this as a career, that I got very serious about it 4 or 5 years ago, and that I finally took that step to move to Los Angeles. I am happy that I am older and more mature, that I am more settled with who I am and where I want to be, and what I want. I haven’t done nearly as much in the 2 years I’ve been here (has it been fucking two years already?!?!?), but I am taking steps to fix that. A lot of things are falling into place.

Talk to me when I’m 40, and we can have this conversation again about ageism in Hollywood re: women in the industry and how parts suddenly disappear and dry up at that milestone -- a fact which is slowly changing, and will hopefully be vastly improved by the time I get there.

Thank you for sending this by the way! I love talking about acting, about the industry, and my journey! Also I’m an actor and by trade like talking about myself lmaoooo

[hobivore]

i have been thirsting for joon a stupid amount recently so.....subby joon + 101....hehehe

I’ve had this idea in my drafts for a while and your request fitted perfectly, so thank you for finally making me write it Mai! Hope you enjoy 💗

↠ pairing: knj x reader (f) ↠ genre: smut ↠ rating: explicit (18+) ↠ words: 1.7k oops ↠ prompt: “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.” ↠ warnings: telephone sex, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, mention of choking, she’s kinda toying with him but he likes it, Namjoon in sweatpants because that should come with a warning, Joon’s subby and mostly very whipped and also a bit of a horny overthinking idiot (affectionate), also he’s a big dude… yes everywhere *winkwonk*

© madseok Do not repost, translate or use my stories without my permission.

One moment Namjoon is staring at the green phone icon, closing the app and re-opening it five times with twitching fingers, the other moment your sweet voice is purring in his ear.

“Namjoon?”

He nearly drops his phone in his lap.

Soft chatter buzzes in the background on the other side of the line. A door shuts and the click-clack of your heels echoes through the small speaker.

He looks at the clock and groans. 3:18 pm on a Thursday. Of course you’re at work.

It should take him less than 50 minutes to reach the airport by bike—he’s not going to risk subway traffic right before rush hour—and get on a plane to another continent. Change his name and disappear forever.

“Are you okay, baby?”

Has he said anything yet? God, is he going to be one of those guys who calls a girl, breathes heavily into the phone like a creep, then hangs up?

“Hi,” he croaks, flinching at his uncharacteristically high voice.

“It’s been a while.”

You’re right. It’s been 2 months and 4 days to be precise, but he doesn’t tell you he’s been counting the days. That’d be weird.

So he nods.

You stay silent and he rubs a hand over his face—of course you can’t hear him nodding. Get yourself together, Namjoon.

“I thought you’d never call me back.” There’s a wicked lilt in your voice and his stomach twists.

“Sorry.” He says. “I—I meant to call you sooner.”

He’d left your house with your number and it’d taken him all his willpower to stop himself from calling you that same day. He wasn’t a horny teenager anymore. He wasn’t desperate.

But then the days passed and the doubt started trickling in. Did you really want him to call you?

Maybe you’d regretted the night and given him your number out of pity. It had probably been a mistake, one of those nights you’d recall years after with your girlfriends. Sitting in a bar, tight black dress hugging every curve and a glass of wine in your hand as you talk about his stupid big dick and your friends erupt in laughter around you.

Or you had deleted his number from your phone and forgotten about his existence.

Namjoon wasn’t sure which situation was worse.

After 5 days, you’d called. He’d panicked and pressed the red icon—immediately shooting you a lame text message, ‘sorry, busy. will call you back later’.

He never called.

“Did you miss me?”

He swallows thickly. This morning I woke up with the outline of your body still imprinted on my eyelids.

“Yes,” he says, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth.

“I’m glad you called.” Your voice sounds honest and saccharine and it drips off his skin like honey.

Despite the whizzing aircon, Namjoon suddenly feels sticky and feverishly hot in his hoodie and sweatpants. “Where are you?” he asks, ignoring the fluttering inside his chest.

“I’m at work.“ You cut off his apology. “Don’t worry, you’re more fun than my colleague. He’s been nagging about his ex all day. I could use a break.”

Namjoon laughs. “Park? I remember you talking about him.”

He can practically hear your eyeroll over the phone. “The one and only. This is his other ex. Wait—” you’re moving again, “—I’ll hide in the toilet, he won’t come looking for me there.”

When you speak next, your voice echoes off the walls.

“You know, Joonie, I’ve missed you too.” Something clicks softly. You must’ve closed the toilet lid, sitting down on top of it, phone cradled against your ear. “I called you and you left me hanging like that.”

There’s an amused edge to your words that makes his chest tighten and his dick stir in his pants.

“So why call me now?”

His throat feels parched, and he looks around his room—no water. He gets up but stops himself before he’s out of his seat; Yoongi might be home, and he doesn’t feel like running into his roommate right now. Not when said roommate was the one who introduced you to him and kept telling him to man up and call you.

Namjoon fucked up and he owes you a proper apology. Not a stumbling mess.

“I wanted to hear your voice,” comes out instead.

To hear your voice, to see how your nose crinkles when you laugh, to fuck you senseless.

“Shit—I apologise.” He clears his throat. “For not calling sooner. I really am sorry.”

You laugh, a light, melodic sound. “It’s okay. I knew you’d call.”

The certainty in your voice makes his ears burn. Of course you knew he couldn’t stay away. Not after he’d felt your thighs clamped around his head, his tongue buried deep inside your pussy.

Not after he’d watched your face contort in pleasure while you bounced on his cock.

“So,” you continue, “you just wanted to hear my voice?”

Even separated by half a city and unable to see his face, you can see right through him.

His dick is tenting his pants and the blood is pounding in his ears. He ought to control himself better.

“Are you at home?” Your voice drops dangerously low and Namjoon knows he’s a lost cause the moment he lays his phone on the desk and puts you on speaker.

“I am.”

“You’re hard right now, aren’t you, Joonie?” You tut. “Calling me after such a long time. Getting hard at the sound of my voice. How pathetic.”

A small, wet patch darkens the grey fabric of his sweats.

“Or are you touching yourself already?”

“I—no!” He is quick to reply, voice rising. He wouldn’t dare. His head spins, and this is a lot, but he’s not that kind of person. The kind of person who’d jerk off to a woman without her permission.

“But you want to.”

Namjoon closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. “Please.”

“O, Joonie,” he hears your earrings clatter against your phone as you shake your head, “what should I do with you?”

He knows better than to answer a rhetorical question. You sound like you know exactly what to do with him.

“I want you to touch yourself. Picture it’s me.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches in his throat and he hooks his sweats under his balls, grabbing his cock in one hand.

It’s nothing like your soft skin stroking him, the small kitten-licks of your tongue teasing his tip, the wet heat of your walls surrounding him.

His hand is rough, with his long fingers and broad palm. He'd never paid much attention to his hands until you'd pointed them out.

So fucking big, you'd moaned when you’d showed him how to tighten one around your throat, your heartbeat hammering underneath the tips of his fingers.

It had taken him all his self-control not to come right then, on the spot.

He spits in his palm and starts moving his hand with slow strokes, toes curling inside his socks.

“Do you wish it was my pussy instead, baby?” Your voice sounds distant yet mellifluous through the device and he moans, tightening his grip.

Namjoon tells his students there are no stupid questions. That’s a lie.

There’s an absurd amount of them whizzing around his head right now. Why did your pussy taste so sweet? Is it possible for a person to suffocate between someone’s tits? Does Namjoon really want to die by boobs or is he just horny? (Knowing himself, there’s a 98% chance it’s the latter). What would his parents say if that happened? Would his university put up a picture of him on the bulletin board to mock him? Would he make the newspaper? Hopefully they don’t misspell his name.

He’s sure professor Choi would at least attend his funeral and thank him for his help. He’s been saving the old bastard a lot of time grading those dull papers.

No offence to the students.

“Answer me.”

He jerks in his seat. “Yes,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “Wish it was your pussy. Wish I could fuck you right now—” he whimpers, thumb pressing under the head of his cock, head lolling against the back of his chair.

“Poor boy,” you chuckle, and the sound goes straight to his core. “So desperate to waste your cum—you’re gonna spill it all over yourself instead of filling me up. What a shame.”

Your breathing sounds stable and even, and he doesn’t think you’re touching yourself. It makes his cock throb even harder.

He can picture you sitting on the toilet lid in your work clothes, leaning back against the wall. Fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of your shirt while he’s panting on the other side of the line. Murmuring filth in his ears with that lovely voice of yours—

He should probably hurry up before Park starts looking for you.

Picking up his speed, he lets out a low grunt and his eyes slip shut.

He can see you now, spread out before him on your bed, naked and waiting. He can feel you under his hands and taste you on his tongue. Your scent is intoxicating, soft moans falling from your lips as he pushes inside you.

“Faster.” You strike a sharp slap across his cheek with the flat of your hand—

Namjoon opens his eyes and his gaze lands on the bonsai on his desk. Its tiny red flowers look like they’re taunting him.

Don't judge me. You've seen worse than this.

There’s a ringing in his ears and he gasps at a particularly harsh flick of his wrist.

“Are you gonna come for me? Already?” You sound disappointed and his balls tighten.

You tsk. “You’re hopeless, Joon.”

He is. He’s hopeless, and his vision shatters, body hunching over as he comes all over his hand and chest.

Stroking himself slowly, he tries to regain his breathing. A part of his mind vaguely registers your voice on the other end of the line.

“What about you?” He pants, wincing at his sticky sweater.

“I guess I’ll just get off all by myself,” you chuckle. “Unless you want to come over tonight?”

[strawwritesfic]

Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Enhanced!Reader: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [Ch. 3]

Summary: You can teach an old dog new tricks, but it’s going to cost you.

Challenge: “9 Months” challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archive -- Bonus One -- Twins

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; pregnancy; multiple pregnancy; Bucky attends therapy sessions; physical violence against a pregnant woman (accidentally, by a villain); child abduction; foul language; Enhanced!Reader; Avenger!Reader; Tony & Reader friendship; Sharon & Reader friendship; Sam & Steve Friendship; Steve & Reader Friendship; Steve & Bucky friendship; Avengers Tower; Bucky spent time with Red Room)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Female!Reader; Steve/Sharon; Tony/Pepper

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 3: How You Told Him

Okay, so you chickened out. A week came and went, and you still hadn’t broke the news to Bucky. But it wasn’t entirely your fault! He came home so calm and happy from therapy that you couldn’t bear to ruin his mood, and then one thing led to another, which led to another, which led to you out in the field with the rest of the team.

The middle of a battle did not seem to be the proper place for your big reveal, no matter what Steve might have thought to the contrary. He’d made sure you got paired with him for the day, and had made his feelings clear the minute everyone else headed for their assigned stations.

“Cap? [Name]?” Sam’s voice on the communicator in your ear interrupted the awkward silence that had fallen after Steve’s most recent guilt trip. “I’ve got eyes on the prize. He’s coming in hot on your ten o’ clock.”

“Roger that, Sam,” Steve said.

“Got it!” you chimed in.

Even without the warning, ignoring the Abomination’s approach would have been difficult. There was an awful lot of screaming and roaring coming from that direction, not to mention the sounds of Tony and Rhodey firing their repulsor beams at peak volume. Bucky was out there somewhere, too, away from the thick of things and ready with his sniper rifle if things became desperate.

“Okay,” said Steve, “I’m going to go out there, get as many civilians out of the area as I can, try to corral him before he gets to another part of the city. You stay here.”

His instructions stopped you mid-stride. “And do what?” you asked.

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

A car whizzed straight your way. You instinctively lifted your force field, but there was no need to do so. Steve stepped in with his shield before the vehicle could get close enough to touch your protective bubble. Then he threw you a pointed look.

“That’s why.”

“I’ve handled bigger objects than cars.”

“Not while you were pregnant.”

“I’ve been pregnant since before you let me come on this assignment!”

“And I only let you come become I couldn’t say no without Bucky finding out why. I’m not about to let you go and get yourself or the baby hurt. Stay back. That’s an order.”

You scowled. “I hate it when you go into leader mode.”

“Thank you.” Only the smallest of smiles graced his features as he turned to race up the alley. “Think of it this way: With you and Bucky out of the action, now might be the perfect time to tell him the truth.”

“That better not be an order!” you hurled after his retreating back.

Steve didn’t reply, presumably because that was when a huge, fleshy monstrosity flung itself at some apartments to his left. Its huge fingers crushed holes into the bricks, making it easier for it to scale the building with far more grace than it looked like it deserved. Those living inside the apartments rushing out into the street probably made it a little difficult for Steve to concentrate on your pouting.

You decided that he didn’t really want you to tell Bucky that you were carrying his child, though. Not just then. Such news would only distract Bucky, and if you all needed him to make that kill shot…

Wherever he was, he would be able to see you from his vantage point. He would know that Steve left you behind. It wasn’t likely that Bucky would guess why that had happened, but you standing there doing nothing would rouse suspicion for sure. You did your best to look alert and prepared while you tried to think of something you could pretend to do for the duration of the fight.

“Man down! He got Tony!” Rhodey called over all channels.

Gasping, you looked up at the bright blue sky. The Abomination remained on the roof of that building, swatting at Rhodey and Sam like they were no more than flies trying to nest in its hair—if it had had hair. A twinkle of gold and red swiftly plummeting toward the ground nearby had to be Tony. His entire system must have broken with the force of the blow, because it wouldn’t be long before he hit the cement.

You ran through the calculations as quickly as you could. Sam and Rhodey—your only remaining fliers—were preoccupied. One couldn’t leave without endangering the other. Steve was busy with evacuations. Bucky would be too far away to help, Bruce was sitting this one out, and Natasha and Clint weren’t even in the country. As Tony soared over your head, you knew that it was up to you to get to him before the Abomination found him defenseless.

CRASH!

“I’m headed to Tony’s position,” you told everyone.

“[Name], wait—”

“It’s fine, Steve. He’s close. Just keep that thing off my tail.”

“Easier said than done,” Sam said. “This guy’s as strong as he is ugly!”

Wreckage strewed the streets as you ran up them in the direction you’d heard Tony make his impact. A few people called out to you as you passed, but you ignored them. Let them say you were rude on their blogs and fan pages. If Tony was trapped inside his suit, time was of the essence. You hated to think what the Abomination would do if it got ahold of him while JARVIS was unable to assist.

A pair of armored legs appeared half-buried in rubble and the remains of a hot dog stand five blocks from where you started. Several onlookers with phones out scattered upon your approach.

“Tony?” you called when the legs didn’t move. Your voice did not coerce them further. With panic thick in your throat, you shifted the broken ketchup bottles and bricks from his body.

He remained motionless.

“Tony? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The voice that responded was so quiet that you stopped moving to strain your ears for more. Nothing came. A quick look around showed you that none of the group from before had come close enough again for you to hear them speak. You frowned, then leaned down toward Tony’s recently uncovered armored-head.

“Hello?” you said uncertainly.

“Yeah, hi. I’m okay. The unlocking mechanism is jammed, so I can’t get out. No part of me is broken. I don’t think.”

The relief you felt surged out of you in a sigh before you lifted your hand to your communicator. “I’ve got him guys. He’s okay.”

“For a given definition of ‘okay,’” Tony griped faintly.

“If someone could—”

“[Name]!”

Bucky’s voice came across so panicked that you shot up at once. A tremendous pounding noise erupted behind you. When you turned, you saw the Abomination tearing straight in your direction. Vehicles and bicycles and food stands and lampposts flew everywhere. The thing’s already grotesque features contorted further with rage.

“Get out of the way!” Steve said through your ear piece.

You could see him, a tiny figure in red, white, and blue, just on the Abomination’s heels. Rhodey and Sam were also in pursuit—but for all its bulk, the Abomination seemed to be gaining speed more easily than any of them. They were not going to make it in time.

“Negative. It’s only me between him and Tony,” you said.

“I’m taking the shot,” said Bucky.

He didn’t get the chance. At that exact moment, the Abomination launched itself into the air. Its velocity increased tenfold. You could only just get yourself into position before it landed with an earth-shattering crunch right in front of you.

“Come at me, ugly. I eat Hulks for breakfast.”

It didn’t seem to think very highly of your quip. No sooner had the words come out of your mouth than did it slam both its fists right into your force field. Normally it took a few blows to max out your capabilities, but this thing was so strong that just the one made your head spin. Unfortunately, it wasn’t done. Another roar blasted against your eardrums before its fists swung up again.

You braced for another hit, and it came. Ow. A third, a fourth, a fifth. You’d never endured more abuse. Your heels sank into the pavement. If you didn’t do something soon, all Steve was going to find upon his arrival was a greasy smear where you and your unborn child once stood. It took a lot of effort, but finally you grit your teeth, looked the Abomination straight in the eye, and said, “Buh-bye.”

All that built up energy sent it flying the second you released it. In the blink of an eye, the Abomination—and everything else directly in front of you—got hurled away at least a handful of blocks, you’d have guessed.

Success on that front, not so much on the staying out of harm’s way. The effort of withstanding all those impacts was enough to leave you dead on your feet. Black spots bloomed across your vision. You managed to stay upright just long enough to see the rest of the team (sans Rhodey, who had broken off to apprehend the Abomination before it could recover) run up to you. Then you collapsed.

“[Name]?” said Bucky.

“Are you okay?” asked Sam.

It appeared that Tony’s plight had been forgotten in the light of your own. All three men appeared above you. Steve’s face was white with worry.

“[Name], can you hear me?” he asked.

You tried to answer. Really, you did. Your tongue was glued to the top of your mouth, though, and before you could do anything else to indicate your ears were still working, your eyes rolled up inside your head. Needless to say, this did not relieve Steve’s worries at all.

“We need to get her and the baby back to the tower, now!”

“The what?” you heard Bucky say.

‘Dammit, Steve,’ was your very last thought before you passed out for real.

[laximpulsion]

GUESS WHAT BITCHES? I'm back! (ish...) (back on tumblr at least...)

I had a wonderful little sabbatical; did some traveling, got some much-needed perspective. <3

So now some housekeeping. Here's how things are looking...

s3 fic: Slooooow. I'm lucky if i write a few sentences a day. i do have almost the entire rest of it vaguely outlined (some later scenes are even written) and/or floating around in my head, but don't hold your breath because if current trends continue it will take a while.

HS AU: whizzing along! I have the next 3 chapters almost ready to post. I know more or less how the rest is going to go (I just don't know where exactly I'm going to end it), so, knock on wood, it should just be a matter of getting it written down.

and then after i'm done with one or both of those, what's next? I HAVE NO IDEA! Maybe some meet-ugly oneshots? I've started writing the leah timeloop fic but I'm taking it way too seriously so don't expect to see it any time soon because I want to finish it before I post it. I just looked at the devil wears prada AU outline i wrote ages ago and i was like "wow this is awesome, someone should write this" XD and then there's any of the various random ass ideas I've posted here over the last few months. We shall see!!! If there's something you are particularly interested in reading, lmk and I'll take that into account because right now I'm feeling indecisive. you can also head to my "directory" page and scroll down to see my full list of completed stories, potential ideas, and works in progress lol.

Hope you all had a fabulous September!! xoxoxo

[cyborg-franky]

Super Server Summer Exchange

My dearest most beloved @duck-ee it was a joy to get you in the server exchange because you are a dear to me. I really hope you like this <3

Sanji x OC platonic Law TW: Children SFW Word Count: 1,445

“Everything packed?” Law asked as he leaned against the car, hands in his pockets as he watched his brother slam the back of the car, grinning and giving him a thumbs up.

“That was the last of it yes!” Duckie replied and blinked when he felt grabbing and tugging at his trousers.

Big curious eyes stared up at him as Sora tugged more, Duckie sighed and ruffled the blond hair before he picked her up, seeing those beautiful blue eyes of his daughter he brushed the hair from her face.

“I’m just going on a small trip with uncle Law, you gotta stay here and look after Daddy okay? Make sure he behaves himself and doesn’t get in any trouble. You can do that for me can’t you sweetheart?” Sora nodded shyly a smile reaching her lips as she was tasked with something big.

“Come on then princess.” Sanji hummed and took the child from his husband’s arms, kissing the side of her face before leaning over and kissing his husband goodbye.

“Have a good weekend love, call me if you need anything alright?”

“I’ll be fine, Law’s a doctor, remember.” Duckie nudged Sanji, a smile on his face as Sanji rolled his eyes.

Duckie got into the passenger’s side of the car as Law got into the driver’s seat, he grimaced a little when his brother adjusted the seat, his long legs feeling too boxed in the way Duckie had it set before. He didn’t always trust Law behind the wheel, knowing he tended to get a little annoyed at other drivers and thought he had more rights than he did.

But he didn’t like to backseat, he would just gently remind Law it was his car.

They pulled out the driveway, Duckie waving to his family while Law gave a simple nod in farewell. The open road was all theirs, pulling away from suburbia for a weekend of reconnecting and just being brothers.

Duckie turned the radio on, just high enough to hear, breaking up the silence as they travelled but not enough that they couldn’t hear one another talking. Law turned the corner, leaving a busy town road in favour of a long winding county road.

“I’m glad you managed to get the weekend off, it feels like forever since we got to hang out,” Duckie said as he pressed a button on the side, the window opening enough to let in a nice summer breeze, ruffling his hair and filling his soul with the freedom only a road trip could provide.

“They’ve owed my time off for months I just put my foot down.” He hummed and glanced to his side to watch his brother close his eyes and let the calming effect of the wind wash over him.

“I know you love your family but I bet it’ll be nice to have some time to hear yourself think huh?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to have a moment to live at a slower pace, I know Sanji had it handled, if not we have family and friends who are always ready to drop everything and lend a hand right?” Law nodded with a smile, he thought about their parents, and how they loved their grandchild.

--

The drive was smooth, relaxing, talking about small things such as their jobs, their lives, and what they’d missed in the weeks they’d last spoken. Law is always busy and Duckie with his hands full with work and family. Trying to find a balance was difficult sometimes, it’s why this road trip was so precious to both men.

“I bet you’re worried, aren’t you?” Law asked, catching Duckie looking down at his cell phone for the tenth time in a minute.

“I can’t help it, you know me, I worry, worry, worry.” He said and leaned back in his seat.

“Sanji will call you when he needs you, don’t worry.”

As the two brothers drove the world whizzed past them and changed colours as the day started to change from summer blues and yellows to afternoons oranges and purples. Soon the inky blanket of nightfall draped across the world. The car’s lights lit up each side of the road, the bushes looking like ghostly figures creeping around the car.

Law looked out the window, the large, towering trees and hedges had decorated as the field came into view. He could see the stars brighter than ever, a sight he had missed, the towns and cities never yielding to the beauty of nature’s natural lighting.

He saw a gate coming up to the side and he slowed down, Duckie quirking a brow at him as he got off the road, parking in front of the tatty old gate, the car stopping, the lights dimming before going out. Law slapped his hands on his legs and turned to face his brother.

“Remember when we used to look at the stars when we were kids? How Mother and Father would point them out to us? We’d be cuddled under that awful heart print blanket they took everywhere.”

“They still have that you know,” Duckie said with a laugh at Law’s grimace.

“It’s older than us.”

“You know they are both sentimental people Law.. so why have we stopped? Just feeling nostalgic?” he asked as Law opened the car door, gesturing for Duckie to join him.

Duckie stepped out, shutting his door and watching as Law leaned on the hood of the car, his arms folded over his chest as he stared at the night sky, the constellations all shone their brightest for the two brothers, waving in the form of far-off twinkles.

Law could see Duckie from the corner of his eye get comfy next to him, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt as the night air was a little chilly for him. He stared ahead, trying to catch the same view as Law. He could remember the nights that their parents would tell stories about the arrangement of stars, going into details about their less scientific tales of them.

He closed his eyes as he thought back to the two boys being in their mother’s arms, telling them about how sailors would chart the waters using the gems in the night sky. He smiled and opened them again, watching a star fall from the sky, tumbling and falling.

The wish he made was that his child would experience these joys. Sanji and him bringing her out this far one night, telling her stories that they’d been told. Pass down the tales so she could one day do the same. The thought started to make him emotional, and his brother could see.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just... thinking about when we were kids, what things meant to me, to us and how I can’t wait to share that with Sora and Sanji…”

Law nodded, he didn’t say anything which prompted Duckie to lean against him “You still don’t like Sanji?” he asked and tugged at the sleeve of his hoody.

“I like him fine, I’m just not a people person and I don’t do the romance or having a family thing.” He explained and ruffled Duckie’s hair.

“I didn’t use to like him, no, the person he used to be I honestly wanted to punch him in the face. I was worried every time I got a text from you or every time you and Sanji disagreed that he’d said something. We both know the man he used to be.” Law sighed and itched the hair on his chin, watching the sky.

“But you made him a better person Duckie, he needed you to help him see the person he was, and I can see how happy he makes you, for once I’m glad I was wrong about something, about someone.” Law felt arms around his waist hugging him tightly.

Even in the dark, he could tell Duckie was getting emotional, how tears welled up in his eyes at the sentimental things Law had let out. It was times like this Law was honest and open and they could talk.

“I’m glad you were wrong too.. and yes, he makes me very happy.” Duckie nodded and felt his brother ruffle his hair once more.

“Good, because I know people…” Law’s smile turned into a smirk until Duckie elbowed him in the side.

“Law…”

“Come on it was a joke.”

Duckie chuckled and once again turned his attention to the sky, watching the stars as he thought about his family. His wonderful relationship with his husband, his beautiful daughter, and his loving family. He was lucky, he didn’t need any falling stars to grant his wishes, they’d all already come true.

[ashesandhalefire]

progress report: i am missing you to death

alex, michael, and a lot of unsaid things.

-

inspired by an entirely out of context teaser shot of alex and a desperate need for interaction that has yet to be satisfied by season 3 canon.

-

Deep Sky provides the coordinates and the time, so Alex shows up and waits.

While he stands in the cool night air, he scans the flat terrain that stretches out to one side and the gully where the highway sits. Other than the whizzing traffic, oblivious to his insignificance, everything is quiet.

After about twenty minutes of the vibrating stillness, Michael slinks out of the shadows with his hat tucked low over his face and leans against the back of the car beside Alex’s SUV.

Blood rushing in his ears, Alex does a second quick sweep of the lot’s perimeter. Nothing obvious has changed in the shadows since he crept through the bushes to check potential sight lines, but Alex isn’t stupid. He was in over his head when Project Shepherd turned out to be just his father’s backroom hobby. Deep Sky outclasses his expertise in a way he isn’t ready to reckon with. They could be anywhere—somewhere in the lot, somewhere down the road, somewhere miles away—and Michael has sauntered directly into their crosshairs.

He left about five feet between them when he stopped to hook one ankle over the other and stare out at the traffic, and the distance is enough for deniability. Alex tightens his hands into anxious fists and forces a long, deep breath through his nose.

“Hey,” Michael says with a casual nod of his head. They stand listening to the roar of tires chewing their ways along the desert highway, and Alex waits for a sign. He checks Michael’s chest for the red point of a laser sight just in case. Nothing happens. They stand a little longer, and then Michael leans over and asks, “You got a light?”

“No. You got a cigarette?”

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitches. It stirs up a fondness that Alex has carefully and surgically distanced himself from for the last few months, and he glances around the parking lot again. Being in love with Michael is too easy. He falls into it without needing to think about it or to try, and the laziness of trusting things to fate is probably why they’ve never gotten it right. He should probably consider himself lucky. Sinking back into those feelings now, fruitlessly, after so much time has passed, will make him sloppy in a way he can’t afford.

“You shouldn’t be here. They could see you.”

Michael tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs, easy and unbothered. Or, almost unbothered. The muscles in his jaw are tight and tense. “You don’t even know what they do or if they’re looking for me. I haven’t exactly been hiding for the last year.”

“That doesn’t mean you should paint a bullseye on your chest.”

“But you should?”

Michael spits barbs like an old man working his way through seeded melon, careless and precise in equal measure. He always finds soft flesh.

“This isn’t a game,” Alex grits out, face growing hot with frustration. He watches a tractor trailer speed by on the road below and shoot a piece of trash out from beneath its tires.

“So tell me what it is, then,” Michael says, mouth turning down and voice suddenly going sharp as a knife’s edge, “because I didn’t really wait around to hear the rest of the story after Valenti said you were joining a cult.”

Alex looks over, and Michael’s brow is pinched to match the irritated wrinkle of his nose. Anger and tension leak off him like heat shimmers off the pavement at midday. He holds his casual posture, ankles crossed and hands tucked, but his eyes are furious.

“It’s complicated.”

Michael scoffs. “You know what, I shouldn’t bother. I should just drag your ass home, no questions.”

And now Alex’s temper flares: “Try it.”

“You think I wouldn’t? To save you?” He laughs meanly. “I’d have you over my shoulder so fucking fast—”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

“Obviously, you do.” Michael pushes off the car. The brim of his hat catches the light from the lamppost and casts half his face in shadows. “We have enough problems on our hands right now. We don’t need to poke the bear.”

“This bear poked first,” Alex says, equally furious. He checks behind Michael before hissing through his teeth, “They kidnapped Mimi. They drugged Jenna Cameron. Turnabout is fair play.”

“This isn’t turnabout! This isn’t even revenge. You’re joining their club. You are flinging yourself into a pit, Alex. A big, dark, deep pit, and when you get far enough in, none of us are going to be able to get you out. We’re gonna lose you. For good. And for no fucking reason.”

“Not for no reason,” Alex says. A tingle of shame trickles up the back of his neck. He knows he’s unprepared, going in without an exit strategy. But he can’t sit on his hands and do nothing. It makes him nervous and paranoid to be idle. “They know things.”

“Who gives a shit? Who gives one fucking iota of a shit about what they know?”

Alex frowns. “You have always wanted to know more—”

“Not like this! Not at the risk of—” Michael puts a fist to his forehead. Then he pulls off his hat and takes another step closer. His voice is softer when he speaks. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this, huh? This isn’t just your dad anymore. This is bigger than that.”

“I know.”

“They are gonna swallow you whole, and what’s the point if you’re just gone?”

Alex draws another long inhale through his nose. The weight of the thick, ugly ring on his finger feels like an anchor dragging him down. The memories of Caulfield crumbling to pieces in a cloud of fire are heavier. “If there’s even a chance that they know something, what choice do I have? I’m not getting caught off guard again. I owe you that much.”

“Bullshit,” Michael says with a jerk of his chin. “Doing it is one thing, but don’t pretend you’re doing it for me.” A pair of low-riding sports cars scream down the highway behind him, bobbing and weaving through the minimal traffic with their engines blaring. One falters behind a gas tanker and then chases its companion off towards the horizon with an roar. “If you had any interest in doing something for me, you would stay.”

Cold uncertainty creeps into Alex’s chest, and no number of layers can keep it out. He wants to ask: would I be welcome? Because he hasn’t felt like he would be in a long time. He had showed up, again and again. Sometimes, he had been wanted, and sometimes, he hadn’t been. The haze of open mic night had cleared for an instant, and the future had been visible, tangible, workable, and then, just as quickly, had vanished into the air. He had been left with Isobel’s obvious, humiliating pity, her mouth turned down as she stood to listen through the last note. That door had been closed. And yet, he wants to ask: would I be welcome? Dignity be damned.

“Are— are you asking me to stay?”

There must be something in his voice when he says it, no matter how hard he tries to control the pathetic wavering and the sunken surprise on his face, that means something to Michael. His whole body eases forward as if carried by an invisible current before he catches himself and says, “I’m done asking people for more than they’re willing to give me.”

“But you would ask? If you thought—?” Alex pushes. “You would want to ask?”

The corners of Michael’s mouth turn down and his gaze narrows almost imperceptibly, but Alex is watching for it. The more Michael closes off, the more Alex feels himself splitting open. Something bright and electric stirs in his chest.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t,” he says, waiting for the moment when Michael’s eyes widen, just slightly, just enough to understand. It comes, exactly as expected, and Michael sways closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d ask. I’m not about to beg, but I’d ask.”

He’s gotten Michael to beg before, but never for something as serious as love. On his back or on his knees or in the bed of his truck, Alex has heard him plead and bargain for things he wants in the neediest, most desperate whispers, but that had been all carnal, base pleasure, and he had known Alex wouldn’t tell him no. Here, he’s talking about a different type of submission, the kind that humiliates someone like Michael, someone who has never been given enough. Michael won’t beg, and Alex needs to be asked, and a lot of time has been wasted between them thinking that one is the same as the other.

He can’t say he’ll stay. He’s too far in to back out. And, even if he could do it, staying doesn’t mean riding off into the sunset. It means more of the same: the secrets, the conspiracies, the mysteries, the agonies, the scraping open of old wounds in last-ditch efforts to heal them. But it also means Michael, so everything else is white noise.

Michael sees it all play out on his face. He sets his hat on the roof of Alex’s car and then turns to lean against the hatchback. He sighs, and Alex can tell that more weight than usual is resting on his shoulders. It’s not just Max dragging him under. His whole body sags with it, and the sharp focus that’s been in his eyes begins to recede as he drifts away towards the call of whatever nightmare is lurking at the back of his mind.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex says because he lacks for anything else to say, and Michael  stares at his boots with a sad smile. His throat bobs as he swallows down whatever it is that’s too hard to talk about with so little time left to say it, and then he turns to look at Alex.

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” he says, like this is some sort of revelation, “and you’re you.”

The words, said like an accusation, should probably turn his stomach, but they’re also said with a reverence that pushes Alex’s heart up into his throat. Whatever is happening has rocked Michael to his core far beyond how Alex knows to help.

“Less of a piece of shit, I hope.”

Michael stares at him, flexing his hand, and then says, with a nod, “Significantly, yeah.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Alex laughs, and then he tips his head back to look at the starless sky. “I’ll take being afraid of being like him over being proud of being like him any day. At least it means I’m going in the right direction.”

Jesse haunts Alex differently than he haunts Michael. To Michael, Jesse is another human face that did something terrible to him, just more proof that looking for another planet to run to is a good idea. Jesse is a more specific phantom for Alex, much harder to let blur into the background of the general awfulness of life. There are reminders of his father all around town: placards, photographs, the sign for the street they lived on, a six-foot statue in town square. Those can be faced much more easily than the hints of his father that Alex finds in the mirror: the deep-set wrinkles in his brows, the cut of his mouth when he frowns, the tone of his voice when he yells, the shape of his thumb. To be a little less like him every day is an exhausting but necessary struggle.

Michael smiles, and Alex, mystified, thinks maybe he managed to help after all.

“Your plan wasn’t really to drag me home over your shoulder, was it?” he asks to distract from how Michael carefully swipes a finger at the corner of one eye.

Michael huffs, and the car jostles. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just wasn’t about to let you go without—” He licks his lips and says, “I wasn’t about to let you just go.”

Alex scuffs his shoe against the loose gravel. “Couldn’t get Kyle’s hubcaps off this time?”

Guilt settles over him after he says it. Guilt and something else, something like the relief of setting down a heavy burden that’s been carried too long.

“I thought you were making a mistake back then, too.” Michael takes the comment in stride, accepts it, and reaches out to touch the ring on Alex’s hand. He pinches it carefully, Alex’s fingers curled into the heat of his palm, and rolls his thumb until the ring twists to expose the thinner underside of the band. He strokes, skin then metal then skin, over and over. “Flinging yourself into some dark pit that you’d never come out of again.”

Alex wants to tell him that this is different. He can’t.

“Do me a favor, okay?”

Hand slipping up over Alex’s wrist and into the soft corner of his elbow, Michael crosses the final inches of space between them and pulls Alex close. In the dim light of the parking lot, they might be mistaken for the sort of strangers who meet in shadowy corners for quick exchanges of misery with rough words and rougher touch. But then Michael, trembling, touches the lapel of Alex’s jacket and presses a long kiss to his cheek.

He keeps his mouth there, breath hot and soft, and, before he gathers himself enough to continue, Alex says, “I’ll come back.”

Michael laughs, but it sounds like a gasp for air. “Not even gonna let me ask?”

Alex hums. “I’ll come back.”

“Yeah, you’ll come back,” Michael warns, “or I’ll come get you. And it won’t be fucking subtle.”

It sends a shiver down his spine to think of Michael storming a place as infinitely large as Deep Sky feels. If it comes to that, he’d be better off left behind. But as the thought comes, Michael’s grip shifts and the tentative press of their sides becomes a full-bodied hug that envelopes him like a warm breeze. His nose turns into the side of Michael’s neck: rain, crisp and fresh; gasoline, but faint; smoke, from his fire pit.

“I’m not really going anywhere. It’ll be fine.”

Michael squeezes, and Alex squeezes back. Everything else he wants to say is too big for this moment. And, selfishly, he wants to know that Michael will wait to hear it. He scolds himself for the thought, because they’ve each done their share of waiting miserably at the wayside, but then he lets it stand. Michael squeezes again, fingertips digging into separate points as he clings.

Alex cups a hand to the back of his head and touches his curls. He thinks about what it would mean to kiss Michael now, to kiss someone that he loves, who loves him, and imagines a tower of precariously stacked dominoes. Michael laughs wetly, and Alex lets go first, fingers lingering reluctantly.

[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You’ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

[wordstro]

[2:48 PM] + hero/villain au + "we're quite a pair, aren't we?" + part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

a/n: 2.5k, gender neutral as always, I know I said this is the last part but i'm gonna need a couple more or else this will be too long! warnings for cursing, wooyoung being toxic, and an astrology joke because I couldn't help myself lol

-

jung wooyoung's fiery gaze is unwavering, unrelenting, and it has you frozen to your spot. you do not know whether you are terrified or in awe of the sheer power displayed before you. flames curl around him like wings, heat scorching your skin as he moves closer. despite his promises to you, to selfishly keep you alive, you think this is it. either you will stop wooyoung, or you will die trying.

a hand on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality. back to the screams of civilians, to the skeletons clawing themselves out from the cracks in the concrete, all headed your way at a slow, daunting speed. there are so many of them, like moths swarming a flame or those zombie movies you used to watch on movie nights with your team, with wooyoung wedged between you and san and popcorn nestled in your lap. your heart withers in your chest, but the terror the looming army of skeletons dredge up within you does not quell.

hongjoong levels you with a sincere, determined look, his voice low, "you are not going up against him alone," his fingers drop from your elbow to your hand and he squeezes it as he used to when you were both in university, "not again. not anymore."

at any other time, the show of sincerity would bring you to tears after everything, but you don't have time that. not now. instead, you give him a grateful smile before you switch gears.

"it's fine, joong. you need to find seonghwa and jongho and make sure yeo...that he's..." your heart sinks in your chest as you trail off at the thought of yeosang's fate.

"i know." hongjoong sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, before he swivels on san. they have a silent exchange, one you can't decipher, but san nods in response and hongjoong grits his teeth. hongjoong's gaze keeps flickering to wooyoung's approaching figure even as he looks between you and san.

hongjoong says, "protect each other."

you both nod. hongjoong steps back, his eyes lingering on wooyoung, before he disappears into thin air, no doubt stepping into one of the many dimensions he can flit through. he's likely already on the other side of the army to confront seonghwa. the skeleton army spreads into the city streets, like ants, aimless as they descend upon the city. you ignore the guilt surging within you as you block out the screams and cries of civilians, turning your focus entirely on wooyoung.

"you think this is poetic justice or something?"

"what?" you blink sideways at san. he cranes his neck as he stares at wooyoung, and his expression is the calmest you've seen it in a while, as if all the anger has melted under wooyoung's scorching heat. all that is left is a sad sort of resolve.

"two of the three people who love wooyoung most," san gives you a sidelong glance and a knowing half-smile, "teaming up to beat his ass into the next decade. the alliance's pr team could never set something up like this."

your heart twists at his words, but you manage a small smile back. "should you really be romanticizing a beat down, san?"

"i can't help it," san shrugs, "i'm a cancer. we romanticize everything."

you snort, and san smiles, and you know right then that you are not the only one who's resolved to stop wooyoung or die trying.

before you can say another word, flames burst up into the sky all around you, a fire wall that cuts you and san off from the rest of the city. you watch some skeletons burn to crisps before you, blackened bones clattering into the rubble, cement melting.

you hear wooyoung laugh.

then a molten piece of rubble is soaring in your direction at a speed you can barely fathom, let alone dodge.

~.~.~.~.~

you come to all at once, and you feel as if you've been hit by a truck. a burning truck made of solid metal. multiple times.

you don't have time to assess the damage, only that you know your vision is blurred and you have burns and the smell of burning skin and hair is not pleasant at all and that you're - holy shit, you're practically embedded into the side of an office building, half your body hanging in the air, unsupported. you blink away the spots in your vision, shaking the ringing in your ears, and grip a steel pipe protruding from the gaping hole you've caused and look over the side of the building to -

"- fucking asshole!"

"you've said that already."

you recognize san's shout and wooyoung's infuriatingly nonchalant response, drifting from beneath you.

you lean over and recoil at the sight of san swinging at wooyoung with a vengeance you only imagined from him until this point. wooyoung dodges each hit with ease. he knows san's fighting style, even after all these months. wooyoung and san used to train together often, alongside yeosang.

"i knew you were bad at throwing punches, but i didn't know you were this bad. heartbreak made you this soft?"

wooyoung's tone is mocking, mean. you bristle, yanking at the protruding pipe beside you. it groans in protest, but you don't have any other weapons, so a giant corporation can handle a missing plumbing pipe or two.

san lands a punch. "that one's for y/n," then san tackles wooyoung to the ground, straddling him before he lands another punch on wooyoung's face. the sickening crunch seems to echo despite the chaos in the city. san's biting words echo as well, "and that's for yeosang."

wooyoung merely laughs, "is that it? yeosang hit harder than you."

san blinks, and the silence that follows has you pausing in your attempt to wrench out the stupid pipe from the cement building.

"hit?" san's voice echoes up to you, "past tense?"

wooyoung doesn't respond. san grabs him by the collar, yanking him close to say something you can't hear from up here. you finally pull the pipe from the building, water bursting from the severed pipe and spilling over you.

whatever san says to wooyoung flips a switch in him, one that you've seen too often in that underground apartment. in the blink of an eye, wooyoung has san by the throat, fire bursting from his other palm, poised and ready for the finishing blow. you lock eyes with san over wooyoung's shoulder, even as he grips wooyoung's arm. his lips are moving, and whatever he's whispering to wooyoung has anger rolling off him in waves. you jump from the side of the building, landing right behind him as you swing at his head. the road crumbles beneath you at the force of your jump, making you miss wooyoung by an inch. he turns his fire on you and it whizzes past your head, inches from your ear. the smell of burnt hair floods your senses once more.

wooyoung meets your gaze.

your grip remains tight on the pipe in your hands, but your voice wavers when you whisper, "is yeosang...is he dead? did you kill him?"

"those are two very different questions."

"woo -"

wooyoung grabs the pipe and it starts to melt in his hands, molten metal dripping between you both. you yelp at the way it burns your hands, pulling your stinging hands away just as san lunges for wooyoung's feet. without turning, wooyoung swings the pipe straight down into san's lunging hands. the movement is too fast. the instant rotting scent of burning flesh causes you to lurch back, even as san lets out a loud scream. he phases away fast enough to avoid the brunt of it, but from the way san cradles his hand against his chest as he scoots away from wooyoung, you know the pain is bad.

wooyoung rolls his eyes, brandishing the molten pipe in his hands. "this is fucking pathetic," he eyes san in annoyance, "you're fucking pathetic."

if you hadn't known what to look for, you'd have missed the way san's shoulders deflate at the insult.

you push your way between them, blocking san from wooyoung's harsh gaze. you shove wooyoung so hard he stumbles back, his eyes widening slightly as if he'd forgotten your strength. maybe he has, since you spent months unable to use it on him. then, he turns his angry, mocking eyes on you, stepping towards you.

he tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your face, "did that hit too close to home for you, y/n?"

your fists curl at your side. his gaze flickers to your fists. his smile is vindictive.

"you think after this, they'll let your crimes slide?"

he takes another step closer, flicks his wrist, and all you hear is san shout behind you before he is blocked off by a wall of fire. you're encircled by fire, by wooyoung, and wooyoung merely laughs once more.

you shove him away from you. his back hits the fire behind him, but it only seems to push him back into the circle. wooyoung is unaffected by the strength of your shoves, his gaze unwavering. each time you push him back, he stumbles back only to step forward. sometimes his flames push him back to his feet when you push him to close. he continues to advance on you as if your strength is nothing. as if it isn't enough.

if you wanted to, you could shove him a hundred meters into the ground or toss him into the sky, into one of the office buildings peeking over the wall of fire even. but you don't. despite everything, you can't. yeosang doesn't need to be here to speak the strength out of you. you know it, and so does he. san knows it too, you realize, and that's why he landed punches for you.

"stop it. don't come any closer." you grit out, shoving him once more.

he laughs. there is nothing amusing about it, "do i need to remind you what you've done?"

"i'll kill you, wooyoung," you stand your ground, arms raised, but your voice wavers when wooyoung steps even closer, until his chest brushes against your raised knuckles, "i swear i will."

"come on, y/n. we both know you can't," wooyoung snorts, "you can barely even hurt me. we're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"don't compare me to you. you've hurt me time and time again," you remind him, pushing him back once more, "you just threw a fucking lava rock at me."

he shrugs, "but did it kill you?"

you let out a scream of frustration, lunging at wooyoung, tackling him to the ground. you grip his tattered collar, ignoring the way his heated skin almost burns, and you raise your fist.

he says, with such ease, as if you aren't seconds away from breaking his nose, "killing me won't stop a thing. it won't stop your anger or any of the fighting. this is only the beginning, y/n. kill me now and you'll only create a martyr."

your fist shakes midair, your grip tightening around his collar. he's right. his ideologies have already found a foothold within disenfranchised communities. you could tell that much from the brief bits of news you were able to catch on television between serum injections and blank spaces. wooyoung is always fucking right.

wooyoung's eyes flicker from your raised fist to your face, and his eyes are unreadable.

his voice is the softest murmur, but his words cut right through you, "all i have to do is say the words, you know. then we can have the city by nightfall."

you can't imagine the idea of mindlessly joining wooyoung's side. after reconciling with hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san. after yeosang risked his life to get you out. you can't fathom why wooyoung insists on making you go through that again.

you drop your fist to his collar, and you yank him up with both hands, the sound of his collar tearing further filling the silence between you both. you search his gaze for a long moment before you whisper, "why are you doing this to me?"

it's a genuine question, and for once, wooyoung appears entirely genuine as he thinks over his response. "there are two sides to every war. those who win, and those who are dead," wooyoung's eyes flicker over your features, "i don't know what i'll do if you die, so i'm picking your side for you."

his tone is quiet, an admission almost, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. you need to get away from him. bile rises in your throat at the thought of his words, the meaning behind it, the way a miniscule part of you still stirs at the admission. you always used to wonder how he felt about you, and when he betrayed you all, you used to lament that you were not enough to make him even consider staying. now, you're getting an admission under all the wrong circumstances and for all the wrong reasons. you continue to back away, until the heatwaves emitting from his fire wall burns at your skin, sweat dripping down your back.

wooyoung merely sits up and watches your reaction with unreadable eyes.

"you're doing this because you care about me?" your voice curls around the word care. your heart hurts.

wooyoung drags a hand through his messy hair, his gaze falling to his feet for just a moment. he nods. he appears subdued like this. vulnerable.

"that's fucked up," you whisper, "it's unfair. it's - it's -"

"i know," wooyoung says, sighing as he tugs at his hair, "i know, y/n."

his brown eyes meet yours, and he holds you in his gaze for a moment too long. your fingers curl into fists as you look away first.

"what about," you grit your teeth as you address the wall of fire behind him, "what about san? joong? mingi and yunho? you don't care if they're dead?"

"if the villain alliance needs their powers, we'll have them take the serum."

he doesn't answer your second question, and you can't help but look at him again. you can see the way your question affects him though, the tick of his jaw and the brief flicker of guilt. but his words sit heavy on your shoulders.

one day, he'll take their autonomy from them as well and you'll be forced to help.

"i hate you," you tell him.

wooyoung's voice is soft with pity, "no you don't."

jung wooyoung is always right, and you hate that most of all.

another siren breaks through the city, and you're suddenly aware of just how eerie and silent the world has become. the siren doesn't sound like anything the alliance had trained you on, the low hum of horns grating on your ears. wooyoung seems to know what it means, though, craning his neck as a small grin tugs at his lips. he brushes the dirt from his tattered clothes and flicks his wrist. the flames around you dance further into the sky.

"that's your cue," he says to you.

you shake your head in a last stand of defiance. you hope he'll listen. for once. but, he sighs, as if you are merely a child throwing a tantrum.

then he says the words and your vision spots.

you disappear.

[21burritoseavey]

moonlight pt.3 (d.s.)

a/n: hey, I really hope you enjoy this one, even though it says ‘pt.3′ you can read the parts on their own if you wish:)

summary: daniel takes you to his hometown to meet his family + some other stuff happens. inspired by all too well (taylor’s version) Pt.1, Pt.2

wc: 3732 - i really did that😌

Your love was like the moon. It was eternal. Sometimes dim, other times bright. And much like the faithful moon, love was always there through your relationship, the best, the worst and even the moments where it was hidden in the darkness.

Daniel wasn’t sure if he would ever find another place on Earth that matched the beauty of his hometown. Autumn was prospering effortlessly, as if the town was lit on fire. It donned vibrant colours of red, orange, and yellow on freshly fallen leaves instead of the green that dwelled in summer and fostered a misty dew upon trees that lined streets. Daniel watched you soak in all the wonders of Washington since it was your first time there. He loved the way you appreciated every fleeting image of mother nature whizzing by the open car window. Your hair whirled in the wind as if it was having its very last dance and you reached your hands out through the open window to feel the hazy atmosphere cool your hands. Your carefree spirit even inspired him to feel more excited. Washington was’t as glamourous as his new place of residence but provided he didn’t have to work, trips back there allowed him to break out of his bubble of familiar city life and step back inside a world nourished with memories of his childhood and feelings of his younger self. Life in his hometown was much slower than L.A. and going back there always felt like a daydream. 

He had driven down the road leading to his childhood home many times before, but it felt different this time. There seemed to be a new meaning to this trip, like he was revealing a hidden piece of his heart with open arms and the hope there wouldn’t be any judgement, just love and appreciation. But that felt like a big step from prior months of happy-go-lucky summer romance so the drive was quieter than usual, but still comfortable. There were low tunes playing from the speakers and only a few moments of lingering conversation, but Daniel kept one hand on top of yours resting on your thigh the whole ride. He would give your hand a little squeeze every once and a while. 

You were in his old neighbourhood when the phone rang. The vibrations of his phone tucked in the cup holder in the console between them had you and Daniel both glancing down at lit screen, and Daniel muttered a “Can you get that please?” for you to answer it. 

You nodded with a smile in response and picked it up, seeing an unknown name on the screen. “Jonah?” You peaked a brow.

“Jonah?” He repeated excitedly, the name resonating in his mind with a sort of uplifting familiarity. He ushered you to answer it, his gaze flickering between the niegourhood street ahead of him and the phone you held below his ear. Daniel pulled over just as the phone line cracked and you heard Jonah’s muffled voice. A few animated greetings. Lingering small talk. Some eager ‘yes’s. And then the call was over. You waited silently with your own smile in excitement for him even though having no idea what those two boys were just talking about. Daniel was the most extroverted extrovert you knew. He never objected to any plans to hang out with his friends and at times, he’d just think up random reasons just to see them. He sincerely would not act the same if he had to go a day without talking to others. 

Daniel whipped his head over at you, holding out the phone for you to take once he drove onto the road again, his open mouthed grin waiting expectantly to spill out all the details of this phone call. 

“Who was it?” You asked, leaning towards him in your seat. 

“Jonah,” He glanced at you. “An old friend. We used to hang out all the time when I lived here. I told him I just got here, and he asked if I could hang out sometime during my stay.”

Your smile grew bigger, and you rested a hand on his arm, “That’s great! You’re going, right?” 

He turned to you with furrowed brows. “Of course! I’d be crazy not to.” He said matter of factly. 

“So you two used to hang around here, then?” You regarded the houses and streets out the window. 

“Yeah, he used to live a few blocks away.” Silence fell as he unlocked the memory, giving you a tight smile before turning to the road once more. Your grinned and turned contently to your window. 

You focused out the window as Daniel pulled into the driveway of his former home. The garage was wide open, and you saw two other cars settled inside that you guessed belonged to Daniel’s siblings. The moment the car ignition turned off; you were starting to feel a twist of nervousness grow in your gut. Daniel felt your grip tighten on his hand unconsciously and he looked at you with a smile. 

“It’ll be fine, Y/n. My parents will love you.” He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I hope so.” You mumbled, only glancing back with a forced smile before opening the door. You lowered yourself out of the car seat onto the driveway. The suitcases and bags you brought for the stay were in the trunk and Daniel met you at the back of his car to bring them inside. 

With his backpack slung over his shoulders and his suitcase rolling across the gravel, he locked your hand with his. He barely had a moment to even knock on the lacquered wood before the door was whipping open to reveal his mother.

“Daniel,” Keri sighed gladly, standing on the threshold of the front entrance, outstretched arms ready to embrace her youngest son. 

“Hey, mom,” Daniel obliged quickly, letting himself relax in his mother’s arms after the flight and long drive down. Keri pulled back and brushed her palm across his cheek. “I missed you.” 

She caught a glimpse of your fall sweater billowing out with the breeze behind him and was quick to pull you in a long hug, her hands rubbing affectionately over your back. 

“I’ve heard lots about you, Y/n.” She beamed. Although you couldn’t see her grin, you could sense her joy in her tone. Just by her sweet voice, you let out a breath you hardly even knew you were holding in. It was nice to already feel that motherly love from her. 

“Hi,” You bit your lip against a smile in nervousness, “It’s so good to finally meet you,” You glanced at Daniel over Keri’s shoulder, meeting his goofy smile and his reassuring thumbs up. You couldn’t help but giggle at him. 

“I’m so glad you came up here,” She grinned, pulling back to get a good look at you. “Come in,” She waved you in. “The food’s ready and everything.” She stopped in her tracks to look back behind her legs. “Finn’s excited to see you too.” The energetic Goldendoodle skidded towards you from behind his owner, his little paws tapping against the floor, and he gave you lots of welcoming kisses as you crouched to the floor. 

“That wasn’t so bad.” You whispered excitedly to Daniel while you washed your hands in the half bathroom. 

“I told you,” He rolled his eyes playfully as he dried his hands. 

Daniel’s immediate family had come together and withdrew from their separate conversations to have dinner. Anna noticed you as you walked in from the half bathroom and didn’t hesitate to greet you after Christian and Tyler. The place was warm - bright accent colours dusting the cabinets and walls and scents of home cooked dishes worked in perfect harmony to create a welcoming setting for the family dinner. After seats were taken and blessings were said, they began plating their own meals themselves and started with light conversation. 

You were close with Daniel’s siblings due to your shared residence back in L.A, but Keri and Jeff Seavey were quite a different story. Daniel always reiterated their unwavering kindness towards any of his loved ones so you guessed meeting them would be easy. And it was. From first glance, you could see a little bit of Daniel that lingered in their mannerisms to their voices to the way they tipped their heads back when they laughed. There was never a moment where you felt out of place, and they were keen to learn more about you. It was easy to feel at home. 

For old times’ sake, Daniel’s mother had brought up the topic of past family memories, eagerly telling you stories of family shenanigans that nearly made her sons and daughter cringe behind bites of their dinner. A photo album sat on the table as Keri flipped through the plastic protected pages, each filled with memories over the years that she treasured dearly. 

“Oh, take a look at this one,” She chuckled, pointing a finger at a vividly rendered photograph. 

She picked up the album and angled it towards Daniel, taking pride in the precious moment she was able to capture. You leaned on his shoulder to take a look as well and Anna, Christian and Tyler did the same. Out of the four, the sibling in the picture was Daniel. 

“Aww” you pouted sweetly, pressing a hand on Daniel’s arm beside you. 

He wore navy blue shorts that reached his mid thighs and a slightly oversized red sweatshirt, sitting on his white and blue bicycle with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The background was just the same; lush greenery behind a brilliant white fence, and flowers growing slightly over the concrete. Daniel felt more embarrassed with every second your gaze lingered on the photograph, his flushed cheek squished against your shoulder and his awkward smile hidden in the material of your fall sweater. The vivid blue of his eyes wasn’t quite captured by the camera, but that part of him hadn’t changed over the years. His eyes were still as beautiful and shone with the same, if not more, happiness he always had inside him. You could stare into them for ages. 

“You look like a pro athlete there, baby,” You joked, grinning down at him. He merely sunk his head further into your shoulder with a laugh, and you brushed a hand through his brunette hair. Daniel’s three other siblings didn’t hesitate to make their own jokes and comments known on the other end of the dinner table. 

“I remember you used training wheels for the longest time,” Anna chimed in. 

“But you would always get back up after you fell, trying and trying again.” Jeff spoke proudly behind a forkful of his dinner. 

“Yeah, I remember that. I’d love riding that bike to school.” He chuckled with a light-hearted shake of his head

“Oh look, here’s one from American Idol!” Keri gushed excitedly from her spot. She whipped the photo book around to show her kids, not quite getting the same heartfelt reaction she expected. The Seavey siblings all broke out into laughter at the sight of young, emotional Daniel and his flushed cheeks. (a/n: sorry I had to haha)

The victim of embarrassment himself groaned loudly, raking his hands over his face. “Where did you even get that?!” His siblings only laughed harder at his reaction.

Jeff looked up from his plate to see what all the fuss was about, his glass of water pressed to his lips. Through a sip, he gazed at the photo, his mind barely processing the image for a moment until he spat the water out again from shock. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and laughed through his numerous coughs. Keri glared right across from him. He raised both of his hands in defence, and he mouthed a ‘sorry’. 

“I don’t know,” Keri softly replied through a frown, facing the photo album back to herself so only she could admire it. “It’s been in here for years,”  

“Years?!” Daniel’s eyes widened. 

“Oh my gosh, I’ve got to tweet this.” Christian chuckled and pulled out his phone. 

You kept your own giggles in for the sake of helping Daniel not just burst into a mess of utter humiliation amidst his siblings and even his father’s laughter. You leaned in and tried to pull his hands away from his face, “Dani,” You bit back your smile. “It’s okay, you look cute there,” 

He dropped his hands and stared at you; his eyes boring into yours blankly. “I look like an idiot.” 

“A cute idiot.” You smirked, leaning in to brush your nose with his. Daniel finally smiled and snaked an arm around your waist to keep you next to him.  

Despite the glimmer of embarrassment that came with reminiscence, Daniel couldn’t deny the warmth in his heart that derived from family homespun memories. They reminded him of his appreciation for his loved ones, and you, whom he was able to share them with. He averted his gaze, past his joking siblings, to the dark wooden dresser occupying the wall across from him. His eyes wandered along the line of picture frames on the sideboard. They always sat there, growing in age yet growing in appreciation. On the left were young versions of his paternal grandparents rendered monochrome on their wedding day: The past. The next frame: his parents standing in casual street clothes with their new Goldendoodle puppy held in their arms: The present. The last one was empty. Keri still had yet to pick a photo that best fit the vacant spot. But Daniel already had his ideas. You and him: The future. Just as in love as the rest of them. 

The group’s conversations lasted longer than the actual eating part of dinner as empty plates and cups sat in front of you, but once stars dotted the blanket of darkness stretching to infinity and the moonlight poured in through the undrawn curtains of the veranda door, the family began shifting out of their seats and cleaning up. You looked so magical bathed in the shaft of moonlight and Daniel couldn’t help but whisper a compliment to you. 

“You look so beautiful,” He murmured right into your ear so his siblings wouldn’t hear, his thumb brushing underneath your chin to pull your gaze to his. He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Thank you, baby. You look so handsome,” You returned, kissing him a couple more times before having to get up and join in on the cleaning up. Daniel was so enthralled by you, your every word and touch. It was surreal how everything fell into place, how dreamlike everything felt with him. Daniel hardly paid any focus on placing the crockery in the dishwasher as his gaze was plastered to you, doing the simplest task of drying the dishes yet looking so wonderful doing it. 

You noticed his lingering stare when you looked over your shoulder. “Daniel?”

The dishes clattered as they fell onto the rack and Daniel snapped back into reality at the noise. “U-uh…yep. Yeah.” He stuttered, looking away from you. 

“Alright.” You dismissed it with a chuckle. 

 Daniel’s family had moved their lives to the backyard, taking advantage of the calm autumn night around the firepit. The two of you stayed in the kitchen for a moment before joining them.  

“Thank you for coming with me tonight.” Daniel placed a hand on your back from behind. “It means a lot.” He kissed your cheek. 

You turned to him, a cheerful smile stretching across your face, with an easy “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The backyard was adorned with fairy lights in early preparation for the holidays, and on one of the outdoor sofas sat Tyler, his guitar sitting on his lap as he plucked the strings messily. 

“Play a proper song, can’t you?” Daniel rolled his eyes light-heartedly as he emerged from the indoors. 

“Sure, I can. Just didn’t want to outperform you.” Tyler spoke back, shooting his brother a smirk which earned gentle laughter from the rest of the group. Daniel merely shrugged off his comment like it was nothing and snatched the bag of marshmallows playfully from his younger sister, plopping one in his mouth.

“Hey,” Keri scolded gently, plucking the bag from his hands which startled her youngest son. “Those are for s’mores.” 

Daniel pouted. 

You came sauntering across the patio just in time and he welcomed you to curl up beside him. “Here you go,” He passed you a skewer and a marshmallow. You thanked him and let your head rest on his shoulder while the fire warmed your cheeks.

As the small group roasted their marshmallows over the fire, Tyler did in fact, start playing some of his favourite songs on his guitar, sending waves upon waves of peace over the group while the full moon created dappled shadows and the fall wind stirred around you. 

“Alright, we’re heading to bed.” Daniel’s mother and father announced, and they pulled themselves up to their feet. After some goodnights and loving hugs, they went back indoors. 

Having driven a long way, Daniel started to feel himself dozing off beside you, his eyes falling closed before he would open them up again. On the other hand, you wanted nothing more than to get up and move around. You looked around to his siblings, Anna was merely focused on her book, Christian was on his phone and Tyler was busy with his guitar perched on his lap. 

“Daniel?” 

He stared at the bonfire, listening to the crackling of fire in front of him as the warm toned flames reached higher and higher into the atmosphere. Your soft voice pulled him out of his little trance, and he looked down at you at the mention of his name. 

You shifted onto your feet slowly. “Want to go for a walk?” You asked. Daniel glanced down at your outstretched hand for a moment and then back up to you, his lips tugging up into a smile with the same adoration as you did for him. The way your eyes shimmered against the firelight gave him instant butterflies.

Daniel hesitated for a moment but with an “okay,” he placed his hand in yours so you could pull him up to his feet. Amidst the overhanging trees at the edge of the backyard, fall leaves carpeted the grass, and you would’ve loved to just fall back into the piles and piles strewn along the fence the second you noticed them. Daniel stopped his strides across the expanse to peer towards the heaps of leaves sitting only paces away as if they were inviting him to jump into them. He slowly turned to you. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

You nodded quickly, catching on without an ounce of hesitation. “Yeah,”

So, with your hands interlocked and childlike adventure coursing through your veins, you and Daniel almost ran towards the mountainous pile, your feet recklessly skidding along the damp grass. Daniel looked back just as the pair of you were about to fall in and he tugged your wrist gently so you would fall safely in his arms. With a muffled thump, the two of you landed, leaves tumbling up around you. Brown. Red. Yellow. And like confetti, they fell again. Daniel broke out into giggles at the silliness of it all.

“That was it?” You asked disbelievingly with a glance over your shoulder, a tinge of disappointment in your tone. “I thought it was going to be more fun…” Daniel only laughed. 

“We should do that again!” You proposed, getting up off his lap. 

Daniel whipped his head at you and got up, wiping excess leaves stuck to his clothes. “Hey, hey, hey,” He stopped you, both hands resting on your arms and with a cheeky smile he said, “I don’t think my mom would be very happy if we did that again,” 

“Oh, yeah.” Your expression melted into a serious one. You looked down at your body, your clothes damp from the dew and leaves clinging to your clothes and hair. “We are a bit messy, huh?”

Daniel nodded with a chuckle, “I don’t mind.” He only stepped closer, tucking his head into your neck with a tired sigh. “I’m so tired,”

“Me too.”

The two of you just stayed in each other’s warm arms for a moment, beside the silhouettes of the trees and the mess of autumn leaves. Daniel lifted his head from the crook of your neck to look at you, and you peeled your eyes open to look at him too. “I love you,”

“I love you,” You beamed, the three words rolling off your tongue easily. You moved your hand to his chest and tugged the loose front of his sweater to push his lips onto yours, his heartbeat right against your palm. Daniel smiled into your kiss, his soft lips caressing yours, warm and lingering. Even once you pulled back, the two of you stared silently at each other, your own thoughts dancing slowly in your minds and shared love bursting in your hearts. That was, until Daniel felt a feather light ‘thud’ of a marshmallow smack his arm. 

He turned to the supposed direction of where it came from and strained his eyes to finally catch sight of Anna and Christian. “Get a room, you two!” Anna called with a laugh from her spot across the yard. She reached further into the half empty marshmallow bag to chuck more at her older brother. 

“Ow! Wha-...stop!” Daniel stuttered, stretching his arm out towards his younger sister as he tried to grab the pink and white marshmallows darting towards the both of you. 

“Oh, gosh,” You breathed, trying to hold back your own laughter with your palm as Daniel tried to dodge the marshmallows ruthlessly coming your way. “Dani, they’re just marshmallows.” 

He stumbled towards his siblings in his haste. But once he grabbed a hold of that bag himself, he began throwing the rest at his siblings too, his infectious chuckles filling the air as they tried to avoid the marshmallows. You and Tyler exchanged shocked glances at their behaviour as you made your way over to the firepit. 

“What is going on here?” The veranda door slid open, and Keri stood in place, her robe dancing with the breeze. Almost instantly, Daniel, Christian, Anna and even Tyler, who was simply strumming his guitar, all looked over at their mother with shocked expressions. 

“Just get inside. It’s getting late.” She called with her arms crossed over her chest, expecting nothing less ridiculous from her kids. 

 Her stern motherly voice had them all walking indoors with bowed heads in single file; Tyler. Christian. Anna. At the sight of Daniel, Keri frowned. His dishevelled hair and slightly damp clothing had her disappointed frown deepening. As he slipped past her, she plucked a stray leaf from his arm, and she held it in confusion for a moment. And as you walked after him with even more leaves stuck to your clothes, she sighed in realisation and peered at the sunken pile of leaves near the fence. She hid her own gentle laughter at the mess of marshmallows strewn around the firepit and slid the door closed. 

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[gorbo-longstocking]

Could we ask for your headcanon appearance of each monster? How tall are they? Anything specific out of the typical appearance made by the fandom?

OOOO i have no idea tbh uh. hm.

gonna put this under cut because you said monster not skeleton….. whole rq list is getting da treatment >:3 fair warning i have no been super into the aus for very long so idk what constitutes as fandom wide appearance and what doesnt

sans: i dont think i have any hot takes on what he looks like? hes just regular old sans blue hoodie and basket ball shorts. i do think he smells vaguely of cheese whizz though.

papyrus: i cant stop envisioning him in sweaters and i dont know why. like the really dorky ones. the kind of guy to wear ugly christmas sweaters for months. my hot take is he tends to wear the same couple of outfits semi-frequently for months at a time as a comfort thing. his gloves and scarf are ALWAYS apart of the ensemble. the gloves r also for sensory reasons

red: i am OBSESSED with turtleneck wearing red its changed my life. i think about ur near constantly. he doesnt wear his jacket as much as sans maybe? i can also see him wearing jewelry some. if he had ears hed have one pierced. its generally rings and necklaces though. he and esge have shark teeth too like those kinds of sharp teeth but i know thats generally normal. big boneed and has a belly. bc he deserves one

edge: LEATHER ENTHUSIAST. he wears leather pants i think. he also has a purse to carry doomfanger around in (she is wearing a harness) he wears heeled boots which add to his impressive height (6’5) uhh. smells like spices. vaguely of cinnamon. gloves are less for sensory reasons, more he isnt fond of dirt.

blue: wears a bunch of goofy graphic t’s and also his scarf. has a tooth gap and freckles but thats a pretty common interpretation. he wears sneakers and has various silly ones like light ups and heelies. just for a laugh. my hot take is every sans had a tooth gap growing up and only blue didnt get it fixed. he thinks he looks better with it.

stretch: CARGO SHORTS. the many pockets for the many things he finds and picks up. theyre seemingly never endless. hes lanky looking, always slouching and leaning to one side hes never known good posture in his life. talks with his hands.

lord: wears shoes that give him a height boost. also unironically wears designer shit. his gloves are also for sensory reasons like papyrus. instead of shark like teeth he just has very sharp canines. he smells like coffee underneath and OVERWHELMING amount of cologne.

mutt: ALWAYS wearing his jacket youd be hardpressed to get it off of him (only lord can do it wnd even then its still a chore) his boots are furlined and everything he wears is the same texture. he defaults to sweat pants bc jeans r scratchy but he can manage it ok. hes got claws he tries to keep clipped down bc they scratched his phone screen. has a tendency to glare.

g: turtleneck under leather jacket wearer. he smirks more than he smiles. the tallest sans. he and ace take on a thicker set of bones to match gaster. wears docs probably.

ace: argyle enthusiast. very very tall, kind of gangly with glasses and a very sweet smile. his eyes are VERY kind you know the ones where someone smiles and their eyes crinkle up and youre like my god they r the sweetest.

height wise from tallest to shortest: ace (7'2), g (6'7) edge (6'5), papyrus (6'3), mutt (6'1), stretch (6'0), red (5'5), sans (5'3), lord (5'1), blue (5'0)

—-

gaster: tall, very tall. not really made of bone, it feels kind of boney but its more porcelain like?? holes in his hands and cracks on his face duh. kind of pudgy. like i know hes boney but hes got a dad bod tbh. his smiles kind of on the awkward side even when hes being genuine. he also tends to wear long sleeves.

mercury: eccentric sweater vest kind of guy. wears cordoroy pants and is a few inches shorter than gaster but not much. his missing a tooth in the front of his mouth (he tripped) but it only adds to his character.

epsilon: wears reds and blacks, with deep scars running along his face and also his body. his chest has a nasty one along with a few along his arm and on his back. shoes are snazzy, you can hear them click on the floor and he does it on purpose. intimidating.

height wise from tallest to shortest: epsilon (7'11), gaster (7'6), mercury (7'4)

—-

toriel: not sure what to say here except toriel in my head is soft shapes. not super curvy just kind of round. mrs clause shaped.

asgore: took the tits in the divorce

rose: a little curvier than toriel. she has the appearance of someone who used to be kind of buff but over time lost that. sharper teeth, thoigh theyre somewhat small and unnoticeable unless shes threatening you. she also has claws.

oleander: HUGE AND BUFF. where rose’s fangs are small his are not and got are they obvious. has black hair as compared to swap and uts blond. huge arms. tends to wear tight fitting plain black shirts. always sneering.

clover: also buff, gotta be buff to hold that trident. she wears flannels and jeans more often than not. shes a bit serious, leaning more towards the tired side. has eye bags that she tries to make less noticable. her horns are bit bigger than uf and ut toriel.

basil: wears glasses like ut toriel, his muscle has turned to fat so he is very soft. has a warm face, welcoming and inviting. hes the smallest of the asgore but hes still pretty damn big.

dahlia: her fangs are not as big as oleanders but much bigger than roses. seems lost in thought and when shes not shes cold and prying. doesnt sneer, she smiles, though its almost too wide and somewhat unsettling. on the off chance her face softens, she looks younger and sweeter. her real laugh sounds kind of like a bell.

hemlock: black hair like oleander although its kind of greasy. he wears cardigans, always mentioning being cold. hes got fangs as well and his eyes are somewhat down turned kind of making him look perpetually miserable. hes the thinnest of all the goats, looking borderline unhealthy.

height wise from tallest to shortest: oleander (8'4), hemlock (8'0), asgore (7'7), dahlia (7'6), clover (7'5), basil (7'4), rose (7'2), toriel (7'2)

[unwritrecipes]

Potato Chip Crusted Chicken Tenders with Special Sauce

Hello my friends!!! How amazing it feels to be able to say and write those three simple words!!! It’s been a long “unwritten” spell here on Unwritten Recipes and I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could say that I’ve been absent from these pages cause we’ve been traveling around the world or that I’ve been too busy to post because one of my shows had taken off but the unfortunate and scary truth is that I’ve been sick…very…with breast cancer. Yeah, it stinks, I know. Surgeries, radiation and chemo have until very recently left me flat on my back (literally) and unable to cook anything, let alone photograph and write about it. But finally, finally I AM BACK, a little worse for the wear, but excited about food and to once again be able to share with you some delicious creations.

First up is this simple but truly yummy Potato Chip Crusted Chicken with Special Sauce. If you’re looking for an easy way to liven up boneless chicken breasts (and really, who isn’t?) you’re gonna love this easy and ever-so-crunchy approach!

Who among us does not love, love, love potato chips?!! They’re absolutely addictive, right? I’ve always been a huge fan, particularly of the kettle version, but I’ve never eaten more of them than I have in the last six months. As in bags and bags. For some reason during my treatment, even when the thought of eating has generally disgusted me, salty, slightly greasy potato chips always seemed appealing. Go figure!

Here they get ground up to make the irresistible coating for chicken tenders. And the process is super quick—just a short whizz in the food processor and you’re good to go. Or you can place the chips in an airtight bag, seal and crush with a hammer or rolling pin—great for getting out any aggression!!

Then it’s just a matter of dredging the tenders in flour and dipping them in beaten eggs before coating them generously in the crushed chips.

Now, while the tenders are baking, you can mix up the special sauce which is nothing more than mayo, ketchup, horseradish and a few spices but adds so much tangy dipping deliciousness that it is just a must-have with these tenders every time I make them. FYI, this sauce is also amazing on sandwiches or as dip for raw veggies!

The chicken bakes up so crispy-crunchy and tender and the special sauce provides such a great flavor and textural contrast. Add a side salad and you’ve got yourself the perfect weeknight summery meal. Easy-peasy and done! YUM!!! Make them once and I guarantee they’ll become a huge family favorite.

Boy is it good to be back! Thanks so much for sticking with me! Gosh, I’ve missed you guys!!!!

Potato Chip Crusted Chicken Tenders with Special Sauce

Makes 5-6 servings

Prep Time: 20 minutes; Bake Time: 20-25 minutes

Ingredients

For the chicken

Non-stick baking spray (the olive oil version or whatever you like)

1 ½-2 pounds skinless boneless chicken breasts cut into strips to make tenders (or of course you could buy pre-cut chicken tenders)

Kosher salt

Black pepper

Garlic powder

Generous 12 ounces potato chips (that’s about 1 1/2 bags and I always use the cape cod kettle version but feel free to use any brand or flavor you like—just make sure you have enough cause you don’t want to be short on the coating

All-purpose, unbleached flour

2 large eggs

For the special sauce

Generous ½ cup of mayonnaise

3 teaspoons ketchup (you can use more if you like a sweeter sauce)

1 ½-2 tablespoons prepared horseradish (the kind you find in the refrigerated section of the supermarket)

⅛ teaspoon garlic powder

A generous pinch of paprika, kosher salt and black pepper

The Recipe

To make the chicken: Preheat your oven to 425 F with the oven rack in the center. Place a large wire rack inside of a large rimmed baking sheet and spray the rack generously with the nonstick cooking spray. Don’t skip this step or all the lovely coating on the bottom of the tenders will stick to the rack😂😂

Place the chips in the food processor and grind till they become like crumbs with some bigger pieces still visible (I usually do this in batches) and transfer to a plate or shallow bowl and set aside.

Place about ½ cup of flour on a plate or shallow bowl and set aside.

Beat the eggs in a shallow bowl and set aside.

Season the chicken with a little salt, pepper and garlic powder. Now, one at a time, dredge the chicken pieces into the flour, shaking off any excess, then into the beaten eggs making sure the chicken is well coated and finally into the crushed potato chips, pressing down so that both sides are well coated.

Place each piece on the prepared baking sheet. When all the pieces have been transferred, spray the tops with a little more of the nonstick cooking spray. This helps to make the chicken even more golden brown and crunchy.

Bake the chicken for 20-25 minutes until the pieces are entirely cooked through and golden brown on the outside. Immediately transfer them to a plate using tongs, otherwise they may stick to the rack. You can now serve these right away or make several hours ahead and reheat in a 350 F oven for 10 minutes to crisp up.

To make the sauce: while the chicken is cooking or even days before, place the mayo, ketchup, horseradish and spices in a medium bowl and mix together well. Taste, adjust any seasonings if necessary and store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to one week.

Enjoy!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Blood calls to blood.

It Does My Heart Good: Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15

“That’s it, Rab!”

Jamie almost doubled over, breathing heavily, beaming with joy as his six-year-old son pedaled down the road on his bike, wobbling just a bit.

“No training wheels, Da!” Rab shouted, almost not believing it himself.

Jamie took deep, heaving breaths. “Claire!” he croaked. “Where are ye?”

Claire poked her head out of an upstairs window, peering down at her husband and son in the street. “What? Everybody all right?”

“Mama, look!” Just then Rab pedaled back to the house.

“Oh, lovie!” Quickly she darted inside, raced down the stairs, and flew out of the door, almost colliding with Jamie who still clutched to the mailbox to hold himself steady. 

Rab absolutely glowed, smiling ear to ear as he pedaled back and forth in front of his parents. “Look, Mama and Da!”

Slowly, carefully, Jamie pulled his phone from his front shirt pocket to take a video of Rab racing up and down the street, giddy with joy. 

“Has he fallen yet?” Claire asked, trying to not sound worried.

Jamie shrugged. “He’s a boy. It happens.”

“That’s not exactly comforting - ”

“Have ye had a message from Bree today?” he interrupted uncharacteristically.

Her brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

Jamie held out his phone so that his wife could see the screen. It was a text from Brianna, sent about half an hour previous: I need to see you and Claire tonight. We’re fine. I’ll explain later.

Silently Claire counted to five before responding. “Well I’m worried.”

Jamie watched as Rab ground the bike to a halt at the end of the road, stood up, caught his breath for a bit.

“I hope it isnae the bairn. She’d tell us, aye?”

Brianna and her husband Roger were expecting their first child - Jamie and Claire and John and Isobel’s first grandchild. It had been a surprise - Brianna had become pregnant only about three months after her wedding and six months after starting her new job, and although the two of them were young and early in their respective careers, they loved and cared for each other. And they could provide for a baby - a baby that clearly they both wanted.

Claire nodded. “She would. Same if it was some kind of problem with Roger. I know it’s been stressful, and that they’re still trying to plan for what they’ll do when she goes back to work.”

Jamie tucked his phone back into his pocket and wrapped an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “The puir child has four grandparents to care for it, not to mention two decrepit great-uncles who have gladly said they’ll be full-time carers.” That was true - Lamb and his partner Fez had told Brianna as much during the dinner they’d organized to celebrate her pregnancy. With Lamb retired and Fez on sabbatical for the next year - and with Isobel Grey only working part time, and with Jamie himself fully in control of his schedule at the bookstore, this child had an entire network of people to ensure his or her comfort and care.

“I can’t help but worry.” Claire sighed. 

Jamie squeezed her shoulder. “You’re her Mam. It’s your job to worry.”

Rab raced his bike down the road again, whizzing past them, hitting a rock, and wiping out in spectacular fashion.

“Thankfully he’s wearing his jeans today,” Claire muttered before racing over to her son, too drunk with joy to feel any pain.

---

“That’s a huge scrape you’ve got there,” Brianna politely observed as her brother showed off his skinned knees.

“Yeah. And I was even wearing pants! Mama said it was a good thing I didn’t wipe out in the dirt.”

Bree smiled, rubbing her six-month-pregnant belly. “That’s certainly true.”

“How old were ye when ye learned to ride a bike?” Jamie spooned up the last of the peas Claire had made to go with the roast chicken and mashed potatos she and Bree had cooked for dinner.

Brianna frowned, thinking. “I think I was about seven. It was the summertime, I remember that. I was wearing shorts, and my legs were covered in bruises and my arms were covered in mosquito bites.”

Rab wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Jamie swallowed his last bite and stood, pushing his chair away from the table. “All right, wee Rab. Help me clear the dishes. Bree - you and Claire can sit in the living room if ye like?”

Carefully Bree stood, stretching. “Sounds like a great idea.” 

Claire stood too, and took Bree’s hand. Bree squeezed it, and together they retreated to the soft chairs in the room off of the dining room.

For a while they sat next to each other on the couch, not speaking, listening to the low hum of Jamie’s voice speaking quietly to Rab and the clink of dishes and silverware as they washed and dried. Claire wanted Bree to make the first move, but soon enough Bree spoke.

“I had a realization this morning. Well, two, really. And I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Claire nodded. Patient.

Brianna looked down at her lap as she spoke. “The first is...I almost feel terrible for saying this, but I’m glad not just that you’re a doctor, but that you’re my mother, and I can talk to you about being pregnant and all of the weird things about it, because I can’t talk to my Mom about it.”

“Because she was never pregnant,” Claire said softly.

Bree nodded. “I feel terrible even thinking that - she’s the greatest Mom, and she’s known me all of my life, but -”

“But it helps to talk to someone who has experienced it firsthand. I understand.”

“I remember when you were pregnant with Rab - I  remember asking you all about it, and learning about it. Because I’d never had that growing up. But it’s all so different now.” She paused. “I feel terrible even saying that about my Mom.”

Gently Claire rubbed the back of her daughter’s hand. “Don’t feel bad. I think she’d understand. And I’m so glad that I can help you, Bree. That this is another thing we can share.”

Bree swallowed, still not looking up at her. Claire felt her daughter’s hands shake with emotion.

“Are you all right, honey? Is everything all right with Roger?”

Bree let out a breath. “Oh, Claire, he’s so wonderful. He takes such good care of me. He’s a goofball and it’s really, really endearing.”

“I’m so glad you have that love in your life. Having a child with the man you love - it’s an incredible experience.”

Inexplicably Bree began to sob. Working from an instinct she couldn’t even begin to name, Claire leaned in to hold her daughter close. Comforting her, sheltering her as she cried and cried and cried.

“What’s wrong?” she crooned softly. “You can tell me anything, lovie.”

Brianna hugged Claire even tighter. “The other thing I realized today,” she whispered, “is that I can’t even begin to imagine my life without this baby in it. And then I realized that that’s exactly what you had to do, with me.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Claire rubbed her back soothingly. “That was different. I was unmarried and alone.”

“But still - I feel such a bond with him already, and I can’t imagine disrupting that. For most of the time before I was born, you knew me - and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep me.”

“Yes. But I made that choice. Jamie and I made that choice together, because it was the best choice we could make for you.”

“I can’t even imagine making that choice.” Bree took a deep, shaky breath. “And it really, really hit me today. I feel like I finally understand. And I want you to know...” Now she pulled back to look at Claire, wiping away the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I want you to know that I love you so much more for what you did for me. Because I don’t know if I’d ever have the strength to do that.”

Tears welled in Claire’s own eyes. “Jamie said something to me, before we left each other in Glasgow, during those few precious weeks we had together when we knew you were coming and before I came back to Boston. He said - love forces a person to choose. You do things you never imagined you could do before.”

Bree smiled tearfully. “He’s right.”

Claire wiped away her tears, and cradled her cheek. “Of course he is. I kept saying that to myself over and over and over before you were born, and after you were born, and after I’d moved to North Carolina.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier today when I texted Jamie. I just - ”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

Just then Rab darted into the room, oblivious to his sister’s tears. “Ice cream for dessert?”

Bree sniffed and looked at her watch. “Roger should be here in fifteen minutes or so. Mind if we wait until  then?”

Rab careened out of the room, intent on setting another place at the dining room table.

“Had I not made an adoption plan for you, Bree - I never would have had Rab.”

Bree turned to her mother, incredulous. “Oh my God. You’re right.”

Claire smiled tightly. “So. Everything is worthwhile. You never know the happiness that will come from the sadness.”

Bree squeezed her hands. “My life has become so much happier with you and Jamie in it. And Rab, too.”

Claire’s heart soared. “Oh, lovie. Ours too. Ours too.”