#been reading up on international travel despite being Too Broke

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 4: The Gleeman

Welcome back, my pretties. Sorry for not posting yesterday. It was a day. Today is trying to be in the same mold but we'll see what happens. Anyway, this is a very spoiler-heavy reread of the series, so if you don't want spoilers, now is your time to flee!

[The cloak] was really quite thick, Rand saw, despite what Master al’Vere had said, with the patches merely sewn on like decorations.

This is of course a hint that Thom is not a regular gleeman but a former court bard and isn't just self-aggrandizing when he says as much later. When you consider that he hasn't had such a lofty title nearly the entirety of Rand's life though, the good quality of his cloak is a bit more impressive.

He wondered if there was a place where nobody had dark eyes. Maybe Lan comes from there, too.

Rand's only seen Lan for thirty seconds and he's already desperate to be adopted by him. Poor Tam, getting tossed aside so quickly for the edgier Blademaster with the even cooler Aiel War-related backstory. I'm sure Rand'll come crawling back eventually Tam, but only once he's been internalized some horrible lessons.

The yokels in that village on the hill tell me I can get here before dark, neglecting to say that that was only if I left well before noon.

Oh. My feelings that something significant was going on with this were completely silly. Thom just got punked. LOL.

Egwene’s face was a study, her goggle-eyed amaze at a gleeman in the flesh marred by a desire to defend Nynaeve. “Your pardon, Master Gleeman,” Rand said. He knew he was grinning foolishly, himself. “That was our Wisdom, and—”

Interesting that Rand doesn't appreciate that he and Egwene are having literally the exact same reaction, only Egwene is passive and he's active.

“So. I thought I recognized Padan Fain in there.” His voice was still deep, but the resonance had gone, replaced by scorn. “Fain was always one to carry bad news quickly, and the worse, the faster. There’s more raven in him than man.”

Jordan is usually quite good at making the world feel large and expansive, but this particular detail makes it feel rather small.

Egwene was glaring at him, and he had not even smiled.

Because your silence at your friends' bad behavior (they're not wrong that Thom's just playing her, but jeez) is douchey and implies you agree that it's laughable she might be very pretty.

“But the war,” Mat began eagerly, only to be cut off by Master Merrilin.

It's no surprise Mat ended up being the general and strategist, since he really does love the idea of it long before he gets super powers.

Not with your full growth on you yet, but I doubt there’s another man in the district with your height.

There isn't, but why do you all keep calling the region a district? It implies an administrative perspective that this region is utterly lacking. And of course, two sentences later we get our first actual instance of someone saying Rand looks Aiel.

“Well, now. Made-up creatures from my stories. Is that what they are? You lads are widely traveled, then, it seems.”

It's a rather interesting thing about this series that rumors about mundane or at least relatively mundane things are almost invariably so distorted as to be completely wrong, while nearly everything said about magical things is perfectly true.

[Egwene] broke off, her cheeks turning pink, and the look she gave Thom Merrilin was not as friendly as it had been. “It is not right to make. . . . It isn’t. . . .” Her face went redder, and she fell silent.

Since I pointed out last chapter that Egwene isn't a super awesome friend on average, I will give her a small amount of points here for standing up for the village shitheads who laugh at her.

Tales of great wars and great heroes, for the men and boys.

More of Jordan's unconscious sexism. His world has plenty of women who are heroes, and you'd think there'd be plenty of gals who want to hear about them, and farmboys who wouldn't mind hearing a rags to riches story of some strapping young cowherder winning the heart of a noblewoman and spending the rest of his days in luxury.

The Thousand Tales of Anla, the Wise Counselor.

You might think it's unlikely that Third Agers would remember Ann Landers, defunct newspaper personality, but OBVIOUSLY what happened was is that some microfiche in a library basement archive survived the nuclear war and since it was the most complete relic of the old days the early channelers and they preserved it very well through their age. You all must feel pretty silly for not being able to extract the UNQUESTIONABLE canon from this single sentence.

She had never liked stories about adventures and long journeys. Her favorites were always the funny ones, or stories about women outwitting people who were supposed to be smarter than everyone else. He was sure she had asked for tales about Lenn and Salya to put a burr under his shirt.

Or maybe because she's planning on going on some travels of her own she's looking for reassurance? Like, whatever happens to John Glenn and Sally Ride in the stories has to be a thousand times worse than any reasonable event that might happen to Egwene on the friendly country roads.

Ages when men ruled the heavens and the stars, and Ages when man roamed as brother to the animals. Ages of wonder, and Ages of horror. Ages ended by fire raining from the skies, and Ages doomed by snow and ice covering land and sea.

Silly Thom, even if I take you seriously I suspect that you're not going back any further than the late seventh age, when humanity was paleolithic and the climate was icy.

Oh and right after this he lists a bunch of other first age tales. If you can't recognize these you're even sillier than I feared.

For a moment Thom looked at Moiraine sideways, his face and body still except for making the balls disappear into his capacious coat sleeves. Then he bowed to her, holding his cloak wide. “Your pardon, but you are surely not from this district?”

"Dammit kids, I just told you I don't do Aes Sedai! Why didn't you tell me that there was one visiting?"

Suddenly Rand wondered what sort of entertainment a lady like her might be offered in a city like Baerlon, or Caemlyn. Surely it could not be anything better than a gleeman.

Rand clearly wasn't listening, or more likely not believing, when Thom told him outright he used to be a court bard.

“I assure you, none of my stories will displease. All will please and entertain. And you do me too much honor. I am a simple gleeman; that and nothing more.”

Rand is of course missing that Thom and Moiraine are having two or possibly three simultaneous conversations (at least one where they're making damn sure neither outs the other and possibly another I'm too thick to suss out on top of that), though he does recognize what Thom feels about the situation.

“Is he supposed to be a gleeman or a king?” Cenn Buie asked in annoyed tones. “A waste of good money, if you ask me.” Bran al’Vere half turned after the gleeman, then shook his head. “That man may be more trouble than he’s worth.”

Y'all haven't let him have a smoke and a drink and you're bitching? I can see why you don't get gleemen very often. They probably come the once, see how unfriendly you lot are, and realize they should never return.

Rand knew there must be some way to stop her from leaving the Two Rivers, but the only way he could think of was not one he was prepared to take, even if she was willing.

Good thing Rand's not book OR show Perrin, or he'd have an entirely different idea of how to stop Egwene from leaving.

“I’ve never seen Master al’Vere so mad,” was the first thing Rand said, getting him a disgusted look from Mat.

Mat sees him this mad about two or three times a month and is deeply disappointed that Rand doesn't dedicate himself to the art of pranking like Mat does.

“Battles interest me,” Mat said, and Perrin added, “What did he say about them?”

More good Mat foreshadowing. Not a whole lot going on with Perrin - I feel like Luhhan being the guy who can make Buie see reason is supposed to nod towards the kind of guy Perrin is meant to become, but he never becomes that guy so that's a moot point, innit?

The war is in Ghealdan, and the Aes Sedai are the Light knows where, but none of it is here. The man in the black cloak is, or have you forgotten him already?

The war is about a False Dragon (and the real one is here). An Aes Sedai showed up yesterday evening. And while Rand is right that the Shadowspawn are the real problem, at this point he's a little silly for not worrying that the rider is the false Dragon on the run, using saidin to appear and disappear at will. So he's right and wrong on every count; quite an achievement.

He could already hear Master al’Vere laughing. More witnesses certainly could not hurt. And if three of them had seen the fellow, others had to have, too. They must have.

This doesn't necessarily follow, but lucky for Rand in this particular case it does.

The peddler’s team munched their oats in eight stalls, and Master al’Vere’s massive Dhurrans, the team he hired out when farmers had hauling beyond the abilities of their own horses, filled six more, but only three others were occupied.

ONLY seventeen stalls occupied. This inn and stable are REALLY old if "only seventeen" is the way of phrasing things. They must have expected quite a few more horses back in the day.

“Father,” he said finally, “I don’t understand why the Council had to question Padan Fain.”

It's a good thing he's not a corrupting nightmare yet, or the whole of Emond's FIeld would be screwed.

They chose us for the Village Council because they trust we can reason things out in the best way for everybody. They trust our opinions. Even Cenn’s, which doesn’t say much for the rest of us, I suppose. At any rate, they will hear there isn’t anything to worry about, and they’ll believe it.

Here's some Perrin foreshadowing: in three books the mindless sheep of the Two Rivers will be looking to him and him alone for their opinions instead of the elected officials. Joy!

(Shame the timeline doesn't work to blame Fain for everyone's collectively throwing away their brains the way Elaida did.)

When Haral Luhhan mentioned Perrin jumping shadows, though, it all came out. Jon Thane’s oldest son saw him, too, and so did Samel Crawe’s boy, Bandry.

Moiraine might be behind the Shadow in narrowing down the region, but she is way ahead in narrowing down the candidates. Myrdraal don't seem to be as smart as they should be.

There was nothing the black-cloaked horseman could do that the people of Emond’s Field could not handle together.

Oh sweet, innocent Rand you naive little lamb. You gormless ray of sunshine. You absolute Ann Perkins. Your town is about to get FUCKED.

But that's next chapter. See you then!

[just-cause-3-tourism]

Tourist Scams in Medici

As with any popular tourist locale, oblivious visitors to Medici may find themselves tricked by a clever local. Scams in Medici are arguably less common than in most places (due to the inherent risk of the scammer being spotted by an authority eager to harass citizens), but they’re definitely not unheard of as some folks are willing to take the chance for a little extra cash.

Most tourist scams here rely on speed and disappearing quickly, not making a scene, so as not to attract military attention. Overpriced street vendors are pretty much unheard of for this reason—the DRM would gladly harass them over permits and other technicalities. Distractions coupled with petty theft are the most popular. Many Medicians are fairly fluent in English, and scammers will use that to their fullest advantage to hold conversations or give directions/advice while a friend grabs your wallet. Otherwise, you might be tricked into handing over more money than needed for something by sellers who are betting on you getting the currency conversion rates wrong.

That being said, if you do get scammed… don’t plan on getting any help from the authorities. The DRM doesn’t care outside of the occasional opportunity to threaten scammers caught in the act, and they definitely don’t care enough to go looking if the scammer’s already gone. In fact, you may even fall prey to the occasional more crooked militia officer’s tactic of “accuse you of some local crime and threaten to arrest you unless you bribe them”.

[shadyteacup]

Helloooo, can you do headcanons on Dazai having a strong S/O (ability wise) like nearly as strong as Chuuya? Cause isn't he a literal God lol. Thank you :]

Hewo! I had a lot of fun writing this...it almost turned out to be a oneshot :p , but dw, I managed to turn it into hcs :D

Here u go~

Thunderstruck⚡

Dazai x gn!reader

Reader has a strong ability...like, rlly cool 😎 it's my dream ability

      This man is head over heels.

He loves how you scream over a cockroach but can rip people to shreds at the same time.

Since you didn’t mention any specific ability, I have gone ahead and given you a lightning ability.

Arahabaki is the god of calamity, that combined with Chuuya.

Raijin is the God of lightening. Your ability is pretty similar to His powers.

You can control the place, time and method of a lightning strike. You can also produce it on the spot and shoot it from your hands...kinda like Palpatine.

Your eyes turn arctic blue, with your hair flowing around you. You look like a literal Goddess/God.

He was mesmerised when he witnessed it in action for the first time.

You and Dazai were walking through Yokohama, observing the internal beauty of the city via small lanes and random alleyways.

Hand-in-hand, you two were chatting about how Dazai hadn’t tried the Napolitana pasta yet, despite living in a city that was rumoured to have invented the dish.

That’s when Dazai pulled you around a random corner and shielded you from the view of the road you two were originally walking on.

You knew better than to speak at such a moment and decided to observe and try to pick any signs of being followed.

Sure enough, you could hear faint footsteps come to a stop right at the corner, you two still being shielded by the corner. You both waited with bated breath, and after a while, the person went away.

Relieved, you were about to walk out of your hiding place, when a barrel placed itself on your head from behind. Your eyes widened and you froze in place. Dazai noticed the unknown presence and looked behind only to find you being held a hostage.

“Long time, Mr. Executive!”, the man holding you hostage said as he grinned at Dazai.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison, Ito san?”, Dazai said, offering him his own smile.

You could easily read through his façade. The smile was only a mask, covering his panic and fear. You had no experience in fighting, and Dazai was no match for this man. He had fought him earlier, but that was when he had Chuuya by his side. Dazai can come up with a spectacular and manipulative plan, and Chuuya, or his current ada partner, Kunikida, can execute it, considering their brawn. He was the brains, and his partners had always been the brawn. He can fight the occasional criminal, but Ito was a feared enemy of the mafia, who was both mentally and physically strong. He had always assumed that the mafia had caught him, and sent him to jail, thanks to the mafias feared double black, but apparently, he had gotten away, or had found a way to break out of prison.

“prison isn’t a place for a man like me; you of all people know that. So, I left! Decided to say hello to an old friend, now that I’m back.”

He moved his gun from your head, dragging it down to your chin.

“Turns out, my visit might actually kill two birds with one stone.”

Understanding the hidden meaning behind his words, Dazai tensed up. He couldn’t let him hurt you. He had to get you out f here. But how is he going to do that? There is no way out of this without either of you getting hurt. He must protect you, but what must he do?

You chuckled.

“Something funny, pretty thing?”

“Actually, yes.”, you say, “Do you know who you’re threatening?”, you smirk, your tone dangerously low and intimidating.

“You’re playing a dangerous game; Ito-san, wasn’t it?”

The man grabbed your chin, turning you to face him.

“I was going to let you go, but I suppose your naivety deserves a bullet to the head!”

You smiled, activating your ability.

A sudden jolt of electricity travelled into his body. Yelping, he let go of you. Using this window of opportunity, you kicked the gun out of his hand and pushed yourself away from him. Dazai quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the man, and out of the alley. His main intention was to get you away from here. Away from danger. He hadn’t understood what had just happened, but he decided that right now, running was the best course of action.

You two turned multiple corners, crossed many junctions, and ended up at an open field. Beyond the field, a few blocks away, was a metro station. You two could head to safety from there. All you had to do was cross this abandoned field and get in the metro.

Multiple men, clad in a uniform of sorts, emerged from the shadows, circling you both.

“Thought you could run away, did you?”, Ito stepped into the circle, a proud smirk on his face.

“You will face the consequences for destroying my gang. We never broke apart, you see. All of us are back. And we will take over the mafia, defeat the ada, and control this city.”

“Good luck with that.”, you say as you let go of Dazai’s hand, ignoring his warnings to stay back. Kinda like that scene with odasaku :')

You spread your arms wide, activating your ability. Bolts of lightning shot out from your fingers, hitting a few of the men, dropping them to the ground.

The men had no time to react as you swiftly raised yourself off the ground, hovering over them, and unleashed your signature move, striking them with a large bolt of lightning from the sky.

The head of the group, Ito, activated his own ability, the ability to control metal. Multiple guns aimed themselves at you and began shooting.

You created a shield around yourself, effectively blocking the hundreds of bullets.

Meanwhile, Dazai sneaked behind the others, incapacitating them.

You continued to fight Ito, blocking his attacks, and sending a couple bolts his way, while simultaneously attacking the others. The field was a mix of bullets, sharp scraps of metal, and bolts of electricity.

At the end, Dazai sneaked up behind Ito, nullifying his ability, and knocking him out.

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

He had heard of an ability that controlled lightning, but this was his first time witnessing it in action.

'Heaven's Fury' was the name of your dangerous ability.

He thought it suited you very well..

You are calm and composed, but when angered, you can unleash madness upon your enemies.

You were always so elegant, and seeing you like this, using your powers and fighting atleast 20 people at once, he couldn't help but admire your majestic beauty.

Your ability gives me 'They tell me I'm a God, I'm lost in the façade, Six feet off the ground' vibes.

Dazai agrees with my opinion.

You look like a deity.

He liked the idea of protecting you, yes, but he found it so hot that you could protect yourself.

Hell, he now knows that you can not only protect yourself, but also take out an entire city on your own.

He would be much at peace now, knowing that he doesn’t quite have to worry so much about any past enemy of his taking revenge. You were stronger than almost all his enemies.

Will praise you, 24/7. He wouldn’t stop talking about it.

He wonders why you didn’t tell him, and you merely shrugged saying that he never asked.

He would brag about you to all his friends(ada members)

He would never tell anyone other than the ada members, though, as he doesn’t want anybody to do some research and find out a way to defeat you.

He prefers it to be an element of surprise and catch the enemies off-guard.

Loves watching the shocked and scared faces of those that decide to wrong you, leading to you using your formidable ability on them.

If you aren’t a part of the ada, he would definitely think that you’d be a great addition to the organization.

He would never ask you join, though. He wants you to be as safe as possible. It doesn’t matter whether or not you have a strong ability, he just wants you out of harm’s way.

Besides, using your ability can take a toll on your health too.

He just wants to see you happy and safe.

If you decide to join the ada, he will try to talk you out of it.

If you’re absolutely sure of your decision, he wouldn’t stop you.

Instead, he will accompany you on all your missions, and will ask Atsushi to come along too.

He is aware that you are extremely strong and don’t need anyone, but he will constantly worry about you, which is why he accompanies you.

Don’t get him wrong, he really loves you and trusts you, but he is just so worried.

So, don’t oppose him when he joins you, please. Poor baby is just really concerned for your health.

Will call up Chuuya and brag about you to him.

“My Belladonna is much stronger than you, chibi-kun ;p”

If you’re taller than Chuuya, Dazai will tease the hell out of poor hat man.

He'll be like,"LOL shorty XD. My s/o is both taller and stronger than you!!"

If you're not taller, it will still be hell for poor wine boy.

"I can't believe that you're weaker than my s/o! They're so much better than you, LOL"

"Shut up, bastard!"

"Pathetic chuuya.. You literally have a God inside you, and you're still weaker! LMAO"

I feel bad for chu chu :(

But, oh well, that's just them, ig :)

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary:        Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

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(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

–––––

I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ  I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

[salamiwrites]

Hi there, I hope you are doing well, if your match ups are open, no rush. I'd love one for Genshin Impact?

Who they are, some basic background information, (perhaps zodiac signs or enneagrams?!)

My zodiac is a taurus, I'm an INTJ-A, and ennaegram 1w2. Personality is quiet and reserved. I like small and simple things, I write and sometimes sing when alone. I look out for others and always have down time to simply "be" in the world and not of the world.

Their type - I love the kind and reserved types. The kind of people that slowly enter your life then leave a lasting impact on your soul. You can't forget them. That have an air you can be comfortable around, be there and listen to the atmosphere. Tall, and over all lovely eyes.

Their sexuality - Demisexual~

Love language (ex. acts of service, physical touch..) - love language is acts of kindness, and small gestures, face touching or simple head patting.

sfw/nsfw/both - Both please? if not feeling the nsfw, then no need for it.

Thank you so much for taking the time to ask invidia ❤️❤️❤️!!

#MATCHUP MASTERLIST #SUBMIT A REQ!

I match you up with....

Kazuha!

Sfw: (nsfw under the cut by the way)

I thought of Kazuha the first time I read this, albeit he’s not that tall, but he has some pretty damn eyes

He would be glad that you’re quiet and reserved, since his whole life has been a hectic mess, he would find safety with you

I’d imagine he was enchanted with your singing, the way your soft singing wraps Kazuha in a deep embrace, the way it sounds smooth to the ear, he’d remember your songs, or (modern) he’d record your singing on his phone, AND PERHAPS SET IT AS HIS RINGTONE LMAO

You’d not be interested in him at first (probably friendzoned him), but then one day, he had to accompany traveller to Inazuma. The journey made you realise that you might have a thing for him, absence makes the heart grow fonder right?

When Kazuha catches wind of your affection for him, he would definitely go, “ah.. About time, y/n.” Then he would immediately go to his room, to craft up the perfect plan to confess.

When he confesses, don’t expect too much, for he is sort of… broke, but hey, the price of an item can’t be defined by its price tag right?

After you both get together, be ready to be a part of Beidou’s crew, since you both were old friends. (Beidou’s using this as an excuse but she doesn’t want her child having a long distance relationship… cuz…. Beiguang, they prob hit it up after beidou returns from a trip)

Mornings are peaceful for the both of you. Both of you would sleep face to face, and as he’s a light sleeper , he won’t move too much, so you both would remain in the same position as the night before.

Despite being an early riser, Kazuha still takes the time to wait for your internal clock to wake you up, gazing at your features, he finds himself loving you even more.

When you do wake up though, you would cup his face, caressing it. Something he has a tendency to do is to kiss your forehead, he finds it intimate and something that only the both of you have.

Ficcy time.

He first catches sight of you in Liyue, when he’s out running errands for Beidou.

While he was roaming throughout Inazuma, he became attuned to nature’s call, hearing and feeling came natural to him. During his venture in the city, he caught wind of a gentle murmur that seemed to be a song, this soft whisper caught his attention; he hadn’t heard such a warm and inviting tune in a long time, it stirred a certain.. warmth in him.

Not before long, he finds himself near the mouth of an alleyway. His gentle eyes scanned his surroundings carefully, making sure there was no one approaching. He held onto his groceries tightly, and as he saw you, his grip loosened.

You looked heavenly, your skin glowed under the Liyue sun, your hair looked soft to the touch, and dare I say, might be a perfect place to grip onto.

You were staring at your piece of writing at the time, so you had not noticed the strange man approaching, trained solely on your work.

Kazuha at first, felt positively enamoured with you, he never thought of love, he was a traveller, he insists. Of course, it wasn’t his first time experiencing love, hell, he would’ve been well sought after if it wasn’t for his status as a traitor in Inazuma. However, he never had thought about love that way, not like how others do. He’d never thought about the chance of travelling with a lover, getting married, settling in, not at all. He was so busy with the fact that he was on the run, the topic simply left his mind.

You kept humming until you found out you were no longer alone, living your gaze, you found yourself looking at a young man, he had white fluffy hair,

“Go on,” He hummed, “continue humming.”

Nsfw (please bear with me here)

I’d imagine he’s more of an intimate and romantic man, taking things slow during sex. Every move to him has meaning and is definitely a sucker for face sitting (him giving)

He’d be fine with being sub or dom, he’s more of a go with the flow person. THOUGH….. If you choose to be dominant, he will absolutely get turned on, be ready for a horny mess

Being calm and composed even during sex is his specialty, however, as I said before, he can be a bit … horny

Kaedehara Kazuha is a patient man, he likes to take things slow during sex, that includes teasing. If he’s feeling down bad that day, I’d say he would edge you (if he was dominant at least)

He’s pretty vanilla at first, since he’s actually a virgin, but after you both get closer, you’ll find him experimenting with different things, of course it was a surprise when he pulled out his v card cause he seemed like he was really experienced (i’m sure Beidou gave him a 2 hour lecture on things to do and not do during sex)

He’s a shoulders kinda guy in my opinion, he loves to massage any knots from your shoulders after a long day, the way his calloused hands rub over your shoulders, the way he holds a firm yet gentle grip on your shoulders while he fucks you from behind, ah, pure bliss

[differenceonlyyoucanmake]

12 Dancing Princesses Thoughts/ Headcanons/ Assorted Stuff that Came to Me in a Dream

I’m kind of tired, so this may be incomplete. I wanted to put it out there, though. My dreams have mostly been from Courtney’s perspective, not an omniscient one. Because of this, there may be some gaps.

Ashlyn:

- Deserved so much better

- It actually makes me upset. I woke up from one of my 12dp dreams in TEARS because she deserved so much better.

- After Isabella passed, Ashlyn took on the role of being a maternal presence to her sisters. She did this extremely well, but it’s also heartbreaking how she pushed herself to grow up.

- Randolph was not a capable father during the lowest periods of his grief, and Ashlyn definitely had to compensate for this.

- Randolph... could have been kinder to her, especially after the queen died. He couldn’t look Ashlyn in the eyes. She reminded him too much of his late wife.

- Isabella wanted Ashlyn to inherit her belongings and position, but Randolph had his own favorites (I promise I don’t think he was an evil person, but he could have done better).

- I think Ashlyn would identify as bisexual.

- She knew several instruments, but was most attached to the flute. Her most treasured memories involved Isabella giving her flute lessons.

- She was expected to be the mature one all the time, so she repressed a lot of her own frustrations in favor of caring for others.

- She was closest to Blair and Courtney.

- She was a little soft spoken, and one of the most “ladylike”; Ashlyn was one of the sisters who struggled least with Rowena’s lessons.

- The younger sisters had a hard time remembering that she was a person capable of all sorts of feelings. They expected parental behavior from her, and got really confused when she expressed negative emotions.

- Some of the sisters assumed Ashlyn didn’t care for sweets, because she would offer hers to the others whenever they got any. In reality, she thought this was kind behavior. She showed sacrifice in several, seemingly inconsequential, ways.

- Despite seeming so mature, she always felt as if she stopped growing up after her mother passed.

- As the sisters grew up, Ashlyn really struggled with finding her purpose. She didn’t get the power her mother promised her. She put her own ideas and prospects aside to care for her sisters. She ended up floating from kingdom to kingdom, with varying success in several different courts. She eventually came  to live with the other eldest sisters.

- Despite being (in my view) cheated out of her kingdom, Ashlyn seldom expressed frustration or resentment. She adopted the attitude of a retired noble early in life, spending a lot of time on composing music and serene hobbies.

Blair

- horse.... horses..... sleeping in the stables...... with the horses

- I’m kidding! Mostly!

- Blair was bold and opinionated. She also loved witty conversation and comedy.

- What else did she love? Horses.

- She would sneak out all the time to ride.

- Her favorite horse was black and very tall.

- She was closest to Ashlyn and Courtney.

- Blair was sick in childhood.

- Though the older sisters were known for being more refined and elegant, Blair pushed this notion plenty.

- She loved adventure.

- All of the sisters missed the golden pavilion, but Blair struggled with this a lot.

- She didn’t have as many problems with Randolph, but sometimes she would CAUSE problems on purpose (mostly defending Ashlyn and calling out his favoritism).

- She turned her own estate later in life into a close replica of the pavilion. The grounds were massive.

- She was intelligent, but struggled with many academic tasks. If she needed to read something that was challenging, she would often hand it to Courtney for help. She would only have motivation to read if it was about subjects she loved.

- This is ironic, because she later came to be a published writer. I believe these were short works, similar to pamphlets.

- Blair enjoyed throwing and attending large balls and gatherings. She was still chasing the thrill of the magical visits she’d make with her sisters.

- Blair was considered extremely beautiful, and drew admirers wherever she went. She accumulated many pieces of ruby jewelry this way.

- She also liked wearing capes and cloaks.

Courtney

- Generally shy, Courtney made an exception when she stood up for Ashlyn.

- Courtney longed to travel, and books provided her with a form of escapism until she was able to.

- She had a health scare after the events of the movie, and this somehow tarnished her standing in society??

- She wasn’t straight, probably a lesbian.

- She was well read on political matters and the history of their kingdom, and would often be the first one to noticed Randolph’s incompetence in certain areas.

- She was a young teen when she first started rewriting her father’s treaties in her spare time. She learned after the first time not to bring her drafts to him.

- When Ashlyn and Blair left home, she grew closer with Fallon. Both had a streak of wanderlust, and gravitated towards the romantic.

- Courtney published poetry under a pseudonym starting at a young age. This probably helped her somewhat. As she grew up, her poems grew in notoriety, and many debated who their true writer was. A significant portion focused on love between women and feeling trapped.

- I think she had been to Apollonia (Antonio’s kingdom in Island Princess) several times, and knew both Luciana and Antonio from an early age. I think this was the case for many of the older sisters.

- After their mother died, the girls traveled less, and met less new people. Courtney was bothered by this.

- She was generally thought of as calm and quiet, but she felt emotions deeply ( even if she didn’t always express them).

Delia

- Athletic and spunky

- Delia enjoyed more structured sports.

- She was prone to sunburns.

- Delia was enamored with the sun and light. She would hang prisms next to her windows to watch the light refract.

- She was closest with her twin, Edeline. They enjoyed playing croquet together and (though it was usually harmless) gossiping.

- Delia had a temper. She would deal with guilt afterwards if she lashed out at someone.

- Her emotional regulation issues came to light after her mother died.

- Delia dealt with a lot of guilt in general. She didn’t feel as put-together as her older sisters, or as carefree as the younger ones. She felt guilty for not fitting in, and expressed feeling like an inconvenience to those around her.

- Outsiders thought she was dim-witted, and she internalized this.

- Delia often had a problem of interrupting people or speaking loudly, so it was advised that she stay quiet when visitors came. This really hurt her self esteem, since she was always happy to make new friends.

- Rowena had offended her when she was a young girl, and Delia never forgot this.

- Delia liked birds, and hummingbirds fascinated her.

- She had to learn to accept herself later in life. 

- She discovered people who appreciated her for who she was, and finally left her inhibitions behind. 

- After that, she became known for her charisma and charm.

Edeline:

- Edeline shared a lot of interests with her twin, such as sports and outdoor activities.

- She enjoyed making others laugh.

- Once Genevieve married Derek, Edeline took it as her cue to BULLY that poor man.

- Seriously, it probably warded off suitors for her other sisters.

- It was usually in good fun, though.

- Edeline disliked rules and structure.

- She was closest with Delia.

- She often stood up for her twin.

- Edeline had a good ear for gossip, and had her own methods of fact checking stories she’d heard.

- Something happened with her at Genevieve’s wedding?? Maybe she broke something??

- Edeline traveled some, but found her way back home eventually.

- She DESPISED Rowena. None of the sisters liked her, but Edeline couldn’t stand her from the beginning.

- Edeline would have loved to know about the concept of roast humor.

- She liked to have sleepover-like setups in their bedroom. She would build forts and encourage the others to come tell ghost stories. When the memories of her mother came to her, she felt the need to DO something, even if the action wasn’t necessarily related.

- She became known for her humor.

Fallon

- Fallon was pretty much independent, until she and Courtney bonded.

- Fallon always wanted pets, and was jealous that only Genevieve was allowed to have one (besides....bugs and the horses, who were kept outside).

- She would try to befriend wild animals, and nursed some injured animals back to health.

- I don’t think Fallon was straight.

- Fallon was sensitive, and had a hard time dealing with Rowena’s harsh treatment.

- Fallon had nightmares, and would often go to her older sisters for comfort.

- She enjoyed the company of others. She would spend time with servants and other people considered to be below her station.

- Fallon played the harp.

- She loved the softer aspects of life. 

- She devoted time to charitable causes.

- I just know that she did that classic princess trope of posing as a commoner. That’s such a her thing to do.

- She gained a reputation for being eccentrically kind. She had a large family of animals, who she took EXCELLENT care of.

Genevieve

- You may have noticed that the older sisters were generally closer with each other. Well, Genevieve wasn’t, and she made it that way.

- She.... liked to act like she was in charge. She often undermined Ashlyn’s efforts.

- She was Randolph’s favorite.

- Genevieve got along better with the younger sisters, especially Lacey.

- She probably did have leadership skills, but a lot of them came from acting like she did.

- Like I’ve implied above, she got a lot of power after she married, instead of Ashlyn.

- Derek wasn’t a bad person, but he was a COBBLER. How did she get more political power by marrying a COBBLER?

- She butted heads with Blair and Courtney quite often after the events of the movie.

- Basically, she had Main Character Disease dsfghjk

- She traveled less than the other older sisters.

- Admittedly, she wasn’t a poor leader.

- I have a feeling she adopted a lot of children later in life.

- She and Derek had a pretty long transitional period after they married, meaning they spent more time really figuring out who they were as a couple rather than jumping into their duties right away.

- Genevieve kind of symbolized the cutoff for the sisters who had lots of solid memories about their mother and those who didn’t.

- She was one of the best dancers out of the sisters.

- She was brave and self-assured.

- She knew what she wanted, and she would get it.

- After Twyla, she got some other cats. They were mostly orange and/or long haired.

- She never quite shook her habit of being late.

Hadley

- Hadley was closest to their twin, Isla.

- As Hadley grew up, they became more comfortable being gender nonconforming. They may have been trans, but I don’t remember.

- Hadley enjoyed fencing.

- Stilts were Hadley’s first love, and led to appreciation for other daring activities.

- Hadley also loved the ocean. Many of their adventures involved being at sea. They spent years sailing longside their twin on a ship Genevieve gifted them.

- Rumors swirled that they were a pirate. Though these weren’t true, Hadley didn’t mind.

- Hadley was energetic and intuitive.

- Hadley was an athletic risk-taker. They enjoyed acrobatics and other feats of the human body.

- Hadley became known for their adventurous exploits and fencing prowess.

- Though Hadley initially idolized Genevieve, she eventually sided with Ashlyn and the other older sisters once she learned the whole story.

- Hadley stayed with the older sisters after whatever scary thing happened with Courtney.

- Hadley mentored people, and may have been a teacher.

- She really missed the times when all of their sisters got along.

- There were rumors that Hadley was affiliated with darker forces, when in reality Hadley was one of the most well-adjusted.

Isla

- Isla was closest to Hadley.

- Isla liked adventure, but she was less daring than Hadley.

- Isla stayed our of most business involving the older sisters, preferring to spend time with her twin.

- She loved swimming.

- Isla had a collection of maps.

- She was known for being easy going. 

- She sometimes had to bring Hadley down from an idea that seemed too dangerous.

- Isla was the voice of reason in some situations.

- She never lost her passion for dance, and learned new styles through their travels.

- Isla had pet birds.

- She was admired for her grace and acrobatic talent.

- Isla enjoyed circus-like acts.

- She was more bothered by the pirate rumors than Hadley.

- Isla enjoyed researching magic, and trying to find a way back to the magic pavilion. 

- Isla was non-confrontational.

- She tried many forms of artistic expression, from writing to painting.

- Isla was loyal to Hadley, and would be there for her twin no matter what.

Janessa

- Janessa maintained her love of insects.

- Since they were so young when it happened, none of the triplets remember details of the magic pavilion. If their sisters weren’t there to confirm their memories, they would have thought it was a dream.

- Janessa grew up to be very interested in science.

- Janessa found the proper way to care for insects, and took pride in how well she did it.

- She was prone to worrying.

- She often lamented the fact that she was so young when they visited the pavilion.

- Janessa was considered obedient and passive.

- Janessa heard how much she looked like her mother (though not as much as Ashlyn). She had mixed feelings about this, because she couldn’t really remember what her mother looked like.

- Janessa was closest to Kathleen.

- She became close with Edeline and Delia when she got older.

- Janessa knew she wasn’t Randolph’s favorite, and took this personally. She tried, especially in her youth, to gain his approval.

- She also knew that Genevieve preferred Lacey, even though all the triplets looked up to Genevieve.

- Janessa balanced her love for science with her royal duties, and used what power she had to provide exposure and resources to research institutes.

Kathleen

- Kathleen was creative and unconventional.

- She was closest with Janessa, and became close with Isla later in life.

- Kathleen was known for her paintings.

- She started out painting things like landscapes, then moved into less traditional subjects.

- Her royal portraits were renowned in particular. They captured royalty doing activities that were important to them, or in significant fantasy settings.

- She painted portraits of her siblings and father. These became their favorites. She captured: a relaxed Ashlyn writing music, Blair on horseback in mid-air, Courtney in her library, Delia in the sunlight, Edeline in a fantastical outdoor scene, Fallon with her animals, Genevieve dancing, Hadley fencing, Isla swimming, Janessa surrounded by flying insects in the sky, and Lacey at work.

- Though she tried many times, Kathleen was not satisfied with her attempts of painting her mother. She felt like she was simply copying pre-existing portraits.

- The only painting of her mother she was somewhat pleased with was one of Queen Isabella walking away, her back to the viewer as she walked into a golden pavilion.

- Kathleen tried to paint the magic pavilion, and these painting had a fuzzy, dream-like quality.

- Her art gained a significant following.

Lacey

- She was Randolph’s second favorite.

-Lacey was unshakably loyal to Genevieve. She didn’t understand why the older sisters were upset about her being given power and land.

- Lacey struggled with illness as a child. She was inspired by the healing water at the pavilion to study medicine.

- Lacey struggled with muscle strength and coordination well into adulthood.

- Despite this, she continued dancing.

- She looked very similar to Randolph’s relatives.

- She felt the need to defend Genevieve, and would often challenge her older sisters because of this.

- Although Ashlyn never challenged her, Lacey harbored resentment towards her. She blamed Ashlyn for the fact that Genevieve’s approval wasn’t universal.

- Lacey was interested in scientifically based medicine, as well as magical remedies.

- Lacey was always closest with Genevieve, and lived with her for a long time.

- Lacey idolized Genevieve and Derek’s relationship, often heralding it as the pinnacle of romance.

- She searched for a way back to the magical world, believing it contained the key to eternal youth and immortality.

- Lacey didn’t care for travel as much as some of her sisters, but she usually enjoyed when she did leave her own kingdom.

- She grew up to be Genevieve’s closest adviser, and an accomplished healer.

Canon Noncompliant Things

- The sisters left the pavilion by dancing in birth order. Although Derek did leave by dancing with Genevieve, they weren’t responsible for leaving in the first place. Once again, Ashlyn doesn’t get the credit she deserves dfghjk

- Genevieve had an actual wedding, not whatever that was that was shown at the end of the movie. It was smaller than a lot of royal weddings (because Derek didn’t have many connections or people to invite), but it was a serious affair. 

[write-ur-wrongs]

Thank you @itsjammin for the request! I didn’t fully proof-read this one so please forgive any grammatical errors!! I hope you like it !!

Geralt x reader where she’s having a really bad panic attack and Geralt’s not sure how he can help and he just holds her and helps her through it cradling her in his arms and just gently rocking her. After she’s calmed down, he just kisses her forehead and traces patterns on her back and just lots of fluff please!

Trigger warning: Anxiety / panic attack. 

_________________________________________________

You were fine. You’re breathing and you weren’t bleeding and you’re fine. You closed your hands into tight fists in an attempt to ground yourself, digging your nails into your palms as you breathed out slowly through your nose. You felt the weight of your legs on the fallen tree beneath you, pushed your toes into the tip of your shoes and felt the pressure you created. Slowly, you relaxed your fists and rested your open hands on your thighs, feeling the blood rush back into palms. The tiny crescent moon indents in your palm stung dully.

You weren’t injured. You weren’t in danger of being injured. You were fine.

Geralt was watching you wearily from across the crackling fire, his steaming mug of broth hovering inches from his face. You had been balling your hands into fists, knuckles white, and relaxing them slowly on repeat for too long now. He looked over at Jaskier quizzically, a brow raised, but the bard merely mirrored his confusion, returning the look with wide eyes and an animated shrug.

You were normally a steady presence in the group, matching Geralt in energy level and Jaskier in wit. They’d known you for over a year now and had only ever seen you in that light; steady with a silver tongue. Tonight, however, was a completely different story. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened today; you had travelled a peaceful route and stopped in a nice clearing. No one had crossed you and Geralt sensed no threat in the surrounding area. And yet, there you sat, breathing slowly but with great effort, empty eyes looking out at nothing while your forehead was creased with worry.

Geralt wanted to know what was up, but he was no wordsmith. Huffing slightly, he looked at the bard pointedly and jerked his head in your direction, silently begging Jaskier to ask you what was wrong.

Jaskier might be good with words, but never when the situation truly called for it. He could banter with the best of them and diffuse tension with ease, but you were giving off such a distressing energy, he didn’t dare say anything unsure of what you’d do once the tension in you boiled over.

As such, he shook his head wildly and pointed at Geralt while mouthing, “You ask her!”

The two men mimed wildly to one another, both desperate to have the other take charge, oblivious to the fact that you had transitioned from the desperate-to-keep-a-steady-breath phase and into the weight-on-my-chest-is-suffocating-me phase of your episode.  

Jaskier won out though, when he threw a torn piece of bread a the Witcher’s head. With a low grunt, Geralt gingerly placed his mug down and clasped his hands together and leaned over, bracing himself.

He cleared his throat a couple times before hesitantly muttering his question. Unfortunately, his noble attempt fell on death ears.

All you could hear was a dull ringing coupled with the amplified sounds of your body; every breath was deafening, your heartbeat was so loud you felt it in your ears, and you swore you could hear your bones creaking in their joints.

You hated this; all of it. You hated that you couldn’t identify the cause of your panic. That rationally, you knew nothing was wrong, but that wasn’t enough to keep you from spiraling as you were. Normally you could feel these episodes coming and stop them before the settled in full. Your mother had taught you countless coping methods and the healers you met along your travels helped you immensely; especially as new triggers made themselves known to you.

Yet nothing had happened, really. Geralt was a little colder than usual, and he did snap at you quite harshly but that wasn’t new. It was an occupational hazard. Jaskier had been moodier as of late, probably because Geralt snapped at him too, but they’re always squabbling and reconciling. It was their way.

You didn’t see this one coming. At the first sign of trouble, you grounded yourself and counted your breaths. When that didn’t work, you counted things around you; five conifers, three boulders, fifteen pinecones on the floor, and so on. But it didn’t work. You had even pulled out your vial of herbs – all to no avail.

Nothing was helping and everything was too loud. You were in pain but nothing actually hurt. The weight of your body against your bones was crushing but you felt like a ghost.

Oblivious to your internal struggle and unimpressed with the Witcher’s feeble attempt, Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralt and whipped another piece of bread at him. Frustrated and frazzled, Geralt threw the bread back to the bard with force, shot him a death glare, and wiped his sweaty palms on the top of his legs before trying again.

“Y/N... hm… how –”

“I’m fine!” you barked, although your voice wavered in a way that clearly indicated you were far from fine.

Geralt looked to Jaskier in desperation, not wanting to have to try again, but Jaskier was already up and walking backwards towards Roach, mouthing ‘sorry’ and ‘good luck’ as he washed his hands of the whole affair.

Geralt rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet, ‘fuck’, before getting up to cross the fire and settle beside you uncomfortably.

The moment you realized Geralt had come to your side, your chin wobbled and you felt tears prickle at your eyes. You brought your hands up to your face and swiped at your tears quickly, doing your best to regain control.

Seeing you up close – how your jaw never relaxed, how you couldn’t sit still, the way you dragged the nail of your index finger down the side of your thumbs, seemingly unaware of the angry red lines you left behind – his heart broke.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, pulling you towards him.

Feeling his strong arms wrap themselves around you brought your tears to the surface in an instant. Before either of you could process what was happening, you were sobbing freely into his broad chest, hands grabbing at him desperately for comfort.

You cried for what felt like forever, raw and ragged sobs shaking you to your core. But no matter how deeply you surrendered into your panic, Geralt never wavered. He rocked you slowly, stroking your back softly. Every now and then he’d murmur words of encouragement into your hair and, despite all odds, you found that the low rumble of his voice comforted you greatly.

After some time, your sobs turned into whimpers, and your whimpers into choppy breaths. All the while, Geralt never released his hold on you. Only when he felt your heartrate return to normal did he lessen his grip and pull back to look down at you, smoothing back your hair.

“What –”

“I’m –”

You both laughed awkwardly into the sudden silence and waited for the other to go on. After a beat, Geralt tried again.

“Please –”

“Geralt –” you interrupted once more, shaking your head at the cyclical turn your conversation had taken.

“Y/N, you go.” He said softly, still drawing loopy shapes onto your back with his fingers.

“Oh Gods,” you breathed shakily, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, no,” he shushed, placing gentle kisses along your temple, “Y/N you have no reason to be apologizing.”

“Geralt, look at me!? I’m a mess,” you blurt, “and I’ve scared Jaskier.”

“Jaskier,” he replied with a small smile, “is a fool. He’ll be fine.”

“That might be worse! He’ll never let me live this down.” You say, your head in your hands. Geralt laughed softly at this, and gave your back a few comforting pats before holding you tightly and pulling you closer to him.

“If he dares,” he murmured in mock seriousness, his smile giving him away, “then I will kill him.”

“Geralt! Then who would write all those songs about you?” you said, turning back and smacking him playfully on his chest.

“Preferably no one,” he answered, face soft with laughter while his eyes remained trained on you, watching closely to ensure you were doing okay.

“Oh, you’d miss it, you big vanity.” You laughed, swiping at the last of the tears on your face and moving to stand up.

“Y/N… wait,” he said, reaching for your wrist and gently pulling you back down. “Are you… alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, settling back down at his side, “Truly, I’m fine.”

Geralt let out a low, ‘hm’, in response, and looked at you dubiously, still acutely aware of your heightened heartrate.

“Okay, fine,” you admit, accepting that you couldn’t lie to him about this, “but I will be.” When he didn’t look convinced, you placed your hands on his arms and gave him what you hoped was a convincing look. “I promise, Geralt. I’m okay.”

He clenched his jaw tightly and breathe a sigh through his nose before speaking again.

“You didn’t just scare Jaskier tonight,” he said, slowly and with care, “you scared me too.”

You quickly cast your eyes downward, feeling shame prickle harshly at your chest. Geralt saw you bring the nails of your index finger to your thumb, ready to start your rhythmic stabbing once more, and hastily brought your shaky hands into his.

“Don’t punish yourself like this,” he whispered, rubbing his rough thumb over the tops of your fingers, “just talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say, honestly,” you said, refusing to bring your eyes up to his. “I can normally manage by myself, I don’t,” you stopped to take a steadying breath, and Geralt responded in kind by holding your hands a little tighter, “I don’t know what was different this time. I’m… I’m -”

“Only human?”

“Gross,” you said, pulling one of your hands free so you could wipe your face, “and unfair.”

“Maybe so, but Y/N, I’m serious,” he said, putting his hands gently under your chin to bring your eyes up to his, “if you ever feel like you’re losing control again, you can come to me.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice small.

“Always.” He said, pulling your face towards him so he could lay another gentle kiss onto your forehead. “No matter what.”

At this, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms once more, letting his slow, steady, heartbeats soothe you as he continued to draw shapes on your back. 

[amelialincoln]

So Close

(I know this timeline doesn't made sense but oh well)

Amelia sat in the stiff, plastic chair in the waiting room of the OB/GYN floor, her fingertips gracing the underside of the small bump that had formed over the last couple weeks as her second trimester progressed. Link was late, as always. Probably jogging through the corridors of some random floor of the hospital. His ability to get lost in a hospital he’d been working at for the last three years was almost admirable. Sometimes she’d find him wandering through vacant stairwells and poking his head into random offices, completely disoriented and probably holding a string of patients up. She did enjoy when he’d get lost on the neuro floor because it meant that she’d probably get a short visit if he managed to find her under the pile of paperwork that had formed since Edwards had left. Her fellow had always taken care of that type of stuff. Amelia had completely forgotten how to function without her. She glanced at the clock again.

“Hey!” Link’s voice snapped her out of her daze and she glanced up to find him leaning on the doorframe of the waiting room.

“Hi,” she breathed, giving him a nervous smile before focusing behind him on the cheesy poster that outlined some medical miracle about a set of triplets that were supposed to not have made it out of utero. She found herself shuddering at the thought.

“You okay?” Links brows were knit together in concern and he quickly closed the space between them. “You look worried.”

“I just have this pit in my stomach,” she responded, staring at the ground and trying to physically shake off the feeling that she’d woken up with that morning. “I feel like something is wrong.”

“Like nauseous?” Link was trying to understand, he’d noticed the change in behavior as they’d woken up that morning but had been late for work and wasn’t able to check in on her. She shook her head in response, interlocking her fingers together at the curve of her stomach. Link was about to question further when he was interrupted by the sound of their names being called into Carina’s examination room

“She’ll be in shortly." The nurse smiled softly, as she closed the door gently behind her. Link held out his hands to his girlfriend as she awkwardly hoisted herself up onto the reclined chair.

“Moving much today?” He asked, trying to distract her from whatever she was in deep thought about. Amelia shook her head, surprising him.

“They’ve been pretty still.” Link had finally been able to feel a kick a couple of days ago and was still completely mesmerized by the idea. The flutters had started a little while before, shocking her at first because it was something that she never actually experienced with Christopher, despite the tricks her mind had played on her.

“Ciao,” Carina greeted them as she entered the chilly examination room and slid into the swivel chair beside the ultrasound machine. “Good to see you guys again. How are we feeling? Eighteen weeks now, yes?” Amelia nodded, Link could tell she was nervous as she swallowed uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong, Mia?” He said aloud, receiving a look of confusion from Carina. He wrapped his warm hands around her cold ones and could tell that she was on the verge of tears.

“Everything’s probably fine,” she shook her head uneasily as Carina and Link hesitated in silence. Finally she picked up the light blue bottle of ultrasound gel and spread it over her stomach carefully. “Can we get this over with? I have surgery and I still need to get lunch or Link will attack me for not eating enough.” She tried to smile at him but he could tell that she was internally freaking out. When he didn’t return her enthusiasm she looked away, fixating on the ultrasound which had just whirled to life. Carina expertly guided the wand around Amelia’s abdomen before glancing at the couple worriedly. Amelia felt as though time stood still when the obstetrician bit her lower lip and turned the monitor slowly out of their view. Link’s grip on her hand loosened and he muttered something incoherent in confusion. He didn’t understand what that meant or what was going on like she did. He didn’t know that the way Carina was staring at that screen meant that something was undoubtedly wrong. She wouldn’t either if she hadn’t experienced that same look before, worn on her best friend as she delivered Amelia the news that resulted in one of the worst days of her life.

“What’s wrong with them?” She finally broke the silence. “What’s wrong with our babies?”

“I should get a second opinion,” Carina finally responded, tearing her eyes away from the screen and looking at the anxious couple. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” Link felt like he was a million miles away and that everyone in the room knew something he didn’t.

“What do you think it is?” Amelia found the words slipping out of her mouth before she decided if she even wanted to know the answer.

“TTTS,” Carina replied, hoping to god that she didn’t have to spell it out for them. The way Amelia recoiled made it obvious that she didn’t have to. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Which one is weaker?” Amelia asked so fast that Link had barely processed Carina’s response.

“The girl,” the OB replied, glancing at the heart beat once again to confirm before nodding.

“Have you done the procedure?” Her pregnant co-worker’s voice was as fragile as a china doll.

“Dr. Robbins is the only one who has successfully completed multiple solos in North America,” Carina forced herself to continue. “She’s overseas at a conference. Wouldn’t be able to make it to Seattle until tomorrow night if she got on a plane immediately.” She could tell that her male co-worker was in a daze, trying to understand what the pair were even talking about while also stealing nervous glances at girlfriend.

“I need to call Addison, can you just give us a second?” The neurosurgeon begged. Carina nodded, stepping out of the room and thanking god she could finally breathe again. Amelia picked up her phone with shaky hands and found Addison’s name almost immediately, willing for her ex sister-in-law to pick up.

“Amelia, what?” Link’s voice made it evident that he had finally made the connection that something was wrong.

���We don’t have a lot of time,” she willed her voice to stay level. “Addie?”

“Hey, Amy!” Addison’s voice was light and cheerful as were most of her friends who lived in L.A.

“Have you done a twin endoscopic laser ablation?” She found herself blurting out, not knowing if she had the mental ability to engage in small talk. Link had gone so white she thought he might pass out beside her.

“I’ve watched a couple and assisted on a couple when I was working under Kypros in the U.K.” Addison’s voice was suddenly solemn. “Why, do you have a friend?” The phone’s static crackled as Amelia tried to find a way to put everything into words. “Amy...no.”

“Yeah,” her voice cracked into a million pieces and Link regained enough composure to tug her into what he hoped was a comforting embrace.

“I’m getting on a plane,” Addison’s voice rang clear, loud enough for Link to understand. “We’re going to fix this. I’ll read every article there is to read on my flight and we’ll fix this, okay?”

“Okay.”

[][][]

Link wasn’t known to get aggressive but it took everything he had not to punch a hole in the wall of the room that the couple was frozen in after finally learning the seriousness of the position they were in.

“Even if the surgery is successful, it’s rare that the donor twin will survive,” Amelia added numbly, as Link led her into an on-call room.

“Addison’s going to come,” Link didn’t know what else to say, “and she’s going to figure this out.” He guided her onto the bed and allowed her to burrow her head into the crook of his neck. He undid the clasp to the bra that she’d been complaining was getting too small for weeks now and placed it beside them gently. It was the fact that she was silent that worried him the most. There were hardly any secrets or hidden passive aggression in their relationship. Everything on Amelia’s mind was almost immediately blurted out and he was barely ever kept in the dark about how she was feeling. “Do you want to talk?” He asked, not knowing what else to say. Amelia shook her head, closing her eyes and letting out a long shaky exhale. Link sighed, dropping his hand into her hair and massaging her scalp gently.

“Feels good,” she mumbled, her hands travelling over her stomach. She wanted to pray to god that they were both okay but she was trying to push every thought that entered her mind away. She knew about the syndrome enough to know that if one had died the other one would follow quickly, their little blood supply completely interconnected. She glanced up to find Link’s eyes teary, so deep in thought that it seemed like he was a million miles away. “Do you understand what’s going on now?” She found herself asking but in no way wanted to explain it to him.

“My mom was pregnant with twins,” Link’s voice was soft, “After me. Something went wrong.” His brow was furrowed, as if he was trying to remember the event that had happened years ago.

“Oh,” Amelia replied. “I’m sorry.”

“I was too young to really remember.” Link shook his head. “Is this genetic? Is this my fault?” He looked at her in a way that made it evident that he had begun to blame the entire situation on himself.

“No,” she forced out quickly. “It’s not genetic.” She waited until he relaxed. “It’s not your fault. It's not either of our faults.” That thought had been running through her head since they’d found out the news and she was still trying to convince herself it was true. Link relaxed beside her and pressed his palms into his face. He didn’t like when she saw him cry, she knew that well enough. They stayed that way for what felt like hours, both trying to hold back tears by holding each other instead. Every flutter inside her gave her hope that they were doing okay and every so often she’d press Link’s hand to her abdomen, hoping that he could feel them too.

[][][]

Addison, still buzzing from the three iced coffees and adrenaline of practically rolling out of bed on her day off and catching a plane to Seattle, entered the examination room breathlessly. Link was cradling Amelia’s small frame in his arms, whispering something inaudible to her into her hair. It was the type of exchange that physically hurt to watch and she felt frozen in time for a millisecond.

“Hi,” she found herself saying from the doorway. Amelia lifted her head in response and wiped her red, irritated eyes on Link’s scrub top. “I’m so sorry.” Amelia shrugged, Addison could tell she wanted to make some inappropriate and emotionless joke but couldn’t piece anything together.

“Here we go again.” Was all she could manage to say, in a tone that made Addison want to cry herself. Link allowed her enough space to pull Amelia into a hug.

“We should do an ultrasound now. Carina hasn’t filled me in yet. Can you--”

“Last time we checked they were still doing okay,” Amelia interrupted. “Or were still alive, I guess I should say. The donor twin, she’s the girl, her heartbeat was slowing down. The boy's was still beating strong last we checked.”

“Okay,” Addison muttered, picking up the familiar instrument and spreading gel over Amelia’s stomach. “So I don’t have to give you the speech on how the procedure, if done right, should be successful for the recipient twin? We can hope that the girl will survive but the odds are less.” Amelia nodded.

“I remember from when you assisted on the one at St. Ambrose. I think I was living with you at the time. You talked about it at dinner. It was a miracle they both survived.”

“You and your insane memory.” Addison smiled, cupping her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze for support. Amelia held her breath as the machine whirled to life. Addison found their boy’s heartbeat easily before focusing on their baby girl. Amelia glanced up at Link with teary eyes, not wanting to watch as Addison moved the instrument around expertly. Finally the sound of a slow thunder echoed through the room and the pairs entire bodies relaxed a little. “We need to get in there now,” Addison sighed. “No need to book an O.R. and waste time, it’s very minimally invasive. The first one I watched was performed in a practice.” She motioned to one of the nurses, who was waiting outside, to enter the room. “Let’s sterilize the room as best we can. Get Carina in here, she should observe and I need all the equipment now.” The nurse nodded quickly before going to complete Addison’s orders. “I’m going to inject the aesthetic, you’ll feel a little pinch.”

“Relax, babe,” Link said softly, placing a hand on Amelia’s tensed shoulders as Addison snapped a pair of gloves on and picked up the needle.

“Alright, one, two, three,” she muttered quickly as she swiftly inserted the needle and placed a small piece of gauze over the injection site. Amelia winced as the long needle entered her stomach and looked away. Carina appeared in the doorway with the nurse and handed Addison three long instruments. “Alright, Amelia, just look up at the screen for me okay? We’re going to see your babies in just a second.”

“Can you count down again?” The neurosurgeon asked, knowing that Addison was trying to distract her from the large rod she was about to stab into her abdomen.

“You should barely feel it with the anesthetic...but of course,” Addison responded. “Just look at the screen, okay?” She glanced at Link who was looking queasy despite his speciality being one of the goriest. “One, two, three,” she stabbed the sharp end of the rod into the side of Amelia’s baby bump before pushing it in gently and sliding the scope inside. “You see his hand?” Amelia nodded, mesmerized by the image of the screen.

“This is always my favourite part,” Carina interjected. “Seeing the little ones in utero. So peaceful.” Link nodded with his eyes, alike Amelia’s, focused intensely on the screen.

“So now we just have to decipher which blood vessels belong to which baby,” Addison announced, guiding the scope down below their son.

“Can we see her?” Amelia asked.

“Of course,” Addison glanced up at her sister and could tell she was trying to catch a glimpse of the second baby. “You can get a look at her before we pull it out.” Addison and Carina’s voices were hushed as they turned the screen towards each other, deciding which blood vessel belonged to which and not wanting any input from the worried parents. Addison took a deep breath and allowed time to slow. She tried to block out the fact that this wasn’t just any worried mother but it was the person she’d already delivered awful news to once before. After nodding a final time to Carina, she started the laser.

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 46: The Inevitable

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2005

Warnings: Angst, death, tears, some fluff near the end, pregnancy, light cussing.

A/N: Yes, I’m back! I know that it’s been so, so long since I last updated and I’m very sorry for that. To be completely honest, this pandemic has been so draining and I just haven’t had the drive to write. But I finally buckled down and finished this chapter, and I’m hoping to get the rest of this series finished relatively quickly!

All morning Y/N had been worried sick about Steve. Yes, of course she was used to her husband partaking in tons of dangerous battles here and there, but time travel was a whole different ordeal.

She was walking through the halls of the Avengers Compound, having just arrived several minutes prior. She knew that Steve would call her as soon as he got back safely, it had been his promise to her. But Y/N was just too worried about him and decided to meet him face to face. As well as her other Avenger friends.

Y/N turned a corner and saw Steve already walking her way, a huge smile instantly breaking out on her face. She immediately ran as fast as she could, pregnancy belly in mind, to her other half.

“Steve.” She sighed in relief into his shoulder as soon as she embraced him.

He wrapped his arms around her in what he hoped was a comforting manner, but at this point he didn’t exactly know what to do at all.

“Oh, goodness. Thank God you’re okay.” Y/N told him tearfully. “I was worried sick about you.” She sniffled as she slightly pulled away. “Your poor face.”

All Steve could do was shrug as she lightly stroked the red mark on his cheek.

“And... wow, where did you get this?” She said as she patted his green Army uniform. “It’s pretty nice... pretty sexy actua-”

“Y/N.” Steve interrupted her, not being able to ignore the weight of what he had just found out.

His wife looked up at him, noticing how serious he suddenly was. “Yeah?”

Steve internally contemplated what the best way to break the news to her would be, and grabbed her right hand. “Follow me.”

Y/N, more confused than she was before, obediently followed him into one of the nearby office rooms. It was vacant, as everything was these days.

“Sit down.” He told her before doing the same, rolling his chair right up close to hers so that their knees were touching. “Okay, sweetheart, I need to tell you something very important. But I need you to promise me that no matter what, you will stay as calm as possible.” He evenly spoke to her.

“Okay, Steve, you’re really scaring me right now.”

“Y/N, I need you to promise me. Okay? Too much stress on the baby is not good and you know that.” He said, grabbing both of her hands in his.

“Yes, I promise, Steve. And I know.” She insisted, giving his hands a comforting squeeze. “Just tell me, please.”

The man took a deep breath before just letting it out. “Natasha didn’t make it back.”

Y/N shook her head confusedly. “Wait, what? Wha-Where is she? Can you go back and get her?” The woman spoke frantically, her breaths beginning to get laboured. This was her best friend that they were talking about.

Steve could see the tears in Y/N’s eyes, triggering his own.

“Y/N, she’s dead.” He choked out. “She sacrificed herself.”

“What? No. No, no, no, she can’t be dead.” The woman started to bawl, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “Steve.”

“I know. I know it’s hard, doll.” He told her as he stood up them up together, his heart breaking even more at how utterly devastated she looked. “C’mere.”

Y/N crashed into his chest, still mindful of her growing stomach. Steve’s arms wrapped around her shaking form as he slowly rocked their bodies back and forth, trying and calm her down in any way he could.

Memories of Natasha swarmed through both of their minds. Memories of how she was always there when they needed her, memories of how genuinely good of a person she was.

Y/N’s heavy sobs were a contrast to Steve’s silent tears.

“Shh, shh. Darling, you have to stay a little bit more calm. For the baby, okay?” The man cooed into her hair.

The man felt her nod against him before he slightly pulled back, cradling Y/N’s face in his hands.

“Nat sacrificed herself for half of the universe. Okay? She did this so we could bring everybody back. She knew exactly what she was doing.” He tried to comfort her.

“She’s a hero.” Y/N stated, sniffling.

“Damn right.” Steve nodded before pulling his wife back into his chest. “And we’re going to make her proud, baby.” He stated while stroking her hair. “I’ll make sure of it.”

*****

Y/N giggled as she looked down at her little boy playing with his blocks, trying to build a little tower out of them. She knew that she was never crazy for keeping all of his things, despite what the people around of her said. She knew that she was never crazy for having faith that baby Anthony James would return.

She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was right there in front of her after all of those years of mourning. So many sleepless nights, bawling her eyes out into her husband’s shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, trying to keep his own tears at bay. And now here A.J. was, as adorable and as comforting to her as ever.

Despite how joyful Y/N was that her son had returned, there still was a looming sadness and a looming worry in the back of her head. Sadness for what had happened to her best friend just two days ago, and how she would never see her again, and worry for her husband who had left for the compound yesterday morning, and still hadn’t returned yet. She knew that the reason Steve had left was for them to finally assemble the new gauntlet, and snap their fingers to bring everybody back. Clearly the snap had worked, so what was taking him so long?

As if he had read her thoughts, Y/N heard the front door open and the familiar thump of combat boots on the floor, alerting her that her husband was finally home. She sighed out in relief before placing a kiss on her son’s head, using the couch behind her as leverage to stand her and her baby bump up, and running... well, waddling to the front door.

“Stevie, you’re home!” The woman grinned, but her expression quickly changed when she realized that he was not only wearing the same clothes from when he left yesterday, but also had tons of bruises all over his face and every other body part that was visible. “Wha-What happened to you?”

The man puffed out a breath, holding out his arms and beckoning his wife closer. “Come on, come give me a hug.” He insisted, desperately needing to feel her touch after what he had just experienced. Seeing Pepper kiss Tony one last time as he was dying really left a mark on him. He didn’t want to loose his partner the way that Pepper lost hers.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist and buried her face in his chest, thankful to have this peaceful moment until: “You stink.”

The man lightly chuckled at his wife’s words, knowing that she was in fact correct. “Yeah. Thanos didn’t let us go without a long fight.”

The woman separated to look him in the eye. “Thanos? But he’s dead.”

Steve sighed. “There was a mishap with the time particles. 2014 Thanos got a hold of them and used our own machinery to come here. We fought for hours; the whole compound is in ruins.” Y/N gasped at his words, and he continued. “I would’ve changed my clothes but any spare belongings we had there are gone. This is what I was wearing under the uniform.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Are you okay?” She asked worriedly, stepping back to give his body a once over.

“There’s a cut on the inside of my leg.” He pointed to his inner thigh. “And the shield is in pieces. But other than that, I’m okay. Alive.” Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty that some of his closest friends weren’t. “But we did it, babydoll.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer again. “It’s finally over. We brought everyone back.”

The padding of little feet brought the couple’s attention elsewhere as baby A.J. came into view, making a huge smile light up on Y/N’s face. “Yeah.” She said, petting her son’s hair. “I know.”

“Dadda here!” The boy squealed, and Steve felt his heart swell in his chest. Tears instantly sprung into the man’s eyes as he let out a sob, leaning down to pick up his boy and bring him into his arms.

Steve was still amazed that Anthony could recognize him based off the pictures that Y/N had shown him alone, but he probably got his great memory from the serum being passed down through genetics, if Steve had to guess. “Hi, A.J.” The man smiled through his tears, bouncing his baby in his arms. “I missed you so much, little guy.”

“No more beard.” His son spoke, pressing his little palms on his dad’s cheeks. He was referring to the beard that Steve had grown five years ago while on the run, and was still sporting when he had first met A.J.

“Yeah, buddy. I shaved.” The man explained, though he knew that the toddler wouldn’t understand what he was saying anyways.

Little sniffles broke Steve out of his A.J.-infused trance and he looked over to where they came from, seeing his wife with her hands covering her mouth while crying.

“I’m sorry, it’s just...” she sniffled again, “you guys look so alike.” She stated in awe. “It’s so cute!”

Her husband chuckled before beckoning her closer. “C’mere, doll.”

Y/N curled into Steve’s side, bringing one of her hands up to stroke A.J.’s soft, chubby cheek. “My little family.” She spoke, sighing out contentedly. “All together. Finally.” Her voice broke at the last word, all of the pain from the last seven years flashing before her eyes. But that part of her life was over now. From now on it would only be happy memories, with both of her boys, and soon her new baby girl, by her side.

Steve looked down at the two, technically three people that he loved the most in the world all surrounding him, and felt like the luckiest man in the universe. “A.J., did your mama tell you that you have a new baby sister coming?” He questioned, so excited to see his son be the best big brother ever.

“Yes!” Anthony cheered. “Mama said she in her belly!”

Steve nodded, laughing at how cute his kid was. “That’s right.” He pressed a kiss to A.J.’s forehead, and then to Y/N’s, before whispering in her ear: “This is the most incredible moment.”

She looked up at him with a smile and whispered back: “I know.”

The man debated on whether or not this was the right time to tell his wife about Tony’s death. It felt wrong to lie to her, to pretend that everything was okay, but he really didn’t want to spoil the moment. They hadn’t felt this at peace in so many years, and he just wanted to hold onto that a little bit longer.

‘Tonight.’ He told himself. ‘Later tonight I’ll tell her.’

Steve knew that she would scream and cry, just as she did for Natasha, and it was completely justified for her to do so. He wished that he just could’ve tried a bit harder in the battle, and maybe Tony would still be here, but he also knew that-that was a lie.

Everything that had happened up until this moment was inevitable. All that Steve could do now was live with it, and make sure that nothing would ever happen to anyone he cared about again.

Both Tony and Natasha sacrificed themselves so that families all around the universe could reconnect and have a moment just like he was having right now. And Steve was going to bask in this beautiful moment for as long as he could.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

[hibiscustea9]

10,000 views on “Fire Walk with Me”!

YOU GUYS. Late last night, “Fire Walk with Me” hit 10,000 views. I am beyond blown away by this. Nothing I have ever written has come anywhere close to the reception this story has gotten. To celebrate, I’m going to make the sort of post I don’t usually make and share one of my headcanons for each of the Stardew Valley villagers (excepting the few who don’t have any real impact on the story, like Gil and the Ginger Island villagers). Read on below the jump to see these (some of which have been shared already in “Fire Walk with Me”) and thank you, thank you for all of your support and reading this story. It’s made me so very happy.

Abigail secretly loves disco music. She hates the aesthetic and clothing of the era, but she will rock out to any of the great disco bands or divas when in her room and with her earbuds in. She would sooner die than have Sam and Sebastian find out about this.

Alex had offers to attend several universities on a full ride scholarship to play gridball, but turned them down out of fear of failing out of school. After high school, he was diagnosed as dyslexic. His teachers were encouraged to just pass him through without making him complete the work, which left him deeply insecure. He now has plans to go to trade school, which he feels might be his ticket out of Pelican Town.

Caroline is the wizard’s daughter, and a lay green witch. Her father was a sailor who was lost at sea and Rasmodius comforted her mother (which is the regret Rasmodius has that broke up his marriage). Caroline’s hair is naturally green. She is not aware of her magic, which manifests mostly as being able to grow any plants she wishes.

Clint left Pelican Town to go to college, only to have to come back when his father died to take care of his mother. He was a voice major and has a lovely singing voice, though he’s often too shy to show it off these days.

Demetrius is a skilled teacher and used to adjunct biology classes at Grampleton Community College to help support his family when Robin was getting her carpentry business off the ground. While he enjoyed teaching, the commute and long hours burnt him out after a year and he hasn’t felt the urge to teach since.

The Dwarf is a huge movie buff, but even more than the films, she enjoys turning around while sitting in the front row to look at the faces of the people watching the films.

Elliott is not a citizen of Ferngill but a foreign national. His posh accent and vocabulary rubbed some townsfolk the wrong way when he moved to Pelican Town. He managed to get on the good side of those same townsfolk when he accidentally knocked his bait bucket all over himself at his first Festival of Ice but continued fishing through it, coming in a respectable second to Willy that year.

Emily genuinely believes in the healing power of crystals and positive thinking, though she also has great respect for traditional medicine. She often asks Harvey medical questions when he’s at the bar. For his part, Harvey truly enjoys being able to talk about his discipline with anyone else, even a crunchy granola type like Emily.

Evelyn stopped believing in Yoba after her daughter was diagnosed with cancer and died young, leaving Alex in her care. She has never let on, given how George makes a point of attending weekly services. Seeing how much Clara suffered, first in an abusive marriage and then going through the failed treatment for her cancer, left Evelyn unable to believe in an all-powerful deity. Instead, she aims to spread as much kindness as she can, seeking salvation in other people instead of worship of Yoba.

George started watching so much television when Alex came to live with him and Evelyn. He didn’t like TV much before then, but got in the habit of letting Alex stay up late and watch reruns with him. While he claims to enjoy westerns the most, he has a not-so-secret love for classic game show reruns. The way the women dress reminds him of Evelyn when she was young, though he thinks none of them are quite as pretty as Evelyn.

Gus used to run a successful restaurant in the Zuzu City suburbs and is a classically-trained chef. The stress of running the restaurant and being in charge of both the front and back of the house took a toll on his health and his doctors recommended he step back and find something less strenuous to do. With his proceeds from selling the restaurant, he built the Stardrop Saloon and now is much happier with his life.

Gunther is a local son of Pelican Town who moved away to attend grad school in library science. He had a job in Zuzu City but moved back when he learned of the theft of the collection. He secretly resents returning to Pelican Town, which he was eager to leave, but feels it is his duty to stay and ensure the library is taken care of.

Haley’s ringtone on her phone is the National Geographic theme. When she was young, her parents took her and Emily all over the world and she grew fascinated with other cultures and other places. She has planned all the trips she wants to take. As much as she and Emily bicker, Emily is her favorite travel companion.

Harvey and his family were very poor when he was growing up. When he was fourteen, his sister contracted scarlet fever and they were unable to afford a doctor’s visit. A local doctor from a clinic came by and left medicine at her own expense. This led Harvey to pursue medicine as a career; he could make much more money in Grampleton or Zuzu City, but he stays on in Pelican Town because they really need a doctor. 

Jas helped Shane with his experiments in breeding the chickens. She has a natural head for science and once she got hold of Shane’s books, she plotted out how to look for recessive genes that would allow for chickens to be bred and emerge with blue feathers. She and Shane have a gentlemen’s agreement to not tell Marnie.

Jodi worked as a travel agent before she married Kent. She always envisioned the trips they would take as soon as they had the money, and then when Sam was grown, and then when Vincent was grown. She sometimes stays up late on the computer, looking at flight plans and planning the most affordable trips that would allow her to travel and see the places she most wants to see in the world.

Kent found comfort in another soldier when they were in the Gotoro prison camp. Though it became physical, it was more about finding something to hold onto than about the sex. His guilt over this relationship kept him distant from Jodi and his sons when he first returned. After confessing his indiscretion to Jodi, they attended relationship counseling. She has forgiven him, but he has yet to forgive himself.

Krobus is technically a liquid.

Leah earned an M.F.A. from Zuzu State, where she met and became friends with Elliott. Prior to attending her program, she interned as an apprentice carpenter in Grampleton. It was these same contacts who told her about Pelican Town and Robin, who let Leah stay at her home while she looked for a house to rent in town. Leah not so secretly has a crush of admiration on Robin.

Lewis, before becoming mayor of Pelican Town, owned a leatherworking business. He misses working with his hands, which is one of the reasons why he always visits the shopkeepers and is insistent on there being booths at the Stardew Valley Fair for the artisans in town to show off their wares.

Linus used to live in Pelican Town. He has a living relative in town. [REMAINDER REDACTED: SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING CHAPTERS OF “FIRE WALK WITH ME”]

Marlon saved George’s life the day of the mine cave-in. He was the only one willing to enter the caves and seek out the last missing miner. It was in the process of doing so that a falling rock blinded him in one eye. Despite his injury, Marlon managed to pull George to safety up through the mine shafts. Though his lost eye made him unable to be an active member of the Adventurer’s Guild, Marlon does not regret anything and would absolutely do it again.

Marnie wanted to be a veterinarian. She did very well in college, earning a degree in animal sciences from Zuzu State, and was on the verge of leaving Pelican Town permanently to pursue vet school when she interned at a vet’s office in Grampleton for a summer. She was so distraught the first time she had to assist with putting a dog to sleep that she gave up on the career and decided to open her ranch. She makes it a point to be present any time an animal has to be put to sleep to give it comfort, even though it wrecks her emotionally.

Maru got into science after Sebastian was completely uninterested in a chemistry set he got one year for the Feast of the Winter Star. She is still passionate about chemistry, despite her other interests in biology and robotics. She was briefly the most popular kid in town, despite being younger than most of the other young adults, when she learned how to make ice cream using ingredients found in any kitchen.

Morris was a child actor who had a small role in Junimo Forest, a nearly-forgotten children’s movie from more than forty years ago. He owns six of the known twenty surviving copies of the film.

Mr. Qi took Sandy on as his ward after her parents, who worked for him, died suddenly. He considers Sandy to be his own daughter and always looks out for her. It’s why the Oasis is still in business despite barely getting any customers.

Pam and Penny used to live above the library. Pam’s husband and Penny’s father was the former curator, who made off with the entire collection on a day when Pam took Penny to an academic competition her senior year of high school. The trailer was the only thing they could afford to move into. This was when Pam started drinking so heavily and Penny started longing so much to live in a house of her own.

Pierre holds a degree in economics that he wanted to use to help boost his family’s business. His secret stash is stock options that he has been investing in since taking over Pierre’s General Store from his father. Neither Caroline nor Abigail knows about this money that Pierre is sitting on.

(I am not the biggest fan of Pierre, in case you can’t guess.)

Rasmodius only built his tower after his daughter, Caroline, was born. He has looked over Caroline and her family ever since. Though his lifespan will last far beyond Caroline’s, he plans to watch over Abigail after she is gone, as well as any children Abigail has, or their descendants. His greatest regret is not being present in Caroline’s life as she was growing up.

Robin wanted to be a ballroom dancer, but at 5′11 was far too tall to actually enter the ballroom circuit. She met Demetrius at amateur ballroom dancing lessons and still knows how to perform any ballroom or Latin dances she learned. Her favorite dance is the tango because of the crisp precision required. After she retires, she and Demetrius have a plan to travel and dance the tango in all of the countries where it is taught.

Sam, despite a love of pranks, only ever really got in trouble once while in high school. He and Sebastian cut class and went to a local park, where Sam skateboarded and Sebastian smoked. A missed trick made Sam get so scraped up he had road rash for a month. After he got home, Jodi read him the riot act for once and grounded him from skateboarding until school was out. That was when Sam got into guitar and started thinking seriously about a career in music.

Sandy met Emily at a holistic retreat. She used to work for Mr. Qi, selling snake oil (literally - his iridium milk sells for a huge amount to those in the know), but was so energized by her encounter and conversation with Emily that she decided to go into running her own store.

Sebastian’s favorite adult in town (other than his mom) is Marnie, who recognizes in him a kindred spirit. Marnie taught Sebastian how to catch frogs when he was young and he still occasionally seeks her out to talk to and ask advice from. He vehemently dislikes Lewis because of his refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Marnie, and wants to see Marnie in a relationship with someone who will treat her right.

Shane was on track to be a major gridball star, and was the hope of Stardew Valley High, before getting in a car accident senior year. He almost lost a leg and had to spend six months relearning how to walk. He began drinking heavily afterward to cope with the constant physical pain. Marnie reached out to friends of his in Zuzu City, who had him come live with them and dry out. He remained sober until three months after he moved back to Pelican Town with Jas, his goddaughter. He started drinking again after working at JojaMart, much to Marnie’s dismay.

Vincent changes what he wants to be when he grows up on a weekly basis. Past desired jobs have included soldier (like his dad), musician (like his brother), teacher (like Miss Penny, but something fun like art, not yucky like spelling), game show host, Flower Queen, surfer, and astronaut. Jodi amuses herself by imagining what her son will wear to work on the weeks where he insists he’s going to be some combination of the above.

Willy is a veteran of the Ferngill Coast Guard. He is from the Fern Islands but vowed never to return after some of his siblings disputed his father’s will and caused a massive feud. He joined the Coast Guard as a way to stay on the water and get away from the islands. He was honorably discharged after suffering an injury on a rescue mission and decided to settle in the most peaceful seaside town in Ferngill that he could find, which led him to Pelican Town.

Once again, thank you all so, so, so much for reading “Fire Walk with Me”! I hope you enjoyed these headcanons and that they give you some insight into some of the way I’ve written characters in the story.

[crowleyellestair]

Silence For Happiness - Geralt

AN/// Sorry for the wait, work and life has been eating away at me. This week should be a large fic dump though, so expect content!!! Thank you for that fact, as I wasn’t aware. This actually make my heart flutter reading that, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart : ) I hope you like it. I tried to make it more playful at the end

For the wonderful @theichabbieclub​

Making baby sounds as an adult woman was weird. It had to be believable, to an extent, and she had to make it seem like it was coming from the bundle in her arms. Truthfully, there was a child size log with a bomb resting in her elbow, swaddled like a child, though their target wouldn’t know the difference. Y/n’s eyes darted from tree to tree while trying to look inconspicuous, shushing the log while bouncing it somewhat. She could hear the snapping of twigs and rustling bushes, though her head stayed forward. There would be no back up until the thing was in the open, though she had yet to receive the signal that Jaskier and Geralt had made it. Y/n scolded herself, reminding herself that she was a warrior, and she traveled with the White Wolf. She could handle anything by herself, and since there was no real child to take care of, she would be fine. There was a plop behind her, alerting her to the thing stalking close. It was go time.

Y/n lit a match against her leather belt, lighting the fuse. Keeping the bundle wrapped, she quickly kneeled, placing it on the ground. She swiftly started to walk away, only looking back one the thing stopped walking after a few paces, its claws picking up the blanket. Y/n sprinted a few more steps away as the bomb went off, flinging her cape up to shield herself from any stray silver shrapnel. The twisted entity in front of her shrieked, from both pain and the realization that the child was fake. When there was no witcher jumping into the small valley, she knew she was on her own. Y/n quickly charged the beast, silver saber drawn. The creature’s long nails swung, but wasn’t fast enough for Y/n to miss a parry. The warrior was reduced to only defensive measures as the beast was relentless. Soon enough, when Y/n had landed enough blows, the creature made a death throw, going all in. It charged the warrior, grabbing her by the vest, talon like hands digging into her shoulders. Her back hit a tree, and the creature pulled back, bringing her along. Again and again the beast slammed the woman into the tree, starts filling her vision, air fleeing from her body. With every strike against the bough, she could feel her spin rattle, and pain shoot through her ribs. After a handful of strikes, she finally noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking from the deformed woman’s collar bone, and her hand shot out to push it in. The creature dropped her, and she rolled to her sword, swinging at the thing’s legs. She swiftly cut her down, taking of the thing’s head once and for all. Cuts throughout her vest and shoulders were the only visible injuries, though the internal damage was immense.

Jaskier burst through the bushes, lute raised, but his crazed eyes found her sitting, trying to catch her breath next to the headless creature. He dropped it, Geralt bursting through the bushes next, holding a similar swaddle. Her rows raised, trying to take her mind off the pain, silently questioning the bundle in her lover’s arms and the brown, red spread over her best friend’s figure.

“Animals. Dead animals everywhere. I took this part of the contract thinking I’d come out clean for once-.” Geralt’s scoff cut him off, though his tone was soft, and she recognized it as the tone he uses with her wrapped in one another’s arms.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Jaskier swaggered over to the beast’s body, poking it with his foot before holding out a hand to her. She declined, but motioned to the water skin on his hip, trying to take the attention off of how quickly she denied his help. If she was going to get up, it would be on her own time. She could barley breath as ribs were definitely broken, but she would take inventory in a moment. Though, all thoughts of that ended once the bard’s thumb jabbed backwards in the air towards the slowly moving Geralt.

“We found the kid alive and well. A happy ending for all. Do you think we will be named the kid’s Godly parents?”  Y/n’s eyes never left the witcher, her heart speeding up once more, and drowning out Jaskier’s voice. Wide amber eyes were entranced, staring in wonderment down to the bundle in his arms. His entire upper body was stiff, and he was walking as he would when sneaking up to a monster with heightened hearing. A small hand poked out, trying to grab at the lose white hair that swung invitingly over the child’s face. His brows furrowed upwards, looking almost frightened at the outstretched hand. The pain she felt ebbed away at the sight, nothing existing except the love of her life holding the child.

Much ran through her mind in that moment, many things consisting of the future she wished to spend with the witcher. She knew a kid wasn’t in the cards, but somehow, she would try to convince him to collect his child surprise. There didn’t need to be a cottage, stable job, thriving garden or lazy Saturdays to make Y/n happy. She simply needed Geralt in her future to make her future complete, and his happiness was hers. The glow of reigned excitement was familiar to her, often seeing it in her witcher’s eyes when he looked upon her in public. Y/n tried to be as much as she could for the man, though she was aware she couldn’t be or bring everything. But she would try her damndest.

She was taken out of the frequently repeated vows to bring the witcher light and contentment by the brunette plopping down next to her, and bumping his shoulder into hers. Pain flooded the forefront of her mind, and a gasp came tumbling from her lips. Worry painted Jaskier, and Geralt made for her, but stopped when he heard the child in his arms gurgle. Worried eyes flew over her form, and she steeled her looks to present a smile.

“Claws in the shoulder ‘s all.” He gave an unconvinced nod, but looked back down at the child. She slowly got to her feet, giving the same smile to the bard and began down the path where they had decided to leave Roach. Jaskier continued to hover, making the baby giggle, and Geralt was truly perplexed. Y/n wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the time the witcher had with the small child in his arms, so continued to keep her mouth shut about her ribs and back. Once the trio had gotten to the mare, Geralt had a bashful smile gracing his features. Y/n couldn’t help but truly smile in return, until it turned sour at the witcher’s offer.

“Get on Roach.” Usually Geralt would offer her the horse when she was far worse for wear than he, though she didn’t think it was the best idea. Offering it to Jaskier instead would seem to suspicious, let alone the fact that she had never declined the offer before. The only smooth way to keep her off of the horse would be to ask to carry the baby, though she would never do that when he looked so enchanted. Giving a curt nod, she pulled herself onto the mare, her forehead resting on her neck for a moment to regain her strength. Roach gave a worried snort in response to her tense rider, but luckily, neither of the boys noticed. The trio had made their way back into town, Jaskier singing of the spooky lair filled with animal corpses, Y/n keeping in sobs with every step Roach took, and Geralt wishing every happiness to the babe in his arms.

Hearing the bard’s voice, the mother they had met earlier flew out of the house, almost tripping over herself to get to them. She almost bulldozed the White Wolf, her arms wrapping around the baby. Geralt had a hint of sadness in his eyes, though a ghost of a smile was present seeing the baby smile, grabbing onto his mother’s thumb and shoving it into his mouth. The husband rushed out due to hearing his wife cry. A smile broke across his face as he jogged to them, tears streaking his own face. Mariene, the wife, smiled. Her hand reached up to the witcher, cupping his pale cheek. Y/n smile once more, Jaskier playing triumphant background music as the rest of the village left their tasks to surround them. The woman slowly slid down the horse, watching from beside the bard and mare how praise finally rained onto the wolf. Her hand went to hold her ribs, pushing.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Mariene cried. The thanks fell from her lips like a prayer, the witcher shocked. He shook his head and pointed to Y/n, Mariene pointing praise to the warrior as well. The husband, Bernerd, shook Geralt’s hand as Mariene hugged the lights out of Y/n, quite literally. She tried to say something, but the stars flooded her vision. Luckily, Mariene moved to Jaskier, but the bard’s worried gaze flew to Geralt as he called to him. The witcher quickly caught the fainting woman, all joy taken by fear. He was quick to her side, his amber eyes pleading with the bard silently to keep the village attention. They didn’t need a scene, the town loosing too many people to the creature already. He swooped Y/n into a bridal hold, but she started to moan in pain by the hold on her ribs and spine. She tried to arch away, but she couldn’t breath either, not being able to walk.

The woman continued to blink in and out of consciousness, the witcher’s worried voice keeping her earthed. His own pained expression silenced her, her lips sealing so all noises were casted into pained grunts.

“Stay with me, Y/n. Only a few more steps.” Despite her trying to do many things, among them apologizing for ruining his rare moment of joy, she couldn’t stay awake.

//

Jaskier’s voice flew throughout the inn, the melody he sung slipping through the floorboards into their room. Practically the entire village was there, despite everything. The couple had paid in full for the return of their child, the Alderman paying for the trophy of the creature, the innkeeper clearing their tab and the village’s heart once they heard of the whole tale. Y/n had been out cold for a day, and the town wished on every star for her health after finding that she was the one who fought the thing. The couple had brought the child around earlier in the morning for Geralt to see, wanting to see if Y/n had awoken yet. The witcher sat beside her since the healer left, never moving from his chair. His pale hands gently rubbed ointment into Y/n’s stomach as she awoke that night.

Seeing her eyes open to meet his made his mind finally relax. The entire day was spent scolding himself for not seeing the signs. He knew everything about Y/n, trying his hardest to make her happy in anyway he could. The White Wolf never really took to conversations, so he expressed himself by listening, observing and doing. He trusted Y/n to take care of herself, but that didn’t mean that slip ups never happened. Maybe if he noticed sooner. If he had stuck to their routine, checking over her like every other contract, he could have noticed, and they wouldn’t be in this situation. Jaskier had pulled up a chair, sitting and watching next to him the night prior. The bard had also refused to leave or sleep, only getting a wink of rest when he passed out from exhaustion. That too Geralt burdened. The bard took to mending Y/n’s main vest, the claws had punctured holes into it. He had also found water and a sponge for Geralt to wash her shoulders. Jaskier also tried to convince Geralt that it wasn’t just his fault, the bard not noticing or asking either, but the witcher refused.

Geralt would do anything for Y/n, and he put things like checkups in order to keep her healthy. He couldn’t give her things most people want, and nowhere close to what she deserved. But he tried, and this didn’t help show it. He felt as though he failed her, and failed himself. Y/n was his world, and he couldn’t take care of it. If he couldn’t take care of it, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He watched as she slowly blinked, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes flew down to her chest, finding her abdomen and shoulders dusted with ink black, blues and yellows with bruises. She sighed, barely trying to sit up before pain shot through her spine and she settled back down.

“I could have said something.”

“I should have noticed.” She sighed again, her hand landing and stilling one of his that continued its butterfly touches as it rubs in the ointment.

“I would have remained silent again.” His face steeled, leaning in closer as his brows furrowed.

“Why? You were harmed, and I could have helped.” She smiled, eyes closing.

“You looked so happy with that baby. I… I know we can’t have a lot, but you deserve the world. A little joy with the expense of some bruising is worth it.” His hand flipped, snatching hers within his, squeezing.

“You are my world. I should be giving you that joy.” She grunted in annoyance, though her eyes were bright as she opened them again.

“You being happy makes me happy.” He grumbled, clearly defused, but something still bugged him as he went back to rubbing.

“Still, I’m sorry for not asking earlier-.”

“Geralt.”

[cakesunflower]

Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 4

A/N: hello friends! i hope wherever you’re reading this, you’re quarantined and staying healthy and safe! this is a tough time for all of us and if you or a loved one is feeling sick, i wish you a speedy and easy recovery! i hope this chapter or any of my writing provides you with even a little bit of distraction.

stay safe, stay healthy, stay inside y’all! and happy reading!!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When Josie pulled up to the driveway of the house during her hour long lunch break, she pursed her lips at the sight of the black Range Rover parked behind Luke’s car. Josie sighed, shutting the door of her car and jingling her keys in her hand as she walked through the threshold of the house, confused gaze immediately landing on a suitcase that was settled on the ground next to the couch.

“Luke?” Josie called, her voice traveling through the house as she wandered into the kitchen. She was in dire need of some leftover spaghetti—so much so that she made the trip back home just to eat some for her lunch break. “Oh, brother of mine—where you at?”

“Why are you yelling?” She heard Luke huff as she crouched down slightly to pull out the dish of spaghetti, straightening and shutting the door with her foot. Her brother stood at the entrance of the kitchen, blonde hair pulled back in a bun, looking unfairly comfortable in his lounge wear. Someone decided to skip work. “And what’re you doing home?”

Josie lifted the bowl to show him before settling it on the counter. As she moved around to grab a bowl and fork, she answered, “Needed sustenance. What’re you doing home?” 

Luke crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “Didn’t you check my text?”

Scoffing dramatically as she shut the microwave to heat up her bowl, Josie faced her brother and returned, “I don’t check my texts at work or while I’m driving, Luke. I’m a responsible adult.” Sure, she remembered her phone buzzing with a text or two from him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she stopped what she was doing to check them.

He rolled his eyes, used to the playful sarcasm she’d become an expert on perfecting over the years. Fixing her with a pointed look, he said, “Calum’s moving in.”

What?

The air ceased from circulating in her lungs, prompting Josie to remain still where she stood as the smile she wore froze on her face. The beat of silence that passed between the two felt like an eternity in Josie’s ringing head, her grip on the counter behind her tightening as she forced herself to process Luke’s words quicker. Less time to make him feel suspicious as to why she was internally losing her goddamn mind. Her heart had picked up its pace, fast in the way it lodged itself in her throat as she blinked quickly.

“I—uh, why?” She hoped the smile on her face wasn’t as nervous as her voice sounded in her ears. “And where’s he gonna sleep? You don’t have another extra room.” The only spare bedroom was now hers.

Luke scratched his beard as he pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the bowl of fruit on the center counter he’d been eyeing earlier. He picked up a red apple as he informed Josie, “Something about a burst pipe? I don’t know, I told him he could stay with us. The couch’s a pull-out. It’s only temporary—he should be fine.”

Josie desperately wanted to ask why Ashton or Michael couldn’t house their friend, biting her tongue when she remembered Ashton only lived in a one bedroom apartment and Michael and Crystal were currently going through a very stressful move from their own apartment to a new house. Despite the lack of bed, Calum moving into Luke’s place was the most logical decision. Even if it had Josie’s heart racing out of pure guilt and nerves. How the hell was she supposed to keep her mind off of him when he would be sleeping down the fucking stairs? Josie had known moving to L.A. would significantly increase her chances of running into Calum—but in the living room? Fuck.

“Wait, shit—I should’ve asked you first, right? I mean, this is your place now too and, like, if you don’t want—”

Luke’s rambling broke Josie out of her guilt ridden thoughts—as did the sudden beeping of the microwave—and she blinked her wide eyes before interrupting her brother. “No, no, it’s fine,” Josie assured him with a gentle laugh, almost forced, as she quickly turned to take the bowl out of the microwave. Her nerves didn’t even allow her to acknowledge the hotness of the bowl burning her fingers before she set it down. She felt a pang ricochet through her chest at her brother’s sudden worry of not clearing with her if his friend could move in to his own home. As an attempt of covering up her guilt, nerves, whatever the fuck it may be, Josie added with a gentle laugh, “I thought I wouldn’t be caught in another sleepover with you and your boys after you moved out.”

Apparently that was enough to have Luke break out into a short bout of laughter, grinning around the red apple as he bit into it with a sharp crunch. Her brother winked at her, moving to leave the kitchen as he said, “You can’t escape us that easily, Jos.”

She could wish, though.

Rather than retreating to the living room or to the dining table, Josie hopped up on the couch, placing a small tray in her lap so the bottom of the hot bowl didn’t burn her lap as she twirled the pasta around her fork. Josie ate her lunch absently, able to vaguely hear the music playing upstairs and the two pairs of footsteps, not at all making a move to go up and see her brother and new temporary roommate.

Luke was only being a good friend by having Calum move in with them, but of course he wasn’t aware of the complication that tensed Josie’s muscles at the thought of Calum living with them. That being said, Calum knew. He knew first hand how awkward it could potentially get with the two of them being under the same roof—the last time they were, they’d crossed the line that had disappeared since. They were already around each other more than it was helpful; this temporary living arrangement wouldn’t be doing them any favors.

Letting out a sharp breath through her nose as she chewed, Josie’s shoulders slumped, disenchanted gaze casted down to her bowl. Was she overreacting? She couldn’t clearly tell and couldn’t bring it in herself to care. Looking her brother in the eye had become hard enough—now the reason for that was living with them. The universe seemed to be against her.

So lost in her thoughts, Josie hadn’t even been aware of the footsteps that were approaching until there was another person in the room, looking up to see the man who had consumed her thoughts lingering by the entrance. She looked up, sensing him before she even saw him, slowly swallowing the mouthful of pasta as her eyes met his dark ones. Calum didn’t say anything, didn’t try to. She recognized, wryly, the reluctance he wore on his face, lips pursed as they silently stared at one another.

Josie lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow as she repeated the same words he’d said to her on one of her first days in L.A., right here in this kitchen. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“Thought I’d return the favor of giving you a surprise,” Calum returned smoothly, moving further into the kitchen. He went to the fridge, which happened to be on Josie’s immediate left, given that she was sitting on the counter right by it. Josie’s expression dropped into a deadpan, and Calum scoffed as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. As he uncapped it, he looked at her, letting out a sigh as a meaningful expression flashed across his face. “It’s only temporary. It’s not a big deal, Josie.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. “Do you seriously believe that?” she challenged, not entirely satisfied by his statement. He didn’t even sound like he believed it, so how was he going to try and convince her otherwise?

Calum sighed sharply once more, facing the ceiling briefly—Josie fought the urge to eye at the expanse of his neck, at the way her lips had once felt on it—before looking down at her with a tired, almost bored expression. Calum spoke quickly, an irritated rasp in his voice as he retorted, “No, Jos, I don’t; but I can’t stay at Ash or Mike’s and I couldn’t give Luke a legit reason to deny his offer other than the fact that I fucked his sister.”

Her eyes grew wide, absently glad she didn’t have a mouthful of spaghetti she would’ve definitely choked on upon hearing Calum’s words. With her free hand, she smacked his arm, gaze darting towards both entrances of the kitchen, looking into the living room and towards the hall leading to the stairs in case Luke was anywhere near. Her heart had jumped in her throat, feeling a fire spark in the pit of her belly as Calum’s words resonated in her head.

“Are you serious?” she hissed, incredulous gaze on him as Calum rolled his dark eyes, taking a sip of the beer. No longer did he look as reluctant as he had when he first came into the kitchen, now adopting a demeanor too casual than the situation called for. He looked like he could care less about the situation, meanwhile Josie felt her heart pick up its pace. Whether it was at Calum so casually flinging around his words or at the reminder of a night she would never forget, Josie wasn’t sure. Most likely both. She shook her head at him. “Shut up—Luke might hear you.”

“He went to take a shower,” Calum informed, unfazed by the tension in Josie’s voice. She hated how calmly he stood there, and it only made her believe that she truly was overreacting over the whole situation. But she knew Calum—or, well, liked to think that she did—and she remembered the way he had looked so tense on the night of her welcoming party. If her being in the same city as him had his teeth grinding, Josie believed it was fair for her stomach to be in constant knots because of him staying in her house.

“Look, just—” Calum sighed once again, running a hand through his growing hair, resting it at the back of his neck as he looked at Josie. He dropped his hand to the side, offering a shrug. “Just relax, okay? It’ll be fine. You work during the day and I work at night so I doubt we’ll be seeing much of each other, okay? It’s only temporary.”

It’s only temporary. It was only that one time. The latter were words that echoed in the back of Josie’s head every time Calum came into view. She had a feeling the former would come back to bite her in the ass someday, somehow. 

Her eyes met his once more, her lips pursed, and Calum did his best by offering a small smile before turning to leave the kitchen once more. Josie watched him, took in the delicious expanse of his back under the soft material of his red shirt, the tattoos on his arms feeling as though they were only there to make her want to trace them with her fingers. The black ink looked so pretty against his skin, art on art, and Josie hadn’t realized she’d been chewing on her lips until she parted them to speak up without much thought.

“You’re telling me you’re not the least bit worried?”

About this? About us? About Luke finding out and about everything falling apart all over again even though it was barely put back together?

Calum stopped, shoulders lifting briefly before he looked at her over his shoulder. He shook his head with a proper shrug of his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as he asked, “What’s there to be worried about? So long as we keep our mouths shut, we’re fine.”

Josie wanted to laugh at his words, giving an unconvinced tilt of her head and an almost sad raise of her own eyebrows. In that moment, Calum had become too good at masking his emotions, his thoughts, and she found the frustration gnawing at her when she couldn’t get a good read on what he truly thought. “You seriously don’t believe that, do you?” she still tried by asking.

Calum’s gaze averted, looking towards the wall to his right. With the view she had of his profile, Josie picked up on the way he clenched his jaw, the muscle jumping, sexy and tense and complicated. There was a heavy silence for a minute, the tension of their situation weighing them both down as Calum finally sighed. He shook his head, turning away from her as he continued his way out of the kitchen, not before answering, “I’m trying to.”

The three word answer Calum had given Josie sat with her for the rest of the day when she went back to work to finish her shift. She moved mechanically, an interested facade put up to please the clients she met with despite her head begging her to focus on something else—to focus on Calum and what he had said.

In the midst of washing and drying and cutting hair, Josie couldn’t shake it off. I’m trying to. He was trying to what? Believe that they would be fine? That everything would be okay? Did he think that things between the two of them would never be the same after what happened? The thought of it, the thought of her friendship with Calum getting knocked down several pegs, left an ache in Josie’s chest she couldn’t quite voice. Of course things would be different after the night they spent together in her dorm. You can’t just look at someone, much less a person who was your good, close friend, the same way after they gave your five mind blowing orgasms in one night.

Shit. Fuck, that was besides the point. Even if she couldn’t stop imagining the way he kissed her every time she caught him biting his lower lip, or feel her knees quiver as she remembered the way he carried her to her bed in the dorm. . .

God. Of course things wouldn’t be the same between them after that night. She wondered if Calum had to fight similar thoughts from infiltrating his mind, if he had to remind himself that he couldn’t be thinking about her the way she thought about him. At this point, though, what was the use? They’d already overstepped physically. Thoughts couldn’t hurt anyone.

Though they were torturous. And as Josie continued with her shift, they only settled heavily on her heart. Both of them knew sleeping together would fuck things up, but they went through with it anyway—because they were selfish. Because they’d only been thinking about themselves and their needs, not about their friends or her brother. They had just been chalked up as consequences they would have to deal with later, and later was now and Josie had no idea what to do. Maybe Calum had the right idea, to just try and pretend it was fine. Fake it til you make it, that sort of thing. They’d come this far, right?

Yet each step forward seemed to be harder than the last.

When she’d returned home from work, Josie was quick to rid herself of her makeup and change into her pajamas before collapsing on the bed, the softness of the mattress and pillows and cool blankets inviting. She didn’t quite remember when she fell asleep, but she did remember being pulled out of it in the middle of the night, hours later with a dry throat and desperate need for water.

Sleepily, she got up from her bed, bare feet padding towards the door as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. As Josie made her way down the hallway towards the stairs, her eyebrows furrowed as a sound greeted her, distant but still in the house. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, and with each step she descended, the more distinct the sound became, recognizing it as uncomfortable grunts and huffs.

She walked into the kitchen, flipping on the stove light which was the dullest, and as she filled up a glass of water, her gaze wandered to the kitchen where the sounds kept coming from. Glass in hand, Josie stepped over to the entrance of the kitchen that opened into the living room, and with the dull light on the stove, she could make out Calum’s figure tossing and turning on the pullout mattress of the couch.

The grunts were coming from him, annoyed and uncomfortable, and Josie realized that as nice as the couch was to sit on, the mattress was probably not the same. She rolled her lips into her mouth, eyebrows drawing together at his clear discomfort. Aware of his schedule, Josie knew he probably got home from work about an hour or so ago, probably battling for a comfortable position since then, and before she had the chance to truly think about it, she was making her way into the living room and where he lay.

“Calum,” she spoke, her voice quiet as to not startle him, standing by the makeshift bed. “Hey.”

He stopped before sitting up, dark eyes meeting hers as he blinked in mild confusion at the sight of her. The blanket pooled at his lap, hands brace against the mattress and providing Josie with the sight of his biceps, in full view thanks to his muscle tee. She pushed back the image of when her nails had dug right into the muscle, of the feeling of his arms wrapped around her in something more intimate than a hug.

“Josie,” he frowned, tired and a bit puzzled. “You good?”

She fought the smile that threatened to upturn her lips. “I should be asking you that.” She eyed the mattress, raising an eyebrow. “Is it that uncomfortable?”

“Uh,” Calum paused with a slight chuckle, looking at what he was laying on as if he was seeing it for the first time. “Prison beds might be more comfortable.”

Josie pursed her lips. For all his money, Luke should invest in a better pullout. She gave herself a moment to consider her thoughts, knowing the danger of even thinking them, but she couldn’t just let Calum suffer through a night of terrible sleep. Things between them were weird, both of them trying to navigate through uncharted waters, but she couldn’t use that as an excuse to allow him to sleep on an uncomfortable bed.

“Come on—” she ticked her head towards the stairs before she psyched herself out of her decision. “My bed’s a lot comfier.”

Calum’s gaze met hers, saw something unknown settle in his features as he asked her, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

There was a burning in her cheeks, grip on her glass tightening as she forced her expression to remain neutral, not effected. “We’re just sleeping,” she told him, hating that she felt her voice waver as if she was trying to convince herself of the truth. That’s all they would be doing. Sleeping.

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing her from where he sat, and Josie merely looked back at him with an expectant raise of her eyebrows. Her head kept telling her it was a bad idea, but she told it to shut up. The worst thing she could’ve done had already taken place—she couldn’t let him sleep so uncomfortably after being behind a bar all night. Besides, it’d only be for tonight; tomorrow, she’d tell Calum to hint at Luke in getting a new couch, and if Luke found out his best friend had a shit night on his own couch, no doubt the blonde would buy another one.

When Calum finally let out a breath and got up, Josie took a step back, glancing down at herself as she rolled her lower lip into her mouth at the sight of her clothes. Her pajamas consisted of sleep shorts and an old softball shirt cut to be a crop top, and under the sudden weight of Calum’s gaze, Josie felt a bit too exposed in front of him.

As he stood before her, tall figure easily looming over hers and dark eyes traveling from her blue painted toes all the way to her eyes, Josie’s skin flushed as she told herself she was being ridiculous. He’d fucking seen her naked; she couldn’t get more exposed to that.

Breaking their gaze because the fluttering of her heart was becoming too much, Josie silently turned to head back up the stairs, Calum’s presence behind her one she couldn’t hope to ignore as they silently moved through the dark house. Their footsteps were light as they approached Josie’s room, though it wasn’t needed—Luke could sleep through an earth quake.

Her bedroom was dark, which Josie was grateful for as she went to the right side of the bed, setting her glass down as she sat on the edge and was all too aware of Calum moving around to the other side. Josie’s back was still to him as she felt the mattress shift underneath her because of his weight, and she played with the blanket as she eyed the wall ahead of her. The room was suffocatingly silent, one she really wanted to get rid of. She didn’t want to be weird in front of Calum—too late for that, the voice in her head mocked—but she couldn’t help it. And not for the first time, while Josie didn’t regret what they’d done, she did hate the tense aftermath of it all.

As if she was trying to somehow reassure herself, Josie didn’t look back at Calum as she asked, “This isn’t gonna be weird, is it?”

He was silent for only a second. “No. It’s fine if, y’know, you don’t think about what happened the last time we were in bed together.”

The casualness in which he spoke in had Josie huffing with a drop of her shoulders, bringing her legs up so she could lay on the bed, though she paused as she shot Calum a look. Even in the dark of her room, she saw the smirk curling at his lips as he copied her position. She had nothing substantial to say other than, “Literally, shut up,” through flushed cheeks as she dug her legs under the blanket. Calum merely snickered, feeling a lot more at ease than she was, and she narrowed her eyes when she caught him just staring at her. The amused playfulness danced in his eyes, shamelessly raking his gaze on her as he sat with his back agains the headboard, an easiness in his features Josie felt overwhelmed by. With a heat in her cheeks, she subtly wrestled with the blanket and told him, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Her words prompted a laugh from Calum, raising his eyebrows as he tilted his head almost challengingly. “Really?” he hummed, picking up his phone. His face lit up with the screen, shadowing the sharp features of his face as she watched him set up an alarm for half an hour before Luke’s went off. Eyes meeting hers once more with a smirk, he finished, “You didn’t seem to care when I was literally in you, like, three month ago.”

Josie’s jaw slackened, an incredulous squeak getting caught in her throat as she stared at him in a mixture of disbelief, feeling the entirety of her skin flush at the blatant reminder of a night she couldn’t ever forget. “Stop,” she stated through gritted teeth, no real annoyance or anger in her tone as she huffed and laid down, turning her back to him as she added pointedly, “Goodnight, Calum.”

Assuming sleep would come easy when there was an achingly familiar warm body next to hers would be foolish on Josie’s part, the blanket brought up to her chin as she stared at the digital clock on her bedside table. The green numbers read 2:56 A.M. and Josie suppressed a sigh. Her shift wasn’t until ten, so not getting enough sleep wasn’t a concern. It was just the act of falling asleep itself, with Calum in the same bed as hers, that kept her brain kicking and muscles tense.

It was silent only for a few moments until Calum’s voice spoke up. “So. . . How’ve you been?”

Josie’s eyebrows raised where she lay, unsure of what he was playing at or why he was trying to start a conversation right now. He was fucking with her, wasn’t he? “Calum, it’s three in the morning and the only reason why I suggested sleeping in my room is because I’m a good person and you were being too loud.”

She could hear the damned smirk in his voice as he didn’t miss a beat and instantly retorted, “You think that’s what your neighbors were saying when you were screaming my name that night?”

Josie’s eyes squeezed shut as she brought her hands up to cover her face, preventing herself from screaming into her palms as she felt Calum’s body shake subtly with the deep chuckles that were escaping him. She hated that despite the memories his words brought up, she felt the tension in her muscles surprisingly ease, no longer feeling suffocated in her own room. “Calum, I swear to God I will kick you off my bed.”

“I’m just playin’, Josie.”

Despite the sound of his laugh making her heart thrum, Josie felt her jaw tighten as she remembered their conversation earlier in the afternoon. So she turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow as she peered down at his laying figure. Calum’s dark eyes instantly met her blue, and she saw the way his expression faltered when he noted the mild hardness in hers. “You’re completely going against what you said earlier today, remember?” she demanded with a challenging quirk of her eyebrow. “Trying to pretend that we’re fine isn’t gonna happen if you keep bringing up what happened.”

“I was wrong.” Calum propped himself up on his elbow as well and Josie didn’t pull back despite the sudden proximity. She could smell his familiar cologne that still stuck to his skin, tickling her nose. With this new closeness, she saw the way his eyes flickered down to her lips, sending her heart to her throat as his low voice spoke, “You and I—we’re fine. No pretending necessary.”

Josie was having a hard time ignoring her racing heart, her own gaze on his kissable mouth, feeling the familiar pull tugging her towards him and doing her best to fight it. “Unless we’re with everyone else, right?”

His lips curled upwards in a small smirk. “We’ve made it this long,” Calum responded with an agreeing tone. Josie’s heart stilled when Calum’s hand reached up, fingers pushing back a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, her teeth pressing together when his fingers just barely grazed her cheek, igniting a fire in their wake. He still had that effect on her. “We got this, pretty girl.”

Her lungs were robbed of air as he spoke, and Josie subtly raised her eyebrows as she shot him a look. Her voice was quiet in the dark of her room, teeth lightly grazing her lower lip as she told him softly, “We won’t if you keep calling me that.”

Calum had been watching her bite her lower lip and Josie wondered if it was just as difficult for him to not lean in and close the gap between them as it was for her. Calum half-smiled, dropping his hand from her as he finally said, “G’night, Jos.”

He settled back down, back towards her, and Josie tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling. She could feel the heat of his body next to hers despite the space between the two of them, and Josie rolled her lips into her mouth as she settled down as well, her back towards his. Yet another bad idea for the books.

At this point, she might as well become the poster child for stupid relationship decisions. Sooner or later, it would come to bite her in the ass.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf @bitchinbabylon @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @calistheloml @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @wildflowergrae​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @gosh-im-short​ @thesubtweeter​ 

[tagsecretsanta]

From @hedwigstalons

to @lenle-g

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

“Merry Christmas, John.”

"Merry Christmas, Eos."

Eos’ camera unit tracked his progress through the gravity ring towards the small section that passed as a kitchen module.  He could tell just from the way her servos whirred that she wasn’t finished and the length of the pause gave a good indicator that she was puzzled.

"John?"

"Yes, Eos?"

"You sound...sad."

"I'm not sad, Eos, but I'm not really happy either."

"You sounded happy when you spoke to your family."

"That's good.  I don't want them worrying about me."

"Should they be worried about you?  You seem well.  All your vitals are registering in the normal range."

There was something touching about her gentle curiosity and John couldn't help but smile at how far she had come in terms of displaying sensitivity, but it was at times like these that the AI showed just how inhuman she was.  Much as he would like to brush it off and forget the whole situation he owed her an explanation, if only to further her education into the nuances of people.

"No, I'm fine, Eos.  But it would spoil their day if they thought I was missing them.  Just because I'm stuck up here doesn't mean they should hold back on the holiday spirit on my account."

"So you lied to them."

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell the whole truth."

"This is one of those human things, isn't it."

"Yes, Eos, it's a human thing."

It had taken a lot of effort to plaster on a smile and give a convincing act that, yes, he really was fine about spending Christmas up on Thunderbird 5.  If everything had gone to plan he would have been in the thick of it.  Calls would have been diverted to the island and global rescue agencies reminded the International Rescue was first and foremost a family unit.  Of course they would still respond to a request for help but courtesy dictated that for this one day only the direst of calls got sent their way.

John might grumble about the paper crowns, claim tinsel made him itchy or threaten to head back to the office when the inevitable pillow fight broke out between Alan and Gordon but they were his family and he would much rather be spending Christmas surrounded by the noise and chaos than alone.  Unfortunately, this year, alone was exactly how he was going to spend the holiday season.

"Eos, give me another readout on the coronal mass ejecta and electromagnetic radiation levels."

"The solar flare is continuing.  It is still inadvisable to use the space elevator."

It hadn't answered his request but she had given him the information he needed.  Eos really was getting better at understanding people and reading the subtext, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her.

“Thank you, Eos.”  There was a whirr as she dipped her lens in a nod of understanding.  “Well, it looks like the emergency Christmas meal is going to come into play.”

By this point he had reached the kitchen module and he extracted from storage a small silver tray that looked just like all the other silver trays that provided the bulk of his nutrition up on the space station.  A small label proclaimed it to contain roast turkey and all the trimmings but he didn’t hold out much hope of it being any more appetizing than his usual bland fare, there was something about the preserving process along with the high levels of vitamin fortification in each meal that gave his food a unique, if not wholly pleasant, flavour.  The meals weren’t bad as such, but they weren’t good either.  Normally he appreciated being spared good ol’ home cookin’ with Grandma at the helm but you could guarantee that Christmas, along with Thanksgiving which he had also missed this year, was one of the occasions that everyone pulled together to make a meal worth eating.

Three minutes in the warmer and the meal was ready to eat.  He carried it through to his sleeping quarters and perched on the bunk before peeling off the lid that had so far kept all food smells sealed inside.  As soon as the seal was broken rich aromas filled the cabin.  If the smell was anything to go by then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.  Unfortunately it still had the same greyish tinge and odd consistency as his usual staples but he’d survived on space rations for long enough to know that looks didn’t matter as long as it was edible.

Despite the tantalising smell it was with some trepidation that he picked up the first forkful.  Recreating the holiday meal was a challenge and one that Brains had only recently applied himself to.  If everything had gone to plan he wouldn’t even be having this meal now, he would be back on Earth with his brothers tucking in to the real thing and this, whatever it was, would have become just another food tray to grab when he fancied something different.

He gave the lump of grey a tentative nibble, paused to assess the flavour, then shoved the whole forkful in with enthusiasm.  It was delicious.  Okay, he would have preferred to be eating the real thing and to not have all the component flavors all jumbled together but if he concentrated he could tasted the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and all the other parts deemed essential to a Christmas roast.  Once again he was happy to declare that Brains was a genius.  He carried on eating until every single scrap had been scraped out of the tray, even going so far as to wipe a finger round the edges to get every last bit, before slotting the tray and lid into the disposal unit for recycling.

The rest of the afternoon was passed with an open comm link.  It was bittersweet being both there but not there as the family laughed and joked around his hologram but with calls still being set to extreme emergency only it wasn’t like he had much else to do, especially since Scott had commanded Eos to block any activities that might be construed as work.  Reports, inventories, maintenance, even reading for anything other than pure pleasure, of it was off limits.

Time ticked on and one by one the residents of Tracy Island drifted off to bed until only Scott was left having chivvied everyone along  with the reminder that they would all be back on standard duty in just a few short hours.  With that the guardian down on Earth flopped down on the couch for a few moments of quiet and turned to the guardian in the sky with a sigh.

“Well, we made it through the whole day.  Even that mudslide in Chile didn’t need our attention.”

“No.  Local rescue services managed it with zero fatalities.”

There was a shared look as though each dared the other to comment on their knowledge of the situation in Chile even though they technically weren’t meant to be working.  They both knew there would be no admonishment though, however much they might tell the others to step away from the day (and night) job, for the Commander and Space Monitor of International Rescue a ‘day off’ would always follow a different definition.

“That’s good to hear.  Are you sure you’re okay up there?”

“I’m absolutely fine Scott, the flare isn’t producing anything that would trouble Thunderbird Five.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”  Blue eyes held turquoise until, safe in the knowledge that this was just between the two of them, the lithe form in the hologram slumped a little.

“Of course I would have preferred to be there with you all.”

“I know, buddy,” there was a nod of understanding, “but we’ll get you down here as soon as we can.”

Both of them knew it wouldn’t quite be the same.  Neither of them realised quite how quickly they would get their wish to have John planetside.

***

It was around 3am Tracy Island time when John first realised something wasn’t quite right.  Scratch that, ‘wasn’t quite right’ did not do justice to the roiling, churning feeling in his stomach, the waves of nausea or the chilled sweat that had broken out all over him with accompanying shivers to round off the experience.

“Eos, increase the gravity to 1G,” he rasped out for as much as he he normally enjoyed keeping the living areas of Thunderbird Five at lower than Earth’s gravity, if his predictions of what the next few hours were going to entail proved true then low gravity was not the best environment to experience it in.  

There was a feeling of pressure as he settled slightly heavier against his bunk and the change did nothing to quell the feeling in this stomach.  A lurch and swoop inside him told him that the inevitable was about to happen.  Ordinarily John was the tidiest brother but he was incredibly glad that for once he hadn’t gotten around to stowing away the fresh uniforms that had been sent up on the last supply run.  It was the work of a moment to extract the box from under his bunk, unceremoniously tip the neatly folded stack of blue suits onto the floor and clutch the box to him.  He’d much rather deal with cleaning up the now rumpled pile of uniforms than his stomach contents.

Minutes ticked into hours and the feeling didn’t abate.  He huddled on his bunk, hunched over the box, his blankets pulled close over his shoulders.  Another spasm wracked his body and he added to the contents of the box.

“John, shall I alert your family?”

It was the third time Eos had asked that and for the third time John refused.  Alan had barely made it back in time for Christmas himself and while the young astronaut was technically cleared to fly again John would much rather his youngest brother racked up a few more hours of sleep.  Anyway, he wasn’t sure he could face a trip in Thunderbird Three just yet.

“Conditions are such that the space elevator is now operational.”

If such a thing were possible John could have kissed the AI at that moment but he settled for a weak nod instead.  There was a good reason why astronauts used to quarantine before every trip, illness in space was hard to deal with and while the advances in space travel meant that time and distance were no longer the barriers to medical aid that they used to be, a space station was still not a comfortable environment in which to ride out a sickness bug.

“In which case please tell them I’m on my way home.”

John left Eos to handle the necessary communications.  He really didn’t feel up to answering a stream of worried questions from his brothers, or worse, Grandma, and knew she would relay all the required information.  Instead he concentrated on hauling himself along to the space elevator, a journey that felt a thousand miles long to his weak and ravaged body.  The chills as he left the blankets behind made his body ache but he couldn’t manage both the blankets and the box and the box was still definitely needed.  Anyway, there was no way he could leave that up there to fester.

The space elevator posed it’s own challenges.  The reclined seat, normally so comfortable for dealing with the rapid transit back to Earth and designed for optimal safety, was not an appealing prospect for someone still prone to bouts of vomiting which, while abating, hadn’t finished completely.  He hoped he could make it through the journey unscathed but he kept a few bags in his hands just in case, knowing that the restraints would stop him from using his now well-loved box.

***

The docking clamps engaged with their usual reassuring thuds and John breathed out a slight sigh of relief, his stomach had behaved for the duration of the journey and for that he gave thanks to any deity that might be listening.  

Ordinarily he would be out of the seat the moment the harness disengaged but hauling himself upright felt too much effort.  He wasn't left in peace for long though before strong and comforting arms were scooping him up, one set on either side.

"Come on, let's get you to the infirmary and check you over."

He turned a weak smile on Virgil, for once agreeing that the infirmary was the best place for him.  

As he was led away by Scott and Virgil he vaguely registered Alan and Gordon hovering by the doors of the space elevator, mops and buckets at the ready, and he wondered quite how bad a picture Eos had painted of the situation.  That was a conversation for another day though, for now he just wanted bed, fluids and probably a clean box.

***

Four days he was stuck in infirmary.  Four long and tortuous days punctuated by rehydrating fluids that only tasted marginally better on the way down compared to their inevitable journey back up.  It was no comfort, when he was finally allowed out into the wider villa to continue his convalescence on the couch, that Virgil explained he had got away with a mild dose.  A mild dose of what, he wondered.

Salmonella, it turned out.  It was a very sheepish Brains who confessed that something in the new flavourings had compromised the preserving process and the tastiest space meal he had eaten in a long time was actually the case of all this trouble.

Despite now being able to keep down plain toast (as long as it wasn’t cremated by Grandma) he was still feeling as weak and washed out as a kitten.  He didn’t even put up a fight when Virgil said he was going to be kept Earth side until at least the new year.  He was quite happy to stay on the island even if life had returned to its usual frenetic whirl of rescues, there was something incredibly restorative about being in the midst of it all with his family around him and within a week of his return he was back running dispatch from his cocoon of blankets in the lounge.  It would be a little while before he would be fit to return to normal duties, salmonella poisoning had done a number on him despite the main physical symptoms passing in a matter of days, but he was getting there.

***

Over three weeks had passed since John’s rapid and unplanned reunion with his family and he was starting to feel the call of space.  John loved his family, he really did, but he’d just about reached his limit of unexpected noises, stolen snacks and impromptu hugs.  Unfortunately his plans to make an escape seemed to be thwarted at every turn.

“Look Virgil, I’m fine.”  There was a non-committal grunt as Virgil checked his temperature and heart rate for what felt like the 400th time.  “Take me out to Gran Rocha if you must and put me through my paces, there is nothing wrong with me now.”

Evidently the medical evidence was on John’s side because the engineer come medic stopped running tests and instead trotted out one of the many other excuses he’d heard more than once.  “We still need to restock Five.  There is a chance that other meals in that batch were contaminated and we cannot risk a repeat event.”

John was in full agreement on that one.  “I know and the new batch has been ready for at least the last three days,” Virgil opened his mouth as though he were about to interrupt, “I asked Brains.”  Virgil’s mouth closed again.  “I’ve also spoken to Alan and the next time he’s racked enough downtime he’s happy to take me and the food up in Three.  And if that doesn’t happen any time soon I’ll just take whatever I can fit in the elevator and you can send the rest on later.”

Virgil knew he was beaten.  Unless John had a fairly firm date for his return (barring rescues of course and there was no way he was going to stage a fake emergency to occupy Thunderbird Three) Virgil estimated they had maybe three days before John made good on his promise to just hop in the elevator with whatever food he could cram into a bag.

As soon as John had left the infirmary and Virgil was confident he was out of earshot he activated his comm, sending out an Island wide broadcast that excluded one grumpy astronaut.

“How are we doing guys?  John’s about ready to bust out of here.  Any chance of us being ready for tomorrow?”

“Well, we’re still missing some of the fresh stuff…” there was a note of concern in Scott’s voice.  He hated to admit it but a flurry of rescues meant they were behind schedule.

“I’m on it,” cut in Kayo, “just tell me what we need.  He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Safe in the knowledge that the sneakiest Thunderbird would take care of the missing items the island residents each gave the affirmative that all other aspects were taken care of, or would be as long as John was kept out of certain areas.  A final itinerary was cobbled together and everyone kept their fingers crossed that the plan would be carried off without a hitch.

***

John woke a little later than usual, possibly due to the gaming session Alan had dragged him into that seemed to have lasted for hours.  He’d only ventured into his youngest brother’s bedroom to confirm his ride back to the office but by the time he got to leave, slightly stiff from being sat glued to a controller for so long, the only place he was going was back to his own bed.  He’d tried to escape a few times but every time he'd checked in with Eos she had just confirmed that all was quiet and there was no need to stop his game, prompting Alan to load another level.  He made a mental note to have a word to her about interpreting tone and teaching her the cues so she could distinguish a request for information from a plea for a cover story.

Barring the usual disclaimer that rescues would take priority, Alan was booked to take him back to Five the following day.  Now he knew where he stood he felt a lot better about the whole situation and wondered how best to use his last day on the island.  His plan was to grab a light breakfast, maybe recheck the supplies list of what he would be taking back up, then have a quick swim provided Gordon had vacated the pool and the risk of a ducking was ruled out.

His plans didn’t quite work out.

As soon as he entered the kitchen he was greeted with a maelstrom of sounds and smells.  Warm sugar and cinnamon competed with roasting turkey, Christmas carols assaulted his ears and he scratched futilely at his neck as it became adorned by a swathe of tinsel draped gleefully there by Gordon.  Everyone had clearly been waiting for his arrival and much as he might have objected to the idea had he known about it, it left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling knowing that his family were prepared to go to such lengths for him.

“Merry Christmas, John,” Scott greeted him, shoving a plate of warm cookies under his nose.  “Seeing as you got such a rough deal we decided to have a rerun.”

“With minimal risk of food poisoning,” Gordon chimed in before adding in a stage whisper, “it’s okay, we kept Grandma out of the kitchen.”

It looked like everything had been thought of to ensure he didn’t miss out on a proper Tracy family Christmas.  Once breakfast had been completed and the gathering had moved upstairs he found that even the lounge had been festooned in decorations that he knew had been put back into storage; evidently Eos did know how to provide a cover story after all.

It might seem slightly nuts to try and eat a full turkey roast in tropical heat, it was probably a misappropriation of International Rescue resources to take an unnecessary trip to Norway just to make sure John could have the real tree he’d always loved but hadn’t had for years, but to see the smile on John’s face it was definitely worth it.

[viktorhargreves]

some thoughts i have on the s2 promo stills

I think Ben is appearing either in a dream or to someone other than Klaus. The reason I believe this is the color composition for the shot and the framing. The Umbrella Academy is a dark show. Literally. And the season two promo pictures are no different from season one. Why the sudden departure from this? Promotional photos directly from the source (i.e. the production department) usually are not put through filters so this is how it will be shown in the show. So why the brightness? I think it’s either a dream or revelation (you know the cheesy trope where the sunlight streams in and someone finally pieces things together) or maybe it’s a vision that someone has of Ben. Contenders for this? No idea. But judging from the body that’s strung up on the ceiling (yeah, I didn’t forget that part) it could be Vanya. Or I could be totally wrong. Either way, the body does hint towards Klaus’ telekinesis, something he has in the comics that we have yet to see in the show (besides the suitcase debacle). 

We know that Five is the last to be sent to the 60′s so if he’s stuck in a new time with no one around what does he do? Find a mannequin and make a new friend (or something more). Maybe what we are seeing is him about to home-wreck this bitch and steal little miss blue-dress here. Or maybe he’s looking back at a different character... the villains of this season perhaps? Or maybe The Handler makes a comeback? Either way, he looks cautious and if he is looking at someone less than savory then the set up we see could be set up to mock him rather than a harmless department store display.

The paper reads: “S.J.C.C. asks... Have you experienced DISCRIMINATION by your employeer?” Not much comes up in Google for a look into who S.J.C.C. could be but I personally am SYKED to see The Umbrella Academy hopefully tackle race issues. Especially at this time in the world, it could be what people need. Also a new hairstyle for Allison which I love. I personally hope Allison is thriving but this is the 60′s and even though The Civil Rights Act was signed in ‘64, there was no across-the-board stop of segregation at once. I hope for her sake she stays safe.

Again, we know that Five is the last one to arrive. Perhaps he gathers them all to this place to tell them about the newest apocalyptic event about to take place. But a barn? Not sure why. Everyone else is dressed in back, however, even Klaus which is very telling that something is wrong. Allison has lost the hair bump (she was probably just wearing it to fit in). Luther has a beard which is very telling as well because the only other time that we have seen him with one is when he woke up from his surgery (supposedly after a long period of time) so if it was in his control he would shave it off to be the good little soldier that dad made him. Maybe being stranded in Texas in the 60′s made him depressed like we saw towards the end of season one or maybe he just wants to live a little. Diego’s outfit looks very similar to his vigilante outfit in season one but with what looks like either shoulder pads or a hoodie. This could be one of two things: he is still a vigilante using his powers for good, or he works a job like construction or something similar judging by the cross-chest harness. And Vanya. Look’s like she’s wearing a suit jacket. Peak gay. No further comment. 

GOOD GOD!!!  What to say, what to say. As it’s been pointed out already by many other users, Ben. Is. Holding. Keys. That means he is corporeal and has a physical body. Whether this is for a short period of time like when he punches Klaus in season one or if this marks the beginning of a new era of Ben-filled The Umbrella Academy is unknown. Klaus is a fashion icon. That much we been knew. Although, his beard is longer than the promo pictures despite being in the same outfit. Longer than the picture above too. I’m excited for this scene regardless of what it is about, but if I had to guess: Klaus is motioning for Ben to give the keys to him. The car broke down. Klaus gets out and tries to fix it by popping the hood, only he knows nothing about cars. He gets angry and throws the keys. Ben catches them. Klaus is then irritated and asks for them back. That’s just my take. Klaus looks like he’s smiling but it could be the natural face a person makes when they are squinting from the sun (this is Texas and those are sunglasses (also water is wet)).

#justgirlythings. Vanya is the only one who seems uncomfortable, also where are Klaus’s shoes? If you look in the background it appears this isn’t a salon as you would guess on the first look but rather someone’s house. Maybe this is a way to time travel without Five? Or some other sci-fi device like the shoot that Cha-Cha and Hazel used in season one to get their orders. Either way, there is a lot more going on here than we know from first looking and I wouldn’t put it past anyone that this is an important still to remember and keep in mind.

Iron Man references aside (thank you Justin Min), look at her entire body posture and language. Clenched jaw, clenched fists, forehead straining, eyes closed but not clenched like the others, neck straining. Vanya appears to be in the middle of nowhere so maybe she’s testing her powers? Last time we saw her testing her powers it was in the middle of the woods with Leonard so maybe this will be a good parallel. What else to do in the 60′s when you’re stranded than to try out your superpowers that you just remembered a few days ago?

Vanya! Is! Happy! She is definitely smiling and looks genuinely more happy than she did with Leonard in any event. The blonde woman is Marin Ireland who plays a character “Sissy”. Variety and Netflix have stated that Sissy is "a fearless, no-nonsense mom from Texas who married young for all the wrong reasons". Maybe, and I’m just spit-balling here, she married young because of internalized and outward homophobia that is probably rampant in the 60′s and in Texas. She meets Vanya and the two begin a relationship. Friends? Lovers? More? Vanya’s right hand is either on a gear shift (manual transmission i.e. stick shift cars were much more common in the 60′s than now) or on Sissy’s knee. I like the idea of her resting her hand on Sissy’s thigh and smiling, maybe driving off on a new life together. 

Like. The Gang’s all here, Scoob. Even Ben! Allison is talking, it seems so to have Ben in the shot is odd. Usually Ben only appears when Klaus is the main character of the shot or the scene since he can only see him. Except, maybe everyone can see him!! Klaus can summon Ben as seen in the season one finale so maybe he was able to do it for a longer amount of time. I personally really hope that we see more of Ben (which the stills lead me to believe) and that they will develop not only his character and backstory more but his powers as well. His power rivals only Vanya’s is sheer amount of destruction it can cause. The room, however, where they all are looks unassuming. It could be where Five has taken up a residence, could be a house of one of the other siblings (we know that some of them did in fact settle down and start lives in Texas), or maybe it’s just a safe place to meet as a team. Either way I am psyched!

It’s safe to assume that these are the assassins. Whether they are with the organization that The Handler was with is unclear. What is clear is that I get Stranger Things vibes from these guys. It might be the white hair and dark, cloudy road. Either way, these guys are played by Tom Sinclair, Kris Holden-Ried, and Jason Bryden left to right and they play Oscar, Axel, and Otto respectively. 

Diego, Diego, Diego. My son. Disregarding the long hair and beard completely because I refuse to acknowledge it at this point, here is my interpretation of the scene. This is a flashback in the same fashion that we had a Diego flashback in episode three of season one. That flashback had Grace helping Diego through a stutter and then in one camera motion showed current-day Diego sitting on his old bed. This could be the same kind of thing, with current-day Diego sitting where he past self was and watching a scene unfold around him. Why else would he be in his uniform? How could it fit? How could he be back in the mansion?

-----------

That’s all I have to say about it for now but my ask box is OPEN for theories, possible explanations, or hypotheses on season two or any of the promotional stills. Time travel is messy. Let’s see what happens on July 31st.

[aion-rsa]

How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon

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The year 2000 was a scary one for horror films and not always in a good way.  

While American Psycho and The Cell offered up visually striking nihilistic thrills to genre fans, the majority of horror movies released at the dawn of the new millennium were at best forgettable and, at worst, lamentable – yes, we’re looking at you, Leprechaun in the Hood.  

This was the year of duff sequels like Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, Urban Legends: Final Cut and, though it is painful to admit, Scream 3. Horror fans were screaming out for something different, something exciting. They found it with Final Destination.  

Discarding the stalk-and-slash thrills that had enjoyed a revival in the years following the release of Scream, Final Destination centered on a group of high schoolers who end up avoiding a fatal plane crash thanks to a premonition, only to discover there is no escaping death’s plan as one by one they are offed in a variety of brilliantly inventive “accidents”.  

Released in March of that year, Final Destination was a sleeper hit with word-of-mouth helping the film to clean up at the box office, earning $112 million off a $23 million budget with more than half of that coming internationally.  

To date, it has spawned four sequels as well as a variety of novelisations and comic book spin-offs while a franchise reboot is also on the horizon.  

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Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Jeffrey Reddick has worked on several films during his career to date but he’s probably best known as the creator of Final Destination. It’s something he has come to terms with.  

“It’s probably going to end up on my gravestone, it’s such an ironic title,” he tells Den of Geek.  

“Sometimes I’ll be out and I will hear someone say ‘you just had a Final Destination moment’ and it will make me smile. The whole thing just took on a life of its own.”  

Nightmarish Origins  

A screenwriter and director, Reddick recalls how his neighbors in rural Jackson, Kentucky, would laugh when his six-year-old self would tell them about his plans to work in the movie business.   

An avid writer and reader of Greek and Roman mythology, he recalls spending his formative years watching horror movies with his friends. His mother was only too happy to indulge his burgeoning interest too, knowing it kept him out of trouble elsewhere.  

Reddick’s life began to change after he saw A Nightmare on Elm Street.   

“That film cemented my love of horror. I was this 14-year-old hillbilly from Kentucky but I decided I was going to write a prequel. I went home, banged it out on my typewriter and sent it to Bob Shaye.”  

The legendary head of New Line Cinema initially dismissed Reddick’s draft out of hand, returning it with a note explaining the studio did not “accept unsolicited material.”  

Undaunted, Reddick sent the script back with a note telling him “Look mister, I spent three dollars on your movie and I think you could take five minutes on my story.”  

Shaye was impressed and struck up a bond with the youngster that saw him sending everything from scripts to posters to Reddick during his teenage years.  

When Reddick moved to New York to study acting, age 19, he was offered an internship with New Line, which would become a full-time role despite acting being his “main passion.”  

“Diversity in casting was not a thing at that time,” he recalls.  

“My agent was like ‘I don’t know what to do with you as an actor. We can’t put you up for gangsters or pimps and you don’t rap and you don’t play basketball.”  

“So  I figured, screw it, I will just write stuff and put myself in it.”  

Reddick was present at New Line during their company’s early 90s creative heyday and credits the experience with helping him get Final Destination off the ground.  

“I learned a lot about how to get a movie made. I knew that to make a movie that connected with an audience you had to tap into something that was universal. Death is the ultimate fear.”  

As luck would have it, the idea actually came to Reddick while on a flight back to Kentucky.  

“I read about a woman who was on vacation and her mother told her not to take the flight she was planning to take home as she had a bad feeling about it. The woman changed it and the plane she was supposed to be on crashed.”  

At that point however the idea wasn’t Final Destination. It wasn’t a film either. It was an episode of The X Files.  

The Truth Is Out There  

“I was trying to get a TV agent at the time and they recommended I write a spec script for something already on the air. I was a huge fan of The X Files and thought about a scene where somebody has a premonition and gets off the plane and then it crashes and used that as the plot.”  

“It was going to be Scully’s brother Charles who had the premonition. He gets off the plane with a few other people but they start dying and Charles blacks out every time there is a murder so people suspect he is doing it.   

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TV

I Still Want to Believe: Revisiting The X-Files Pilot

By Chris Longo

“The twist at the end was that the sheriff who had been investigating alongside Mulder and Scully the whole time had actually been shot and flatlined at the same time as the plane crash.  Death brought him back to kill off all the survivors, including Charles.”  

It would have made for a great episode except it was never submitted to The X Files. Reddick showed his spec script to some friends at New Line who were so impressed, they told him to develop it into a treatment for a feature, which was eventually purchased by the studio.  

Producers Craig Perry and Warren Zide were brought onboard to develop the story and set about tweaking his idea.  

“Originally the cast of survivors were adults because I wanted to explore more adult themes but Scream had come out and teenagers were hot again so New Line got me to change it”  

In a twist of fate, two established writers from The X Files, James Wong and Glen Morgan, were brought onboard to rejig Reddick’s script.   

“My version was definitely darker and more like A Nightmare on Elm Street,” he says.  

“In my script, death would torment the kids about some kind of past sin they felt guilty about. They would then die in these accidents that ended up looking like suicides.”  

For example, Todd’s death saw him chased into the family garage by an unseen specter where he accidentally ended up rigged in a noose triggered when his dad opens the automatic garage door.   

Death is all around us  

Ultimately that death scene and several others were ultimately scrapped in favour of what would prove to be the franchise’s calling card.  

Reddick credits Wong and Morgan with coming up with the idea of having the film’s key death scenes kicked off by a Rube Goldberg machine-like chain-reaction that would see everyday things colliding to create a lethal scenario. It was nothing short of a masterstroke.   

“It created this notion that death is all around us,” Reddick says.  

“Death would use everyday things around us. It made it more universal and allowed us to set the deaths in places where people go all the time. The payoff would be fun but it was the build-up that had you on the edge of your seat.”  

There was one major sticking point for the studio though: the presence of death, or rather the lack of.  

“I fought really hard to make sure we never showed death because for me, if you didn’t show it, it could be something someone, no matter their belief system, could project onto our villain. That was a tough sell for the studio. They would be like ‘this doesn’t make any sense, you can’t see it and you can’t fight it’ but that’s the point, it’s death.”  

“Luckily both James Wong and Glen Morgan were very insistent we never show it and tie it in to a specific belief system.”  

Reddick credits the move with helping Final Destination become “an international phenomenon”.  

“It struck a chord with people around the world. It broke out beyond the horror audience.”  

Casting dreams   

When it came to casting, Reddick had a clear idea of who he wanted in the lead roles, even if the studio’s opinion differed drastically.  

“I had a wish list with Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst as my two leads but New Line was like ‘well…’”  

He might not have got his first pick but Final Destination boasted an impressive cast of up-and-comers who had already made waves among teen audiences.   

Devon Sawa had starred in Idle Hands, while Ali Larter was known for Varsity Blues and Kerr Smith was a regular on Dawson’s Creek. There was even room for Seann William Scott, fresh from his breakout turn in American Pie who was drafted in on the recommendation of producer Craig Perry, who told Reddick “you’ve got to get this kid, he’s going to be huge.”  

Even so, Reddick was left a little unhappy.  

“One of the conversations we had early on was like ‘Just remember this is set in New York, which is one of the most diverse cities in the world so let’s make sure we have some diversity in the cast’ and they were like ‘oh we will’ and then there wasn’t anyone who wasn’t white in it.”  

New Line chief Bob Shaye did find a way to make amends on some level at least, casting Candyman horror icon Tony Todd in a cameo role as a mysteriously foreboding mortician.  

“He called me up and said they had got Tony Todd and I flipped out. He is an icon. Such a talented, serious actor.”  

As well as co-write the film, Wong took on directorial duties while each of the film’s death sequences would require careful planning, his first aim was to have the film start with a bang by creating as terrifyingly realistic a plane crash as possible.  

“We want to do for planes and air travel what Jaws did for sharks and swimming,” he declared in one interview.  

Yet the film would later garner criticism for its eerie similarities to the explosion and crash of TWA Flight 800 off East Moriches, Long Island, New York in 1996 where 16 students and five adults died.  

“There was some criticism that the movie was written to exploit this real-life crash,” Reddick recalls.  

“I even realised later they used footage from one real-life crash which I wasn’t particularly happy about.”  

Indeed, much of the news footage shown in the film actually came from the 1996 crash.  

That didn’t stop the film becoming a major hit and spawning a sequel within three years.   

Final Destination meets Game of Thrones  

Reddick returned to write the treatment for Final Destination 2, determined to move the franchise away from its teen Scream origins.   

“We had tapped into that zeitgeist and didn’t have to do that again. I wanted to expand the universe and subvert it, so I had it open by following a bunch of teens who are then killed off.”  

Once again, divine intervention led to divine inspiration for the opening set piece.  

“Originally, I was going to have it open with some kids going to spring break and they stop off at this hotel and there is a fire but the producers were not sure. Writers always say you should go out and live life – life informs you and a lot of inspiration comes out when I go out for a walk.  

“I was driving back to Kentucky to see my family and I got stuck behind a log truck and the idea just came to me. I pulled off the highway and called Craig and was flipping out with this idea for a log truck on a freeway.”  

The resulting freeway pile-up that leads to multiple deaths is one Reddick ranks as his “favourite scene in the entire franchise.”  

“The second film is my favourite. I wanted to create a sequel that didn’t feel like a remake of the first. It went in a more fun direction – but it’s still scary.”  

That first sequel also represented the last of which Reddick was formally involved in, though he remained very much in the loop as the Godfather of the franchise, revealing that producers had been “looking at scripts before Covid hit.” 

He also revealed that, at one point, things looked to be heading in an altogether different and thoroughly fascinating direction.  

“There was talk about setting a Final Destination back in Medieval times. Like Game of Thrones in Final Destination. Craig Perry worked with a writer and they talked about the idea and put a teaser trailer together [which has leaked online].   

“I would go and see that movie in a heartbeat but the studio said that the reason Final Destination was so popular was that element of deaths in normal, everyday situations.”  

Future Destinations  

Reddick hasn’t given up on a return to the franchise though, hinting at a “unique” idea he has for a new film that is simply too good to reveal yet.   

In the meantime, he has been busy writing and directing Don’t Look Back, a film that shares some surface similarities with Final Destination and is painfully relevant to society today.  

“It’s a mystery thriller about a group of people who witness someone getting fatally assaulted in a park and don’t help the person and somebody films them and puts it online. The public turns on the witnesses and someone or something is coming after them.”  

Eager to make more horror films and celebrate diversity in his work, Reddick remains immensely proud of Final Destination and the impact it has had on audiences.  

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“It’s cool. To have one movie that is going to be talked about after you die is a life goal. If that’s what I leave behind as a legacy that’s enough – but I still want more.” 

Don’t Look Back is available on DVD & Digital from 14th June

The post How Final Destination Went From Real-Life Premonition to Horror Phenomenon appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[forgottenpasta]

Baby, You’re Bad | 01

Summary: A drunken, pre-debut mistake comes back to haunt Yoongi when years later you turn up pregnant from the sperm he donated when he was a broke, underground rapper. idol!au, pregnant!reader.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 9.5k

Warnings: overuse of the word sperm lol; graphic depiction of artificial insemination; this is an asshole!Yoongi au; Suga when he was Gloss; use of real-life instances for plot purposes; idk some people might not like that.

“Are you ready, Miss___?

No. Yes. No. 

Maybe the fertility medication they had you on was making you illogically sentimental, but you felt like bawling your eyes out. 

The thin pen-shaped catheter in the doctor’s gloved hands epitomized everything you’d ever wanted. Third time’s the charm, they say. God, you hoped so. 

You nodded a little too vigorously. “Yes, please.”

The kind nurse who’d been assigned to you since the beginning of your treatment chuckled from beside the ultrasound machine. If the doctor was amused at your enthusiasm, she didn’t let it show. She bent her head between your stirruped legs. 

You were beyond any kind of embarrassment now, no stranger to a doctor tinkering with your vagina to get you pregnant. This was your third IUI. If you could, you’d shout it from the rooftops. If climbing the Everest and planting a flag at the summit that said “I want a fucking child!” got you pregnant, you would. If could just blast off to space—

“This might feel a little uncomfortable.”, the doctor, Kim Yeri, warned, adjusting the speculum wedged down there.

“I know.” 

The nurse gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up as she mouthed “Fighting!”. Feebly, you smiled back. In a moment of weakness, you’d spilled all your world woes to her when you’d come for the initial check-up. After two previous failed Intra Uterine Insemination attempts at two different clinics, you had been feeling like the most barren woman on the planet, despite the doctors assuring you that it wasn’t your uterus that was the problem, but “you know sometimes these things just don’t work, it’s all luck and probability.” 

Your bank balance wasn’t surviving on luck and probability though, it was suffering. Your money wasted on absolutely nothing, nada, nothing coming out of your vagina in the next nine months except more periods. You’d started to hate the sight of your own blood, associating with it the feeling of disappointment at your empty womb. 

You twitched slightly as the catheter entered you, willing yourself to not clench your pelvic muscles as the doctor had instructed. 

Ever since you could remember, you had wanted to be a mother. You absolutely adored children, lived for them. Literally. Your job as a children’s fiction writer wasn’t something that just happened, you had decided what you wanted to be during the summer vacation of junior year in high school, when all your aunts would leave you with their children as they went off golfing. That’s when you discovered that you had a special talent with mini people. You could spin intricate, sometimes nonsensical stories that put them in a trance and into a deep sleep in record time. Stories about princesses who turned into pirates, a little mouse’s adventures on other planets, a talking pebble who wanted to be a diamond and so much more. Kids loved you, even days old infants seemed to like being in your presence (their mothers’ words not yours). 

But as much as you couldn’t even dream about being anything else, writing children’s stories was hardly as lucrative as being a doctor or a lawyer. You did good enough for yourself but your job couldn’t support repeated attempts at artificially induced pregnancy. 

As the catheter breached your cervix, you closed your eyes and relaxed back into the examination chair. This was it. If it didn’t work out this time, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Try the traditional method like everyone else.

Internally, you snorted at the thought. One side effect of wanting your own child in your mid to late twenties, no potential partner ever saw eye to eye with you. Men didn’t want to be saddled down with a child this early. Your own pickiness with partners could also be blamed. You weren’t into men who weren’t good with children. One of your ex-boyfriends once scolded a 11-year-old kid for loitering around his new bike, checking it out. The next day you’d dumped him via text. 

Suffice it to say, at twenty-seven you were painfully single and the prospects of a serious relationship in your near future looked as microscopic as the sperm being currently inserted inside you. 

Looking down your hospital gown-clad body, you noted the transparent tube pumping “washed” cryopreserved and thawed semen into you. The clinic where you’d went for your first IUI had explained the procedure. The preserved donor sperm was “washed” off any impurities and chemicals to ensure maximum sperm count per mL. 

As the cloudy liquid travelled down the tube, you briefly wondered about it’s origins. When you were filling the form for donor specificities, Dr. Kim had presented you with the options of having sperm that could result in potential desired characteristics for your child. Such as a donor with green eyes or dimples or tall height or even a specific race. The whole talk had left a weird taste in your mouth and you had quickly dismissed it, writing only ‘healthy’ on the form. This wasn’t a pre-order and you’d love your child no matter how they turned out. 

Now, you let your mind wander off to the unknown person who’s child you would potentially (hopefully) bear. What were they doing right now? What did they look like? Did they have any idea they were likely about to have a biological child out there? You shook your head, anonymous donors sold their semen for money, they probably already had many children out there from women like you or infertile couples. You could never understand how a parent was comfortable knowing there was a child out there who would never know them, but you weren’t about to criticise someone you were directly profiting off of. 

“All done.” Dr. Kim smiled as she sat up straight, slowly pulling the tube out of you and placing it on the tray the nurse held out. 

“Do you think this might be it?” There was a slight wobble in your words. 

Damn hormonal drugs. 

Dr. Kim gave you the signature neutral yet evasive and unintentionally condescending smile all doctors seemed to master when their patients asked hopeful questions with no right answers. 

“If everything goes well from here on out, I can’t imagine why this shouldn’t be it. You have to take care of yourself and keep us informed about any changes in your body. I’m scheduling a check-up in two weeks. But you can take an at-home pregnancy test before that if you miss your period and feel like you might be pregnant.”, she explained, pulling out the speculum as well.

You stayed put, knowing from previous experience that keeping your pelvis horizontal for a few minutes was recommended after insemination. 

“Okay, thank you, Dr. Kim.” You smiled your gratitude at the cheerful nurse too.

“Good luck, Miss __. I’ll see you soon, hopefully with good news.”

Afterward, when you slowly made your way to your car in the clinic’s parking lot, you couldn’t help but caress your stomach. A tender, optimistic gesture. This had to be it. Having a child of your own was everything you’d ever wanted, the dream of being a mother one of the goals you had always been steadfast on. A dream which might finally be coming true. 

~•~•~

“What a nightmare.”

Yoongi’s hushed words seemed loud in the silent SUV. A complete contrast to the din and clamour outside. The car was inching at a snail’s pace, wading through a mob of fans gathered outside Charles De Gaulle. After landing, their private jet had taxied close to the VIP exit and they had left feeling like this might be a rare hassle-free entry into another country. But somehow, someone had been tipped about the cars they were leaving in and a horde of fans had greeted them as soon as they merged into the main exit outside the airport. 

“Shut up, they’re endearing.”, Taehyung griped, peering out the window when some armys started doing fanchants. “A little cringy, yeah, but cute.”

A loud thud against Yoongi’s side of the car made Taehyung and Hoseok flinch, snapping their gazes towards their hyung. In the push and pull outside, someone had toppled against Yoongi’s car door. 

The rapper cursed under his breath, immediately switching to an expression of indifference when phone cameras flashed too close, making him squint. He had thrown his face mask in his handbag and shoved it in the trunk and now he regretted it. The damn car didn’t even have tinted windows. Their jet lagged, irritated faces were going to be headlines in a matter of minutes. 

Ahead of them, the SUV Jeongguk, Namjoon, Seokjin and Jimin were in wasn’t faring any better, a swarm of fans surrounding it like bees to honey. 

Yoongi turned away from the window so they couldn’t read his mouth. “Cute, my ass. Where the fuck is the airport security? Someone’s gonna get hurt out there.”

As if on cue, three blue cars with the words Gendarmerie and flashing sirens atop haul in on the side road in a queue, the officers jumping out to contain the mob. As the fans start to disperse under harshly shouted commands, one girl pressed her hand to Yoongi’s window, gawking down at him with tears in her eyes, showing no signs of moving. 

Yoongi gave her a small smile, reaching up to align his palm with hers through the glass. Cameras flash wildly as he observed the girl hyperventilate. Soon enough the officers clad in dark blue manage to push back the crowd and the cars surge forward. The girl’s hand slipped away from the window and the rapper didn’t look back as he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the headrest.

Their motorcade sped down the freeway in a line, heading to the Peninsula, Paris. 

His phone buzzed once in his pocket, but Yoongi didn’t care to check it, didn’t even open his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t nap right now, hyung. You’ll feel more tired when we leave for the magazine shoot as soon as we reach the hotel.”, Hoseok advised, not looking up from his own phone. 

“I don’t care. I’ll nap at the shoot too, they can take my photos with my eyes fucking closed. Nobody told them to schedule the shoot as soon we step foot in Paris.”

“Our management did.”, Taehyung supplied helpfully. 

Yoongi snorted. “Of course they did. When do they ever let us breathe.”

Their manager in the front seat cleared his throat. “I’ll be sure to relay that to the higher ups.”

“Thanks.”, Yoongi replied dryly. 

When they reach their hotel, the SUVs parked in the basement. Their keycards were quickly handed to them as they bypassed the front reception, to the private elevators straight to their rooms. Two master suites with connecting doors, four bedrooms in total. As usual, they Rock Paper Scissor it and Yoongi got to room with Namjoon. And as usual the lucky maknae won, sauntering to his room with a smug grin on his face. 

“You have half an hour to freshen up, we have to reach the magazine’s studio at 3 sharp.”, Sejin informed after them. 

Namjoon sprawled on the king sized bed when Yoongi called dibs on the shower, shucking his clothes haphazardly and placing his phone on the ornate bedside cabinet. 

His mind was blissfully blank when he stepped inside the walk-in shower, the control panel allowing him to set the perfect temperature and pressure. Because this was routine, getting to the hotel just to jet off somewhere else, his mind was on autopilot, his body long since adapted to the requirements of someone always on the move. Although he complained and grouched, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing. Couldn’t. This was what kept them at the top. 

He was out of the shower in five minutes, toweling his hair dry as he stepped inside the room naked. Namjoon didn’t even blink at him, they had been living together for the better part of a decade now, they’d seen all there was to see of each other. 

The leader stretched out his long limbs languidly, getting up sluggishly to head to the en-suite. “Your phone’s been buzzing.”

Yoongi wrapped the towel around his waist, snatching up his phone to rove a cursory glance over the notifications. He was about to throw his phone atop the bed, dismissing the vague emails, when something stops him short. He peers down at the sender’s address. 

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre. 

What?

He unlocks his phone, thoroughly confused. This was his personal phone and he only got personal emails on it.

When the email expanded to full screen, he realised something. It wasn’t send to his current email address, but the one he used to use pre-debut, the one he’d made in high school. The one which fell into disuse after they had to change all their contact information due to privacy reasons. He didn’t even remember it syncing up through all his phone changes over the years, he never got notifications from it anymore. And sure enough, the last email of import send to him on this address was from five years ago. The spam folder was full though. 

He opened the weird email again, finally deeming to read it. It was succinct, to the point.

Dear donor,

Thank you for your donation dated 2011/03/09. It has been successfully utilised to make our client’s parenthood dreams come true. You are eligible for another donation, please contact us if interested. 

Regards

Sperm Bank Office

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre

**This is an automated message, please do not reply.**

Yoongi’s eyes burned a hole where the phone displayed the date. 2011/03/09. His eighteenth birthday. He took in a shuddering breath.

No no no no no. 

Without conscious thought, he plopped down on the bed, his knees going weak. His heart beat spiked to triathlon levels. Putting the phone face down on the table, he rested his elbows on his towel draped thighs, head in his hands.

He had to think. But there was nothing but static in his jumbled brain, which was still trying to catch up to the implications of the email. 

They made a mistake. They must have. I refunded the money. I told them I didn’t want it used. 

But the date. 

“You’re still not dressed. It’s almost time.”

Yoongi almost had a heart attack at Namjoon’s abrupt voice. “Fuck, dude. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

Namjoon’s frowned. He took out a pair of jeans from his bag, pulling them on as he eyed the other rapper. “I’ve been out here for a few minutes. What’s got you so lost?”

Yoongi didn’t answer. He wasn’t lost, he was on the verge of a full blown panic attack at even the minuscule possibility of a stupid teenage mistake coming full circle to end his life as he knows it. 

“Hyung.” Namjoon came forward, now genuinely worried, jeans riding low on his shirtless torso. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

Yoongi had only told one person about the time when he’d hit rock bottom in his life. Namjoon was not him. 

“Can you get Jin hyung for me, Namjoon-ah?”, he asked, his words clear and coherent despite the chaos inside his mind. 

The leader didn’t question it, just got up to do as asked, plucking out a shirt along the way. 

A few minutes later, Jin poked his head inside, immediately entering and closing door at Yoongi’s pensive countenance. He raised a brow at the younger.

Yoongi held out his phone. 

Jin took it, seating himself on the bed as well. 

A few beats passed. 

Jin exploded. “What the hell?! Yoongi?! Is this saying what I think it’s saying?!”

Yoongi ran a tired hand down his face. “ I gave them their money back. Explicitly told them I wanted my sperm thrown in the trash.” The anger which had been slowly simmering, now bubbles to the surface. “What the fuck is this, hyung? I don’t even recognise the name of the clinic. What the fuck did they do with it?”

Jin bit his lip, confused. “What was the name of the place you donated to?”

“I don’t even remember, but it definitely wasn’t that. I should have known they were shady as fuck when they refused to return my sample.”

Jin was surprised. “Yeah, that should have raised several red flags, Yoongi.”

“I was eighteen.”, Yoongi growled. “I was stupid as fuck. Shit, I agreed to donate sperm because my bank balance was riding the negatives, what does that tell you?”

“That you were desperate.”, Jin shrugged. 

“Yes but not knowingly-having-a-kid-out-in-the-world desperate!”, Yoongi was freaking out. “I realised I didn’t have the moral consonance to have a kid I didn’t know and have estranged parents I despised at the same time. It was a stupid drunken whim, which I regretted the minute after and it has been one of the most shameful moments of my life since.”

“Wait.”, Jin scowled. “You were drunk when you donated and they let you?”

Yoongi sniffed. “I was tipsy, yeah. I needed liquid courage to go through with it.”

“That isn’t just red flags, Yoongi, thats red blaring fucking sirens. What kinda third rate, illicit place did you donate to?”

There was a knock on the door before Taehyung pushed it open. Behind him, the rest of the members looked ready to leave. 

Sejin also came into view, frowning at Yoongi. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

Jin and Yoongi exchanged a glance. Here goes fucking nothing.

~•~•~

“What a fucking liar.”

Yoongi’s glazed eyes drifted over to his roommate, Jaehyun.

“Who?”

He didn’t particularly want to know, but if he didn’t give Jaehyun some sort of verbal response he would likely keep pestering him about “liars who lied about lying”. 

The blonde man took a deep inhale from his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards Yoongi. “That lying rat, Hyungwon. Did you see him strut in here decked head to toe in designer shit I can’t even pronounce the name of.”

Slowly, Yoongi turned around on his barstool, scanning the packed club with lazy eyes. He spotted Hyungwon among a gaggle of scantily clad girls feeling up his biceps.

Yoongi squinted. “Hyungwon? Wasn’t he asking you to set up a gig for him last month?”

“Asking? No, the bastard was begging.”, Jaehyun sneered. “Said he didn’t even have enough for his next meal. Now, look at him. The lying fucker.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Don’t tell me you actually took pity on him.”

“He was pretty fucking convincing.” Jaehyung signaled for two shots, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray atop the bar. “I even introduced him to our underground regulars, told them to give him a chance.”

“Is he any good?”

Jaehyun snorted. “Raps like a bubblegum pop princess.”

Laughing, Yoongi glanced back at the man in question, doing a double-take when he saw Hyungwon making his way towards them. “Ah shit. He’s coming here.”

Jaehyun blanched. “Hide me, quick.”

Too late.

“Hey, guys!”

Hyungwon hopped on the empty stool beside Yoongi, ordering a whiskey on the rocks, before turning towards the two men. “How have you been doing, Jay-T?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little. “And you, Gloss?”

Yoongi threw up in his mouth a little. 

Jaehyun groaned. “I told you not to call me that if I’m not on stage.”

Hyungwon grinned. 

Yoongi perused his attire. A gaudy jacket with square prints made up of the letter F, leather jeans that didn’t look like it came from a discount store where Yoongi got his from, ugly spiky sneakers with red soles. Although the outfit was hideous, he did seem to appear loaded all of a sudden. Usually, Yoongi wasn’t one to pry, but this bastard made him uncomfortable so he guessed he could return the favour. 

“Weren’t you broke last month? Did you rob a bank or something?”

Hyungwon smirked. “Nothing that extreme. I just happened to get lucky overnight.”

“So you won a couple games of poker, then?”, Jaehyun questioned. 

“Nah. Not that kind of luck.”

Both Yoongi and Jaehyun stared at him expectantly. The smug fucker just laughed.

“I paid off all my back rent, plus two months advance. Got presents for my three girlfriends and made the first deposit on my Royal Enfield.”

“You wanna rub it in?” Jaehyun scowled, his middle finger saluting him as he picked up his shot and downed it. 

“Jaehyun helped set up your first gig.” Yoongi guilt-tripped. Normally he wouldn’t care about some random fucker’s get-rich-quick schemes but these were desperate circumstances. “You owe him.”

The bartender brought Hyungwon’s drink. He paid for it in cash, noticing for the first time that Yoongi was neither drinking nor smoking. “Ah, why don’t you just admit it out loud? You need money. Can’t even afford a drink, can you?”

Yoongi flushed, squirming in his seat. 

Hyungwon raised a brow, feigning surprise. “Aren’t you one of the best underground rappers out there? The next big star?”, he snickered. “Dreams not quite panning out?”

“Shut up, loser.”, Jaehyun snapped. “He’s got a big audition coming up in a few months. When he gets in, we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“With what company? SM, YG?”

Jaehyun grit his teeth to stop himself from strangling the man. “Bighit.”

“Never even heard of it.”

Yoongi cut in, not liking the two men talking about him as if he wasn’t there. “Not your concern. Just tell us how you made so much in a month.” 

Hyungwon took a small sip of the whiskey, swallowing leisurely. He eyed the two men down as if they didn’t quite hold up to whatever judgments he was imparting in his mind. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you both are a bunch of pussies. 

Jaehyun, infamous for his short temper, bristled. “What the fuck did you say, you cumstain?”

Yoongi held his arm, halting him before he stood up. 

If they had put up with the asshole for so long, he was going to damn well make sure they got something out of it. Besides, he NEEDED to know how to get some quick cash. Jaehyun wasn’t aware of the extent of Yoongi’s destitution. What little money he made doing odd jobs and occasional gigs went to school fees and rent, whatever was leftover, if anything, went towards his music. Pretty soon even his daily diet of ramen was gonna go out of his budget. 

“What do you mean a bunch of pussies? Are you selling your organs or something?”, Yoongi pressed.

Hyungwon snorted. “Close enough.”

Okay. Yoongi wasn’t that desperate. “What the fuck, dude!”

Jaehyun’s eyes went wide and sorrowful. A complete 180 from his ire two minutes ago. “Bro. You don’t have to do that, there are always other options. Selling your body isn’t the answer. Let me set up something for you, spare your kidneys, please—

“Shut up.” Hyungwon scowled. “I’m not selling my internal organs.”

Yoongi was confused. “What are you selling then?”

Hyungwon took an unconcerned sip. “My sperm.”

Yoongi was shocked into silence, while Jaehyun scrunched up his face like he’d just tasted the sourest lemon. “That’s equally as fucked up.”

“It’s not. It’s just cum.”, Hyungwon defended. “I’m getting paid handsomely to cum in a plastic cup. If that’s not the easiest money, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah and that cum is probably in some middle-aged woman’s oven, baking your fucking babies.”

Hyungwon shrugged, not in the least bit concerned. “They’re not mine. Biologically maybe, but I got nothing to do with them apart from that. I’m not an idiot, I read all the terms and clauses. Legally, I’m not gonna be a father until I fuck a baby into someone.”

Jaehyun shook his head, not convinced. “That’s still fucked up.”

“Whatever.” Hyungwon rolled his eyes, finishing his drink. “As I said, a bunch of fucking pussies.”

Yoongi was in deep thought as he listened to the two argue intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing out his opinion, “That’s gonna be on your head forever, always at the back of your mind. That you’ve got kids out there who don’t even know you exist.”

“They’re not my kids.”, Hyungwon reiterated, done with the conversation as he spotted a busty bottle blonde leaning across the bar seductively. “Now if you pussies are done, I gotta go dole out my thousand dollar cum for free tonight. Charity turns me on.”

Jaehyun watched him approach the blonde with a grimace. “What a sleazy asshole.”

“He is.”, Yoongi agreed. “But I hadn’t ever thought you could make so much selling semen.”

“I don’t think the government recognised sperm banks offer so much. He must be going to some back alley place.”

Yoongi hummed. “Must be.”

A month after the encounter with Hyungwon at the club, Yoongi had never felt more downtrodden in his life. If he had sinned in his previous life, karma was working overtime. His pity party had been going on for a week now. Right from when he’d been kicked out of his apartment for nonpayment of three months’ rent, to when he’d turned up at his usual hangout with the underground scene just to find out his upcoming gigs had been given to a new rapper he hadn’t even heard the name of, to his bank calling him for payment of pending bills, to here. In a line with the homeless for some free food at a soup kitchen and shelter. 

When he’d left home to chase his dreams, he’d never imagined that the road would be easy. He’d been prepared for ups and downs. But these weren’t just downs, these were never ending canyons that seemed to stretch on forever. He’d long since sold the music equipment he’d bought with his hard earned money to pay for school. With graduation so close, he hadn’t wanted to be expelled on top of being homeless. Jaehyun had offered to pay either his rent or tuition but Yoongi knew the guy was barely hanging on by a thread himself. He couldn’t ask for money from someone who barely had any to spare. 

He heaved a sigh when the line finally moved. The woman in front of him, who looked like she’d been on crack for decades, gave him a glare for the impatient noise. He wanted to flip her off. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday when the kind acquaintance who’s sofa he’d been crashing on had offered him a sandwich. Moreover, in about half an hour he had an interview with a pizzeria for a delivery guy position. He didn’t wanna pass out in front of his potential employers, his ticket out of homelessness. But if this line didn’t hurry up, he’d have to forego a meal, he didn’t want to be late. 

Which was exactly what happened. Twenty minutes and the line barely moved a few feet, the bored volunteers taking their time serving the cold soup and stale bread. 

After a few more minutes Yoongi cursed, his old wristwatch told him it was 3:56 pm. If he didn’t hightail it out of there he could kiss the job goodbye. 

Fuck it.

Breaking the line, he sprinted out. The pizzeria was just two blocks away, he could make it in time if he ran. He didn’t have the money to catch a taxi anyway. And if he jaywalked a little, he could even have a few minutes to spare to change into the button down in his backpack. It was just a delivery position, but for him everything depended on it. He wanted to make a good impression. 

And jaywalked he did. Right into the bumper of a speeding car. 

The first few seconds, the lights were knocked out of him. When he came to, he did a mental survey of his body as he lay there on the pavement, a crowd forming around him. He didn’t feel any wetness, no blood then. Not a lot of excruciating pain either. Could it be that his stupidity had been spared or was he in hell already?

The murmurs of the crowd registered. A kind elderly man’s voice spoke somewhere above him. “Young man, are you okay? The ambulance is on its way. We don’t wanna touch you in case anything’s broken.”

Ambulance.

A sudden electricity zinged through his body, and Yoongi sat up, flinching when his shoulder screamed. There’s the pain.

“No ambulance.”, he grit out. He couldn’t have medical bills on top of everything right now. 

As he reached up to push back the hair in his eyes, his watch gleamed. 4:09pm.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. 

That night he sat with Jaehyun in his former apartment, drinking cheap soju his friend had scrapped together for him somehow. He’d told himself he deserved it after the day he’d had. Hell, the week he’d had. But somewhere inside him was a feeling of self loathing for wasting precious seconds not actively seeking to remedy his situation and stop relying on others. 

Jaehyun had picked him up that afternoon when he’d refused any medical help. So now his arm was in a makeshift sling, painkillers and alcohol doing the job doctors were supposed to. He was pretty sure he’d torn a ligament or something. He didn’t know, he slept through all his biology classes. 

On top of it all, it was his birthday tomorrow. He was turning 18, a legal adult. Not that it mattered, he’d been on his own since 15. Why did his life feel like it was ending when it had barely just begun?

“What if I do it?”, he hypothesised out of the blue. “Its gonna be quick and I just need to forget afterwards.”

Jaehyun frowned. “What are you talking about, my man?”

“Sperm donation.”

Jaehyun choked on his drink. “Yoongi! No, what the fuck!”

“Why not?”, Yoongi asked, his mind working overtime to justify something he’d never thought he’d need to. It was a given. “Its not like anybody would know. Well apart from you and me.”

“That’s not the point. You wanna have kids so young?”

Yoongi scowled into his glass. “I’m not the one who’s going to be having them.”

“Look, man. I think its just the alcohol talking—

“I’m not drunk.”

“—but I’m not gonna stop you if you think this is the only way out. Just know that you’re gonna regret it later.”

“Later.”, Yoongi muttered softly. “How I wish it’d be later already.”

Later that night, he dialed Hyungwon.

~•~•~

“Jaehyun was right. I regretted it the second the hangover dissipated. That was one of the worst days of my life, not counting the string of shit shows preceding it. I rushed back to the place as soon as I could. I returned the money, I hadn’t even taken it out of the envelope. They said the sample couldn’t be returned to me, but they’ll make sure it was out of the system.”

“Well, they lied.”, Sejin deadpanned, eyes narrowed as if figuring out a thousand ways around this situation already. 

The rest of the boys, barring Seokjin, stared at Yoongi in awe. They sat around him on the living room couches, while he stood by the window, gazing at the Parisian skyline.

A far cry from the broken pavement, busted in windows and dilapidated buildings, the landscape of his late teens. 

The boys had known the rapper had struggled a lot before joining bighit, but for it to be laid out in so much detail. A new respect for him shone in their eyes. 

When Yoongi turned to face them, he was surprised to see no judgment on their faces, but he shouldn’t have been. 

“So,”, Jin straightened up, clapping his hands. “Let’s lay this down, shall we? Yoongi donated sperm to a shady place in 2011, but returned the money and demanded it not be used. Since this sperm bank was likely illegal in the first place, they didn’t care to actually go through with his request. Then it somehow ended up in the fertility clinic he got the mail from. Which leads us to now, according to the mail, someone is probably pregnant with Yoongi’s child.”

“No, don’t say that.”, Yoongi shook his head, refusing to come to the obvious conclusion. “Don’t even imply it. I don’t have a kid out there but I do want all traces of my sperm out of any kind of bank.”

Namjoon peered at Yoongi with sympathy. “Hyung, they’re saying you’re eligible for another donation. Your previous sample was used already. According to my guesstimates, there’s 50% chance the woman they put it in, is pregnant.”

“Fuck your guesstimates.”

Jeongguk scratched his head. “But it’s been years since Hyung was 18. How is it getting used just now?”

Sejin answered him, not glancing up from his phone. “Google says preserved sperm can be used for upto 20 years after donation.”

Yoongi cursed. 

Jeongguk was still confused, brows scrunched. “How? Won’t the baby be—“

“Don’t say it.”, Yoongi groaned.

“—20 years old then?”

A slap to the back of the youngest’s head sounded. Yoongi didn’t look to see who’d done the public service.

“What are you going to do, hyung?”, Jimin asked worriedly. “You could just let it be. Ignorance is bliss and all.”

Taehyung gasped in outrage. “How can you even suggest such a thing, Jimin? It’s his kid we’re talking about! He could be a parent!”

Yoongi growled. “Don’t say that.”

But Taehyung wasn’t finished with his sermon. “Even if there’s a minuscule chance of this actually being true, it’s his duty to care and provide for his offspring. Even if he or she is unwanted.”

Yoongi gazed at the darkening sky for divine intervention.

“Hold your horses, Taehyung-ah.”, Sejin stood up. “I messaged the magazine studio about a reschedule. The photoshoot will be before the concert tomorrow.”

No one said a word, everyone too preoccupied to be focusing on trifling things like photoshoots.

“As for this problem.”, Sejin continued, giving Yoongi a reassuring look. “Let me handle it. I’ll run a check on the place you mentioned and the fertility clinic. We can’t publicly sue anyone because one, donating to an illegal place would incriminate Yoongi as well and two, we can’t afford to have a word of this get out. But an anonymous tip to the police should do the job.”

“What about...”, Taehyung trailed off, not knowing how to mention the person who might be carrying Yoongi’s child. 

“I’ll pull some strings, find out who it is. First, we need to know if they’re pregnant or not. We’ll go from there.”

Yoongi sighed, nodding. He supposed he could only hope and pray now. 

~•~•~

“I can’t believe it. All your hopes and prayers came true. I’m so happy for you, noona.”

Taeyong gushed as he arranged his Staedtler coloured pencils on your desk, lining them on the upper edge of his sketch book perfectly. The illustrator was obsessive about having all his stationary in perfectly designated places before drawing. 

“It still feels like a dream. When the doctor confirmed it yesterday, I almost passed out.”, you grinned, lovingly flipping through your manuscripts to the scenes you wanted illustrated.

Your friend turned to face you with a pout, his ethereal face glowing from the sunlight streaming through your windows. “You should have taken me with you, noona. I don’t like that you went alone.”

“It’s alright, Ty.”, you addressed him with the nickname he loved so much. On cue, his cheeks flushed adorably. “I was fine, just jittery with excitement.”

Taeyong grinned, mischief in his eyes. His boyish youthfulness struck you and not for the first time you thought about basing a playful character on him. He was a college student, an art major. You hired him because you loved his whimsical sketching style and his watercolour realism. Also, because you didn’t have the money or the patience to get more “professional” artists. From your previous experience, they often turned their noses at any extra input from the author. Taeyong, on the other hand, loved to have you by his side as he set about bringing your characters to life. 

Most importantly, you hired him because he was kind of your muse, though you never let him know that. He teased you enough as it is.

“I will let you off the hook if you declare me his or her godfather.”

And you loved to tease him back.

“You’re 19 years old, you’re a kid yourself, Ty.” You giggled as he flew off into an outraged rant. 

“Noona, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not a kid! You’re not that much older than me, I don’t know why you gotta put on motherly airs already. It’s been a day since you found out you’re pregnant. Pump the breaks. And don’t you dare try to experiment your parenting skills on me, I’m warning you—“

The ringing of your phone from your bedside table cut him off. You stretched to reach for it, still guffawing lightly at your friend. 

It was an unknown number. You picked it up. 

“Hello.”

A man’s voice answered you. “Hello, is this __?”

“Speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Miss.__. I’m Park Beomgyu from Tangent Publications. You might have heard of us. We are a graphic novel and manhwa publishing company, but we’re starting to venture into children’s fiction as well. Your work has caught our attention and we’d like to partner up with you for your next project. That is, if you’re interested.”

You stared wide eyed at Taeyong, who was starting to look worried at your dumbstruck expression. 

Work had never come to your doorstep. You’d always had to go chasing for it.

“Miss, are you there?”

“Y-yes! I’m here. And yes, I accept.”

The man chuckled. “Not so fast, Miss. Let’s discuss it first. If you’re free tomorrow morning, can I set up a meeting with our editor at 10 am?”

You spoke before he could properly finish. “Yeah, totally. I’m free. Just let me know the address.”

“I’ll message it. Looking forward to meeting you.”

“Yeah, same here.”, you said lamely as he hung up, your heart beating crazily in your chest.

“Who was it?”, Taeyong questioned, coming to sit beside you.

You launched yourself at him with a squeal.

~•~•~

You weren’t surprised when the address led you to Gangnam’s busiest area, office buildings and corporate suits abound. Though you did feel nervous in your light blue tea-length chequered dress. You didn’t own any suits or even pencil skirts, always feeling a little insecure with figure-hugging attire. 

You had done your research last night, having never heard of Tangent Publications before. Sprawled on your couch with your all-time favourite animation, Finding Nemo playing on your tv in the background, you had set up your laptop on a cushion. Not perching it on your stomach like you usually did, paranoid about harmful rays reaching your baby. 

You were surprised at the search results. As the man on the phone mentioned, they did only publish manhwas and even webtoons, but these were about idols. Their most widely sold comics being about BTS’ concept storylines. 

A little further digging revealed that the company was partially owned by Bighit entertainment and STIC investments, which also had stakes in the entertainment sector. 

What mattered to you was that they were successful, which looking at their net profit, they were and they had good editors, which your searches confirmed.

You were feeling extremely lucky and happy that they chose you for their next venture. At the right time too, the first installment in your new series was almost done. 

The friendly receptionist greeted you with a smile, immediately telling you the right floor when you gave her your name. You checked your appearance in the elevator mirror, making sure there was no food stuck in your teeth or wrinkle in your dress. 

You alighted on the eighth floor, where another lady at the front pointed you to the right door. You knocked at exactly 10 am, feeling satisfied at your timing. 

The heavy oak door opened, startling you. You thought someone would call you in. 

A tall man in glasses smiled at you, opening the door wide. You stepped in as he introduced himself. 

“Good morning,__-ssi. My name is Sejin.”

“Oh, good morning.” Not the editor google mentioned, but of course, there would be others in a big publishing company. “Are you one of the editors?”

Sejin closed the door, motioning you to the seat in front of his desk, answering you only when you both had sat down. “Yeah.”

You smiled. “Thank you so much for offering me this opportunity. I’m so flattered you chose me for your first foray into children’s literature.”

“Your work speaks for you, __-ssi. You’re incredibly talented.”, Sejin praised, leaning forward to set his elbows on the table and interlace his fingers. You interpreted the body language easily, he was all business. 

“We’d like to offer you a 5 book deal. A complete series if you will. You can negotiate for more if you feel like 5 won’t be enough. We will leave the story’s concept, art and every other creative decision to you, except of course the editing and research help you’d require. As well as get you the illustrator of your choice.”

“I already have an illustrator, I’d like to retain him.”, you interjected though everything he said left you reeling. Was this a daydream?

Sejin nodded. “No problem. As a starting point, we’d like to offer you 100 million won per book, negotiable down the line and not including sales profits.”

Your jaw dropped. “Is this a prank?” You turned in your chair, looking for cameras. “Am I being pranked? If so, I don’t appreciate it.”

Sejin gave you a calm smile. “No, ma’am. You are not being pranked. You heard me correctly. 100 million won per book, not including profits.”

You laughed. A disbelieving sound. “I’m sorry but either you don’t know how to do business or you’re really sure these books are gonna sell like hot cakes. And although I do think I’m really good at what I do, children’s literature is no fantasy or science fiction. It doesn’t have a fanbase readership to buoy every new installment that comes out. I have learned this the hard way.”

“You didn’t have us before. With the right marketing, anything can sell well.”, he simply replied, dismissing your concerns. 

“Okay.”, you took a deep breath, a sudden pressure on your shoulders, something nagging at your brain you were too preoccupied to figure out. “I’d like to see the contract first.”

“Sure.” Sejin produced a thick document from the desk drawer, flipping through it as he casually spoke. “You can take it home, mull it over, take your time coming to a decision. You’re pregnant, so I wouldn’t like to keep you here for long.”

You froze, blood leaving your face. 

“What did you say?”, you whispered.

Calmly, Sejin looked up from the papers, briefly glancing behind you before meeting your eyes. He didn’t repeat himself, showing absolutely no reaction.

Goosebumps raised on your arms, your voice fearful as you asked, “How did you know that I’m having a baby?”

“Because it’s mine.”

Jumping out of the chair in fright, you spun around. 

A stunningly attractive and familiar face was leaning against the closed door. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in. 

Glancing back at Sejin, who’d stood up as well, you slowly extricated yourself from the tangle of chair legs, moving to the middle of the room to have direct access to the door, but the newcomer was blocking your exit. 

Sejin approached him, whispering something you couldn’t hear. The man nodded, not breaking the critical gaze with which he regarded you. 

He let Sejin leave, locking the door behind him. 

“Is there a reason why I’m alone in a room with you? I will bring this whole building down with my screams if you don’t unlock that door and step away from it right now!”, you threatened.

He rolled his eyes. “The room’s soundproof.”

“You—”, you paused your scathing diatribe before it had even begun, cogs whirring, memory catching up. “You’re Min Yoongi.”

“Congratulations.”

Bewilderment swamped you. What the hell was going on? “What do you want from me?

“Absolutely nothing.” Yoongi ambled towards you with indolent grace, his eyes never leaving your befuddled ones. “You have something of mine, unwillingly given.”

“I have never even met you before. I don’t even like your music.”

Maybe that add-on wasn’t necessary, but you were feeling caged and on the defensive. 

Yoongi pursed his lips, his censorious gaze roving up and down your form. “Yeah, we don’t make music for the likes of you.”

You bristled. What the heck did that mean? You didn’t want to ask. “Thanks for sparing me. I still don’t see how I could possibly have anything of yours.”

“You’re pregnant and it’s mine.” 

“I’m pregnant, yes, but what’s yours?”

Yoongi scowled. “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Say what?”

“I’m the father. You’re carrying..”, he seemed reluctant to continue but did, scowl deepening. “..my child.”

You faked a laugh, amused but more concerned for the unhinged man in front of you. “No, I’m not. Maybe you have amnesia or something, this is the first time I’m seeing you in person. Usually, your tetchy self only greets me from magazines and subway ads.”

“Don’t try to sound smart.__. You don’t.”, he parried. “The thing with artificial insemination is that the lonely women who get it, often don’t know who’s baby they’re carrying.”

For the second time, you tensed with trepidation. They had entirely too personal information on you. It didn’t make any sense, none of what he was saying did. “Why do you know that?” 

You glared at him when he smirked.

“Ran a background check on you. Single, 27-year-old, children’s fiction writer, who’s been trying for pregnancy at different clinics for a year now. Bank balance is at an all-time low, the previous publisher isn’t picking up any of your new work. A string of failed relationships behind you because of your desire to have a child so early. Most of the time you hang around some college-aged kid who also does artwork for you, apart from that you don’t have many close friends. You stay at—”

“Shut up!”, you fumed, feeling really violated. The nerve of this man. He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered with his words. “You’re a celebrity, aren’t you? Don’t you guys scream privacy at every unsolicited photo, every personal detail revealed to the public? Your hypocrisy is alarming.”

“I will let you know one thing. Guilt is not an emotion I feel. The two situations aren’t even remotely comparable.” He stepped closer, his all-black attire striking against the white of the room. He looked like an irritated bat who’d been disturbed from his hibernation. 

“Don’t interrupt me.”, he commanded. “I had to know what type of person my sperm had been,” he coughed, gaze drifting away for a second. “..used on.”

“Your...?”, you trailed off, still not connecting the dots. What he was implying was preposterous, it couldn’t possibly be that.

It was exactly that. 

His voice was dispassionate when he explained, his countenance inscrutable, he was a master at masking every emotion. “A sample of my semen which was sent for regular health checkups was misplaced by a lab technician, accidentally labeled for donation to a sperm bank. I got to know about it when your fertility clinic sent me an email.”

You swallowed harshly. “They put it in me?”

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “Unfortunately.”

Did he have to sound so repulsed? You stepped back, only speaking when you’d somewhat processed your predicament. 

You gave him a sympathetic frown. Best to go with understanding, you didn’t want a confrontation. It was a delicate situation which, if you wanted to weasel out of, you’d need some tact. 

“That is unfortunate. I’m sure you must feel very frustrated. But I signed very hefty paperwork, before going in for treatment. And it said that the donor would have no legal right over the child, unless there’s a mutual agreement. I’m sorry but I have no obligation towards you and this is my child only.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to the hand you placed on your belly. He bit the inside of his cheek and you had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t give a flying fuck what your obligations were. 

“I’m going to make myself very clear ___. I don’t want your apology. The people responsible for this mess are paying for it, don’t worry. But if you think that I’m gonna roll over politely and let you scamper off with what’s mine, you have another thing coming.”

Your blood boiled and you hurled towards him. He didn’t show any surprise when you poked his hoodie-clad chest angrily.

Fuck tact. 

“I didn’t ask for this, you asshole. I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire fucking life and no dickwipe with a huge ego just because he can spit some words is gonna fuck it up for me.”

Yoongi blinked. “You swear too much for a children’s author, no wonder your sales are tanking.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You dug the pointer finger deeper in his chest. 

He winced, clasping your wrist. “Okay, is this the right time to tell you that I was gonna suggest an abortion in exchange for the book deal?”

Panic swamped you, anger disappearing for a huge dose of terror. You clutched the fabric covering your tummy, a clawing need to run and protect your baby blanketing you. No one was going to take him or her away from you, not when you’d toiled your last penny and pinned your every hope on this baby. 

“Hey.” Suddenly Yoongi crowded you, gently grasping your shoulders. “Hey, breathe please.”

His words made you aware of your lungs screaming for air, short, staccato breaths making you lightheaded.

“Breathe in for me.”, he guided and you obeyed, looking into his worried eyes to ground yourself. “And breathe out. Again. Just like that. You’re alright.”

A hand at your back guided you to the chair you’d previously occupied and you flopped down on it gratefully. Yoongi hunched over you, roving his searching eyes over your face for more signs of panic. 

“I was joking. Partially.”, he bit his bottom lip, and strangely you found the action alluring. “I knew someone who worked so hard to reach this point, wouldn’t even entertain the notion.”

You glowered at him, annoyance dimming for surprise when you noted how close he was, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn’t seem to notice it though.

“It’s very highhanded of you to even think about such a thing. No amount of money can replace a life.”

His eyes softened, the first genuine smile from him peeking through. If you didn’t know how much of an asshole he was, you’d think he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. 

“You’d be surprised how many people would disagree.”

“I’m sure you would.”

He nodded, having no problem admitting it. “Can you blame me? I’m at the peak of my career right now, this has all the makings of my fall from grace. Besides, I didn’t want children, ever.”

“Didn’t?”, you questioned his use of past tense.

He shrugged, straightening up and letting you relax a little from his heady presence. “You gotta roll with the punches.”

You hadn’t unclasped your hand from your dress, the fabric covering your stomach wrinkling horribly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You dreaded it, but what he said wasn’t unexpected.

“I want shared custody.”

Never.

“No.” You brought down the hammer.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna be an absent father, __”

“That’s alright.”, you threw back, absolutely done with this conversation. “You don’t have to be any kind of father.”

Slowly, so gracefully you didn’t even notice it at first, Yoongi hunched back over you, now impossibly closer. You leaned back as far as possible but you could tell two things, that his cologne was expensive and it smelled delicious as fuck. 

“Then who’s gonna be the father?”, he asked quietly. You gulped.

“I- the- I mean no one. Single moms do just fine.” And because he started to move off of you and you were secretly a glutton for punishment, as well as for men who smelled mouth-watering, you added, “My future husband...”

You trailed off at the tick in his jaw.

He raised a brow. “How fucking cute. Too bad your domestic dreams are never coming true,__. What’s mine is mine. No other man is going to be the father of my child. Over my fucking dead body.”

You almost said, “then perish”, but he stood up, grasping your upper arm to help you up as well. He was incredibly gentle with you, a stark contrast to the verbal barbs he inflicted every time he opened his mouth.

For example:

“We’re also going to have to get a DNA test done.”

Before you could implode in his face, he interlocked your fingers with his, tenderly releasing your death grip on your dress. His other hand came up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear and hook your chin up.

You were blindsided. Rage and fluttering heart palpitations a weird combo. 

“Don’t lose a fuse over it now. I think you’ve got enough on your mind already. Go home, sleep it off, we’ll talk when you’re feeling more level headed.”

It really shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d turn this into some sort of reverse psychology “I’m only looking out for you” situation, making you the unreasonable one for feeling, very justifiably, enraged at his imperiousness. 

But you did really want to sleep it off, your newly changing body demanded you recharge from this draining encounter already. You sagged in his arms, letting him support you.

Yoongi smirked at your body’s compliance and you wanted to slap it off. 

“How did you get here? Did you drive?”

You shook your head. “Took the subway, then walked.”

Yoongi peered at the heels on your feet, irritation flaring on his face. “For someone so adamant on having a baby, you’re already putting your health on the line, huh?”

There he fucking goes again. 

“It’s none of your business.”, you said curtly.

He raised a challenging brow. “The baby you’re carrying is my business.”

His high handedness knew no bounds. 

He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call a driver to take you home.”

“No need.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

You grit your teeth, biting your tongue as he led you to the door. Just a few more seconds in his presence, then TO FREEDOM. 

He opened the door.

And three men tumbled inside on top of each other, the momentum making them fall on the floor in a heap. 

You winced.

“What the fuck?!”, Yoongi growled, his resting death scowl back with a vengeance. “Were you three fuckheads eavesdropping?”

The men immediately stood up, fixing their clothing. The one at the bottom of the heap winced when the one above him used him as support. 

You recognised all of them. His bandmates. Although you weren’t their fan, you were still a little starstruck. The cameras didn’t do their faces justice. You shrunk behind Yoongi, a little intimidated at so much testosterone surrounding you. Prime specimen of the male species too. If you weren’t already pregnant, your ovaries would be tingling with primordial urges. 

Then they all spoke at the same time. 

“You wouldn’t let us come with you!” Taehyung.

“It’s all Taehyung’s doing hyung, we just wanted to make sure he didn’t get in any trouble.” Jeongguk.

“We?! What the fuck, don’t include me in your schemes. You guys dragged me here!” Jimin. 

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and you prepared for another of his already infamous searing rebukes. You wanted popcorn to watch these three guys get thoroughly chastened. 

Taehyung just held up his hand, stopping the elder even before he began. “Calm down, hyung. We’re not here for you.”

Your jaw dropped. He shut Yoongi up with a hand. You wanted to worship at this guy’s shrine. 

Then he peered around Yoongi to look at you, giving you a shy smile. “Hello,__. I’m Taehyung.”

Wow, Yoongi and his bandmates were night and day. This guy reminded you of Winnie The Pooh while Yoongi was Cruella de Vil personified. 

When you didn’t say anything, Taehyung frowned with worry, turning accusing eyes at Yoongi.

“Hyung, you upset her.”

Yes, he did, Pooh.

Yoongi raised an unconcerned brow. “And? Why the fuck are you here again?”

“Would you stop with the swearing, there’s a child in the room.”, Taehyung reprimanded and your worshipful impulses grew. 

Jeongguk scowled.

Jimin nudged him. “Not you, idiot.”

Taehyung came towards you with a placating smile, likely sensing the damage Yoongi had done. “I can drop you home. There’s a really good gelato shop a block from here. If you want we can stop there. Ice cream fixes everything.”

You nodded immediately, letting your guardian angel lead you out of the room with a hand at your back. 

You didn’t spare Yoongi’s disbelieving face another look. 

A/n: Taehyung will make a more proper appearace in the next chapter. Do let me know what you thougt, feeback keeps me writing.