#begging dumbles to send that letter so he can watch this go down
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Hello bestie. First I just want to say that your writing literally converted me to being a hardcore ironwidow shipper and your fics are like a blast of AC in your face on like a 100 degree day when you’re walking in to the grocery store. That’s very specific but honestly that’s how I could best describe the vibe. Second, if you’re in the mood for something a lil tropey—ironwidow hogwarts au?
hi bestie! and omg this is such a kind ask and i love your prompt - i'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to it! i love to convert people to ironwidow and anyone who ships it is an instant tumblr bestie so welcome to the fam <3 this one's not too long but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! also note: just playing around with house choices guys please do not come for me i didn't think too hard about it. Also this is taking place during OotP
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Tony Stark meets Natasha Romanoff the two days before the start of his Seventh Year. He's Head Boy, top of his class, having already cinched an Arithmancy apprenticeship after graduation - every Ravenclaw's closest held dream. Still, never enough for his father, whom he told about the position mere hours before his parents' died in a horrible accident this summer. Still, he's going to make his mother proud, even if she'll never witness his success herself. He couldn't give a damn about his father, his portrait locked up tightly in the Stark vault at Gringotts.
When Dumbledore calls him into his office before he's settled into his new rooms, Tony expects just about anything but the Weasley-colored redheaded girl sitting across from the Headmaster, posture perfect. He only has to catch a glimpse of her face to dismiss any Weasley relation - she's gorgeous, with dark green, penetrating eyes and full lips, watching him enter with a polite, fixed smile.
"Mr. Stark, this is Natasha Romanoff. She is a transfer from Durmstrang and will be completing her seventh year studies here at Hogwarts." Tony raises his eyebrows at the mention of the Eastern European school, which famously focuses on the Dark Arts, and rather succinctly cut contact with England at the close of the Triwizard Tournament last year. "You will show her the castle and leave her with Professor McGonagall at the close of your tour; she will have separate quarters this year, quite like the Head Boy and Girl." Dumbledore pauses, peering over his glasses. "I trust you will integrate her with all the alacrity deserved of an individual without the nearby comforts of friends and family."
Tony agrees, greets Natasha who seems to evaluate and dismiss him with a few sweeping glances, and proceeds to give her a tour. She observes every polite formality, but she refuses to engage him in any conversation indicative of overtures of friendship.
When they reach McGonagall's office, she turns to him. "I am assuming that your robes indicate you are in the Ravenclaw House." He nods. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, for the tour."
She leaves with no further fanfare. He dreams about her eyes every night for the next three nights, wondering what he found so captivating. Still, he resolves himself to befriend her and hopefully, take her out on a date or two. He's tired of playing the field, and this Natasha Romanoff is a puzzle he's itching to solve.
Three days later, she meets his eyes before she goes under the Hat, taking approximately thirty seconds before the Hat calls out, in a disgruntled tone,
"RAVENCLAW!"
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The next day, he sits by Natasha in Advanced Arithmancy, studying her notes - which are far beyond the current curriculum in terms of numerology and mathematics - which decides him. He spends a week cajoling her into being his study partner, and she joins him (and Bruce Banner, usually) in the library every day that year. They become friendly enough, but what keeps Tony from sinking into despair at his unlikely chances of wooing her is the fact that, although she's distant with him and Bruce, she avoids every other student like the plague. She even takes walks with him if he asks her, rambling on about his life and his plans, giving him short, succinct answers when he asks about hers, but asking thoughtful questions about his that prove she listens. She takes his hand when he tells her about his parents, and although the subject matter is grim, he rides the high of her touch for weeks.
Oh, and he can never find her on the weekends. He wonders if the lack of class keeps her in her private rooms, which he still doesn't understand why she needs.
At the end of the year, Harry Potter and company's excursion to the Department of Mysteries brings the news that You-Know-Who is back, and Natasha becomes even more absent. She sits for NEWTs, but she is gone before he can ask her for her new address, hoping to visit or write to her. It might be pathetic, but it's during one of these helpless journeys to her rooms that he realizes he's in love with her. She listens to him like no one else ever has, she's smart, she's powerful, she's beautiful, and he's pretty sure she fled from something horrible at Durmstrang, cementing his theory that she's resilient and strong in her beliefs.
He's getting ready to brave Dumbledore's office to ask for her information, when the Professor finds him first, handing him a letter sealed with the emblem of a phoenix.
It's not a hard decision to join this secret Order. For all his father sucked as a father, the Stark family has been fighting against Darkness for decades. It's a calling, and Tony knows he can turn the tide of this fight with his ideas. He bets they don't have anyone that understands Muggle engineering and mathematics the way he does, nor probably, is as advanced in Arithmancy.
He takes the offered portkey and appears in a House, instantly recognizing the portraits as Blacks, which he quickly reasons, must mean that Sirius Black is involved. He looks around him, recognizing several other faces: the Weasley twins, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, and Carol Danvers among them.
While the rest of them are looking around, Tony steps toward the door at the end of the hall. Before he can open it, it swings wide, and his suspicions are both confirmed and completely exceeded.
Two people stand in the entranceway. The first is Sirius Black, who greets him with a casual handshake and a smirk. The second: Natasha Romanoff, who grins at him with the most genuine smile he's ever seen from her, though it fades into a smirk when his jaw drops. "Hi Tony," she draws, her green eyes sparkling as if she's pulled off some great trick. Even if she has tricked him, he doesn't care.
"Miss Romanoff," he says, quickly getting his bearings back and swooping into a half-bow over her hand that would make his pureblood ancestors swoon. He kisses her knuckles, making sure to maintain eye contact. "Miss me?"
Sirius chuckles from beside them. "You two are gonna be a blast, aren't you?"
Tony grins and puts a hand at the small of Natasha's back, ushering them into the house. Oh, he thinks, watch and learn, Little Lion.
#ironwidow fic#ironwidow#tony stark#natasha romanoff#ravenclaw tony#ravenclaw natasha#yeah yeah she chose to be in tony's House it's cute#marvel#marvel fic#marvel writing#hogwarts au#answered#anonymous#hope you like this one anon!#sirius ships it#he's been teasing nat about her enamoured ravenclaw for weeks#begging dumbles to send that letter so he can watch this go down#tonynat#my writing#myedit
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How about “OH you’re jealous!” with wolfstar? 🥰
It was tradition in the Gryffindor house to have someone wear your Quidditch jersey the day before a match. After days of begging, James had finally gotten Lily to agree to wear his. Sirius had given his to Marlene, or more accurately she had insisted he give it to her until he’d conceded and handed it over. Besides, they were good friends and it wasn’t like the person he actually wanted to give it to would ever wear it.
Or at least that’s what he’d thought until Remus showed up for breakfast wearing one of the Prewitt brother’s jerseys. Sirius hadn’t been able to keep his jaw from dropping in shock. “What are you wearing?” he asked, his tone a little sharper than he’d meant it.
Remus blushed and ducked his head down. “Fabian asked me to wear it,” he explained, sitting down next to Peter. “I’m kind of swimming in it a little bit but it was nice of him to ask me.”
Sirius stared at Remus in absolute mortification. “Fabian asked you to wear his jersey,” he repeated dumbly.
“Yes,” Remus said, giving Sirius a funny look. He glanced over at James. “Is he broken or something?”
James shrugged. “I think he’s just caught off guard.”
“You bet I am!” Sirius said indignantly. “A Prewitt jersey, honestly?”
“What’s the big deal?” Remus asked, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not like anyone else asked me to wear one.” Sirius could have sworn Remus shot him a dirty look but it was gone before he could be certain.
“You – you – “ Sirius sputtered, his mind suddenly going blank. He didn’t have words to express just how angry he was that Remus was sitting there wearing a bloody Prewitt jersey. He was going to give that shifty twin some choice words the next time he saw him.
Remus rolled his eyes. “Very eloquent, Pads,” he said sarcastically, pushing his eggs around his plate.
Sirius took a savage bite out of a piece of bread and stared daggers at Fabian’s jersey while he chewed. He thought maybe he could do a vanishing spell to get rid of it but he didn’t think Remus would appreciate being half naked in front of everyone. Sirius knew he was self-conscious about his scars. He thought smugly about the fact that Fabian Prewitt had probably never seen Moony’s scars. It made him settle a little bit and he could eat his breakfast without tearing his food to pieces.
***
“Here,” Sirius said, holding out his jersey to Remus. It was just the two of them in their dormitory at the moment as Prongs was busy with Evans and Peter was sent to procure snacks for the Gryffindor celebration the next day after the match.
“What’s that for?” Remus asked, his nose wrinkling adorably. Sirius had to tamp down the urge to kiss his nose to smooth it.
“It took a lot of convincing but I finally got Marlene to agree to switch,” Sirius said, pushing his jersey towards Remus again, practically shoving it into his arms.
“But I’ve already got a jersey,” Remus said, still clearly confused. “Besides, the day is already half over.”
Sirius huffed in annoyance. “Just put the stupid thing on, okay?”
Remus’ cute little furrowed brow turned into a scowl. “Why should I?”
Sirius blanched for a moment. He honestly hadn’t expected Remus to fight him about it. He clearly was amendable to wearing someone’s jersey so what was the problem? “You can’t tell me you honestly want to wear Fabian’s jersey instead of mine!”
Remus’s lips suddenly curled into a smirk as if he’d just figured something out. “Oh, you’re jealous.”
Sirius’ carded his fingers through his hair in a way he hoped was nonchalant and not teeming with frustration. “Don’t be ridiculous, Moony. I don’t get jealous.”
Remus rolled his eyes and took a step back, making Sirius’ jersey fall to the floor between them. “Then why would it matter whose jersey I wear?”
Sirius bent down and snatched his jersey up off the floor, stalling for time so he could come up with an excuse. “Because Fabian Prewitt is a git,” he finally said, working his jaw for a moment in disgust. “And you’ll probably get his prattishness all over you if you wear his jersey for too long!”
Remus crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “What’s the real reason, Pads?”
Sirius kicked at an imaginary piece of dirt and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Come on, Moons, don’t make me say it.”
Remus scoffed. “Yes, my mistake, why would I want you to admit your feelings for me? How silly of me!” The sarcasm was practically dripping off him.
Sirius whimpered and could barely meet Remus’ eyes. He hadn’t expected this conversation to go like this. Of course Remus couldn’t just take the damn jersey and be grateful that Sirius was saving him from wearing something so utterly ridiculous looking. “You clearly already know I have feelings for you. Why do I have to say it?”
“If you can’t even say them to me when we’re alone then how are we ever supposed to get somewhere, Padfoot?”
“You know I’m not great at the whole feelings thing,” Sirius reminded him. He had hoped this would go a lot smoother, that he’d find a way to confess his feelings for Remus. But it had been two years and he was no closer now than he had been before. Every time he tried it was like the words just got caught in his throat. “I just cock everything up.”
Remus reached out and took Sirius’ hand. “Do you want me to say it first?”
Sirius swallowed thickly and then nodded.
“I love you, you daft git.”
Sirius snorted and finally lifted his face up, meeting Remus’ expectant gaze. “Let’s just be friends.” He couldn’t help himself.
“I fucking hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Sirius said with a grin.
“You really are bad at this,” Remus said, shaking his head. Still, he couldn’t fight the fond smile playing on his lips or the warmth in his eyes as he looked at Sirius.
“I’m mad for you, Moony,” Sirius said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Please wear my jersey?”
Remus bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Sirius’ mouth. “There, was that so hard?”
Sirius hummed and leaned in for another kiss. “I suppose not.”
***
Sirius wasn’t prepared for the affect Remus wearing his jersey would have on him. Seeing his name spelled out over Remus’ back in bright gold lettering was the hottest thing Sirius had ever seen. Sirius and Remus were a lot closer in size so his jersey fit Remus much better than Fabian’s had. It was tight across his broad shoulders and it made a funny noise happen in the back of Sirius’ throat any time he moved and those muscles would ripple – distorting the name written across them.
“I’m dead, Prongs,” Sirius said, fanning himself as he watched Remus during Potions class. Sirius and James were sitting behind Remus and Peter, giving Sirius a perfect view of Remus in his jersey. “I’m dead. You can have my inheritance. Spend it wisely. Give it to all your ginger children you have with Evans.”
James rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “He’s just cutting up eye of newts. That isn’t even sexy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sirius said, feeling hot all over. He tried to calculate how many steps it would be to get Remus into the nearest dark corner and snog him senseless.
“So what did you have to promise Marlene to get her to give your jersey back?” James asked, trying to cut one of their newt eyes without holding it and sending it flying into Peter’s head.
Sirius chuckled as Peter freaked out and tried to get the eye out of his hair. “Told her I’d steal her whatever she wanted from Honeydukes for a month straight.”
“A whole month?” James asked incredulously. “You know she’s going to abuse that power for all it’s worth.”
“Oh I know,” Sirius said, sighing heavily. He dropped his chin into his hand and stared at Remus some more. “But it was so worth it.”
“You’re barmy,” James informed him in no uncertain terms. “Now help me chop up these frog toes.”
Sirius grabbed a knife and began slicing, nearly cutting off his thumb when Remus bent over to retrieve something from under the desk.
***
As soon as the match was over and Gryffindor had won, Sirius touched back onto the ground and immediately his eyes went searching for that familiar mop of tawny curls. All the Gryffindors came down and hugged the team excitedly, celebrating the win. But there was only one person Sirius was interested in finding and celebrating with.
Surging through the crowd and grinning at people who patted him on the back in congratulations, Sirius managed to make his way towards Remus. He looked adorable, wrapped up in his Gryffindor scarf and his cheeks tinged pink from the cold.
“My good luck charm,” Sirius said, tugging Remus forward.
Remus laughed and let himself be pulled gladly. “I’m pretty sure luck has nothing to do with it,” Remus said softly.
“Well I guess you’ll have to wear my jersey before every match,” Sirius said, wrapping his arms around Remus’ middle and holding him close. ‘Just to be sure.”
“Oh right and it has nothing to do with you being unable to take your eyes off me from the moment I put that bloody thing on,” Remus teased, slipping his arms to rest on Sirius’ shoulders. “You better be planning to wash it before I wear it again. You’re a mess.”
“Well now I’m your mess, Moony,” Sirius said, beaming at him.
“I suppose you are,” Remus said, feigning a put upon sigh, tangling one of his hands in Sirius’ hair, using his grip to bring their faces together in a soft, tender kiss that had Sirius’ toes curling inside his Quidditch boots. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, you mutt.”
Sirius laughed and let Remus drag him away from the pitch. “Oh Moony, you take such good care of me.”
“Well someone has to,” Remus quipped, leading Sirius towards the Prefect’s bathroom. After a nice long soak in the tub, with an epic amount of snogging that left Sirius’ lips swollen, and a bit of light groping, Remus and Sirius made their way back to the common room to celebrate with the rest of their house.
Remus had somehow ended up in Sirius’ jersey again with Sirius sporting Remus’ jumper. Sirius wasn’t about to complain, Remus looked really good in his jersey.
“Oi, where were you two then?” James asked, handing them each a butterbeer.
“Just getting cleaned up,” Remus said, looking at Sirius over the top of his glass as he took a drink. “Padfoot was filthy.”
“Still am,” Sirius said, winking at him cheekily.
“Ugh, you two are going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?” James made a face, looking between Sirius and Remus. Neither of them were paying attention to him as they were too transfixed on each other. Sirius was chewing on his bottom lip while Remus licked his own.
“You know it’s kind of crowded in here,” Sirius said, giving Remus a meaningful look.
“What?” James asked, gobsmacked. Sirius was usually the life of the party, making people dance and do stupid things they didn’t want to do.
“You know, I completely agree,” Remus said, tilting his head towards the stairs to their dormitory in a clear invitation.
Sirius grinned and grabbed Remus’ hand, leading him up towards their empty dormitory. Sirius stopped halfway up and tugged Remus close. “You really do look good in my clothes. You should borrow more of them.”
“Yeah right,” Remus said, huffing in amusement, making the damp curls on his forehead move. “I couldn’t pull off half the shite you wear.”
“Oh, I think you can pull it off,” Sirius said suggestively, sliding his finger through Remus’ belt-loop and bringing their bodies even closer together. “I have the upmost confidence in you.”
“You’re an idiot,” Remus said, chuckling softly. He wrapped his fingers around the nape of Sirius’ neck and guided him forward into a kiss.
“You can call me whatever you want as long as you keep kissing me like that,” Sirius told him, sighing happily. He really was so far gone on the feeling of Remus’ lips pressed against his own. He couldn’t think of anything better that had happened to him in the previous sixteen years of his life. And he would continue to soak each one of them up greedily.
“Come on, love,” Remus said, leading the way upstairs. “We’ve still got some celebrating to do.”
“Fuck yes we do,” Sirius said, hurrying up after him.
#wolfstar#I write things#fluff#hogwarts sixth year#maruaders#long post#anon prompt#dialogue prompt#sirius black x remus lupin
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A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 35
Summary: You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.
Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist
Chapter word count: 1826 words
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence
You
Afraid to move, you sat on Crowley’s throne and waited for something to happen. Your eyes darted from demon to demon in the room, wondering exactly how much danger you were in given Crowley’s decree that you weren’t to be touched. You squirmed in the throne, in spite of its comfort, wondering what was happening at the fake bunker site with Sam and Rowena. Would Crowley keep up his end of the deal and keep Sam and Dean safe? After a few minutes, a man dressed in formal attire walked in the room and approached you.
“We have been instructed to cater to any needs you may have while the King is running his errand. Do you require anything at the present time? Food? Drink? Facilities?” You shook your head dumbly, too scared to do anything else. The man nodded before continuing. “In that case, is there anything you would desire to help you pass the time until the King returns? Reading material? The King has set up a screening room in preparation of your visit in case there are any movies or television shows you’d like to watch?” You shook your head again, and tried to work up the courage to speak.
Taking a deep breath, you tried to find your voice. “The King prepared for my… visit, you say?” The man nodded seriously. “How long does the King expect me to… enjoy his hospitality?” You took a deep breath and tried to keep calm.
“No time was specified, but preparations have been made for an extended stay.” Your eyes widened as you wondered exactly what constituted an extended stay to a demon. “If there’s nothing else at the moment, then I will leave you to wait for the King’s return. Should you need something, my name is Godfrey. Ask for me, and I’ll return.” You nodded, and Godfrey left the room.
You sat on the throne for what felt like an eternity, waiting for Crowley to return. Eventually, you got bored, and pulled out your phone. You were surprised to find you had a signal. Unsure if calling Sam would distract him from the battle with Rowena, you opted for sending a text.
“Not sure, but I think I’m sitting on Crowley’s throne. Just wanted to tell you that I’m fine and they’re treating me well here. I don’t know what Crowley has in mind for me, but it doesn’t seem to include discomfort of any kind. I miss you, I love you, and I know we’ll figure this out and see each other soon.” You hit send, and hoped the message reached Sam.
After about a half an hour of killing time playing games on your phone to distract yourself, Crowley returned. He approached you, and smiled what felt like a genuine smile, putting a hand on the back of the throne and looking over your shoulder at what you were doing.
“Were you able to reach Moose and Squirrel and let them know you’re okay?” You looked up at Crowley standing over you in confusion.
“Uh, well, I sent a message, but haven’t gotten a response. I wasn’t sure if anything I sent from here would even go, if you know what I mean.” Crowley gently took your phone from your hands and slid it into his pocket.
“As long as you’re sitting here, the phone works fine. Perks of being the King.” Crowley winked at you and smiled, leaving you speechless. “Come now, darling, let me show you to your suite.” Crowley offered you his arm, and in your state of shock, you took it like your grandmother had taught you when you were little. He then led you out of the room and you started walking down the hall. As you moved further away from the throne room, your fear returned, along with your voice.
“What are you doing, Crowley? Where are we? Why am I here, and not back with the Winchesters? Godfrey said you had prepared for an extended stay. How long do you plan on keeping me here?”
“One question at a time, pet. First, I’m keeping you safe. Our deal was that I’d help with the fight against my mother, keep you safe, and in return, I get to keep whatever remains of my mother. This is me, holding up my end of the bargain. This is Hell. Well, the upscale part of Hell with all the modern amenities you could desire. Again, perks of being the King. The Winchesters are alive and well, my mother is enjoying a nice rest in her bindings in a specially-outfitted cell in the deepest, darkest corner of the most uncomfortable part of Hell where I keep my favorite toys, and you are safe. I can’t keep you safe if you’re with the Winchesters, so I brought you here. Here, you are safe, and I can provide you with every comfort you could ever need. Anything you need, anything you want, I will provide it for you.”
“I want Sam.”
“Okay, anything but that. If I bring him here, he’ll just try to break you out, and in doing so, will jeopardize your safety.” Crowley’s right hand was covering your hand on his arm, and he was patting you in a manner that was meant to be comforting. “Relax, Y/N. You are in no danger here.” Crowley paused his walking and turned to you, taking both of your hands in his. “And there’s no point in trying to pray to that traitor in a trench coat. If prayers could leave Hell, angels would go mad with the cacophony. Besides, even he doesn’t have the power to get here.” Crowley saw the distress evident on your face and you could tell he wanted to soothe you. He dropped one of your hands and brushed a lock of hair from your face, smiling comfortingly at you. His hand stayed by your head, cupping your face gently. “There is no need for you to worry, my dear. Your every need or want will be provided, with the exception of the Winchesters.”
Part of you was in complete panic mode. Your heart was beating a thousand beats per minute and slamming against your ribcage. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath and calm down. The scared part of you wanted to rail at Crowley, cry and scream and beg to be let go, but the calm part of you knew that wouldn’t get you anywhere. You added your empty hand to the hand holding Crowley’s and clasped his hand in both of yours. Looking into Crowley’s eyes, leaning your head into his hand just a little, you pushed as you spoke.
“Crowley, please. As much as I appreciate your concern, I love Sam, and I need to be with him. If you have concerns about my safety with the Winchesters, then we can discuss those concerns and how to alleviate them, but I can’t stay here. Please, Crowley, take me back to Sam. Please.”
For a moment, you thought it was working. Crowley’s expression changed ever so slightly, and there was a subtle shift in his stance.
“Darling, you can stop trying to persuade me that way. It won’t work. I know what you are and what you can do.” You couldn’t stop the shock from becoming evident on your face. “I figured it out after you made me save them from your apartment the day we met. You thought you could sway me from my plan and I wouldn’t notice that I suddenly changed my mind for no reason? No one makes me do anything just because they asked nicely. I did my research. Hell has records, too, you know. I know about your grandmother. It’s also why I’ve been careful to never lie to you. You would know before the lie left my lips, wouldn’t you?” Crowley caressed your cheek with his thumb as his eyes roamed your face affectionately. “My guess is that you’ve been reading me and working me since you found out what you could do.” A stab of fear made your breath catch. If he thinks that, what will he do about it? “Don’t worry, pet, I also believe that you had no malicious intent, so all is forgiven. If it wasn’t, I’d have left you to die with the Winchesters.” Crowley dropped his hand from your face, pulled your hand to his elbow, and continued leading you down the hall. “No, instead you’ll be kept safe here and provided every comfort. I want you to be happy, as well as safe, so any requests you have, except for the Winchesters, will be considered and discussed.”
The two of you approached a door, and Crowley led you through it to a huge suite of rooms. There was a living room/screening room, complete with comfortable couches and a huge flat screen TV. Next, you saw a small kitchen, filled with fancy gadgets and expensive appliances that would make Dean jealous. Crowley started to lead you around the suite, but you soon broke away from him to check out everything. The bathroom was about the size of the kitchen with a whirlpool tub, two-person sauna (you chuckled at the irony of a sauna in Hell), and a huge shower with a bench and a complicated-looking showerhead system. There were French doors that opened up from the living room to the bedroom, where a California king-sized bed took over the room, covered in what looked like a million pillows and blankets. Books of all kinds were lining bookshelves around the room, and there was a walk-in closet that would make any diva jealous. You inspected the clothes, and discovered that everything was in your size, and the collection ranged from simple jeans and t-shirts to ball gowns. There was also a large jewelry box, but it was mostly empty. The few items you saw, though, were simple, and to your taste. Crowley was smiling as you looked everything over, but stayed quiet until you sat down on the end of the bed, looking around in awe.
“Crowley, this is too much. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, I really do, but…”
“But nothing, darling. I know that staying here, even if it is for your own safety, will be difficult for you. All of this is meant to ease that hardship. I’m the King of Hell, pet. If there’s nothing else I can do, I can at least provide you comfort and style. Now, I have to go attend to matters of state. Feel free to settle in, and if you need anything, just ask one of the guards outside the door to get Godfrey for you.” Crowley bent over and kissed your cheek, then gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “I do hope you can find a way to be happy here.” With that, Crowley was gone.
#incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis#mrswhozeewhatsis writes#WOL - GaFfSW#sam x reader#sam fluff#sam angst#sam smut#sam winchester#sam winchester fan fiction#sam winchester fan fic#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fanfic#fan fiction#fanfiction#spn fan fiction#spn fanfiction#supernatural fan fiction#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#supernatural fanfic
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Bottle- 15: Sausage With Peppers
Bottle Masterlist
Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.
Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.
Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC
Word Count: 3539
Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),
Chapter Warnings: none
Cassie pulled the van into the parking lot of the Walmart and started at the building for a minute. "How is your first Avengers mission treating you, Joanna?" Loki's voice came from the passenger seat.
"You're not really there," she whispered, closing her eyes. She couldn't look at him, even a projection of him. After what she saw in Africa, she couldn't deal with that.
"True, but I am truly speaking to you. So easy to find when you open up your mind to me."
"I didn't do that. The witch did."
"Witch? I'll have to thank her, you've been practically begging to see me for hours."
Cassie shook her head. "No. This is not... I didn't call to you."
Loki laughed, a cruel sound that gripped her spine. "Joanna... it's perfectly understandable to miss me. With me, there is no doubt, just complete domination. You don't have to worry about who knows you're laying with whom. You don't have to worry about Stark's metal contraptions killing you. You just have to worry about me. And I was gentle last time."
"In Austria? Disguised as the priest who kept me from killing myself?"
"I wanted to see the fire in you! That place dulled you."
"That was the point! I didn't want to think, I didn't want to shine, I didn't want to blaze. I just wanted to be left alone to be. Just be. Exist without anyone paying any attention to me and somehow you and Clint both found me."
"You were suffocating in Austria. You were suffocating as Cassandra. You are still barely pulling air into your lungs. You long for the freedom Joanna thrives upon."
She looked to her right, finally allowing herself to look at him. His eyes looked green in this light. "Look, I'm not going to lie... it'd be useless to try that on you. I had fun with you. You let out a part of me that had been dying to breathe since SHIELD took me, and yes, consensual sex with a God is nothing to shake a stick at, but... I don't miss you. I don't want you. I don't even want to be around you. You killed my daughter."
"And gave you a son." He smiled softly and shook his head at her. "Do you know how I know you do want me around, free to see you as I please? You haven't told Thor what I did to Odin."
As the projection disappeared, Cassie looked at the instrument panel on the dash. Confusion washed over her. She'd found it amusing that the Allfather had been tricked by Loki and that Heimdall, who sees pretty much everything, hadn't seen it. She knew that she'd been too desperate to leave Playground when she woke up, but why hadn't she said anything since she'd been back? She hadn't forgotten: she just hadn't mentioned it. "Just means I'm nuts, not that I want you to drop in unannounced," she muttered, getting out of the van and walking toward the store.
"Talking to yourself already, Campbell? That's a sign of poor fortitude," a familiar voice said as she crossed the double doors.
She turned to the vending area and blanched at the sight of Nick Fury, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt and wearing dark sunglasses, drinking a Coke. "Director Fury."
"You aren't SHIELD and I ain't in charge anymore," he said, stepping toward her.
"I-I know, sir. I, uh, just thought... After the way I spoke to you last time... respect is due."
"You didn't say anything that wasn't true, Cassie. I am old and I have bad depth perception."
She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face at the use of her chosen name. "But you have so many years of spycraft under your belt."
"And you can carry Thor around as dead weight. Girl, you woulda kicked my ass."
Cassie smiled wider. "So, what are you doing here?"
"I figured Barton would bring you to the farmstead. Safe place, off the grid. I showed up right as you were pulling onto the main road, followed you. I came in here to get a drink while you argued with yourself in the van." Cassie looked down. "I know the Maximoff girl got you, made you see things. Loki?"
Tears came to her eyes as she just nodded, dumbly. Fury put his hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he smiled. "You're the only one who got hit by that chick and wasn't completely down for the count. Your teammates, who include the strongest woman I've ever met and a Viking God, had to extracted by you."
"Guess I have better fortitude than you think."
"Definitely better than you think. You know... Maria Hill sends me reports."
"About me?"
Fury nodded. "Among other things. She said you're putting a lot of effort in. You spend most of your free time training. Says you're ‘almost obsessional’ about being an asset."
"Just don't wanna get anyone killed because I can't handle myself in a combat situation. Fat lot of good I did against Ultron. Got shot in the back by one of Tony's legionnaires before I could touch him. Feel kinda useless."
"Useless?"
"What do I add? I mean, the Avengers already have a revved-up super soldier and an acrobatic weapons expert. I'm like a shitty knock-off version of both of them. I don't have anything..."
"You know, doubt is a perfectly normal, healthy thing, that you need to get the hell over, right now. This is not the time for it. Even if you were a shitty knock-off, you could put down some robots. You are more in control of yourself than some of the strongest-willed motherfuckers I have ever met, so pull your head up and move past whatever that witch made you see."
Cassie chuckled and turned, grabbing a hand basket as she headed further into store. "Wow."
"What?" Fury asked, keeping pace with her.
"No, it's just... I finally understand why you were in charge for so long."
"Why's that?"
"There is something oddly inspiring about a one-eyed man yelling at you to get your shit together." She stopped in front of the sausages and stared at them. "Guess I couldn't expect more than Johnsonville at a Wal-mart. Beer brats, I guess. And beer." She dropped three packs of sausages into the basket and walked toward the beer aisle. "So, how's Phil doing?"
"Don't think Barton would be very happy about you asking after your ex, do you?"
"You're kidding me." Cassie turned to him. "Hill knows about me and Clint?"
"Did you forget that you're working with spies? That you're sleeping with one? You remember what that entails."
"Oh, come on, Nick. It was totally different with Phil. We weren't trying to keep any secrets. It was the most honest relationship Phil had ever been in. He didn't have to hide anything from me. I mean, he did... some." She shook her head and grabbed a box of Guinness. "Clint and I just want something that's ours, you know? We don't want everyone talking and speculating and... being jealous."
"Jealous? You're talking about Steve?"
"I'm talking about Steve," she confirmed. "And Natalia and Phil. Also, there's a deep-seated fear that Mockingbird is still in love with him and she's gonna destroy me over this."
"Mockingbird? Natalia? You haven't just been studying your Ops manual, have you?"
"I started in on those SHIELD files while I was still in Austria. Everything I could learn would better my chances of evasion. Once I got back, it was more 'learn everything I can so that I can survive longer'." She started toward the bakery and stood in front of the racks. "Commercial American bakery's nuzing like Hohenheims bakery. Oh, vell." She grabbed several bags of rolls and headed for the registers.
"Are you coming back to the farm, Nick?"
"Yeah. I'll be right behind you. When you get inside, have the lovely Mrs. Barton send Stark to the barn."
"Yes, sir."
************
As Cassie walked across the grass toward the house, she smiled at Steve and Tony, who were chopping wood in the front. "Glad you're working up an appetite. I'm making lunch."
"Austrian diner food, right? Barton might've mentioned." Tony brought his ax down on one of the logs.
Cassie nodded and jogged inside, dropping the plastic bags on the counter. Clint was beside her almost immediately, he was freshly showered, smelled like a forest. "Hey, you made it back!"
"Today, even. Wanna help me cook?"
"Uncle Clint."
"Yeah, Li?" The little girl waited, a bit impatiently, for Clint to stop looking at Cassie. As soon as his eyes fell on the girl, she started to sign. Cassie watched it in her peripheral vision as she pulled a knife from a knife block and ran soap and water over it. "Yep... I think so... " Clint signed as he spoke his responses to her slightly fumbled sign language. The girl seemed frustrated with a word and resorted to signing each letter.
"Wait, who's Mary?" Cassie asked, slicing through the white onion she picked.
Clint turned to her with an eyebrow raised. "You know Sign?"
"Just the alphabet. There was an accident on 107, so traffic slowed enough for me to pull it up on my phone."
"And you learned ASL alpha in the few minutes you were stuck in traffic?"
"Like it's hard?"
"And now you're quoting Legally Blond at me?"
Cassie grabbed a red pepper and a green one from the fridge. "Never seen it."
He chuckled and turned to the girl. "Lila, we'll continue this conversation later, when there's no one around to eavesdrop."
"I weren't dropping no eaves, Mr. Barton, sir. I was just making lunch," she said, in her best Samwise Gamgee impression. Lila nodded and ran out of the room as Cassie started slicing the peppers. "It's a little early in the relationship for your family to be pushing us down the aisle, don't'cha think?" she asked, quietly.
"Eh, she wants a cousin. Thought you didn't Sign?"
"I caught the double Rs in 'marry', and she pointed at us. Not hard to follow."
"She likes you." Clint grabbed a slice of bell pepper from the cutting board and bit it in half. "And she knows I do, too. She just wants me to be happy, that's all."
"Uh-huh. Hey, Laura," Cassie called out. The brunette woman waddled in, hand secured over her belly. "Nick Fury is in your barn. He requests an audience with Mr. Stark, but Tony isn't one to just do what someone asks. Can you figure out a way to get Tony into the barn, please?"
"Yeah, I think I can do that," she said with a smile.
"Grab the sausages out of the bag for me and grab a pan, cast-iron if you have it, and a broiler pan."
"Broiler pan?"
"Every oven comes with one, Clint. Usually it's a two piece thing, slots in the top to catch drippings in the bottom."
"Oh, that thing. Gotcha," Clint said, digging into a low cabinet by the fridge to pull out a large roasting pan. He put it on the stove before pulling out a cast-iron skillet and handing it to her.
"Nice. Okay. Oil?"
"In the glass squeezy thing, there," Count said, pointing to the counter.
"So articulate, Hawk."
"What can I say?” He shrugged. “Obviously not much."
"Then, why do you talk so much?" Cassie said, clicking the burner on under the skillet.
"Hoping to say something to turn you red again. It's a good look."
"Ja, mein Vater seemed to think so."
"Ich finde dich süß when you mix up your languages. [I think you’re cute when you mix up your languages]” Cassie felt her cheeks heat up. "There's her color," he whispered, leaning into her.
Her eyes flicked towards the living room. "Back off, Hawk. This isn't the time," she said, pouring oil into the skillet. Clint leaned away again, but she could feel his eyes on her. "Put the sausages on the broiler pan. Single layer, like you know what you're doing," she said, grabbing the peppers and onions putting them into the skillet.
Cassie had the oven open, flipping the sausages over when Tony stomped into the house, Steve and Nick following behind. "Are you going to be eating with us, Nick? We've got plenty."
"I've heard good things about your cookin', Miss Campbell. It was one of the things Coulson felt comfortable braggin' on you about."
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said, smiling as she closed the oven door.
"So... what's the thinking, Fury?" Banner asked as Lila ran into the dining room to hand Natasha a watercolor picture.
"Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing," Nick said, walking around to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.
"What about Ultron himself?" Steve asked, leaning against the wall.
"Ah. He's easy to track, he's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans, though."
"He still going after launch codes?" Tony asked, throwing darts at a board on the wall.
"Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway," Nick answered.
"I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."
"Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that," Nick said, starting to cut the rolls Cassie bought for the sandwiches.
"NEXUS?" Steve and Cassie asked.
"It's the world internet hub in Oslo. Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on Earth," Banner responded.
"So, what'd they say?" Clint asked, examining the fletching of one the darts.
"He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed."
"By whom?" Tony asked, as Clint threw his darts at the board. Tony looked at him, exasperated as Clint just shrugged, before pulling all three darts from the bulls-eye.
"Parties unknown."
"Do we have an ally?" Natasha asked.
"Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing. Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is."
"I might need to visit Oslo, find our 'unknown'," Tony said.
"Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that," Natasha grumbled as Nick finished cutting the bread.
"I do. I have you. Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. You kids had all the tech you could dream up. Here we all are, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. Ultron says the Avengers are the only thing between him and his mission and whether or not he admits it, his mission is global destruction. All this, laid in a grave. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard," Nick said, sitting down with his water as Cassie pulled the sausages out.
"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk," Natasha teased.
"You know what, Romanoff?" Steve started, faux threateningly. Natasha just smirked.
"So, what does he want?" Nick asked.
Steve looked around as Clint came to sit at the table. "To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies."
"Person bodies," Tony responded. "The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."
Banner walked forward and examined Lila's picture. Natasha looked between the scientists. "When you two programed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed."
"They don't need to be protected, they need to evolve. Ultron's going to evolve."
"How?" Nick asked as he took a drink of his water.
"Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"
Cassie placed a platter full of sausage and pepper sandwiches on the table and sat next to Natasha. "So, what? Ultron is going to have Helen Cho make him a... a better body?" Everyone looked around at each other, nervously. "Guess we should eat." She reached forward and grabbed a sandwich, but she suddenly didn't feel very hungry.
Clint stood, grabbing a bottle of Guinness and handing it to her. "Anyone else? Might not have another chance."
"Don't talk like that," Natasha said, but she put her hand out for a beer.
************************
Steve walked into the living room as he finished suiting up. "I'll take Natasha and Clint."
"All right. Strictly recon. I'll hit the NEXUS. I'll join you as soon as I can," Tony said, tapping at his wrist.
"If Ultron is really building a body..." Steve started.
"He'll be more powerful than any of us. Maybe all of us. An android designed by a robot."
"You know, I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me," Steve mused.
"I'll drop Banner off at the Tower. Do you mind if I borrow Ms. Hill?" Fury asked.
"She's all yours, apparently. What are you gonna do?"
"I don't know. Something dramatic, I hope," Nick said, walking out of the house.
"What about me?" Cassie asked, walking up to Steve and Tony.
"Cass..." Steve started.
"No. Don't even think about leaving me behind. I may be pretty new to this whole 'superhero' thing and I didn't help much against Ultron in New York, but I've got more will, more fortitude than any of you. I pulled myself out of that fugue state..." *Or was the vision simply over* She shook away Loki's voice in her head and kept going. "...and I didn't sulk around about what I saw in that vision. I pulled myself together and then I carried your star-spangled ass off that ship. And then, I went back for Thor and carried his ass out. An action, by the way, that outed me as a superhero to the international news media."
She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Which is great, because Hydra is still looking for their lost legacy and Loki is still looking for his queen, so it's awesome to broadcast my whereabouts. And even with all that, with my worst fears playing in my head on repeat since that witch touched me, I still want to help, because that's what I signed up for. As soon as I decided 'Avenger' would look good on my resume, I signed up to put away my shit and focus on everyone else's. So, tell me, boss, where do you need me?"
Steve looked around, then cleared his throat. "Stark?"
"Ever been to Norway, blondie?" Stark asked.
"No, sir," she answered, standing straight.
"It's good. You'll love it. Might need some muscle, anyway. Can't wear the suit everywhere. Go grab yours," Tony ordered.
Cassie nodded and rushed for the room where she'd changed before heading to the store. Clint followed, closing the door behind him as she pulled her super suit off the floor. "Not the way I pictured the first time you grabbed your clothes off of my floor," he joked.
She turned to him and smiled, slightly. "Be careful. Please. Be careful."
"It's a milk run, babe." Clint stepped forward and pushed her hair out of her face.
"No. My trip to the NEXUS is a milk run. Tony's only taking me because I threw a fit. Ultron might be in Seoul. I mean, he's everywhere. So, he's probably gonna be there... with the Maximoffs. Clint... Wanda, she's..."
"I know, Cassie."
"You don't. I saw-"
"Loki. I know. And you liked it, right? That's why you're all messed up." Cassie blinked back tears. "You remember when we first met? Took you for a drink to celebrate and mourn? I know what you're missing."
"It's not missing the mindlessness, Clint. I mean, that's part of it, but... Joanna, I wanted to... to be with him. I had sex with him. I enjoyed it, being with him."
"That's your greatest fear? That you might've enjoyed sleeping with a demigod?" Clint chuckled. "He's a thousand years old and strong enough to give it to you good. I might've even liked screwing him," he joked.
"Clint... why are you so understanding?" she whispered.
"I've had a long life. Done a lot of bad, had a lot of bad done to me. I focus on intentions, mostly. And your intentions are good, even when you're Joanna. Your intentions as Cassie are... good, right?"
"You're amazing."
"Nah. I've just gotten good at hiding the un-mazing parts of me." Clint brushed his lips against hers. "I'll be safe if you will."
"I promise," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss. Her super suit rubbed against his cheek as their tongues pushed against each other.
"Where's my lab tech?!" Tony called up the stairs.
Cassie pulled away, balling her clothes up in her hands. "Hold your water, Stark, I'm comin'." She opened the door and bounded down the stairs, three at a time.
"You had plenty of time for that while the rest of us were showering. You chose to shop," Tony said.
"Shut up," she groaned. *Everybody knows.*
"Come on," Tony said, walking out of the house.
KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108
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LOADING INFORMATION ON JINX’S MAIN DANCE NAM SOOJUNG...
IDOL DETAILS
STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 28 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE:14 COMPANY: Midas SECONDARY SKILL: Variety
IDOL PROFILE
NICKNAME(S): Soojung Bolt, because no one outruns other idols (or their problems) the way she does Hot Body Soo, self explanatory. Thank god the excessive exercising paid off. Sooj, it’s ugly but it’s there. INSPIRATION: Pushed by her friends from school who recognized her talent, Soojung auditioned with quite a few of her friends to various idol agencies in hopes of making it big and debuting in a group together. SPECIAL TALENTS:
athleticism: she runs fast, and puts her all in korean wrestling. there’s a rumor rookies pray they don’t get pitted against her at ISAC
cooking: [ +44, -489 ]: wow she cooks so well for someone who looks like they only have rocks in their head, i’m so fcking hungry just looking at the screen
one-liners/cursing: Jeolla-do’s finest one-liners, insults, and curse words, she knows them all and will share them with or without express permission
NOTABLE FACTS:
younger brother is Seoul FC’s center-forward Nam Taewoong, does not seem to acknowledge this fact very much if at all
has admitted to getting plastic surgery on her nose, eyes, and jaw probably to her manager’s extreme chagrin
was once punched in the face by an Olympus sasaeng after leaving practice, has since distanced herself from the group publicly
prior to her viral fancam was nicknamed JiNX’s most prominent backup dancer” by less-than-kind netizens
IDOL GOALS
SHORT-TERM GOALS:
She’s not an idiot, or at least she’s certainly not as stupid as everyone seems to suggest she is. Banking on new found popularity Soojung’s number one goal is to monetize as much as that popularity as she can, if she can possibly make herself known as something other than the girl who pelvic-thrusted her way into the nation’s attention she wouldn’t oppose that either.
LONG-TERM GOALS:
Nothing lasts forever, certainly not the career of a female idol and though she may not admit it, at least not publicly, she knows there’s nothing left for her once contract expire. She’s too old to continue to pretend that she enjoys putting on cutesy acts or playing dumb and funny for public consumption. In the end, she’ll sink into obscurity and hopefully with enough in the bank to live comfortably in her self-imposed insignificance of an existence. While not ideal, as far as Soojung’s concerned it’s certainly better than aging in front of a camera trying to retain some vestige of a career built off of her late-teens and twenties. Leaving in dignity is the ideal.
IDOL IMAGE
She’s supposed to be like this.
The better part of seven years practicing a relatable smile in the mirror every single day, twenty minutes a day. She’s supposed to be the girl-next-door-turned-sex-pot, or whatever it is her CEO said she was supposed to be. She can’t remember what he said in that meeting all those years ago, it’s not like it matters anyways.
She’s supposed to be like this. Smiling dumbly, content with her lot in life, pretty in a sort of forgettable way.
Maybe that’s what the CEO told her. Smile pretty and let people think what they think. She can’t remember anymore.
If they think she’s an idiot, so be it. That’s what she’s supposed to be like; glib and sedate. No one wants a girl who’s mouth runs a mile a minute, snapping in satoori without a second thought, curse-words decorating sentences like they’re just another adjective.
The people want a girl who’s demure, who knows what to say and how to say it. No one wants the real girl they grew up next to, they want the idealized image of what she should’ve been per societal standards. Pretty with a mouth tinged with the taste of blood, a tongue with noted teeth marks along it’s edges.
She’s supposed to be this fucking fool.
Her manager says no one really wants the reality of who she is. A girl that drinks more than she should, a girl that spends her days off bared-face practicing recipes and watching documentary after documentary. No one begs to see the girl who jogs down the street with her over-sized dog because she’s reformed from her wild child days into a grown woman with a painfully average existence.
People want fantasy, people want the grandiose. Nothing in the reality of who Nam Soojung is at her core fits the desire. But she’s willing to play the part, smile blankly at a camera and basks her in new found fame that’s seven years too late to do her any real good, move her hips in a way that makes tongues and fingers wag all the same.
It’s all for the money. It’s all for the love a desperate little girl was looking for ages ago.
None of it really matters, but she’ll give it a go. If only for a life worth more comfort; pride isn’t worth half as much as everyone seems to claim it is. Not when her checks cash so nicely and everyone bends over backwards to tell her how they adore her.
It’s all bullshit but it’s fine.
This is who she’s supposed to be. This is who she’s supposed to be.
IDOL HISTORY
Life is told in five parts.
i. Her father’s life is ruined the day Soojung is conceived. She knows this because he tells her just as much over the years.
Nothing is as awful as getting saddled with a baby you don’t want to a girl you don’t love. A lack of control born out of lust and a bottle of beer, that’s all she owes her very life to.
He never lets her forget.
ii. Soojung is good but Taewoong is better.
Maybe it’s three years that make the difference. Maybe it’s their parents halfway falling in love with each other. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s a boy and the youngest and she’s a girl and the oldest.
Things always work out differently for the pair of them. Even if their mother insists they’re loved equally; the disparity is as obvious as the sun.
The son gets lauded with praise, and the daughter is weighted down with lectures. Halmeoni says this is just how the world works, her mother was raised the same way with her younger brother; it’s just how things work.
Soojung hates it all the same; hates her brother a bit too just for making things that much harder.
No one cares if she runs fast because Taewoong’s always faster. No one cares if Soojung gets first place at a talent show because Taewoong has brains in his feet and the football scout said he was a prodigy.
No one cares about Soojung because the world revolves around Nam Taewoong who clings to her like a shadow.
She can’t stand him, not really. Not when she’s the only one who sees him as he is, a sniveling brat who steals away affection and has the nerve to beg her for it too as if he doesn’t get enough.
Sons receive too much and daughters too little in their home.
It’s the way life is but even still she can’t stand it.
iii. The story goes like this:
Soojung, Eunhye, Minsoo, Kyungwan, and Jinah all audition for Midas entertainment. Ride a train up to Seoul and try their hands at fate.
The details get muddled in the middle. Someone says it’s because they’re all Gemini fans, a group of men singing sweet songs and gyrating motivates a group of teenage girls from bumfuck nowhere to make something of themselves. The other version of events is Jinah’s a great singer, Soojung is the best dancer around town, Eunhye is the prettiest girl any of them know, Minsoo’s hilarious and a decent dancer, Kyungwan has a nice voice and charisma no one can touch.
They’re the perfect girl group set to take the nation by storm. Only nobody knows it yet.
It’s all just a fairy-tale though, Soojung still remembers the truth.
She begs and pleads her friends to come with her to Seoul. Fills their heads up with stupid little dreams, her stupid little dreams, and convinces them they have the God-given talent to be someone the whole nation wants to know. She begs them because she doesn’t want to be rejected alone in a city she doesn’t know.
She lies. She lies. She’s a liar.
No one she knows is as talented as her. Jinah is only okay, Eunhye’s pretty only to countryside eyes, Minsoo can’t dance but she tries her hardest, Kyungwan has the kind of personality that only gets you far in Jeolla-do.
But Soojung’s different. Soojung has life in her bones, vitality in her steps; a God-given talent. People flock to see her back home, they only watch the others out of polite respect.
All of the stories end the same way.
Soojung becomes the only trainee, two of the others go to other companies but end up back home with the rest of their cronies after a few years.
Soojung is the only one who matters in the end.
iv. Halmeoni sends her letters every week. They all read the same way.
Be pragmatic, be kind, be resilient, be strong, work hard.
It’s as if she knows he only granddaughter has turned to a holy terror. Divine intuition, she thinks it’s called.
Arrogant, teenage vain-glory takes hold. Soojung is good and so is everyone else, and they’re all vying for the same stupid little spots. Familiarity breeds contempt breeds a bitter girl who’s a little crueler than necessary because she can be.
Insecurity breeds a girl who pushes herself too hard in every which direction because she’s desperate to be someone who matters, desperate to be another face smiling on a screen for millions to be seen.
She wants to be loved, she has to be adored. Her confidence is too fragile to accept any other option as a possibility.
So Soojung does what she has to. She gets the plastic surgery some higher up suggests with the smaller face and bigger eyes and nicer nose, learns how to be more charming, gets a crash course in the world of sex appeal and what it means and what it earns girls like her.
And when the day is done she runs over to her little group of friends who are just like her with frayed nerves and driven solely by hormones and desperate desires.
It pays off in the end, she knows it does.
v. In a way, it’s all for naught.
All the blood, sweat, and tears. All the wasted hours spent in a practice room, all the youth she wasted living for some desperate desire that she could be adored.
It’s all for nothing.
People like her, but only as Soojung, the other girl in JiNX. No one really loves her as Nam Soojung, most people don’t even care.
Nothing really matters because she’ll never be the nation’s first love. She could claw her eyes out to be the nation’s second or even third love, but everything pales when she stands only a few feet away from the first.
Her father always used to tell her brother, “if you’re not second you’re last.” Soojung doesn’t understand what he means until she’s standing five feet behind the nation’s first love and two other people who are a little bit more than she is.
Her manager says it’s a lack of versatility that’s the issue. She can’t act, she can’t really sing, she can’t rap, all she can do is dance. It doesn’t matter if she’s funnier than everyone else. It’s what people pick up on and run with that matters. Girls who are relatively funny are a dime a dozen.
No one cares.
Even still, Soojung pushes herself a little harder to be someone people could love. She smiles brighter, eats less, works out more, makes herself more attractive in the ways society demands, moves a little more sensually. She could be the nation’s second love or even third love. She’s willing to settle.
Still, no one cares.
She runs fast, she laughs loudly, she looks every fan in the eye, acts graciously, pretends it doesn’t hurt that people call her a fucking fool, pretends she doesn’t know the internet calls her the nation’s first back up dancer. It’s back-breaking work to get the love of the public and it doesn’t pay.
No one cares about Nam Soojung, not really.
A rumor of an iljin past complete with bullying, smoking, and underage drinking comes out. Midas releases a statement about a nice girl from the outskirts of Gwangju who used to write her grandmother every week as a trainee complete with pictures of letters and her grandmother who smiles with closed eyes and a chubby arm raised.
Another rumor flies around about a relationship with an Olympus member floats around Pann. Pre-debut photos of her with her old nose and smaller eyes and bigger jaw, and there are notes from crazy fans about how she’s hung around their boys for too long, desperate for love and affection. A few comments she’s just desperate for attention. Then it culminates with a girl punching her in the eye one day after practice for the next comeback and Midas releasing a statement about criminal actions and false allegations with no proof.
A million rumors could brew, none of it means much until it’s far too late for her Soojung’s liking. No one cares until Soojung no longer bothers.
The girl who’s desperate for attention feels a lifetime away by the time Soojung finally gets the notoriety she spent years searching for.
It turns out pretty smiles into cameras and painstaking work don’t win a nation’s heart. It’s all hip movement that leaves little to the imaginations and smiles that say “come fuck me” is all that anyone wants.
But it’s too many years too late and Soojung can’t truly be bothered by the time what she’s looking for finally finds her.
“I’m not so needy for love these days,” she tells her manager when he asks why she doesn’t seem happier about her situation, “maybe when I was younger but none of it really matters now that we’re at the end of the road does it?”
Adoration, as it turns out, is overrated. It doesn’t win her father’s love, doesn’t make her better than Taewoong. It doesn’t make her relationships any better. Doesn’t make her feel any better any better about the pitfalls of a somewhat pathetic life that she only regrets in retrospect.
All the time she wasted wanting to be loved. All the years she wasted screaming into a void, being the worst possible version of herself. All the time wasted living as a human train-wreck that only serves to disappoint. A nation’s love doesn’t make up for any of it, not the way she thought it would.
There’s too little validation for her liking.
In the end, the belated affection of a nation only earns her more work and grief. Still, the love of a nation lines her wallet nicely and maybe that’s all that matters to Nam Soojung these days.
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