#begging my advisor to respond to me asking for a class change

[froggtogs]

figuring out legend this time!

[jlalafics]

“I loved you first”-an Everlark fic

This prompt was requested by @b-boop5. Thanks love!

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Summary: There are divorced couples. Then, there are Katniss and Peeta Mellark.

I loved you first

Johanna Mason looked around the high school field, lined with rows of plastic chairs. In front of her stood two middle-aged women, dressed in their ceremony best, looking over the crowd gathering for the graduation.

“I didn’t have a chance to look over my program, but who is the Valedictorian?” one woman asked.

“It’s the Mellark girl—Adeline,” the other woman responded. “She’s heading to Stanford this Fall, you know.”

“I’m not really familiar with her…I don’t think that she and Katie really hang out.”

“Oh—everyone knows about the Mellarks.” Johanna moved in closer, grimacing at the woman’s overwhelming floral perfume. “Adeline’s parents were practically teenagers when they had her. They stay together long enough to have Adeline’s younger brother before getting divorced.”

“So, they’re what? In their thirties?”

“About that. Katniss, her mother, barely looks like she’s hitting her thirties. She owns that cute little boutique downtown.”

“And, the Dad?”

“Oh God—Peeta Mellark. A delicious specimen of a man. He’s the CEO of Mellark Bakery; his family started it from a small, mom-and-pop bakery and he turned it into a franchise. Now, they’re all over the country.”

Johanna was suddenly blinded as two hands covered her eyes. She smelled the faint scent of sugar and watercolor paints.

“You’re messing up my makeup, Luke,” she warned.

Whirling around, Johanna beamed at a gangly blond, grinning at her.

“Aunt Johanna!” Luke wrapped his arms around her. “You came!”

“Of course.” She embraced her nephew tightly. “Where’s your mother?”

“Her and Dad are heading down,” Luke informed her. “They’re deciding which restaurant to go to for Grandma’s birthday next weekend.”

“There they are,” the gossiping woman suddenly said. “Peeta and Katniss Mellark. The perfect exes.”

“Are you sure? They looked like they’re still into each other.”

Luke and Johanna locked eyes; the young boy rolling his at the two women being not-so-discreet.

“They’ve been that way for years. Every PTA meeting or school event, they’re together and usually talking amongst themselves, his arm around her shoulders and her leaning against him, just like now—here they come!”

“Johanna!” Katniss pulled away from her ex to rush into the woman’s arms. “I’m so glad you came!”

“I wouldn’t miss AJ’s graduation for anything,” Johanna replied. “And, how is my favorite ex-cousin doing?” She looked to the man talking to her nephew. “Hey, asshole.”

Peeta grinned at her. “Hello to you too, Johanna.”

“How are you enjoying Panem so far?” Katniss asked her.

Johanna looked to the shocked women, both red with embarrassment. She gave them a wink.

“It’s been illuminating.”

++++++

“Apparently, you and Peeta, are the ‘It’ couple when it comes to divorces,” Johanna informed the two as they found their seats.

“Are we?” Katniss looked to her ex-husband with a smile. “Did you hear that, Peeta? We’re the cool divorcees.”

Peeta snorted. “Don’t these people have anything else to talk about?” He sat next to Katniss, giving Luke the aisle seat so he could take pictures of his sister walking down towards the stage. His arm snaked over to the back of Katniss’ chair. “Sometimes I forget how small it is here.”

“Well, you two are freakishly close,” Johanna pointed out. “Probably more than most married couples.”

“It’s kinda true, parents,” Luke added as he played with the lens of his camera. “My friends are always surprised when I tell them you’re divorced.”

“Why are your friends so nosy, teenager?” Peeta asked.

“Because their parents ask.” Luke turned to them. “It’s not like I mind. I don’t really remember when you were together, but if it was the opposite of this, then I’m glad you’re divorced.”

“That’s very mature of you, sweetheart,” Katniss told their son.

Peeta smiled fondly at his ex-wife. “We made some smart children.”

She returned the gesture, her eyes on the handsome man. “All from me.”

He leaned towards her ear. “I don’t doubt that.”

Katniss trembled; even after all these years, Peeta always knew how to make her come undone. They had known one another since they were children, had fallen deeply in love when they were juniors in high school, and Katniss was pregnant by graduation.

They had tried to make it work.

The birth of Adeline had brought them even closer and they loved their daughter with all their hearts. However, the extra responsibility had been a lot on the young parents who both juggled work and college part-time.

Katniss and Peeta’s parents had rallied to help the two. Their families helped take care of the adorable cherub that Adeline was while they went to school. On the weekends, Peeta was at the Mellark Bakery, learning how to manage his parents’ business. Katniss would be at their apartment, textbooks on the kitchen table and their daughter in her arms.

They both graduated with business degrees.

Katniss was pregnant with Luke during their college ceremony.

By Luke’s first birthday, Peeta and Katniss could see the cracks in their relationship. Peeta had been spending less time at home, trying to bring Mellark Bakery up the corporate chain. Katniss was unsure what she wanted to do and had little time to think about it as she raised their two children.

Also, they both had tempers.

As the children slept, they argued, going to bed angry. Sometimes, one or both would be in tears.

By the time Luke was two and Adeline six, they had agreed to a divorce.

Katniss and Peeta sat their families down and told them that they would be separating but amicably. Katniss would have the home that they had bought together, and it would be where the children would live. Peeta would move into an apartment nearby and would have them on the weekends.

Their main priorities were Adeline and Luke. They wanted their children to grow up in a loving, supportive environment.

It was hard in the beginning; they still loved one another…but something changed. Maybe they had become too different or they had just grown apart.

Whatever caused their breakup hurt like hell.

They continued to push forward; Katniss eventually decided to open her boutique, Primrose—named after her younger sister. Peeta became a silent partner, helping her purchase the space, but mostly staying out of the way as a gesture of goodwill towards his ex-wife.

Now, Katniss could say with confidence that Peeta was one of her best friends and vice-versa.

They had dinners together with the kids—sometimes without them. She would go to the Mellark Home for Thanksgiving and Peeta would attend the annual Christmas party at her parents’ house.

They went to every recital, sports event, and even spelling bee together. The kids never felt neglected—at least she hoped they didn’t—and both parents had great relationships with Adeline and Luke.

“It’s starting!” Luke called out. He put the viewer of his camera to his eye as the strains of ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ began.

The navy-clad graduates were led by Haymitch Abernathy—Senior Class advisor and teacher—who held the school banner as he walked down the aisle to cheers and camera flashes.

He was followed by the Senior Student Council, each with white stoles denoting their roles.

Then, wearing gold stoles, were the Valedictorian and Salutatorian.

Adeline beamed excitedly, her long dark waves moving with her, as she walked down the aisle. Next to her, Evan Odair smiled, his cheeks red and his eyes caught on Katniss and Peeta’s beautiful daughter.

Adeline spotted her parents, waving excitedly, and flashing a peace sign as Luke took her picture.

Katniss took a deep breath, trying to keep her tears at bay. Sometimes, she still saw the little girl who would beg her to play tea party with her every afternoon.

Now, that little girl was getting ready to take on the world—and she wouldn’t need her mother anymore.

Peeta put an arm around her, pulling her side against his.

“She’s always going to need us, Katniss,” he assured her.

Katniss turned to him. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

Peeta reached, wiping the stray tear off her cheek, and giving her a sad smile.

“Because I know us,” he told her. “We all grew up together—you, me, Luke, and Addie. And, we’re never going to stop needing each other.”

Katniss nodded and he pressed a kissed to her temple.

Next to the exes, Johanna rolled her eyes.

Brainless, the both of them.

++++++

“Now, I would like to call up our Valedictorian—” Voluminous applause rang through the crowd along with some shouts from the rowdier seniors. “—an ambitious young woman who, besides maintaining a 4.0 GPA and taking all available AP classes, is the president of our youth volunteer club, one of our most popular tutors and a peer mediator. From personal experience, it has been an honor to have someone to debate with in class—” The crowd laugh at his words. “Ladies and gentlemen, Adeline Jane Mellark.”

The crowd was riotous as Adeline stepped onto the stage. She was always popular, though she never had a particular crowd that she hung out with. She went to prom with Evan—as friends—though Katniss believed that the boy next door had always wanted more.

However, Adeline had always been a free spirit.

She admitted to Katniss that she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone since she would be leaving for school—despite the cuteness of Evan’s smile.

Adeline stepped up to the podium, beaming at the crowd.

“Good afternoon, faculty members, families, and senior class,” she began. “My name is Adeline Jane Mellark. Most of you know me as AJ or, if you’re my Dad, Addie. I am supposed to be up here trying to inspire and give you advice for what comes next. However, I don’t think I could give you any advice as I’m in the same boat as the rest of you. I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Katniss leaned forward; her eyes trained on her daughter. Peeta sat in rapt attention, his own stare on their daughter.

“I can tell you that, whenever I’m not sure what to do, I think of my parents. You see, my mom and dad had me right after they graduated high school. They had to navigate going to college along with raising a child and by the time they graduated college, my brother came along. When I think about it, we grew up together.” Adeline smiled to herself. “We learned together.”

She met Katniss’ eyes.

“My mom taught me to always focus on what I want, to never back down, to fight for what I believe in.”

Peeta reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“My Dad—” She heard Peeta’s breath hitch. “—taught me that there is good in everyone; that sometimes to get back on track all you need to do is look at a sunset, and to always have hope.”

She grinned.

“Mom, Dad…I just wanted to say that I’m proud to be your daughter. That, because of you, I am not afraid of what comes next. You both taught me lessons that I’m going to carry with me my whole life—that no matter what happens, I’ll always have a place to just be me.”

Adeline looked at her classmates.

“We’re always going to have each other. So, when you’re feeling lost or scared, think back to this moment—this is our place to be us. This great moment of excitement…fear…of endings…and beginnings—life is full of them. Enjoy them. It has been an honor to be part of this graduating class and I wish you all the best of luck in whatever comes next. Thank you and congratulations!”

The crowd was up on their feet and, over the sea of people, Adeline met her parents’ identical teary gazes to blow them both a kiss.

++++++

“You must be so proud, Peeta,” the woman…Karen—he wasn’t sure what her name was—said. “Adeline is so accomplished.”

In return, Peeta gave the woman a conciliatory smile. “Katniss and I are very proud of her.”

Beside him, Finnick and Annie Odair stifled their laughter at her obvious flirting in the middle of his own daughter’s graduation reception. The couple had been friends with the Mellarks since they moved into the neighborhood.

“It’s going to be awfully lonely for you now that Adeline’s going to be moving away,” she simpered.

“Not really. Our son is just entering high school. Katniss and I are sure we’ll have our hands full.”

“Luke is definitely a spitfire,” Finnick said. “But a hell of an artist.”

“He’s going to the fine arts high school, correct?” The woman frowned. “Do you think that’s the right path? The artist route isn’t very lucrative.”

“Well, it’s a damn good thing that Peeta and I care more about our children’s happiness than the amount of money they’ll make.” Katniss joined his side and gave the woman a cool smile. “Clarissa, we’re so glad you could join us.”

“Thank you for having us.” The woman looked around the house. “You have a beautiful home.” Her eyes suddenly darted behind them. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She was gone in a second.

“Clarissa! That was her name!” Peeta snapped his fingers, turning to his ex-wife. “This whole time I thought it was Karen.”

Katniss chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you called her Karen.”

“Peeta couldn’t get a word in,” Annie explained. “The woman had her sights on becoming the new Mrs. Mellark.”

“Many have tried, all have failed,” Peeta said. “Anyway, I’m not looking.”

“Why not?” Katniss questioned. “I was just too perfect, wasn’t I?”

He flashed her a smile. “We all didn’t find a Gale Hawthorne, did we?”

Peeta tried not to cringe saying the man’s name. Katniss had been dating him casually for six months, but he could tell that the man was set on making things official.

“Where is Prince Charming, anyway?” Finnick asked, his disdain obvious. Their friend had always believed that he and Katniss would eventually reunite. According to him, they had too much fire to be just friendly exes.

“Probably somewhere polishing his crown,” Peeta replied with a short laugh.

The look on Katniss’ face quickly cut him off. She looked disappointed.

“Peeta, you’re better than that,” she admonished softly. “Excuse me.”

Katniss walked away, heading upstairs, and his heart sank seeing the slump in her shoulders.

“What the fuck was that?” Annie asked, looking between the men.

“Truthfully, I think Gale is a douche,” her husband admitted. “I don’t know what the hell Peeta was on about—” Finnick looked to the downhearted man. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Peeta glared. “Why would I be jealous?”

Finnick guffawed. “Because the man is probably pounding into your ex-wife who you’re still pining over.”

“Focus, you two!” Annie pushed Peeta forward. “You should probably talk to her.”

“I’m already on it.”

++++++

Katniss looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Why was she even upset about Peeta’s remark? It wasn’t like it was mean.

Truthfully, Gale was a little high on himself sometimes. He was successful, having his own real estate firm, and had taken her to some nice places.

While he didn’t make an effort to get to know Adeline or Luke, she hadn’t gone out of her way to encourage his involvement with her children either. They didn’t need another father figure.

Truthfully, Katniss kept him because he saw her as a woman—and not just a wife or mother.

There had been a point in her marriage to Peeta where they stopped seeing each other as people and started seeing one another as parents who just slept next to one another. It was hard to keep the romance alive when she always had a baby to her chest.

Their fights had been epic and an argument over which preschool Adeline would go to ended with a bout of angry sex against the doorway of their bedroom.

Then, she ended up pregnant with Luke.

One day, they looked wearily to one another and both realized it was over.

They had no fight in them left.

“Katniss?” Peeta stood at the bathroom doorway, guilt on his face. “You okay?”

Katniss turned to him, crossing her arms as she faced him. “I guess.”

“I didn’t mean it,” he told her.

“I just don’t want us to get to that point where we’re snipping at one another,” Katniss told him. She moved past him to walk into her bedroom and sat on her bed. “I hated that.”

Peeta joined her. “Me, too.” He sighed, giving her a doleful look. “I’m just not used to not being the number one man in your life.”

She knocked into his shoulder, a smile rising on her lips.

“Peeta…you know that Luke is number one.”

“I will concede to our son,” Peeta told her. “Addie is going out with her friends tonight and Luke is sleeping over at Christian’s house. They have a video game to conquer, apparently. Did you want to have dinner? Like a parents of the Valedictorian celebration? We can go to that Chinese place that we love—with the mu shu you like.”

Katniss gave him an apologetic smile.

“After the cleaning crew leaves, I’m having dinner with Gale tonight.”

Peeta nodded. “How about I stay while the crew cleans up and you two can go on your date earlier?”

She raised a brow. “You sure?”

He stood, holding out his hand. “Truce?”

Katniss took it, standing and giving him a hug, her nose pressing his shoulder. She always enjoyed his smell, that warm spiciness of his cologne. It was comforting yet it still made her heart skip a beat whenever it hit her nostrils.

“We better get downstairs,” she said into his shirt. “We have a speech to make.”

Peeta nodded, lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes. “We did it, Katniss.”

“What do you mean?”

They walked out of her bedroom and Katniss looped her arm through his as they headed down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Remember when she was first born? We were both so scared of screwing her up…but we didn’t,” he told her.

They descended the stairs, staring at one another.

“I remember. I was constantly snippy and wanting to call the doctor at every weird noise she made,” she replied. “And, you were always worried about dropping her or cursing in front of her!”

“I may have cursed once or twice. Much more around Luke—” Katniss snorted and he laughed. “Things get a little more relaxed with the second one!”

Katniss sighed. “True.” They stopped halfway down, and she turned to him. “I’m sorry if I ever took my parenting fears out on you. It probably contributed to a lot of our fights.”

Peeta shrugged. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. All those late nights at the office…”

“It’s all in the past now,” she interjected.

At the foot of the stairs, Adeline and Luke were talking to Evan and his parents. When she turned to look at them, their daughter hurried up the stairs with a bright smile on her face before wrapping her arms around her parents.

“Thanks, you two.” Adeline pulled away; her blue eyes glowing. “This is a great party and you did so much—”

“You deserve it,” Peeta told her tenderly.

“You’re our little girl,” Katniss said. “We always kind of knew we would be spoiling you!” Adeline giggled. “And, we are enormously proud. A bit braggy, too…”

“Aunt Johanna told me about those two women gossiping about you guys,” their daughter informed them quietly. “It makes sense, though. Their daughters are bitches.”

Peeta guffawed and Katniss raised a brow at their daughter’s words. That was thing about Adeline; she never pussyfooted. Like Katniss, she could be blunt when need be. However, she was naturally empathetic like Peeta.

“While I’d usually prefer that you didn’t curse, you’re eighteen so I can’t really stop you,” Katniss said.

“Thanks, Mom!” They made their way to the last three steps and Adeline went to a nearby server, who handed her two glasses of champagne. She walked over to them, handing them both a glass. “Good luck, you two.”

Stepping back, Adeline joined her brother and friend.

Katniss turned to Peeta, a nervous grin gracing her face. “Go on. You’re better with this than I am.”

He chuckled, leaning to kiss her cheek.

“You’re probably right.” She elbowed him, ignoring the heat rising on her face. “You’re really too easy to fluster.”

Peeta cleared his throat and Luke tapped the glass he was holding with a spoon to catch everyone’s attention.

“Thank you, Luke,” he told their son, who grinned back with a smile so much like his own. “Thank you all for attending this reception. Katniss and I would just like to say a few words about our daughter…”

++++++

“How did the graduation go?” Gale asked as he cut into his steak, his eyes focused on the slab of meat.

“It was wonderful,” Katniss replied. She reached for her fork to cut into her salmon. “I wish you could’ve come to the reception. You would’ve enjoyed it.”

“It’s not really my thing,” the man replied easily. “No one wants the boyfriend at the family party. Anyway, I already gave Adeline her graduation gift.”

Her daughter had smiled blankly as Gale handed her the two gift cards; one for Target for school supplies and the other one to get a full tank of gas for her Prius.

It wasn’t that her daughter was ungrateful; she admitted to Katniss that Gale seemed a little…cold towards her and Luke—as if he didn’t like them.

However, who wouldn’t adore Katniss’ children?

They were sweet and kind…

The man in front of her, however, looked a little overwhelmed whenever he was in their presence.

“Don’t you like your food?”

Katniss realized that she had yet to take a bite. She gave him a smile before putting a piece in her mouth.

“Delicious.” She swallowed before reaching for her wine glass. She definitely needed to discuss this issue about the children. “Listen—”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Gale placed his utensils down. “Now that Adeline is leaving for school, you’re looking into more time for us.” He gave her a tight smile. “It’s just that we’re getting into the summer and it’s our busiest time with parents trying to buy or rent places for their kids—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to talk to you about that,” she interrupted. “It’s that whenever you’re around my kids, you seem to be a little…aloof.”

Gale looked non-plussed. “I mean, they aren’t my kids. I don’t necessarily need to be obliged to care for them like I’m their father. They have one.”

“I know that and Peeta is a great one,” she explained. “But I thought we were serious in a sense where you’d want to get to know them.”

“Hmmm…maybe if we had our own child, I might have to open up to them.”

Katniss blanched—was she really dating this guy? This man who didn’t want to let her children into his life unless he saddled her with his own?

In that moment, Katniss saw a future where she would once again be changing diapers, waiting for a man who was never home.

Suddenly, she was standing up.

“You know what? I’m going to save you the trouble of having to open up to my children. Goodbye, Gale.”

She made her way toward the exit, but not before grabbing the bottle of wine she paid for from the ice bucket.

++++++

Stepping out of the taxi, Katniss looked up her home, comfort washing over her immediately.

This home was where she watched her children take their first steps…where she’d wait at the front door as they stepped off the school bus and into her arms…where Peeta had carried her over its threshold…

They had purchased the two-story colonial-style house after Luke was born with the help of their parents. Since then, they had repaid the loan tenfold and found comfort that their children had a place to go whenever they needed it.

Heading up the brick walkway, Katniss reached into her purse pulling out her key to unlock the door before stepping into the house.

Closing the door, she was surprised to smell the scent of…cookies.

Toeing off her shoes, Katniss headed towards the kitchen and was surprised to find Peeta pulling out a tray full of chocolate chip cookies—her favorite.

“What are you doing?” she asked from the open doorway.

“Thought that you and the kids would like a fresh batch whenever you got home,” her ex replied as he placed the tray on the counter. Peeta pulled the oven mitts off, tossing them beside the cookies. “You’re home early.”

“Dinner didn’t go so well,” she told him glumly. Katniss presented him with the wine bottle in her grasp. “At least I have a consolation gift—that I paid for.”

“Ouch,” Peeta replied. “Well…cookies are the perfect complement to wine.”

She nodded. “Do you remember where the bottle opener is?”

He went to the second drawer to the left of the counter, pulling out the well-loved gadget. “Always.”

++++++

“Do you remember how we used to stay up late to watch R-rated movies after the kids were asleep?” Peeta asked. “I swear there was one point where I wanted to murder The Wiggles.”

“You didn’t know?” Katniss reached to grab another cookie from the coffee table. “I put a hit on them. That’s why you never hear about them anymore.”

The soft glare of the television was the only light in the room. They had discovered an old romcom that was popular when they were teenagers and decided that it would go well with their late-night snack.

Peeta chuckled, sitting back on the couch. He had changed from his ceremony attire to a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that Katniss had found in her closet. She had also changed into a pair of pajamas while Peeta had set up cookies and wine in the living room.

“If anyone could murder them, it would be you,” Peeta replied. “What time is Addie getting home?”

“I told her midnight was her curfew while she lives here,” Katniss informed him. “Once she’s in college, we will have no say on when she gets home.”

“I’m dreading not knowing what she’s doing.” He turned to her. “Do you think she’s going to come home during the holidays?”

“If she doesn’t want me to go all the way to Stanford to drag her ass here, she will.” Peeta snorted at her words. “She’ll come home. It’s going to be lonely here without her though. Nobody to have mani-pedis with or talk about those stupid reality shows …”

Katniss found herself sniffing back tears. She swiped them away with the back of her hand.

“Ignore me. It’s the wine and ending the most useless relationship in history.”

Peeta waved her over to his side and she scooted in towards him, her head going to his shoulder. She tucked her feet underneath her bottom as he put an arm around her.

“Did you love him?” Peeta asked gently.

“No.” She closed her eyes, taking comfort in the warmth of him. “I’ve had my great love. I don’t need another…I just liked the feeling of someone making an effort to just be with me.”

“And, I wasn’t that way?” he replied tightly.

“Neither of us were making much effort towards the end.” Katniss looked up, seeing his eyes full of hurt. “It was no one’s fault. It just happened. I mean, we didn’t kiss each other anymore.”

“I should’ve kissed you more.” His hand reached to brush her chin and her body tingled, her lower half twisting in that familiar heat. “It was one of my favorite things to do.”

“Until it wasn’t.” Katniss swallowed harshly as she unfolded her legs. They were getting into dangerous territory. Reluctantly, she stood up. “I should clean up—”

Peeta suddenly grabbed her wrist and she stilled at the motion.

Standing, Peeta reached his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

His other hand went to her cheek. “You’re always going to be my great love. You know that, right?”

Then, his lips were on hers.

Katniss fell easily into his kiss. She always did. Her arms circled his neck as she pressed against him, feeling her nipples tighten against the hard planes of his chest. Peeta’s hands moved down, palming at her ass and she groaned into his mouth, her tongue sweeping into his.

Peeta’s lips moved to her neck. “I forgot how good you tasted.” He sucked against the juncture and she mewled, the heat between her legs growing and her core throbbing. “Do you still taste this good everywhere else?”

“You can find out…later.”

Katniss guided him to sit on the couch as she pulled her unbuttoned her pajama top, shaking it off her quickly. Her breasts were in bare sight, nipples pebbled despite the heat in the room. Her pants were next, and she undid the drawstring before bending down to pull her bottoms down to the carpet.

Peeta stared up at her in awe. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Katniss smiled softly as she placed her knees on both sides of his lap before straddling him. Her lips went to his in a gentle kiss.

“Have you been with anyone else recently?” she asked against his mouth.

Peeta shook his head. “It’s been a year…and it was only once.” He looked to her. “And Gale?

“Never. He hardly came over and I have never been to his apartment,” Katniss explained. “We mostly had dinner or went to shows that his company was sponsoring.”

Peeta tutted. “Shame.” His hands went to her waist. “Who wouldn’t love to be deep inside you?”

Her hand reached under the waistband of his bottoms, finding him hard. Her hand wrapped around him, stroking smoothly to get him ready. He hissed, his eyes closing and his hips following her motions.

“Please don’t make me come all over myself,” he begged. “I don’t think I’d forgive myself if I did.”

“We wouldn’t want that—” Katniss eagerly helped him pull his pants off, her eyes going immediately to his length, standing erect and the tip of it glistening. She missed his cock—or at least her pussy did, as it immediately pulsed at the sight of him. “—I don’t think either of us is going to last.”

His hand went between her thighs, pushing the cloth between aside to plunge two fingers into her sodden core.

“Damn, you’re wet.” His eyes traveled to meet hers as he slid the digits in and out of her before putting them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I remember.”

“I forgot how I loved the way you looked at me whenever we were together,” she told him, her hands hurriedly moving the last piece of cloth. “Like I was the only woman in the world.”

“To me, you are.”

Her eyes filled and she leaned down to give him another kiss before helping him remove his shirt.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she admonished quietly.

Katniss looked over her ex-husband, familiarizing herself with his body once more. His chest and shoulders were broader and his abdomen firmer. However, there were other things that were the same; the scar on his shoulder from falling at the school playground and the feel of his strong thighs under her.

“Why not?” he asked her, his hand going to the nape of her neck.

He gently drew her down until their foreheads met and she looked into those blue eyes, dark with hunger. Her heart skipped at the intensity of his gaze and she remembered all over again how easy it was to fall in love with Peeta.

“Because this will be harder to forget,” she told him.

Peeta’s hand went to her hip, guiding her over him.

“I don’t want to forget.”

Then, in one motion, he was inside her.

++++++

“Katniss.”

She looked up from behind the register to find Gale standing before her.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” she asked, rounding the counter. “I haven’t heard from you in…”

“Two months,” he replied sheepishly. “Trust me, you don’t forget when a woman walks out on you at a restaurant.”

Katniss crossed her arms. “You kind of deserved it.”

“May I take you out to dinner to apologize?” Gale looked genuinely sorry for his behavior. “I miss you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she countered.

“Give me a chance—unless you’re seeing someone else.”

Her mind wandered to that night…that perfect night with Peeta.

She had forgotten how perfectly he fit inside her. Peeta had been her first and she was his. When they were younger, he had jokingly told her that her insides were perfectly molded to his cock—any other man’s would never fit exactly right.

And, it was true.

He continued to prove his theory a few more times before she insisted that he leave. It wouldn’t do any good for Adeline to see her father and mother reuniting carnally all over the living room couch.

They were still close, but they understood that it had been once and once only.

Even though the sight of him left her soaked.

Or that, occasionally, if Peeta was close enough to her, he would brush his hand against Katniss’ sending her hormones into overdrive.

She shook herself from her thoughts and looked to the man in front of her.

“There’s no one else,” she told him.

“Tonight? I’ll pick you up after closing.” Katniss nodded and Gale leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“See you then.”

Gale walked out of the store, heading towards the Mercedes parked in the front.

Katniss stretched, feeling an ache in her body. Lately, she had felt off. The stress of Adeline getting ready to leave and unexpected sex with her ex had left her feeling out of sorts.

Yesterday, she nearly tore Luke’s head off for leaving his muddy sneakers by the front door after soccer practice.

There was a beep on her phone, and she looked to find a text from Adeline: ‘Mom, you heading to a Target or a drug store after work?’

She typed back, ‘Wasn’t planning to. Do you need anything?’

‘Some Tylenol and tampons.’

‘Sure babe. I’ll see you later.’

Adeline’s cycle was very similar to her own; it came strong, leaving her sometimes unable to even move.

Katniss added soup to her list of things to grab after closing the store.

It always made them feel better during their periods—

Which she did not have, even though she and Adeline were usually in sync.

Katniss turned from the counter where a calendar featuring men with puppies was—no red circle marking the arrival of her period. She took the calendar off its hook before looking at the previous month.

No red circle either.

Fuck.

Without fail, every graduation ended with her being pregnant with Peeta’s child.

FIN(?)

Really enjoyed writing this one, it would make a great four-parter. Thoughts?

[caterinawriting]

The Cost of a Legacy (8)

Summary : He sees her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, everything perfect. Well except the fact that they’re growing up during the revolutionary war. Their love will hit many hurdles and what the future has in store may not be what they planned.

Pairing : John Laurens x Reader

Words : 2,205

Authors note : So the start of this chapter is based around Lafayette, I can't speak French... So it'll be in English but imagine there speaking French. I also know nothing about how the French monarchy works so bare with me.

September 1776, France

One month before the engagement

“Next up is, ugh. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette.” He stood up making his way to the advisor’s office. “You know you think by now you'd stop putting your whole name. We know who you are and why you're here.” Lafayette scoffed, “Charles with a name like mine, it needs to be announced, my name is my father’s great name and his fathers. It would be disrespectful to my ancestors to not use it.”

Charles rolled his eyes and motioned for him to sit, “Lafayette, you know what I'm going to say, so why do you keep bothering?” Lafayette smirked, pulling out a couple of crumpled sheets, “Because this time I have recommendations, from great french generals saying I should help in the war effort.” Charles sighed, “The ‘American’ war effort, say it with me, AMERICAN.”

“I know, I know, but what those men are doing across the sea is unheard of. They're making history over there and I know I can help them.” The advisor took his recommendations and put them away in a cabinet, “I'll give this to the king to review, again. But as of right now the answer is still no, he says specifically you Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette are too valuable to your country.” He read off a sheet before handing it to Lafayette. “Maybe next time friend.” He motioned for him to leave.

“Charles you know we're not friends.” And with that Lafayette exited the palace, tearing up the king's writing and dumping it on the lawn. Rejected five times, five times Lafayette has written essays explaining his reasoning. Five times he’s spoken with stupid Charles, five times he’s had to wait knowing his request would be rejected. Why couldn't he just sail off to the colonies, oh maybe because the king seized his ship after he attempted to sail himself to America.

He finally came up to the road that led down to his home, where his wife Maire was waiting for him. The other path led down to a local pub, where all his high-class friends could waste themselves. Yes, right now that's what he needed a nice cold drink to distract him from his crushed goals. He ran down the path, busting into the pub, “Lafa-Lafayette! Bud! Guys, look, it's the great Marquis de Lafayette! Come over pal.” He chuckled making his way down to his friend, Jacques.

“Buddy, how did it go? Are you leaving me yet?” Jacques frowned before throwing down another beer, “No, the King still hasn't authorized me to go, who knows if he ever will.” Defeated, he ordered a beer for himself. Jacques patted his back trying to comfort his friend, “I’m sorry mate, I know you want to fight. But who knows maybe the sixth time's a charm? Let me tell you something funny I heard today, I was on my way to the bank and some peasants were complaining about the famine again! They started blaming-” Jacques continued his story, Lafayette nodded along not truly listening. Really just stuck on one thought, what if he just went? No permission, no waiting just to go, of course, he'd have to stow away on a trade ship that would take a couple of months to get him to his destination. Too long, he needed to get there now he's waited too long.

“Thank you, good sir, please do let me know if you know of any suitors with these qualities. Hello gentleman may I bother you for a moment?” Lafayette turned to see a short man, obviously not native to France. “What can we do for you friend?” Jacques responded, turning to the man, Lafayette rolled his eyes returning to his drink, only wanting to listen to himself, drink more beer. “Well I'm here on behalf of my employer, he's in search of a gentleman to wed his daughter. She is nineteen years old and beautiful, elegant, and educated, he seeks a wealthy and honorable husband for her. Are either of you interested or know anyone who fits these qualities?” What is happening? What man sends a servant to find his daughter a bride? “I’m single, where does this girl live?” Jacques chuckled, “Well that is the issue, my boss is from the colonies, the new United States. He's providing his own transport on his vessel and will pay for all expenses in the new country until the two are wed.” Jacques laughed, “Almost had me until you said Id have to move across the ocean, sorry pal were good-”

“This man you work for has his own vessel in France right now, ready to sail back to the states?” Lafayette asked the man, who nodded shocked at how interested the other man seemed now. “Yes it's all ready but anyone who does agree to this needs to be reviewed by me, just to make sure they're not lying about any of the requirements.” Lafayette smiled and took the man's hand and gave it a hard shake, “Sir I’m your candidate then, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette.” The man smiled pulling a pamphlet out of his satchel, “Well Monsieur Lafayette, thank you. Take this and please meet me here tomorrow with all that the sheet requires and if all goes well I'll have you on a ship to the United States by Friday!” They shook hands and said goodbye, the man leaving the pub.

“What just happened?” Jacques asked with shock all over his face. “My friend, I just got my ticket to the revolution.” Jacques did the only thing that came to his mind, he raised his hand and slapped his best friend. “Oh my, what was that for!?” Jacques grabbed his friend and pulled him out of the pub, “What is wrong with you? Are you really this desperate to fight that you're going to leave Marie for this?”

“I'm not leaving Maire, I have a plan.” Jacques laughed, “I don't think Marie wants to be a part of a harem.” Lafayette smacked his head, “No you idiot! I'm going to follow up with this man and agree to marry his boss's daughter, go to the colonies, and make a good impression on this girl and her father. And then I will enlist in the war, become a great officer and help win the war against the British, and then one day when I die I will be remembered by those I helped. Oh and after that, I'll just disappear back to France, to my loving wife and best friend.”

“I have zero words, except that you are insane.” Jacques turned away and began making his way home, “It'll work out, you'll see... Goodnight friend!” Jacques waved, not bothering to respond.

---

“Marquis! Marquis stop what is going on?” Maire confused followed her husband around their home as he packed his belongings. “It's happening Maire, it's really happening. I'm going to war!” His tone celebratory as he continued packing his wife right behind him, “The king approved of you? I thought he said you needed to stay?”

“No, he didn't.” Still packing, “Well why are you packing then? Marquis stop and talk to me.” He sighed continuing, “I don't have time to stop, I leave tonight.” Marie stopped hovering, “Husband, please. Talk to me, I don't understand Marquis please.” She begged to block his way, in front of his dreams. “I found a way to fight, there's a man who's going to help me get to the states. The king won’t let me go, so I'm improving myself. I need to go.” He stated going around her, he was going to leave tonight. “If the king said you can't then you won't, this could be treason! Marquis, you will not go.”

“My mind is made up, Marie you are my wife, you swore to support me when we wed. So support me and my choices.” Marie shook with anger, “You swore to be with me for the rest of our lives, so if you go I'm coming.” He sighed, here comes the truth, “You can't come.”

“Why? Why can't I come?” He sat down on their bed, “I need you to hear me before you speak again because this will sound terrible, and I understand if you don't agree with what I'm doing, but nothing can change my mind. The man who is helping me get to the colonies made a deal with me. He's looking for a groom for his daughter, and I volunteered, it's not what it seems though. I will not marry this girl or kiss her or anything that would break our bond. I'm doing this because it's my destiny to fight and I will do what it takes to complete it.” He looked up at his wife, who was as expected shocked.

After a couple of moments of silence, she spoke, “What if you at the end of the war want to marry her? Our marriage is only legal in France, you could remarry and never come back to me.” He shook his head and approached his wife, “No, I will come back to you, god is my witness that I Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de LaFayette will come back to you my wife Marie Adrienne Françoise de Noailles, Marquis de La Fayette.” She smiled hugging him. “My father will never forgive you.” He laughed, “I don't need his forgiveness all I ask is that while I'm gone you find it in your heart to forgive me.” She nodded, “When this war is over I want you to come back to me immediately okay?”

“Yes mam”

---

October 1776

After the engagement

Fiance? Has any woman ever been engaged to two men at the same time? Juliet- no she was married and engaged at the same time. Well then, (Y/n) was the first she knew of.

“I know princess I should have said something in my letter, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I have found you the best husband.” Still shocked she only nodded, still staring at her father confused, “She's just speechless, Monsieur Lafayette.” He nodded, “I'll just take her bags inside then.” Lafayette sensing tension grabbed her bags and ran into the home.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you to bed the journey must have been exhausting.” (Y/n) still shocked didn't move, her father sighed and carried her inside up to her old room and placed her in her bed, “I know it's a lot to take in, but I want you to talk to him and give him a chance. He's perfect for what this family needs right now, he's high class, rich, and well educated, he could get us back on top of New York and help fix the business. He's the key to fixing this family… Just give him a chance.” He tucked her in and kissed her forehead, leaving her alone in her room.

Give him a chance.

He's the key to fixing this family.

Give him a chance?

He's the key.

Give him a chance… What is she going to do?

---

“Bonjour Mademoiselle, did you sleep well?” Oh gosh, it wasn't a dream. She took a deep breath, time to be clear and brave. “Is my father home?’ He shook his head, “No he had early business to deal with, told me to tell you to get to know me.” He smiled cheekily, she forced a laugh. “Have you had breakfast yet?” He shook his head again, “No (Y/n) I was waiting for to wake so we could eat together.” She smiled heading to the dining room, where he pulled the chair out for her before sitting. “My father was right, you are a gentleman.”

“Well, I was raised in a high-class french family, if I didn't wait for you or pull your chair out my nana would die all over again.” She laughed, immediately covering her mouth, “I'm sorry, please forgive me that I was improper, to laugh at.” He laughed, “Don't worry (Y/n) I don't mind, I like those who appreciate my sense of humor.” She gave a small smile, realizing he was flirting with her, they sat in silence as the maid served them their food and retreated out the dining room.

“Lafayette, I have a secret to tell you. It will ruin all my father’s plans and yours but I can't let this drag longer than it needs to. I can’t marry you, I'm already engaged.” She quickly said, pulling out her necklace as proof.

“Oh thank King Louis this is perfect!” He proclaimed standing up and hugging the girl. “That is not the reaction I expected.” She said hugging him back. “I know, and I will explain. Is there somewhere we can go? Where no one will hear us?” She nodded, both of them standing, “Yes I have a spot, well used to but it should be fine.”

“Okay let's go and I’ll explain to you why I'm so happy you can't marry me!” He laughed, “And bring those finger sandwiches!”

“Okay!”

—-

Not edited

I’m dying of sleep exhaustion

Have a good night hope you enjoy

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Epilogue]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: teeth rotting fluff!

A/N:

My beta @annaloveloki is literally the best and that's the t

working on a honeymoon drabble rn, but other than that, it’s the end of this series. My babies <3 lookout for another series, coming out eventually

[Series Masterlist]  [Series Playlist]  [My Masterlist]

----

Growing up, summer was always one of your favorite times of the year. Waking up early to search for seashells with Steve and Bucky or sneaking ice cream into your rooms as you made pillow forts were some of your fondest childhood memories. Now, you spent the summers running the Kingdom, listening to the people, helping as many people as you could, and taking a few weeks off vacation in the South when possible. In the five years since you’ve come to the North, the kingdom has prospered. A good harvest led to a great harvest, and despite a few hiccups and arguments, Bucky was right, you were a great leader for the people. He also did an absolutely wonderful job, listening to the people to build more schools, lowering crime rates, and taxing the nobles more heavily than the lower classes. Some scholars theorized that the kingdom was in the beginning of a new golden age.

So today, like every first Monday of the month for the past few years, you sit on your throne, listening to every person who made the trek to ask for help or thank you. Some days were easy, such as the days where most residents thanked you for the new marketplace that brought jobs to their town. However, some days felt darker, like the day a mother begged for help for her dying son, help she didn’t have the funds to pay for back in her village. Not sparing a second thought, Bucky watched as you helped the boy into Dr. Cho’s arms. The boy miraculously lived, and in response, you had immediately put into place a new health policy in the kingdom. Tax revenues were split, and the extra funds made it possible for the lower class to have health services for a much lower rate, and in some cases free.

The particular woman who was speaking to you, was bringing up an argument between her and her neighbor. A petty fight, really, but you listened nonetheless, giving your opinion. Bucky was the one who answered the next inhabitant's problem.

Usually the kingdom didn’t give you too much trouble, it was mostly the advisors who defied you, never liking your ideas. Bucky, bless his heart, tended to shut them down pretty quickly, his warm voice turning into ice, the protective wolf in him lashing out. Such as the time you shot down an advisor’s idea, one that would only hurt the lower class. His anger exploded, criticizing Bucky when he tried to come to your defense. “Do you allow her to speak that way for you?” the advisor, one you truly didn’t care enough to even know his name had spoken to his king in a harsh way.

Bucky merely snarled back, “Yes, I do, this as well as in many other things, you’d be wise to remember that.” His voice was cold, the first words in his head being growled out at the man. You had placed your hand on top of Bucky’s calming him. You could practically see the steam rolling off his head, something you definitely teased him about later.

You had kept your voice calm, though the advisors that knew you better than that could hear the venom in your words. “Thank you for your concern, sir,” you emphasized his lower title, “but I do believe your King and Queen can handle the problems of the people, and I do not believe I asked for your opinion on this matter.” You quickly dismissed the rest of the meeting, before adding, “And sir, do remember, I am your Queen. You are not my equal, and you will address me as such.” Eyes wide he quickly bowed and rushed off before you could change your mind.

A small squeal from your right pulled you from your thoughts of the past, two small children rushed into the throne room, followed by two blurs of white and grey fur. You son made it to you first, scrambling to hide behind you just as you stood from the throne. You held him close, just out of reach from Aurora and Raine who yipped happily. Your daughter, however, jumped straight into Bucky’s arms, curling up into her clearly favorite parent.

“Brooklyn, what have we said about chasing your brother down the halls?” You chastised softly, still trying to calm the shaking boy wrapped around your leg.

“To plway in the garden instead,” the five-year-old responded dutifully. Bucky tucked her hair behind her ear, just as Natasha rushed in, cradling a small baby in her hands.

“Grant! Brooklyn! There you two are! You shouldn’t run away from me like that!” Brooklyn just buried herself deeper into her father’s protective arms, pouting. Natasha was most likely regretting telling Wanda it was alright to leave all three children in her care, so she could spend time with her new fiancé, the Head Chef, Vision.

“I’m sowwy auntie,” the little girl sniffled, looking up towards the two of you with tears already brimming her eyes. You knew it was just to gain your attention, so you simply did just that. You gently took the babe from Natasha’s arms, cradling the four-month-old into your chest as your son still buried his face into your long white gown.

Bucky sighed softly, gently prying his daughter’s face from his chest. “What do we say, little princess?” he encouraged, making sure she knew he wasn’t mad at her as both you and him gave her the attention she wanted.

Brooklyn sulked again but carefully pushed herself out of her father’s arms, standing in front of her twin brother. “I’m sowwy, bwutha.” She sniffled again, her tiara tilted vicariously in her hair, and Grant pouted as well. You always loved how they wore matching pouts and eyes to their father, as it reminded you of when you were a child. Brooklyn was a ball of energy, and many of her tutors said her main issue was how she could never sit still. You secretly encouraged it, knowing how much energy your future little queen would need. Grant was always the quieter one, reminding you of when Bucky first came back to you. Calculating, quiet, but eyes wide and always taking in new information. The twins knew each other perfectly, and with one sad ‘I’m sorry’ look from Brooklyn, Grant pushed forward and the two hugged each other. They curled up into each other, even when they were babies they always found a way to be close together. Two matching blue eyes looked up at you for approval, wondering silently if it was safe for them to go back to their games. You nodded, and both scrambled to the gardens to play, two adult wolves and one Natasha rushing after them.

You turned to the crowd, holding the baby closer just as she woke up from the noise. “If there aren’t any more life or death situations, I do think it is time to wrap up for today. Food will be served down the hall for anyone who did not bring their own, follow the guards if you have any trouble finding it.”

Bucky stepped closer to you, wrapping his arm around you. “And thank you all for coming,” he smiled warmly before turning his attention to you, pulling you into his arms. “And how is my little princess doing?” he coed at the babe in your arms, who simply squealed and squirmed in your arms.

“I’m doing fine, thanks for asking,” you teased, grinning up at him.

“Ha, ha, very funny, but you are my Queen, this little cutie is my little princess!” he went back to cooing at the babe, thoroughly enjoying her little shrieks of enjoyment. “My beautiful Celeste,” he kissed her nose, grinning at her responding wiggle, “And My Northern Star,” he whispered before kissing you decisively on the lips. Tender lips against yours, and not a care in the world as you held your baby close, and Bucky held you even closer.

Slowly pulling away as Celeste squirmed for attention, you both couldn’t stop the smiles on your faces.  A sudden spark in your mind made you smile even brighter. “Did you hear what Steve and Peggy are naming their child?” The two had gotten married not two years after your own marriage, and now (finally) were expecting their first child together.

“I suppose you’re bringing that up since you’re going to tell me, right?” He teased you back, his hands pressed against your hips, rubbing gentle circles into the fabric of your dress.

You nodded, biting back a smile, “Steve joked and said maybe they should name the baby James since you never have used the name anyway,” you paused, giggling as you saw Bucky’s face scrunch up, positively offended. “But, instead they wanted to name their child after Sam, since he says you stole his close friend and captain of the guard from him.”

Bucky gave you a small gasp, feigning a surprised look, ever the drama queen. “Me? Never!” He dropped the act in favor of smiling again. “Besides, he was the one who sent Sam in the first place, not my fault we became friends.” He shrugged, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You absolute dorks,” you kissed his nose playfully.

“But I’m your dork, y/n/n,” he whispered softly.

You nodded solemnly, like it was a big burden to bare. “That you are. Now, let’s go, My Love, we still have to pack for our trip to the beach house in the South.” You tried tugging yourself from his arms, but with a baby in your arms it was pretty hard to do that.

“I know, I know, our yearly vacation. Maybe this time we can give Brooklyn and Grant a baby brother?” he teased, smirking at the implications despite the obvious joke.

“Oh no, mister, that’s how last year’s conversation started. I just had Celeste, I am not doing that again so soon.” You gave him a look and he simply chuckled, pulling you closer as the two of you walked side by side through the halls.

“I’m kidding, My Love. Besides, we can have plenty of practice,” you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you nuzzled closer into his warm embrace.

“I love you even more, My Queen.” He kissed your head lightly and you realized how truly at peace you were. No more waiting, no more war. Simply two people in utterly in love, surrounded by their ever-growing family, having the time of your lives. Baby steps had become a literal phrase as the children grew up, and everything felt right in the world. Peaceful, content, full of happiness, your children’s laughter in the distance. You finally did it. The Northern Castle was finally a home again.

---

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[w-h-4-t]

Random DAI Drabble: She’s Doing What?...Again?

Pairing: Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet

All I’m gon say is I had fun writing my idiot OC Qunari Elf Inquisitor into a silly situation.  

Headcannon: Josephine and Leliana are the older sisters that torment their little brother Cullen.

I saw the Andrastini video of Like a Prayer and I just couldn’t help myself. It’s the best shit I’ve seen all month. 

The Drabbles also live here, on A03

****

The Inquisitor was not normal. Everyone had been given time to acclimatize to her behavior; Sera number 2 as people often called her. There were obvious ways in which they differed, of course. First of all, the Inquisitor wasn’t as disrespectful. Secondly, Harel could do something Sera wished she could, but couldn’t.

The Advisors, called to a War Meeting once again, filed into the broken hallway, dodging the cold breeze that filtered through the crumbling wall. Josephine and Leliana stood closely together, discussing some matter of politics or shared task.

Cullen, on the other hand, remained as quiet as usual, his hand passing nervously over his hair to ensure the curls were at maximum stylishness. A dollop of pomade would continue to be the theory he told everyone. A smirk lit the normally serious Commanders face. None shall know his hairstyling secrets. 

And from its place on his head, Cullen’s hand flew down to his sword pommel as a loud thump came from the War Room. Leliana didn’t let his jumpiness slip.

 “Well, I am certainly glad we have a brave knight here to slay the dreaded door,” she quipped, causing Josephine to hide a giggle beneath her hand.

 Much like a Mabari’s ears flatten at being scolded, so too did Cullen’s expression turn. He began sputtering, trying to get the attention off of him but alas, he failed.

 “Oh, brave knight,” Josephine started, trying her best not to let the laughter overcome her, “M-may I gift upon you, a favor, should you slay the table destroying our precious farmla-” she had withdrawn a handkerchief from her pocket, only to falter her speech midway, finally doubling over slightly in laughter, using the cloth to suppress her giggles.

 “You two are...tch.” the Commander tuts, his face sullen as he’s lovingly picked on by the two Advisors.

 Another thump comes from the War Room. 

 Cullen’s dour expression turns, lighting up in wary curiosity, “I’m not just hearing things? Am I?” he says, his brows furrowing, “There’s something going on in there,” he moves to draw his sword, “The Inquisitor could be in trouble.”

Leliana is as quick as her sharp eyes are perceptive, grabbing Cullen’s hand before it scrapes against its scabbard, “There is no need,” she says with a playful smile, “Our Inquisitor is more than fine.”

 The three stand outside the War Room as another thump comes from within, followed by two more and a string of Elvhen curses.

 “Perfectly fine,” Leliana repeats, her hand moving from the Commanders to press lightly against the door.

 Josephine, in all her inquisitive splendor, couldn’t help but be dreadfully curious as to what was happening in the War Room, something Leliana had yet to speak of. 

 Harel was not the secretive type, her love was an open book and Josephine, a prolific reader. Even so, everyone had the right to bear their little unspoken things, regardless of how painfully interesting they may be. 

 And as data collection was one of her more minor duties, Josephine still felt the urge to know things pressing her with a near pummeling force.

 “Leli,” Josephine says, leaning into the Spymaster, “What is she doing?”

 Instead of speaking, Leliana puts a finger up to her lips, her blue eyes alight with mischief, a memory of a younger, impish Orlesian came blasting through the cold shell of the current Spymaster.

 From behind the pair, the slight shuffle of armor makes itself known, causing both ladies to turn in synchronicity to give an incredulous look to the Commander. He stares like a pup, eyes big with interest as he tries his best to lessen the clinking metal.

 Leliana silently beckons him forward, her eyes wide in exasperation as he takes a few steps forward, a few loud steps. He huddles in closely, far closer than he’s ever been to the ladies and focuses his attention to the seam of the door as Leliana pushes it open.

  Through the small crack, they can all see Harel, in the space the Advisors normally stood, spinning like an out-of-control top. The window was open and the faintest sounds of music from the tavern could be heard. The Qunari elf leapt around, a thump following her landing as she danced in reckless abandon. Her style was an odd combination of lustful Rivaini swaying and formless, laughable Ferelden jigs. 

 Cullen sputtered, causing a gloved hand and a tawny hand to clap over his mouth in alarm. 

 Harel remained unperturbed as she hopped around the War Room like a Halla in heat, her hips moving, arms flailing, eyes closed, lips parted singing softly. Josephine’s eyes go wide as the horned woman bends forward, lashing her braid in a full circle before her hips follow the movement. 

 Maker’s bloody breath.

 Sweat begins to shine on her grey skin, her forehead slick and white hair, damp. She gets up on her tiptoes before completing yet another few spins, bending forward to the area where Josephine would be, her hand outstretched.

“Would you have this dance, My Lady?” Harel whispers before her face scrunches in confusion, “Wait no, will you dance with me? Would you have to dance? Fuckin’ common tongue.” 

 And at once, to everyone’s surprise, she begins a ballroom dance, her moves matching the beat of the tavern music as she holds her invisible dance partner. She sweeps around the 'ballroom' and Cullen tries, he really tries, not to laugh. 

 It’s helped by the fact there were still two hands over his mouth.  

 “Dearest Josephine, you are a splendid dancer,” the Qunari elf speaks into the air, “Ah yes, Wycome indeed robbed me of fuckin’ class but I can still move!”

 There’s a poorly hidden smile on Josephine’s face as she watches Harel spin around, her cheeks alight with a flush as she tried to suppress a small laugh. What a funny little soul her Herald was. 

 He’s intrigued, the Honnleath man, as he leans in to try and see better.

 This causes the door to open wide, a resounding creak echoing through the War Room. Not that anyone heard the squeaking hinges over the sound of Leliana and Josephine groaning and chastising Cullen. 

 All the lustrous grey faded from Harel’s skin as she let her arms drop at once; her skin ashen in embarrassment. 

“S-shanedan, my Antaam,” she sputters, trying to change the subject, “That means hi and body like a group of warriors…” she stands straight, moving quickly from her place at the War Table, “I mean, we have a Ben-Hassrath and an Ashkaari but no one needs…”

 Harel sighs as she looks away, green eyes stuck to the floor as the Advisors walk in, “How much did you see?”

 “Oh,” Josephine says with a smile, walking forward quickly, her hand coming up to brush against Harel’s shoulder, “We only just arrived.”

 “She’s lying.” Leliana said mid-cough, “We saw everything,” again poorly disguised behind a few coughs, “Who said that?” she finishes, feigning ignorance as she walks towards her usual spot. 

 Harel’s face immediately scrunches up in embarrassment, her face for once, another colour, reddening as much as her grey skin would allow. 

 “Quite a skill you've got there, Inquisitor,” Cullen mutters as he walks past her, patting her shoulder before trundling off to his spot.

 “Will you shut your fuck? Hmmmm????” Harel retorts, her eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line.

 “Now Harel, my love, my darling little Halla,” Josephine speak just a little too sweetly, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with dancing alone,” her hand is still light in its touch, avoiding the droplets of sweat, “It is a perfectly acceptable means of expressing oneself, something you have done with… an...enviable...amount of energy.”

 Harel’s ears flatten as her mood sours just a little, “Love the way you took a pause there, Josie,” the Qunari elf crosses her arms, ignoring the music from the window, “Real show of support you are.”

 Josephine pulls the Inquisitor’s shoulder just a little, beckoning her to walk in tandem. There’s a small pout from the Antivan which shakes Harel’s bad mood just a little.

 “If you wanted to dance with me, you could always ask,” she brings up a tawny hand to pinch Harel’s cheek, “I am certainly agreeable to it. Remember Halamshiral?” the pinch turns into a soft patting, “I would have no qualms.”

 The embarrassed elf thinks, her eyes darting all over the War Room before she steps away from Josephine, spinning away before she stops, wobbling slightly, her hand outstretched, “Dance with me, Lady Montilyet?”

 A small laugh escapes Josephine as she slips her hand into Harel’s; the Qunari elf immediately presses their bodies together far closer than a waltz or a public event would allow.

 “I suppose the reports can wait,” Cullen says quietly to Leliana as he watches the pair spin around the War Room, his eyes flicking to the map,” Did you know Lake Calenhad looks like a bunny?”

 The Spymaster gives a hum of approval as she watches Harel sloppily and quickly dance with the Ambassador, bracing her legs to the ground before lifting her up in one quick motion. Harel spins her, carefully, laughing the whole time while Josephine latched onto the odd half-breed, ignoring the sweat pouring off the Inquisitor. 

 “This would make it the fifth time I’ve caught her doing this,” Leliana whispers to Cullen as Josephine begs to be put down, “You’d think by now she’d choose somewhere other than the War Room to do this.”

 The Advisors watch as Josephine is placed down with care, encircled in Harel’s arms as she tries to regain her balance, listing to the side ever so slightly; her hair in a right mess. 

 “I don’t know,” Cullen starts, a smile on his face, “I think this room could benefit from a little Rivani dancing.”

 Leliana doesn’t respond at first, a small huff of laughter escaping from beneath her hood. She steps to the side, elbowing Cullen a little, drawing a small exclamation from the Commander that’s drowned under Josephine’s and Harel’s joyous banter.

 “Don’t be a lecher.”

[authorlmfletcher]

Miraculous Valentine’s Day: Day 14

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13490619/14/Love-Bug-A-Series-of-Miraculous-Love-Stories

Valentine’s Day: Eternal Soulmates

Find this, and all the valentine’s day stories from @epcot97​, @livrever​, and I on Ao3 and FFnet.

                                  ________________________________

Eternal soulmates. It is a strange idea to think that your life is somehow intertwined with someone else's in such a way that you are destined to be together for eternity. Most people dismiss the concepts of soulmates as a fairy tale. Or they wash it down to the general idea of romantic love. Which is exactly what Adrien Agreste thought too. At least until he discovered exactly what eternal soulmates meant. Because he had one.

At the age of 14, Adrien had spent most of his life in the relative captivity of his home with a cold, stern father. Confined within the four walls of his room, he spent hours in front of screens trying to connect somehow with the real world. The oversized windows that lined an entire wall of his bedroom gave him a glimpse at the world outside, but cast long bar-like shadows across the floor in a silent reminder that this was his cage.

It was a ring that offered him the freedom he dreamt of - letting him escape through one of those windows and out onto the rooftops of Paris. Changing his appearance to one of a black cat, the power within the ring hid his identity, giving him the opportunity to be who he wanted without punishment. Freedom was exhilarating. He would never take that gift for granted.

When the girl in the red suit crashed into him unexpectedly, tangling them both together upside down, he met her eyes with excited trepidation. It wasn't an instant soul-shattering explosive moment when they first met - that came later - but as he stared into the depths of her blue eyes rimmed in a red mask, there was an overwhelming sense that he knew her.

Shrugging it off, he leapt off to save the day, encouraging his nervous new partner while revelling in the wonder of the world. He hated to go home to his gilded cage, locked behind windows, but his father would be furious if he discovered the truth. At least now, his prison had a door.

He dreamt that night of running. The sounds of his footsteps pounding against cement mingled with the heaviness of his breathing. He had no idea where he was running to, only that he was - buildings rushing by as he pushed forward. A distant voice called to him, his name echoing off the walls.

And then there she was: the girl in the mask. She stood alone, nervously hunched over herself in anxiety of failure. Her eyes met his in desperation, begging for him to help her but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, he knew who she was - a ridiculous idea since his life had been so carefully guarded that he basically knew no one.

The taste of freedom made him desperate for more, urging him to flee the house as himself and not just as his alter-ego. Against his father’s wishes, he escaped through the doors and raced to school, hoping to find the freedom that he desired. Every experience was new and overwhelming and exciting - surrounded by other teenagers and chaos. Desire for friendship led to well-intentioned mistakes and a girl in his class who responded in anger, leaving him confused.

Duty called, pulling him from the new room of potential friends, sending him jumping into the fray against giant men of stone. Finally, he stood side by side with his spotted partner in defiance against the villain, encouraging her to believe in herself. Deju-vu rattled his thoughts for the briefest of moments while her eyes turned from worried to determined and her stance grew in confidence at his words.

It was then, watching her in awe as she challenged their opponent with utter tenacity, her yo-yo whirling in well-controlled movements, that Adrien remembered. A thousand lifetimes flashed through his memories in a single moment, leaving him speechless and gaping at the woman in red. A woman who lived a thousand lifetimes beside him, fates tangled together for eternity. His lady.

Whoever she was behind that mask, he knew that he loved her.

“So she doesn’t remember?” Adrien asked, head spinning with too much, too fast. How does one process the reality of reincarnation and having lived before?  His advisor was a small black cat-like creature named Plagg - an immortal being known as a kwami who granted him the ring’s power of freedom. Plagg embodied the very essence of destruction and bad luck, addicted to the foul-tasting flavour of camembert, and typically aversed to offering much in the way of advice. But today, the cat looked concerned, hovering closeby with his tiny ears plastered against his head.

“No,” Plagg admitted, his words spoken with care.

“ Will she remember?” Adrien couldn’t really understand what exactly was happening. According to Plagg, the black cat and ladybug had been two halves of a whole since the beginning of man. Their lives were fused together with magic, their souls connected in each rebirth of themselves.

While their lives didn’t have to be connected by romance, it usually was. In every case, the black cat remembered while the ladybug didn’t. He was destined to remind her. And when life called its end, it was his life that vanished first to leave her behind and alone until she too passed on - the cycle to return again in the next lifetime.

The lives he’d lived before felt both vivid and hidden behind a pane of obscuring glass. He could only remember pieces, but enough to know it was true. War and peace, riches and poverty, happiness and sorrow. They ran the gamut and left his reality dizzy.

He would die first. The thought should have haunted him, but all he could think about was her. His Ladybug.

“How do I remind her?” he whispered, the vision of her eyes driving his soul to madness.

Plagg explained that this part of the journey was complicated. Each incarnation had a different experience than the past but mostly a connection together in some way, getting to know each other both in and out of the masks.

“And can you tell me who she is?”

Plagg sighed in response.

“No.”

The pull of destiny on his soul turned what had promised him freedom to a whole new adventure. Ladybug filled his thoughts and his dreams. Every moment that he could be with her and learn all about her made his heart sing. He loved her - each and every thing about her. When she laughed, he felt himself melt with joy. When she cried, his heart twisted in agony.

He threw himself in harm's way to keep her safe, taking the hits that were meant to hurt her. Made jokes to make her smile. Relished in her disapproving eye rolls.

He found himself hoping for the villain to attack more often so he could press forward in his attempts to woo her. When she whispered that she loved someone else, he yearned for more but gave her space. Wishing he could tell her of the lives they'd lived together, he waited, trying to respect her wishes and enjoy her companionship as a friend without letting his heart break in two.

As school, he daydreamed of who she could be behind the mask.

Sometimes, he thought he knew who she was -  that girl who had been so mad on the first day of school. He replayed the memory of their meeting in the rain as he apologized for the misunderstanding. It wasn't the same knowing as the first time he had met Ladybug, but when thunder cracked and their hands touched, he had hoped that maybe she was the one. Friendship blossomed between them.

As always, Plagg would caution wisdom in the search because finding out identities before destiny's plan would spell disaster for them both. So Adrien waited, dreaming of the lives of their past.

But as the months grew, he felt a knot in the base of his stomach that just won’t go away. Maybe this time around was when they would just be friends. He didn’t want to believe it - the moments of happiness that she could reveal of her life outside the mask cutting deep into his heart.

“We belong together, my lady,” he pleaded, begging her to listen to him, but she would shake her head with a soft smile and dismiss the thought.

He tried to forget, to accept what it was, but he couldn’t. Memories sank too deep to let it fully go. He tried to move on, to find some level of contentment with someone else, but he couldn’t. His heart belonged to her and her alone.

Time flew past, growing up together within their suits as partners- him always yearning for more and her always avoiding it.

When her happiness turned to heartbreak, it took every ounce of effort not to unleash the black cat's fury on the one who made her cry on his shoulder in deep racking sobs.

That night, something changed within her. Her head would rest on his shoulder a moment longer. Her eyes would linger for a split second more. Her eye rolls less dramatic. Change moved slowly, but he could wait.

As her broken heart knit itself together, he tried to weave himself into it with gentle care and compassion of adulthood instead of the brash dramatics of youth.

At the age of 20, Adrien Agreste had earned his freedom both in and out of the suit, clawing a life for himself away from the overbearing control of his father. Age had brought him wisdom and a heart that loved without ceasing.

Ladybug deserved the best he could be, even if it meant he could be nothing more than her rock to lean on. Because love does that - gives without expecting. But hope kept his heart beating.

They had been superheroes together for so long they were familiar and comfortable with each other's touch. Which is why he jumped at her unexpectedly sharp intake of breath as he touched her arm one day, a fiery burn creeping its way across her masked cheeks without explanation.

He guarded the questions he desperately wanted to know her answers to, waiting with a lifetime of patience.

When, underneath the moonlight, she stepped quivering into his waiting embrace to gaze at him with those beautiful eyes, his hope exploded. Her gloves trailed lines down his cheeks as she gaped with eyes that seemed to be truly seeing for the first time.

"I know you," she whispered, searching for answers.

"I love you," his only response before his lips fell to hers in soft warmth.

The world exploded in that single moment, fire and wind and ice wrapped up into one as their souls collided in perfect harmony. The memories he had only seen flashes of tore through the veil, pieces falling in place as they both remembered everything and every life.  

Pulling apart, they simply stared deep into each other's souls as they wove themselves together. Masks vanished in a rainbow of colour, leaving their faces as bare as their souls.

Marinette. The girl under the umbrella in the rain. His friend who had always loved him, too. It made so much sense now that he understood.

"Adrien." His name spoken in complete and utter love shook him to his core. This was how it was meant to be. Together forever.

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her again.

[morningfears]

black coffee [prologue]

Rating: PG-13

Summary: neither calum nor isabelle wanted to be a teacher's assistant. more work, less pay, and no power; not the grad school experience either were hoping to have. but they're roped into teaching intro to public speaking and are handed all the responsibilities that go along with it. students, grades, classes, faculty meetings; but at least they have each other, right?

Word Count: 2.2k

“No.”

Dr. Bennett blinks, momentarily surprised by Isabelle’s blunt refusal, before he tries to hide his smile as he leans back in his chair and places his full attention on the girl in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at her, amused by the seeming lack of grace in her answer, and waits as she shakes her head. He watches her fidget with her pen, watches her take a deep breath and attempt to gather her thoughts, before she lifts her head and meets his gaze.

“Sorry,” Isabelle adds, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment at her outburst. “I just, I thought I made it clear when I came in that I didn’t want to teach,” she explains as she glances down at the bright green notebook on her lap. She stares at the cover, still unopened, before she lifts her head once more. “I haven’t fully decided if I want to get my Ph.D. and while I appreciate the offer, I like my current assistantship. I really enjoy planning and coordinating events, that’s more in line with what I want to do after graduation. I mean, I’m seriously considering going into nonprofit work instead of sticking with academia. It just seems like I’d be taking on a lot for something I’m not really sure of and I’m just wondering what I get out of teaching, you know?”

Dr. Bennett did know this, the entire department knows of their most recent cohort’s lack of a desire to teach, but they’d all been hoping that the first year in the program would change their minds. However, judging by the look of despair on Isabelle’s face and the panic in her words, that hadn’t been the case at all. She seems even more sure of her unwillingness to teach now than she had been at orientation in August but he’d drawn the short straw and had been tasked with getting her agreement so he sighs and leans forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

“There’s a lot that you can do with teaching experience,” Dr. Bennett informs her with a slight shrug. “You’re wanting to do nonprofit work, right?” When Isabelle nods, he copies the action and continues, “Having that experience can help you program educational experiences. It can help you create curriculum for whatever field you go into to help educate the people you serve. Even if academia isn’t where you see yourself remaining, the experience can be useful in your future and it looks good on a resume. Having someone with your previous internships, your current assistantship, and then a year of teaching experience would be a dream. You’d be overqualified for pretty much any position you wanted.”

“Plus, if you teach and you like it, you don’t have to stay in higher ed. You can teach high school with a masters degree,” Abbey, Dr. Bennett’s advisee and Isabelle’s best friend in her cohort, tosses out. “You get a teaching certificate and you can teach speech or debate, maybe even rhetoric if the school is nice enough to have a rhetoric course. That’s what I’m thinking about doing.”

Isabelle bites her lip to keep from rolling her eyes at Abbey’s suggestion. She loves Abbey, she really does, but their situations are vastly different. Abbey had come in funded through the department and hadn’t had much of a choice in whether or not she would be teaching. For her, it was either accept the teaching position or pay for her second year out of pocket. Isabelle, however, has options. 

The department didn’t want her when she came in. She’d begged them to consider her for at least a desk job but they’d apologized and instructed her to look elsewhere. They needed the funding for the Ph.D. students they had so she sent resume after resume to every open position she could find. She’d been offered several different assistantships around campus (one of which came without an interview because they liked her resume that much, they’d even emailed her earlier in the week to see if she’d made a decision about her second year yet), each of which was better suited to her future career goals than teaching so she wasn’t exactly bothered by the department’s focus on their Ph.D. students. Now, however, with so many of their Ph.D. students leaving and not enough faculty members to cover the intro courses, they’re getting desperate.

Her cohort (the students that came in with her in September) only had seven members, four masters students and three Ph.D. students. Each of the Ph.D. students has already agreed to teach classes the next semester (not like they had any choice if they wanted to be funded), one of the masters students has already agreed (Abbey also didn’t have much choice), another of the masters students wasn’t even considered because she raised so much hell about keeping her current assistantship (she’s funded through the department but her boss had even gone so far as to threaten to resign if they took her from him); that just leaves Isabelle and Calum, the only two not currently funded through the department.

She knows that Calum is currently across the hall getting the same offer from Dr. White and she knows that he’s attempting to do the same delicate dance that she is. He’s made it very clear that he’s not interested, either, and she understands why they’re trying so hard but she wishes they’d quit. She hates being put on the spot like this and she’s desperate for a way out of Dr. Bennett’s office. But she knows that she needs to stand her ground if she wants to avoid being put in front of a classroom full of bored freshmen so she wracks her brain for a way to respond.

“Do I still have to talk to Dr. Adams about this?” Isabelle finally asks as she notices Dr. Bennett and Abbey staring at her, waiting for her response. “To officially accept or decline?”

“Yes,” Dr. Bennett nods, “she’s still the interim department chair so she makes the official teaching decisions. She’s also your advisor so the classes we added to your schedule still need to be run by her. You also need to finalize your plan of study so I’d set up an appointment with her as soon as possible. She’ll be back in the office after spring break.”

Isabelle frowns at this before she releases a quiet sigh and nods. She doesn’t want to wait, she wants to get this over and done with, but she knows that this is the only way her declination will be accepted. “I’ll email her when I get home,” Isabelle promises as she grabs her backpack and stands from her chair. “Thank you for the help, Dr. Bennett. I’ll work on the abstract for my conference submission and email it to you when I finish.”

“No problem,” Dr. Bennett nods, a smile on his face. “I look forward to reading it. And I’m sorry that we haven’t been more proactive in talking to you about teaching but I’d appreciate it if you considered it. Even if you don’t go on to get your Ph.D. or stick with academia, I think you would make a fantastic teacher and that it would be beneficial for you.”

Isabelle doesn’t want to but she knows that she’s going to end up spending the next week and a half thinking about it. She knows that she’s going to agonize over this decision and annoy the living hell out of everyone in her life until her meeting with Dr. Adams. So, she nods. “I will,” she promises as she fishes her keys out of the pocket of her backpack, “I’ll see you in class, Dr. Bennett.”

Isabelle doesn’t look back as she exits Dr. Bennett’s office, doesn’t slow down until she’s left the second floor of the building, and only pauses on the first when she hears Calum call her name. She waits long enough for Calum to catch up with her and sighs when he falls into step beside her. The pair are quiet for a moment, each mulling over their respective meetings, before Calum glances over at her.

“Bennett tell you that you’re on the shortlist for teaching next year?” Calum asks as he opens the door for her.

“Yep,” she nods as she shoves her phone into her pocket. “Told me that I’d need to be in the teaching competency class and when I asked why, he looked confused and then embarrassed. It took him a minute to realize no one had seriously mentioned anything about it until that moment. It’s ironic to me that the communication department is the worst at communicating.”

“Why the fuck did we think getting our masters was a good idea?” he asks as he steps behind the building and pulls his cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans. “This whole process has been a fucking nightmare.”

Isabelle huffs an unamused laugh as she leans against the side of the building. “You’re telling me,” she sighs as she shakes her head when Calum offers her the pack. “I’m here because I had no fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life. Honestly, though, living with my mom while I figured it out seems like a better idea than this at this point. At least she tells me what she wants.”

Calum laughs at this before he shakes his head and frowns. “I still have no idea what I’m doing for classes next semester. Theory’s the only thing they’re offering that we haven’t taken,” he sighs before he takes a drag off his cigarette, “and it’s not even general theory, it’s rhetoric.”

“With Dr. Deets,” Isabelle reminds him, laughing when he grimaces. “Bennett told me I’m gonna have to go ahead and start my thesis hours, even though I don’t feel ready to. I’m taking a class out of department but I’m thinking about switching it to that qualitative methods course they’re offering in anthropology. I need it more than I need some fucking seminar that deals exclusively in busy work.”

“Let me know if you can take that one and I might join you,” Calum sighs as he kneels down to stub out his cigarette before he drops the butt in the garbage can. “I’m going qualitative for my thesis, too. Miles on your committee?”

“Yeah,” Isabelle nods, “I have the golden trio. Miles, Bennett, and Adams. How about you?”

“That’s looking like mine,” he nods as he runs his hand through his hair. “If I can ever getting a meeting with Adams to officially request her.”

“She’s supposed to be back in her office after spring break,” Isabelle informs him. “So, give it a month and maybe she’ll have a minute for you. D’you hear that she told Laura to fuck off, that she didn’t have time for her bullshit when she stopped to ask a question about her thesis?”

Calum frowns at this and shakes his head. “No,” he sighs, “but that doesn’t surprise me. Now that Watson’s leaving, do you think she’s gonna be the official chair?”

“Probably,” Isabelle sighs as she tugs her phone from her pocket. “I heard they haven’t had a lot of interest. Two interviews and neither were super impressive.”

“We’re fucked,” Calum groans and Isabelle nods. Calum watches as Isabelle checks her notifications and frowns when she holds the device up to him. He stares at the department group chat, the one that he never checks, and laughs at the message Abbey had just sent.

A picture of himself and Isabelle standing behind the building, deep in conversation, greets him along with the message, ’@Isabelle, @Calum; you guys plotting to burn down down the building down there?’

‘Thinking about it,’ Isabelle sends back quickly. ‘Save anything from the TA office that might be important to you.’

“I’m gonna go get some bubble tea and calm the fuck down,” Isabelle sighs as she locks her phone and shoves the device back into her pocket. “I might even run by the liquor store. Who knows, honestly?”

“Still not a coffee person?” Calum asks as he follows her toward the parking lot across from the building. “Not gonna go get a black coffee and drown your sorrows like some shitty drama?”

“I like to enjoy my caffeine, thanks,” Isabelle laughs. “Black coffee just seems like a punishment.”

“When they break us both down and get us to agree to teach, I’ll bring you a black coffee after your first class. You’ll need it.”

Isabelle grins at Calum’s promise and shakes her head. “I appreciate it, Cal,” she laughs. “But I don’t think I’ll be teaching. I want to keep my current assistantship. But if you end up teaching, I’ll bring you that black coffee.”

“You know, even if we don’t want to teach, I feel like we’ll both end up in front of a bunch of freshmen next semester.”

“I hate to say this,” Isabelle sighs, “but I feel like you’re right."

Author’s Note: Grad school is weird. It’s a different planet, tbh. Anyway, here’s the prologue for TA!Calum. Camp counselor!Calum is coming. I’m too stoked about both, sorry.

[fromthefriars]

The Work of God

I never tire of hearing a person’s testimony.  When I listen to people speak about how they encountered God--in a near death experience, a drug addiction, or even time in prison--I am reminded of how passionate God is in pursing us without any restrictions.  Even if the testimony is relatively calm and seemingly uneventful, I am reminded of how softly God is whispering to us through the events of our life.  Despite the differences in details, every testimony bears witness to a fundamental truth:  we are in need of God’s revelation.

In my ministry of spiritual direction, the first question I always ask a new directee is, “What happened to you?”  What I am essentially asking them is, “What has God done in your life that has created in you this desire for spiritual direction?” The reason I ask this question is simple:  we could not have taken this step if God was not first inspiring us to move in a particular direction.  In other words, our desire for spiritual direction, a vocation, or simply the desire for holiness is not ours.  We are merely responding to God’s work in us.  

When I was in college, I was fortunate to have an academic advisor who appeared more interested in my future than I was.  At the beginning of every semester, we would meet in his office for what felt more like a pep rally than an academic discussion. “Ok,” he would say to me, as his eyes widened.  “This semester you need to take more journalism classes than creative writing… Here is a list of possible internships you should apply for…Have you considered accepting the job of editor-in-chief of the college newspaper like I recommended?” The more excited he got and the more suggestions he made, the more overwhelmed I began to feel.  Noticing the sudden change in my disposition he attempted to encourage me by reinforcing his motives.  “I wouldn’t be pushing you if I didn’t think your writing had potential,” he said, as he smiled and patted me on the shoulder.  

Five years prior, I would have done anything to have someone excited and enthused about my writing like my academic advisor was.  It was writing, I believe, that helped me navigate through those difficult and turbulent years of adolescence.  Through writing I was discovering, not only who I was, but also where my place was in the world.  When the time arrived to consider a career path, writing seemed like a natural fit.  However, in my early years of college, something was beginning to change, or rather, I was beginning to change.  

During my junior year, I scheduled an appointment with my academic advisor to inform him about a different path that God was revealing to me. As I entered his office, Dr. Baker was his usual excited and enthusiastic self.  

“I was thinking,” he said with a huge smile, “You need to start trying to get some of your essays published.  Graduation is less than two years away and it would be great to have some published writing to put on your resume.”  

“Dr. Baker,” I interrupted.  “I think I’m going to be a Franciscan…and a priest.”

He sat down, removed his glasses and stared at me with a confused look on this face.  

After a few moments of silence, he finally responded, “A what?”

“I feel like God is calling me to work with the poor and live as a Franciscan priest,” I said, afraid to look him in the eye.  “Maybe one day I will be a writer, but right now I believe I have to respond to God’s call first.”

He put his glasses on and sat back in his chair.  

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, “I’m shocked,” followed by another long pause.  “I think you are making a great mistake.  You are wasting your mind and your talent as a writer.”  And then he said it,  “I’m really disappointed in you.”  

His words stung me.  The one person who believed in me was telling me I was wasting my life and was disappointed in me.  I left his office feeling depressed and confused and spent the next few hours walking around town wondering if he was right.  As I returned to my apartment that night, I spent an hour in prayer kneeling before a crucifix, desperately begging God for light.  Even though I didn’t hear any voices or have any visions, I finished that time of prayer confident that this “career change” must be from God, because I could not have chosen this myself.

I spent my senior year of college living more like a monk than a college student.  Despite a full academic schedule, I attended daily Mass, spent an hour in prayer each day, and began fasting once a week.  My free time was devoted entirely to pursuing my vocation as a Franciscan.  Occasionally, a tint of sadness would envelop me as I thought about the writing career I was leaving behind.  However, with each passing day, the wonder and surprise that ensued from following Jesus left me confident that I was doing God’s will.    

***

A few months ago, I was having lunch with my best friend from college.  David, though not overly religious, was a loyal and faithful friend who watched these changes occur in me firsthand.  David was telling me about a conversation he had with a few of our old friends and how when my name came up one of them kept saying, “I still don’t understand what happened to him.  We all thought he was going to be a writer!”  Laughing, David said to them, “God is what happened to him.”  Confused by David’s response, my friends asked him what he meant. “Look,” David replied, “We all know how much he loved writing.  The only logical explanation is that something more powerful came into his life.”    

A big smile covered my face.  “You’re right,” I said to David, “Thank you for understanding.”            

It has been almost twenty years since I told Dr. Baker that I was placing my writing career on hold and pursing my vocation to religious life and priesthood.  During my last year of college, Dr. Baker and I maintained a very formal relationship and since graduation I haven’t seen or heard from him.  

Looking back, I can understand his disappointment with my decision.  He had a vision, a hope and a plan for my life that, from a natural perspective, was one I believed would make me happy and leave me feeling fulfilled.  However, when God intervened and revealed a different path to me, despite the initial confusion and shock it left, I knew this inspiration was not from me.  

Fortunately, God does not always follow the plans and ideas we make for our lives.  The real question each one of us needs to ask is, “How open am I to the will of God, not only when it conforms to my desires and dreams, but especially when God’s will appears different from what I first expected?”  By opening ourselves to God’s will, we allow God to take us beyond ourselves into something much deeper than we could have imagined.  In my experience, saying yes to God, even when I didn’t know where it would lead at first, has been the most beautiful and liberating experience of my life.        

[taeccicup]

Midpoint, chapter 1

Midpoint, chapter 1: Out of Daejeon

✤ post apocalypse!au (if that’s even a thing)

✤ Words: 2.5k 

✤ Pairing(s): taehyung x reader / OT7 x reader

✤ Warnings: mention of war, dead people, cruel behavior against women, light smut. mild language

A/N: Wow first chapter. I’m really excited! If you find any grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes or general mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me! English isn’t my first language, and I never say no to some help:)

The sunset has never looked stranger. The colours that appears on the sky has always been calming and stunning for the developed man sitting in his seat on his way out of the city in the Daejeon province. He is on his way to the countryside, out of the active capital in the province, to join the defensive army for his district. Almost every male that was born the same year as he ,had to join, it was nearly mandatory.

Taehyung had various feelings. He was excited. Excited to learn something new, to meet new people. You may think that Taehyung, a boy living in the capital of the Daejeon province always meet new people, but the truth is; He is ninety percent sure he has met every single person that is to be met in the capital. There isn’t that many people to meet either, because of the lack of people in the world.

He was nervous. His body had been having small shaking attacks the entire weak as an effect for his uneasy state. The only thing calming him, was his best friend Hoseok, who was in a deep sleep beside him on the train out of mainland Daejeon.

In 2267, a secret nuclear power plant near Busan exploded. It wasn’t a small explosion that would do consequences to the country, but it affected the entire planet. People didn't see the consequences before 3 years later when every woman with a functioning uterus died. Whatever they were developing on that nuclear power plant was something that almost killed the entire population of women. South Korea was a quick developer, surprisingly, and Busan instantly became an off-limits area. Half a decade later a revolution happened in the country, when people started to realise that the population would die out if women didn't start producing more children. The women that could produce, were locked inside huge special rooms, only for the purpose of increasing the human popularity. The women that couldn’t produce, were seemed as waist, and were thrown into Busan to die. After the war, the republic of Korea was cut into five provinces with the first commander and counselor on top in each province: The Gwangju-province, The Seoul-province, The Gangneung-si province, The Busan-province, often called the south, and lastly the Daejeon-province which is known as the midpoint, also the place where Taehyung and Hoseok comes from. Now, a little bit over a 100 years later and the system is still set.

Taehyung can’t remember seeing a woman in real life. A female is mostly seen on old movies and tv-shows that has stayed through both the radiation and the revolution. The fact that he has never seen one is kind of intriguing. Probably in five years he could start being a producer, someone who makes kids, and it is somehow funny yet weird that when he is going to produce may be the first time that he meets a real, living woman. Despite the fact that being a producer may be his only shot at seeing one, he isn’t really a fond of the way females are being treated in these huge special rooms. Taehyung has never been in one, but rumors have been spread on the street in the central city and it doesn't sound like a sweet and caring place to spend your life in. One rumor states that children are forced to start producing from their first menstruation, which can be as low as eight to nine years. It is crazy and sickening to Taehyung that children is having this forced on them at such a young age, especially when he, himself, probably is the biggest lover of children in Daejeon.

With these thoughts Taehyung fell into a deep sleep, just like his best friend sitting, or could i say, sleeping beside him. Taehyung had always been a very curious boy, very unalike Hoseok. Even though they don’t have an awesome story on how they meet, since their adoptive dads were friends, they’ve been together since birth as vell. Though they are pretty unsimilar. For example how curious Taehyung is contra Hoseok. Hoseok is a well mannered boy and grew up in the high class. Taehyung grew up in the middle class but the friends stayed together. Opposites attract?

Taehyung woke up to Hoseok sweating and trembling beside him. It was usual for him to do this when he had a nightmare. Growing up high-class had its ups and downs for Hoseok. Regardless of all the luxury you had around you never payed up to what you experienced. Hoseok saw what money can do to people, and how the law really works. These childhood memories had followed with him, making him have nightmares very often. Taehyung on the opposite, almost never got them. His dreams was more exploring, more like what if this happened dreams. They were pretty dope. That’s how he would describe them.

‘’Hobi’’, Taehyung gently shook the male beside him trying to wake him up.

‘’ You’re trembling again, like real bad’’, he softly whispered, not earning a single response from his friend beside him.

‘’Okey, hey wake up!’’, Taehyung was more screaming than softly speaking, getting a couple of shhs from the group of boys sitting behind them.

You could see Hoseok eyes slowly opening, reacting to the light of the sun from above before quickly shutting them again, and turned around.

‘’Was I shaking again Tae?’’, he mumbled with his back facing Taehyung.

‘’I can’t really hear what you are saying because you’re not facing me, but if you are asking if you were shaking again, then the answer is yes. And you didn’t shake a little. It was like something was possessing your body’’, Taehyung explained while turning Hoseok around.

‘’Yeah you’re probably right Tae. I was having a nightmare, so it makes sense’’, Hoseok said while rubbing his eyes.

‘’You want to talk about it?’’, his friend asked.

‘’No not really. It was just the usual, you know, about the execution’’, Hobi responded.

Taehyung just nodded and looked over at his friend. Hoseok had told the story about the execution once. Only once. He has not told it to his dad, or to any other friends he may have. Only Taehyung knows, and he would never ask him to explain again either. The one time Hoseok told Tae about the execution he almost choked because of tears. He was scared, and Taehyung could tell how much of a hard time Hoseok had telling the story.

When Hoseok was ten he experienced his first execution. The execution is a ritual for all women who can’t produce children. The ones that doesn’t have a functioning uterus. Even though these women were the only females to survive the radiation, they don’t have a useful job for the only goal the world has now: To increase the popularity. Therefor they are very useless and not needed at the moment. They are more like waste. That’s what they are called: waste. Killing these women is called executing. It’s actually a really simple ritual, where you slightly push the woman closer and closer to the border of Busan, a place which has such a high radiation level that you will certainly die from it after a couple of weeks. Hoseok was forced to join one in the age of ten. His adoptive dad really wants him to work with executions when he grows older. Executions has always sparked something in the mind of Hoseok's adoptive dad, therefor he wants his ‘’son’’ to do it as a full-time job as well. Hoseok remember hearing screams from the woman, begging the people to let her stay. Begging them to kill her immediately instead of letting her slowly die in Busan. Sorrowfully, no mercy were shown and the woman was pushed in to the province of Busan, to her death. What’s weird is how the government allows this. Even though each province is independent, it is strange how no leader has ever reacted to the way they treat other human beings. With that being said, you have to remember that every person leading is probably a male that doesn’t have any special feelings towards women. Most males in the country are like this, not giving a damn about things that doesn’t concern them. Taehyung is different, at least he likes to tell himself that he is. That if he ever touches something close to power, he will change the way women are treated. That’s a promise to himself.

As mentioned, every province is almost independent, following own rules and having their own leaders. Every other year, leaders from each province, except busan because of the fact that it is a deadly sone with no inhabitants, meet in Seoul to discuss and inform each other about what’s going on. Apart from that meeting you are free to rule a province as you want. The counselor is on top, followed by the first commander who is followed by the second commander. Every counselor and commander has a advisor, and these roles are the ones that really matter. The roles that can change lives. You can also become a leader for a special force in the defense, like the leader of training and combat. These roles matter too, and Taehyung is determined to fight his way up to one of those ranks. Hoseok on the other hand, just wants to get everything done. He wants to go home to a office job once the service is over. He definitely does not want to please his father with becoming an executor. Hobi never wants to be close to the Busan province ever again.

The first years after the nuclear power plant exploded in Busan, no one really knew what to do. They tried to clean up the mess, but realised how dangerous and useless it is after the radiation plague started. When the war was over, each counselor decided to make the Busan area an off limits place, yet gave it the title as a province in hope for it to become a place to inhabit a couple thousand years from now. For now it is still dangerous to walk into Busan, and it has gotten many nicknames; The dead zone, the off-limited and the south. In theory, no human could survive living here, but lately there has been spotted, things or animals kind of humans walking around, but this information is not revealed to the public. Taehyung and Hoseok still thinks their walking into mandatory defense service, not knowing what the real threat actually is. Not knowing what is waiting for them.

-

Y/N was sitting on her bed, writing in her diary. She had just gotten a new one, since she had already written out her fourth one. Many things had happened in y/n’s life after the death of her parents. It was hard to cope with everything, and y/n found it relaxing and calming to write every single thought she had down on paper.

‘’Y/N, the counselor would like to have a word with you’’, a guard said from the other side of the door.

‘’Please let him in’’, y/n responded, putting down her pen looking over at her brother standing in the entrance of the door.

‘’What do you want?’’, y/n snapped, cutting the eye-contact she had with the counselor.

‘’Y/N, you have to stop asking the counselors table about letting our women go free. We are very tired of it’’, y/n’s brother explained while he sat down on her bed.

‘’But Seokjin, can’t you see that I’m tired too?’’, y’n looked into his eyes again.

‘’I’m the only female here. I may have the counselors table’s respect but when it all comes to all, most of you use me as a dumpster, to relieve yourself from all the stress that you have. You don’t think I’m stressed? I don't have an easy job as the first commander, yet the only woman walking freely in Daejeon. The only difference between my stress and your stress is the fact that I don’t need relief. I need someone to understand, someone to talk to. Not someone to fuck. Can’t you see that brother? Can’t you see that Jin?’’, y/n expressed to her brother who was in clear shock of her confession.

‘’I thought you could talk to Jimin? What about Jungkook? I know you guys are close’’, Jin asked his sister.

‘’Don’t bring them up in this’’.

‘’What I’m trying to say brother, is that I’m not going to stop with my suggestions unless something is done. I may be first commander, but I will fight for this cause as well.’’, she explained.

‘’Y/N you can’t just do th..’’

‘’Brother please’’, y/n cut him off.

‘’I suggest that the counselors table give me 10 minutes next saturday, as always, since it is my right as first commander. If not I will take my rightful place at the counselors table, and if the rumors I’ve heard are correct, you guys don't want that, right? ’’.

The counselor gently nodded in guilt.

‘’Now please, get out of my room’’, y/n said trying to sound as polite as possible.

‘’Yes of course sister’’, Jin answered before slowly walking out of his sister’s chamber.

Y/N’s diary

Still no response or change.

Dear diary.

It’s weird thinking about how I always write about the same things in these books. I always tell you about my fight with freeing the women that are being forced to produce. I think they should all live freely, and produce when they want to. I want them to produce because they found someone they like, not because they are forced. I think I understand this, as I am a fellow woman, but getting this idea obtained by the counselors table is hard. Especially when the seven people sitting at the table are all men. They don’t give a damn, I promise you.

I’ve been first commander for four years now. Fours years and nothing. No recruit has ever cared or shown signs of caring. It seems like they don’t realize the situation about the country and world they are living in, but for some of them it is a win win situation. The fact that you could pleasure yourself with a random woman without thinking or caring about the consequences it may have.

I still have hope. The new recruits for the year are arriving tomorrow, and I’m hopeful. Hopeful that ONE young man may understand the horrible way we are treating others. That’s my hope, and I’ll pray for it tonight. For the women, and for the recruits. They have hard times ahead of them. I won’t go easy on them, nor Jungkook or Jimin.

Yours truly; Y/N