#of the fact that skewed her brother’s will to avoid having his husband live in any of his houses in any country

[youn8ss-2]

i still strongly believe that donatella helped in the murder of gianni

[thatfanficstuff]

Sunday Brunch - Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Language. Always language. And douche-tastic family. 

A/N: So an eternity ago (7 months) the lovely diinofayce gave me an eternal extension on my challenge entry for her because my life was falling apart. So I finally sat down to write this “little” one shot. 3500 words later, here you go. My prompt is in bold. Enjoy.

***

You sat at the end of the table, shoulders slumped with a cup of coffee in your hands. The rest of the team filed in and you ignored them, your mind already on what you had to endure today.

“What’s up with you?” Clint asked.

You glanced at him before grunting and taking a sip of your coffee.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s wrong?” That came from Steve. Your gaze darted to him over your cup. The concern in his voice almost had you explaining, but he could wait until after your coffee. You’d been up all night worried about today and you needed the caffeine more than you needed air at this point.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Natasha asked and you nodded. She was the one of the few that knew the extent to which you were dreading this day.

“What’s today?” Steve sounded near panicked. You couldn’t really blame him. Your usual pleasant demeanor was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

“Sunday brunch,” Nat answered for you.

Tony’s head shot up in the kitchen. “That’s today?”

You hummed in agreement. He muttered something you didn’t catch before heading over with a bottle of Bailey’s in hand. “Ah, thank you.” You took the liquor from him and topped off your coffee. “That’ll help immensely.”

“What’s so horrible about brunch?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of food. Steve, Sam and Bucky had been on mission the last time you went so they had missed the fallout. Lucky bastards.

“It’s not just any brunch. It’s brunch with her family,” Clint offered before shooting you a sympathetic smile.

“And?” Sam prompted after no one proceeded to fill them in on the rest.

You raked a hand through your hair. “My parents have a skewed sense of reality. They were both born into money, have always had it and are used to getting what they want. Part of that is a particular set of expectations for their children. None of which I have fulfilled.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Sam said.

You arched a brow. “I am not above slashing my own tires to avoid this brunch.” Even the thought had you smiling though it faded quickly. “Who am I kidding? They’d just send a car.”

Steve studied you with his intense blue eyes and a furrowed brow. “I don’t understand, Y/N. What expectations could they possibly have that you don’t meet? You’re amazing.” His cheeks flared red as if just realizing what he’d said. “I mean—”

Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “What Stevey boy here meant to say was he thinks you’re gorgeous, talented, badass, and sexy as hell.”

“Bucky!”

The dark-haired super soldier grinned and shot you a wink which had you chuckling as you sipped your coffee. He loved to give Steve shit.

“Y/N, I didn’t…I mean what Bucky said—”

You waved a hand through the air to let him know it didn’t matter. Steve glared at Bucky as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I could single handedly find the cure for cancer and I would still be a disappointment to my parents. My mother in particular. I am a daughter. Expectations for me include marrying a nice, respectable man. Preferably one that can support me in the lifestyle my parents think I should have. He should have a boring job and boring hobbies. We should then have at least 2.4 children and a dog. Just one; a pure breed that costs more than any animal should ever cost.”

The room around you remained silent as you took a sip of your coffee. Steve opened his mouth to say something and you lifted a finger to let him know you weren’t quite finished. “I should not work as it gives the impression my husband cannot support our family on his salary. Even if I am three times as brilliant as him my only job should be my volunteer efforts. PTA. HOA. Or whatever the acronym of the week is. My only value comes from the man whose arm I am on.”

“So just don’t go,” Sam said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“If she doesn’t go, she doesn’t get to see her nieces and nephews,” Nat explained.

You shook your head as you leaned back in your chair. “We all know it’s ridiculous and stupid. My brothers do at any rate. My sister should but she plays her role with a tight smile and dead eyes and resents every second of my rebellion. My brothers are married but they could always do whatever they wanted. They’re boys after all. Mom makes their lives miserable if they don’t give in to her. I don’t really care, but I love the kiddos.”

“Does she have a date for you this time?” Tony asked, his gaze darting briefly in Steve’s direction before coming back to you. He took every opportunity to remind you of the crush you’d stupidly admitted to him one night.

You sighed. “I hope not, but I didn’t tell her I was bringing anyone so probably.”

“I could go with you,” Steve’s voice was so soft you barely heard him.

You sat up in your chair and looked at him, hope blooming in your chest. “What did you say?”

He cleared his throat. “I could go with you.”

“Do you mean that? You’ll really go with me and pretend you’re head over heels for me so they’ll back off for a while?”

Bucky laughed. “I think he can manage to pull it off.”

“Stow it, Buck,” Steve grumbled before turning back to you. “Yeah, I can do that. I’d be happy to help.”

You squealed as you jumped up from your seat and ran around the table. You planted a big kiss on Steve’s cheek. “You have just made my whole day, Rogers.” You hurried to your room to get ready.

***

“This is your parents’ house?” Steve asked as you stood beside the car you’d borrowed from Tony.

You glanced up at the huge house in front of you and imagined how it must look to someone who grew up dirt poor in Brooklyn. “This is it. No backing out now Rogers. I need you.”

His hand found yours and grasped it, lacing your fingers together. “I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

Your face heated at both the nickname and the gesture. You pressed against his side. “Thanks, soldier.”

The door swung open before you could even knock and you were swept into a massive hug. You grunted as your feet came off the ground. “Put me down, you ape.”

“Is that anyway to say hello to your big brother?” Adam teased, though he did set you back on your feet.

You grinned as you straightened your clothes. “Hello, Adam. Steve, this is my oldest brother. Adam, Steve.”

Steve extended his hand, but Adam just stared at him with wide eyes. Finally, he seemed to snap out of it and took the offered hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Um…thanks.” Red tinged the ridges of Steve’s cheeks and the tops of his ears.

You smiled and took his hand back in yours once your brother finally released it. Adam’s eyes immediately latched on your joined hands. His gaze flicked between the two of you then he grinned. “Nate, get out here,” he called over his shoulder.

You turned toward Steve and dropped your voice so only he would hear. “My other brother. And major Cap fan. Sorry.”

He squeezed your hand to let you know it was fine just as your other brother appeared in the doorway beside Adam. “What is it?” he asked, then his gaze moved to you and Steve. “That’s…”

“Yeah,” Adam said.

“And that’s our sister.”

“Yep.”

“But they’re holding hands.”

“For the love of…” You shoved between your brothers to make an opening and pushed your way into the house, pulling Steve along behind you.

“Nate, Steve. Steve, Nate.” You moved to let go of Steve’s hand so he could shake Nate’s but he kept his grip on you.

Instead, he held out his left hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah…”

You rolled your eyes. “You guys know I’m an Avenger. Why are you so surprised to see me with Steve?”

Adam scratched the back of his head. “Honestly we kind of thought you just made that up to mess with mom and dad.”

You blinked at them as you processed this. “I have literally been on the TV.”

They both shrugged and you closed your eyes and prayed to the universe for patience. Steve chuckled beside you but quickly covered it with a cough when you opened an eye to glare at him.

“I should have realized I’d find you in the middle of the noise, Y/N.”

You barely resisted the urge to growl at the voice and opened your eyes to see the smirking face of your brother-in-law. “Paul. Where’s Amanda and the kids?”

“They’re in the drawing room with your mother and the other women. Your dad sent me to see why these two hadn’t returned to the den. Who’s your friend?”

“Steve Rogers.” He held out his right hand this time and you bit your lip to keep from laughing when Paul winced as they shook hands.

“Well, Steve, you should join us for a drink before dinner,” Paul suggested and did his best to hide the fact he was flexing his hand.

“I think I’ll stick with Y/N. Thanks though.” He put his hand on your back and kept it there as you moved to the drawing room.

“Aunt Y/N!” Announced your presence as the two of you entered the room and were instantly swarmed by children.

“My minions!” You gave them all a hug and a kiss on the head before glancing at Steve to find him watching you with soft eyes and a big smile. “This is Gabrielle, Grant, Kenzie, Jacob and Jasper.” You pointed to each one in turn. “Hester and Prudence are there by their mother, my sister Amanda.” Amanda gave a tight smile and rested her hand on her obvious baby bump. The point four of her perfect 2.4 children.

You wove your way through the kids and took your littlest nephew from his mom. “And this little guy is Charlie,” you cooed as you cradled the three-month old in your arms. “This is Adam’s wife Cecilia and Nora belongs to Nate. Everyone, this is Steve.”

Your lips twitched as you realized that Nora and Cici were already staring with wide eyes. Amanda kept darting glances but refused to look outright as if she didn’t have a poster of him on her wall growing up. The kids were too young to care or know who he was without his suit on. Steve greeted everyone and moved to where your mother sat watching with a disapproving gaze.

He offered his hand and kissed the back of hers when she gave it. “You must be Mrs. Y/L/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She looked from him to you. “This one has manners. That’s a pleasant change.”

You ignored her but didn’t miss the slight stilling of Steve’s form before he returned to your side. He smiled down at Charlie. “He’s adorable.”

“Thank god they all take after Cici,” you teased.

“Her name is Cecilia and the baby is Charles as you well know, Y/N.”

Steve’s fingers flexed against your back but he followed your lead and ignored her. “All?”

You grinned. “Jasper is Nora and Nate’s. The rest are Adam and Cici’s. They take that whole be fruitful and multiply thing very seriously.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastised. Fortunately, the dinner bell rang before anymore conversation was necessary.

***

After introducing Steve to your father, you all sat for dinner. You slid your chair closer to Steve’s needing his nearness. Your hand found his under the table and pulled it into your lap as you played with his fingers. He placed his mouth beside your ear. “You okay?”

“Because of you, yeah.” You sucked in a breath when you realized you’d said that aloud. Steve’s only response was a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“So, Steven, what is it that you do?” your father asked.

Your brothers and their wives exchanged glances before looking down at their plates to hide twitching lips. “I believe he said he was a captain in the army,” Adam contributed.

A glance at Steve showed him fighting his own smile and there was a wicked glint in his eye you rarely saw. You thought about intervening, saying something in clarification but why? Might as well let them have their fun. “Retired,” Steve amended.

“You don’t look old enough to be retired.”

“He’s older than he looks, dad.” There was a burst of stifled laughter.

Paul glanced around the table with a frown, obviously realizing he was missing something. At this point in his life he should really be used to that by now. “Military work can’t pay well. Though I hear you can make some good money in the private sector once you’re out.”

“I do well enough. Though Y/N makes enough on her own she doesn’t need to depend on me.”

You nearly choked on your dinner and took a drink of water to help wash it down. Steve’s hand rested on your thigh and you nearly choked again. Damn, he was trying to kill you.

“Surely you don’t intend for her to continue working once you’re married?” That came from your mother.

Steve frowned. “I’m pretty sure the world will still need saving regardless of her marital status.” Before anyone could respond to that, he turned back to your brother-in-law. “And what is it you do, Paul?”

He straightened in his seat and patted his mouth with his napkin. “I’m a doctor. Top in my field.”

You wiped your mouth so you could cover your next words with your napkin. “He’s a podiatrist,” you said only loud enough for Steve to hear.

“That’s…” Steve’s voice caught and he cleared his throat before trying again. “That’s great.”

Your mother nodded. “It’s wonderful. As soon as they married, Amanda left her job. Of course, she’s very busy with her children and her volunteer activities.”

“Yes, well. Not all of us can be as industrious as Amanda,” you added, not bothering to keep the bitterness from your tone.

Steve rubbed your thigh with his thumb and you bit your lip to keep from saying anything else.

“Would you just stop?” Amanda said quietly though she slammed her silverware on the table. “We all know you’re jealous so just stop.”

Your brows shot up. “Exactly what am I supposed to be jealous of?”

She looked at you like you were the stupidest thing she’d ever seen then gestured around the table. “This. All of this. You could be married and have children but you just have to be different.”

“Amanda,” your mother chastised. “We have guests.”

“Who? Steve Rogers? You do realize that is Captain America, right? She just enjoys making people feel stupid. He’s not a guest. He’s a decoy. There is no way someone like him would date someone like her.”

“Oh, shit,” one of your brother’s muttered.

You clenched your jaw and kept your gaze focused anywhere but Steve. You couldn’t even argue with her. Every word she said was true. It took a moment for you to realize that Steve was standing beside you with his hand out. You frowned at him. “I think it’s time for us to leave, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you agreed automatically and stood. He was probably embarrassed beyond belief and you weren’t going to make him suffer any longer than necessary.

“Absolutely not. Sit. Down.” Your head jerked in your mother’s direction. “Your friend may leave if he wishes, but you’re not going anywhere until you apologize to your sister.”

“Karen, let it go,” came from your dad.

She ignored him and glared at you. “Apologize at once. Then you can apologize to your father and I for this farce.”

“Mom—” Adam started and you held up a hand to cut him off.

“Apologize to her? What the fuck for?”

“Y/N,” your father snapped.

You whipped around to face him. “What? Just sit there quietly like you always do. Like you did when Amanda quit the six-figure job she loved because it was expected. Or like you did when Adam knocked CiCi up Senior year and all mom was worried about was what your friends would think. Sorry Cici.”

She lifted her mimosa glass in a little toast. “Don’t mind me. This is the best brunch I’ve been to in years.”

“Cecilia, don’t encourage her,” your mother said.

You turned back to her. “Her name is CiCi. Your refusal to use it doesn’t make you cultured, it makes you rude. Just like your poking and prodding at Steve makes you rude. I don’t give a shit if he was a private fresh out of bootcamp with not a dime to his name, I’d still love him. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business.”

As you struggled to catch your breath, you realized what you’d just admitted to. Well, just add it to the embarrassment of the day. You might as well go all in while you were at it. “I thought if I brought him here, you’d back off. Just for the day.” Your voice was softer than it had been and an angry tear rolled down your cheek. Steve reached out and took your hand in his. “I should have known better. You just can’t stand for me to be happy even for a moment.”

“Well, you can forget coming to any family events until you find a way to apologize for this horrid display. I’m sure the children will miss you,” was your mother’s cold response.

The silence stretched as you realized not one word you said had been heard. Not by your mother or your sister at any rate.

“You heartless bitch,” came from the last person you expected and you turned to gape at Steve in surprise. His face was red and his jaw set in anger. Damn. This was probably the wrong time to be getting turned on.

“Excuse me?” your mother gasped.

At the same time your father said, “You can’t talk to my wife like that.”

“Watch me,” Steve snapped back. He pulled you closer to him and kept a firm hold on your hand. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at here, but it needs to end. Y/N is one of the kindest, most generous people I have ever met. She has literally helped save the world more than once and you’re treating her like she’s a nuisance or a pawn to control.”

“Now, just a—”

“I’m not finished. She has so much love to give. I know because I spent a great deal of time hoping to be the recipient of even a small part of it. And now you try to manipulate her using the love she has for her family? If there’s one thing today has made perfectly clear, you don’t deserve her.” He shifted to take in your brothers and their wives. All four of them were looking on in stunned silence. “And frankly, neither do any of you if you let her use you like this.”

Steve turned abruptly and pulled you through the house until the two of you were outside with the front door shut behind you. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I—”

You grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. Your lips crashed into his. It only took a moment for him to respond and as he kissed you back, his hands found your waist to pull you closer. When you finally separated to take a breath, he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“Me, too, Rogers. Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“That was…I don’t think I’ve ever been in a situation where I had to bite my tongue quite so many times. I just snapped.” He helped you into the car and shut the door for you. Once he was settled on his side, he turned to face you before starting the car. “Can I ask you a question?”

“After what you went through for me today you can ask me anything you want.”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me or was that just part of the act?”

“I’m not that good of an actor,” you assured him before leaning toward him for another kiss. For once, you were happy you didn’t skip out on brunch.

[kpopficsincorporated]

NK (New Kid)

Pairings: Bang Chan x reader, Jimin x reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Words: 2331

-

a/n: I’m sorry this is a little later. Some things happened and I’ve been real messed up about it. I’m okay now though. Baby Jay’s surprise has arrived! I might convince her to post about it :) -admin Sam

-

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

-

Chapter 3

“What was that?” Namjoon asked, the first of the three to form the words.

“What,” Jackson was confused as to what they were talking about but realized as they watched the van drive away. “Oh, you mean Y/N?”

“Yeah. Are you guys dating?” Jungkook couldn’t believe what he had just seen. As soon as the van was out of sight, he turned around and opened the door for everyone to walk in.

“Me and princess?” Jackson laughed incredulously. “No, of course not. There are two men who would vehemently protest that idea.”

“Who? Chan?” Jungkook pressed the button on the elevator.

“He is one of them,” Jackson answered evasively. “I’m the other.”

“Why is that?” Jimin spoke for the first time since he’d met you.

“Y/N is my best friend. We’re just really close,” Jackson walked into the elevator first. You dating him? That was a ridiculous idea. People had always assumed there was something between the two of you, but if they looked closer, they’d see the truth of your relationship. You were very protective of each other. He took care of you and you took care of him. Sure, Jackson could admit that the two of you were really touchy for friends, but you were two very touchy people by nature. You were touchy with everyone, and it was something he had been suspicious of at first, but after spending so much one on one time with you, he could see that your intentions were always pure.

Jackson had witnessed firsthand your familial love for the members of Stray Kids. He could tell that your relationship with Chan was different, but you cared for those other boys like they were your brothers.

“That seems like a lot more than just ‘really close’ to me,” Jimin commented, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, man. I’ve thought it, too. But once you get to know her, you’ll know what I mean. Y/N is a really precious person and she cares about people more than I’ve seen anyone care about people in a long time,” Jackson was quick to try and shut down Jimin’s skewed perception of you, but he could tell that his words were hitting a brick wall as Jimin continued to glare at the ground, lost in his thoughts.

“I think I know what you mean,” Jungkook commented, as the four guys exited the elevator. “Just hanging out with her today, I could see how genuine she was.”

But no matter what Jungkook or Jackson said, Jimin couldn’t get rid of his suspicions

-

Jackson had picked you up a couple of hours ago to go grocery shopping. It was really just you and the manager assigned to you who went in while he waited in the van, but you didn’t mind at all.

Your manager was a really chill lady who always looked out for you. She also liked that your identity was a secret. You had quickly become friends with the woman and you enjoyed your time spent with her.

(JYP insisted that you have a manager with you just in case. You were too scared to ask what ‘just in case’ could have entailed.)

You were now back at Jackson’s place helping him cook dinner while listening to music.

“Hey Jackson,” you turned down the music, so he could hear you.

“What’s up, princess.” He’d gotten you a water from the fridge, setting it down beside you as he leaned against the counter at your side. You were making cookie dough from scratch so that you guys would have desert for later.

“What if there’s a lot of backlash from doing this song,” you asked quietly, not lifting your head from the overly stirred batter.

“Are you really that worried about it” he asked as he stopped your hands, taking them into his own and forcing you to look at him. You nodded your reply and he released a deep sigh. “I understand why you’re worried. I know they’re really popular right now, but I also know that there are a lot of people who want to hear from you. This will be good, I promise, Y/N.”

“But what if it isn’t,” you raised your voice, throwing his hand from yours. “And it’s not the fans I’m worried about. There are just so many hateful people, and they especially attack those who are popular. And BTS is super popular right. They’re popular globally. There are so many people who may not like the fact that Jungkook is doing a song with a girl people barely know anything about. They’re going to start looking into it more, the netizens are good little detectives. What if they find out what I look like, they find out who I am and they don’t like me? I’m don’t fit to the standard of beauty that the idols fit into. I’m a bigger girl, Jackson. I’ve got big thighs and a tummy and-“

“Y/N, stop. You’re going to have a panic attack.” Jackson pulled you into a hug to help you calm down. You didn’t realize you were crying until he wiped your tears away.

You didn’t realize that you had worked yourself up so much. You always had issues with your anxiety, and you were almost constantly stressed. You had always been really self-conscious and only Chan and Jackson were privy to seeing that side of you. The side of you that broke down over the fact that you didn’t conform to standards. No matter what diet you followed or the personal trainer that JYP provided for you, your body didn’t fit. You had to special order clothes here, because the women’s clothes in Korea were too small for you. You could get away with buying men’s t-shirts, but you couldn’t buy any type of women’s clothes here. Not even bras.

“I hate that this is how you see yourself,” Jackson commented, more to himself than to you.

Once your breathing had returned to normal, he led you to the couch, setting the water bottle down in front of you and forcing you to stay there as he pulled the homemade pizza out of the oven. He set it on top of the oven to cool, turning around to scoop the cookies onto a pan to put into the oven.

Once that was done, he pulled out the pizza cutter and started cutting the pizza. You had just put your water bottle down after taking a sip when you heard him swear, the pizza cutter clattering to the floor. You got up instantly, following him to the sink where he had his bleeding finger under the running water.

You grabbed a towel, pulling his hand from the water and wrapping his finger, instructing him to hold pressure as you went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

You quickly and effectively wrapped his finger. “It’s not deep enough for stitches,” you muttered, cleaning up the mess and instructing him to go sit down. You finished cutting the pizza, bringing two plates to the living room and turning the TV on to avoid conversation.

You had always hated talking to people after exposing yourself. You didn’t like the pity and the worry. You knew you’d be back to normal if left alone and some people didn’t understand that, but Jackson was one of the few who did.

When you were finished eating, the kitchen had been cleaned up and the cookies were cooling on the stove, Jackson turned the volume down on the TV, turning his body to you.

“You never really explained, but why didn’t you stay a nurse?”

“It just didn’t make me happy. I thought helping people and caring for them would be all I could have ever wanted, but there was too much heartache involved. I wanted to find another way to help people without having to watch them die,” you answered quietly, keeping your focus on the TV. When he didn’t say anything, you flicked your eyes to him, noticing him staring. “What?”

“You just make me wanna cuddle you to death,” he said, holding his arms out to you. You couldn’t help but smile at him.

You fell into his arms, and you didn’t realize the amount of force you put into it until you were laying down on top of him. He situated you both so that you were laying beside him, cuddled up to his side with your arm and leg thrown across his body and your head in the crook of his neck.

“You know, the BTS members thought we were dating,” Jackson murmured after a couple of minutes.

“We kind of act like we’re dating,” you admitted. “Jackson, you don’t want to date me, do you?” You just had to ask. You really hoped he didn’t so that you could keep this one of a kind friendship with him and you knew it would be selfish of you.

“Date? No. Marry? Maybe,” he said seriously, but you knew he was kidding. You giggled and smacked him on the chest, keeping your hand there.

“Hey now, don’t get my hopes up.”

“I would never do that to you, princess,” he mocked, placing his hand on top of yours. “No, seriously Y/N. I value our friendship too much. But I mean, if you can’t find a man when you’re 35 and  you want babies, I’ll be willing-“

“Jackson stop,” you burst into incredulous laughter. You could believe he had said that.

“Hey, let me finish,” he laughed as well. “I’ll be your back-up husband. So don’t worry about being alone forever, because you’ll always have me, princess.”

You looked to his face and could see his eyebrows furrowed together in honestly, but his eyes were closed as his face was turned to the ceiling. You leaned up and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek in thanks and you both fell asleep on the couch soon after.

-

“Channie!!” you squealed in excitement. You tackled him in a hug as soon as you saw him in the backseat. He had come with your manager to pick you up and take you to Big Hit for your first recording day.

You had kept an eye on twitter for the past few days watching for the reactions to Jungkook’s tweet. So many people wanted this to happen, a lot more than you thought. It had been the highlight of your week to be so accepted.

That’s not to say that there weren’t negative comments and views, but you had been strictly forbidden to look at those by both Chan and Jungkook.

Jungkook, the sweetheart he was, had been texting you and constantly updating you. As soon as he’d see something negative, he would call you and apologize and ask that you ignore all of it. But as soon as he’d see something positive, he’d screenshot and send it to you.

“Chan, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” You climbed into the backseat to sit with him, wrapping both of your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

He laughed at your antics. “Y/N, you literally saw me yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know, but class was extra long today. It felt like I spent two years of my life in that one class,” you whined, pulling back out of the hug. Chan kept one arm around your shoulders as you settled comfortably into his side.

“Well now you’re going to spend the rest of your night recording. Have you been practicing?”

“Oh yeah,” you remembered, pulling out the lyric sheet Jungkook had given you, pointing to one specific word. “How do you pronounce this one?”

Chan helped you go over your pronunciations on the ride and you had everything completely down when the van stopped. “We’re here. Thanks, Mimi!” you thanked your manager. She smiled in response, going back to her phone. “I’ll see you later, Chan.”

Jungkook was waiting for you in the garage with Jimin. You could tell from the last time you were here that Jimin wasn’t fond of you and you sort of hoped he wouldn’t be there while you were recording today. You waved goodbye as the van drove away, knowing Chan was watching you.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, holding the door open for you. You nodded, offering him and Jimin a smile as you walked inside to the elevator.

“Okay, so this is one of our recording studios.” As he opened the door, you saw Yoongi sitting at the desk in front of the computer. “Yoongi hyung said he’d help us today.”

“Hello, I’m NK, but you can call me Y/N,” you greeted excitedly, but remembering to bow at the last second. You admired Yoongi. You knew he harbored so much talent in his little body and you thought he was one of the most gifted producers out there.

He stood up, bowing slightly as well, a small smile on his face. His smile surprised you. “Please feel free to call me Yoongi.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jimin rolling his eyes and you heard the sigh that accompanied it.

Your smile fell slightly, but you tried covering it up, smiling brighter at Yoongi and bowing again.

“Here, sit on the couch. I think I’m recording first,” Jungkook said, pulling you by your arm gently over to the couch in the room. There was a mic set up in front of it on the other side of the couch, and that was where Jungkook sat.

“I’m leaving,” Jimin muttered, crossing his arms roughly as he walked out of the room, making your shoulders sag.

“Don’t worry about him, Y/N,” Yoongi said as he sat back down in his chair. “He’s just tired. He’s been up all night practicing.”

“Let’s get started,” Jungkook sat on the couch, rubbing his hands together. Yoongi turned toward the computer, signaling for Jungkook to start.

[hollowgroverp]

    LACHLAN EMERSON

(age.) one hundred fourteen (species.) vampire (occupation.) editor at blackwell media (residency.) arrived august 2019 (mirror.) michiel huisman

❝  a pavement of the past

Lachlan Emerson was born to a wealthy family with a father he wished he never had.  Sure he was the reason Lachlan had a comfortable upbringing in Boston and why he was gifted with the education he was, but sometimes when his father was so drunk he had to carry him up the stairs he wished he was born into another family.  From the outside the Emerson’s were perfect; a husband, wife and three sons of a prominent standing within the city, after all every man got drunk at a social event. On a day to day basis Mr Emerson maintained a functional level of drunk - if you hadn’t seen him sober then you wouldn’t know he was under the influence.  But Lachlan had seen him sober and that was almost worse than when he wasn’t quite drunk enough and screamed at his wife for hours.  

If Lachlan really thought about it, he probably would have realised his interest in astronomy was an escape from his less than stellar home life.  After all, what could be further away than the stars? Either way, he first got a taste of it at thirteen when a science lesson had him look through a telescope and find the top five constellations.  For his birthday that year his family bought him his very own telescope and he used to stay up half the night gazing through it. His father had told him it was a phase that he would soon grow out of and it would have been a pleasure years later when Lachlan stood holding his degree in astronomy to say to him ‘I told you so’ - if the man wasn’t too busy calling for this third bottle of wine.

By all means his father should have turned him off alcohol, but instead as Lachlan started a career for an astronomy journal he found himself enjoy a whiskey as he peered down the lense of his telescope or jotted down the latest findings.  As the years went by one turned into two or three. By the mid 1930s his brothers had started their own families, leaving him in the estate with his mother and now ailing father. They had started incessantly asking him when he was going to find a wife and settle down but the very thought of it panicked him.  So he decided to escape. He packed his bags and moved to a small town in the north of Maine; he was done with big city life.

Lachlan fell in love with the town, mostly because he had never seen the stars so brightly with his naked eye before and found that the best place to admire them was on the beach.  It was there in his first month that he met Harlow Harding. Lachlan hadn’t been planning more than a simple discussion between two strangers - that was of course until she confessed her love for astronomy.  That was all it took for him to continue conversation and to agree to meet her again the next day. Her conversations about the stars were riveting and Lachlan thoroughly enjoyed them. He also learnt very quickly how naive and sheltered Harlow had been.  In no time at all she was confiding everything about her life in him while he sat back and listened. The more they talked the closer they grew, from friends to lovers. Harlow was pretty and the ideas she had about the galaxy were ahead of their time. He had never meant to lead her on and he liked her a lot, but did he love her?  No.

He had never intended for things to go as far as they did; sure he had told her that they could publish her findings together - both their names on the articles, but then he had received the letter.  Reading that Harlow was with child sent him into a panic, so much so that he had immediately ripped up the paper and thrown it out before polishing off a whole bottle of whiskey. More came, from Harlow’s mother begging him to marry the girl to avoid scandal.  But he wasn’t ready for marriage and certainly not for a helpless being who relied upon his care. He knew deep down that he would only be another copy of his father. He ignored all the letters, surmising that the Harding estate was far enough out of town that he could avoid her.  When the next deadline for the astronomy journal approached he toyed over whether to publish Harlow’s findings under his name. There was a part of him that would always feel guilty for that, but they were too important for the world not to know and no accredited paper would take the work of a woman alone.

Over the next two years life wasn’t entirely smooth.  While he never saw Harlow there had been words spoken about him by her and when confronted he felt the need to defend himself.  He never saw them as direct lies - she had thrown herself at him, perhaps she was a little desperate? A little crazy from all that time spent at the estate alone?  There were the good bits though, at least they were at the time. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Harlow’s older sister Pearl but it had happened and as he helped her through her grief for her dying husband he decided that it was time he grew up.  When she became a widow he offered her his hand and she accepted. The dinner they hosted to announce the news was the most fearful he had been since he was a small child at the end of one of his father’s verbal outbursts, but it had been two years and Harlow had never seemed that into them anyway.  It was the mother he was more worried about.

It quickly became clear at the dinner though that Harlow was, in fact, not over it.  At least he presumed so from the plate she threw at him. Both he and Pearl tried to reason but it was impossible and Lachlan definitely grew to regret it all.  As the dinner ended and they parted ways though Lachlan thought it would just make the wedding and family life more difficult, he had no idea the lengths that Harlow would go to or how bent on destroying him she was.  When she was stood in front of him in a wedding dress covered in blood only hours later he realised how very wrong he had been about everything. He tried desperately to calm her and find out whose blood it was that coated her, but she merely tossed him about with a strength she shouldn’t have possessed.  Even as she took him to the estate and changed him he didn’t understand what was going on, the only thing he understood that night was the remains of his fiance that had been left in a pile in front of him when he woke. It drove him into a rage and that along with the burning thirst made it too easy to escape his bonds and bounce on the two maids that had been left with him, draining them dry before he even realised what he had done.

Lachlan ran, as far away from Maine as he could get that night and left a trail of blood behind him.  Any being he fell upon he drained, unable to understand or control the sudden lust for blood he had been given.  During the day he slept in an abandoned shack, huddling away from the beams of sunlight that broke through. Becoming a vampire turned Lachlan mad and for a long time he failed to control his blood lust, barely scraping by as a semblance of a human in the darkness of the alleys he haunted.  No one had taught him how to be a vampire and no one had ever explained it either.

It was another twenty-five years before he met another vampire who did more than stop and sneer at him.  It took a while for her to earn Lachlan’s trust but eventually she took him under her wing and taught him how to control himself.  Years later she often described it as walking into a hurricane and throwing down an anchor. Lachlan absolutely believed her words.  Somehow she managed to find what little remnants of a human being still resided within him and brought him back. He remembered what it was like to actually live, to have passions and to have thoughts other than blood and death, even if they were still skewed sometimes.

When World War III broke out Lachlan and his mentor decided to fight, it was another of the many regrets in Lachlan’s life and he wished sometimes he could go back to those days and convince her not to do so.  It was the early hours of the morning in the dead of winter when they were ambushed by a group too large and with so many weapons that even they couldn’t best them. She went down first and the rage that exploded from within Lachlan made the others flee, leaving him cradling her body.  It would have been all too easy for him to sink back down into permanent madness after that, but the vampire had given him more love and guidance than anyone so far in his life and after some wise words from a stranger in a bar he decided to keep going. To keep living, to try and stay in control and become a proper member of society.  To do her proud. It partially worked, he had been alone and crazy for too long to be completely assimilated, but most people could overlook his moments. For several years after the war he etched out a living in Michigan, before heading north and settling in the safe haven of Haven, Ontario.

Eventually he fell back into his previous employment as an editor, working at one of Blackwell Media’s outposts up in Canada.  Recently though he was offered a job at their home base of Hollow Grove and decided to take up the offer.

❝  the nature of the beast

Although his companion did wonders in making Lachlan act like a human again, he still has a lot of faults.  Due to being utterly alone after he was turned and having spent over two decades this way Lachlan is somewhat mentally unstable.  Most of the time he is lucid and in control, though has a tendency to become caught up in conspiracy theories. When under significant mental or emotional stress however Lachlan can lose touch with reality and become confused and agitated.  In these periods he can’t tell what is real and what isn’t and will lash out at anyone and anything in his radius. To try and maintain control he meditates daily, finding the most solace in the night sky as he used to. While he obeys the rules of safe havens and uses blood bags, he prefers drinking straight from the source and has always found the illegal goings on of his residence.

He is scholarly, intelligent and well spoken and no matter where he moves in the world he requires a library within his house, no matter how small or large.  His sense of humour is something that never came back quite right despite his companion trying; often he doesn’t understand other’s jokes and a lot of people don’t understand his.  It’s a sense of humour that is warped and tends towards the dark side.

[onceabluemoonwrites]

Sangreal! - Chapter 2

Summary: King Arthur AU, in which Enma is stuck in a stone for some reason and only Tsuna can free him. Who let Hibari be Lancelot? The wizard Reborn may know.

Also, sentient swords: "Sir... You are holding my butt."

Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

FF.net | AO3

My fic master list here.

Chapter 2:  In Which Sir Tsuna Gropes a Sword By Accident

‘’Wizard Reborn, are ye certain this is the right path to take? Is this truly as God dictated it?’’ The Archbishop of Canterbury rubbed his hands.

‘’As certain as the path of my bullet towards the brain of idiots.’’

The Archbishop shifted from foot to foot, nervously tugging at his habit ‘’I’m not familiar with that term, o Wizard, but…. Is it not a hindrance? The mass will come in at any moment!’’

Reborn looked up from his nails, flicked non-existent dirt off them, raised an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully down the aisle. There, directly against the high altar, was a great stone, in which a cold iron anvil as well a sword, was buried.

Make no mistakes- it was placed in front of the altar stairs.

‘’It’s for the good of Britain.’’

‘’But I can’t go up the stairs!’’

‘’Well, that is your problem, is it not?’’

Smirking, Reborn strutted away.

After the death of King Iemitsu, the realm was in jeopardy for a long time. While some said the King had an heir, others emphasized the past tense in that particular sentence. Why else would the Queen be childless? The babe must have died before it took its first breath!

Nobody dared to ask the Queen, though- she had Opinions. Highly dangerous, in a Lady, all agreed. For all Lady Nana was lovely, she was vicious too. If the Queen would have heard of this, she surely would have smote them where they stood!

But the Queen was a widow now, on top of losing her only child, and her husband's death had hurt her so deeply that she retreated into her own skin, only laughing airily, sweetly, at nothing. She was a husk of the grand Queen she’d once been. Her eyes were blank, vivacity forlorn, only ever responding to her dear friend Lady Lal.

The Lords all desired the Crown like no other, so they could not agree on the man that should ascend the throne. The one thing they did agree on was that wedding the Queen was not necessary in order to become King, for many of the Lords were wed already, and none of them were about to give up their claim to the crown.

In court, Lady Lal reigned with an iron fist, in the hope of aiding the Queen, but her first and foremost duties had always been to the Royal Army, and she was not prepared for the work the court took. Highly adaptable as she was, she survived the honey-coated poison of the court and learned subterfuge of her own, but not without a price. The army, without a king or a constable, was torn apart into fractions, one for each lord, loyalties shifting quicker than the sand in an hourglass.

And so it was. The Court around a grief-stricken Queen, the constable poker-faced, desperately trying to keep up appearances, and the army lost to all of them.

Fourteen years passed by, and still, the lords were warring amongst themselves. So on the morn before Christmas eve, the wizard Reborn spoke to the Archbishop: ‘’Send for all the Lords and men of might, and tell them they must come to this very church on the first Christmas day, upon the pain of cursing! A miracle will come, to show us the rightwise King of Britain!’’

As he said, it was.

On the eve of Christmas day, all Lords came to mass. Gape, they did.

The Sword in the Stone was a miracle, indeed! Upon the hilt stood in golden letters: ‘’Whoso pulls this Sword from the Stone and Anvil, is the rightwise King of all of England.’’

As one, the Lords moved in on their prey: The blade that would crown them better than any Royal headdress could! It was there, in the church, who could have put it there but God? The mighty Lord high in the heavens? Surely, they were meant to pull it from the stone!

Elbowing and pushing each other to the side, they worked their way forward, but before any one of them could touch the stone with avaricious claws, the Archbishop threw himself before the stone, arms spread, and thundered: ‘’Are you insane?! Blasphemy, this is! Go sit in the pews, ye dogs!’’

With big eyes, the Lords drooped off and did as he said.  The archbishop crossed his arms. ‘’Never have I ever seen any gentlemen behave so rambunctiously in the house of the Lord! Shame on you, Lords, shame on you!’’

He narrowed his eyes at them, stabbing his finger in the air. ‘’Ye will sit, ye will listen, and NONE will touch the Sword before the high mass is over! Now, obey!’’

They did.

‘’My Queen, the sword I spoke of to you, none of the Lords have been able to pull it.’’ Lal kneeled before Queen Nana.

The woman in question sat on her chair before the window, hands folded in her lap, features drawn and tired, staring empty-eyed at the city beyond the glass.

Lady Lal took one of her hands. ‘’Milady, the archbishop declared there is to be a tournament on New Year's day, for both the nobles and the common men. Whoever wins gets the chance to try their fortune upon pulling the blade from the Stone, for the Archbishop trusts the Lord Almighty to let the True King may win. But I fear what will happen to you, Milady, if anyone were to remove it, yet I am also concerned with the fact that the Stone did not judge a single one of the Lords worthy! There was no proper king amongst them! What kind of Lords does this godforsaken kingdom sport?!’’

Slowly, Lady Nana turned her head. Sitting there, in her nightgown, hair loose and draping against the back of the chair, no crown in sight, the Queen painted a picture so vulnerable that Lady Lal could not help but clutch her heart to prevent it from breaking. There were very few things that had managed to wedge themselves through her armour, both steel and metaphorical, but the ruin of this magnificent woman was one of them.

Lady Nana’s voice was no louder than a whisper, as easily blown away by a breeze as the dead autumn leaves long gone. ‘’There is no proper king, for none of them are my son.’’

With a sharp intake of breath, Lady Lal could not do a thing but bite back her tears, and raise her hand to cup the Queen’s face, rubbing her thumb in gentle circles across her cheek. ‘’Nana…’’

The Queen’s bottom lip quivered, her grip on Lal’s other hand tightening. ‘’I miss him.’’

Lady Lal got up and pressed the Queen against[l her, embracing her. Resting her cheek on Lady Nana’s head, she pretended not to notice the tears wetting her shoulder as Lady Nana buried her nose in her neck. Running a hand through Nana’s hair, she closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of clean soap and saltern sadness.

With a lump in her throat, she spoke. ‘’I know, milady, I know.’’

‘’You had a farting contest with Squalo and lost control of your magic?!’’ Tsuna stared at the lumpy remains of his brother’s sword incredulously.

Xanxus sniffed, picking at his nails. ‘’Obviously, trash. Now fetch me a new sword.’’

With half a mind to set Xanxus’ ass on fire, Tsuna stalked out of the tent to get a new sword, kicking the table on his way out for the good measure. If he didn’t deliver, he’d be known as the brother of the guy who farted his sword right out of existence. Great start to the new year, really. Note the sarcasm. He groaned, rubbing his temples.

Xanxus was a dirty, lazy bastard, who knew exactly how to exploit Tsuna’s weak spots.

A farting contest with Squalo? Of all the ridiculous New Years day’s traditions they’d had made up as kids to hold on to… And on such an important day too!

Knowing their grandmother, Daniela would simply have given Xanxus the Eyebrow for losing control with his magic during, but she was already in the crowd and as such, no help at all. (Please don’t let her hear that thought- she could smell insubordination).

Honestly, he pitied the guy who found the still-steaming (and stinky) half-melted remains of the sword. Better to get out of there quickly and avoid being the one to clean that disaster up.

He looked up, the sound of the clocktower bells ringing in his ears. He bit his lip. Damn it, only ten minutes left.

Tsuna was late, late, late and if he did not find a replacement for Xanxus’ sword before the tournament began, his social life would be over.

…Why was there a sword in the churchyard? Never mind- he’d seen stranger things. When your elderly grandmother, only walking straight with sheer stubbornness, beat down dragons for a living, your view of life tended to get a bit skewed.

Running past the pews, Tsuna scaled the stone to the huge anvil, hoisting himself up. He studied the blade, coloured brightly by the huge stained window above the altar, depicting the  Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus.

Curses! The sword was stuck in the anvil, the hilt the only thing above the stone!

The clock tower rang again.

…Tsuna did not have TIME for this sword to be stuck! He threw himself onto the anvil, grabbed the hilt, and pulled.

The bell stopped ringing, and an oppressive silence spread through the huge building, only broken by the zing of metal sliding against metal as the blade was separated from the anvil. Dumbfounded, Tsuna stared at the sword in his hands, gleaming prettily in the morning light.

…Never mind. He had no time for this. He had to get it to Xanxus! Turning to slide down the rock, he-

‘’Sir… You are holding my butt.’’

Tsuna blanched, jerking to steady himself. Regaining his balance, he looked to the left, he looked to the right, behind him, afore him, but no living soul other than him dwelled within the church.

‘’Sir,’’ it came again, ‘’Would you please be so kind as to release it? This is… Um… intimate.’’

Was someone hiding underneath the stone? It couldn’t be the sword, right? Tsuna scratched the back of his neck.

The blade heated up underneath his hand. ‘’Sir, please do not be so forward! The butt of a sword is truly the butt!’’

It- The sword- it-

This couldn’t be happening.

So just as he always did when he was at loss, Tsuna panicked,  dropped any and all things in his hands and screamed.

‘’HIEEEEEEEEEEEE!’’ With a swooping sensation in his gut, Tsuna fell backwards, off the stone. The harsh landing punched the air out his lungs, the stone floor cold against his cheek.

The sword clattered down beside him.

As if the devil was on his heels, Tsuna scrambled backwards, bumped his head harshly against the pews, and then hastily hid behind them.

‘’…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’’ The voice was soft and gentle this time. ‘’My name is Enma.’’

Tsuna peeked around the corner of the pews, warily eying the sword. But be as it may, etiquette dictated he was to state his name when another gave them theirs, and he would not dishonour the name of Vongola by not doing so. Even if it concerned a sword stuck in a stone.

…Formerly, that was. Because Tsuna pulled it out.

Shivering, he stood up, straightened his back, and shuffled towards the sword again, where it lay in the middle of the aisle, sun reflecting off its shiny surface.

‘’I am Tsunayoshi di Vongola, son of Sir Timoteo. Whose…’’ Tsuna hesitated, ‘’Offspring are you?’’

‘’Well, my full name would be Enma Kozato Simon, Holy Sword in the Stone, son of God, for he forged me.’’

…Forged by GOD?!

Feeling like there was a yawning hole beneath his feet, Tsuna fainted.

From behind the huge church doors, the Wizard Reborn sighed, and stood up to walk towards what would be the Rightful King of England. Prodding the downed boy-King with his boot-clad toes, the wizard Reborn pouted. He had expected an aneurysm at least.

From the floor, Enma squicked, ‘’Sire, would you please help sir Tsunayoshi? He is… indisposed at the moment.’’

Reborn waved him away, enchanting a scarf left on the pews to pick the Holy Sword up. ‘’I am aware, Sir Enma. I had hoped the whole thing would’ve been more amusing, but for some reason, your guard knights are missing.’’

The sword, now snugly wrapped up, chirped. ‘’They went out to win the tournament! They wouldn’t let anybody touch me!’’

Reborn snorted as he lifted sir Tsuna of the floor. ‘’Depriving me of my entertainment by not battling the little prince and abandoning their posts. They’re not very good at guarding you, are they?’’

Enma let out a surprised sound. ‘’But they aren’t guarding me, great wizard!’’

Reborn raised his eyebrow, hoisting sir Tsuna up over his shoulder. ‘’Then what, pray tell, are they defending, if not you?’’

‘’That would be my virtue, sir.’’

‘’…The Lady Adel’s idea, wasn’t it?’’

Author’s note

In Le Morte d’Arthur, it says that the stone was placed ‘’in the churchyard, against the high altar,’’. The high altar in a big church, as this church likely would have been, would be rather high. The stairs would be rather broad, most likely, but for the sake of the story, they were narrow in this case. The image made me laugh, anyway.

Writing this chapter took very long, because however much I wanted to write the next part, something was missing. When a lovely anon on Tumblr send me an incredibly sweet ask about my LalNana stories, I realized I had completely forgotten what to do with Lal after the first chapter. Which was a shame, so she came to hit me up the head and protect Nana!

I had a lot of fun with this chapter!