#❧ ｢ general ｣ ⸻ playlist

[distortedbeat]

top 5 song associations

share the top songs in your playlist that most inspire / represent your muses the most.  bonus points if you include lyrics to go along with it.

usseewa - ado (will stetson cover)

yes, i'm a pillar of a moral code so no, i'll be peaceful when it comes to blows pen sharper than both the gun and sword i'll shoot with my words to battle we go!

die young - kesha

lookin' for some trouble tonight take my hand, i'll show you the wild side like it's the last night of our lives we'll keep dancing 'til we die

angry too - lola blanc

'cause another and another comin' up out of the gutter till I'm drowning in an ocean of entitled motherfuckers and they're pushin' all my buttons but they never seem to wonder why

the phoenix - fall out boy

hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? i'm gonna change you like a remix then I'll raise you like a phoenix wearing our vintage misery no, I think it looked a little better on me i'm gonna change you like a remix then I'll raise you like a phoenix

still feel - half alive

I can feel a kick down in my soul And it's pulling me back to Earth to let me know I am not a slave, can't be contained So pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave, 'cause I still feel alive

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tagged by: @slayersaided (thank you!!) tagging: @invisiquirk @stigmatvm @multianime @detonizing @portraitsof @jinnorei @deathleads @kibonosentoki and whoever else wants to! tag me when you do <3

[mcrrymurdcr]

You, you said that I tricked ya 'Cause I, I didn't look like my profile picture Too, too bad I don't agree So I'm gonna hang it up for everyone to see And you can't stop me 'cause I'm the queen of the castle Get down, you dirty rascal

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 11.9k

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of death/dead people in the context of him being hades, probably more legal jargon than there should be but i tried to make it as easy to understand as possible i promise, it gets pretty existential at some points but never overtly angsty

❧ genre: fluff, getting together, greek gods/goddesses au, hades jaemin, human reader, nades au, paralegal reader, bit of a ham-fisted persephone allegory, inspired by the gods/goddesses assigned to the work it unit in 2020 for this video, appearances by bestie jeno and coworker yangyang

❧ author’s note: ahhh my first fic back after over a year hiatus!! not super accurate to the original greek myths, i was just havin fun with hades as a concept rather than a strict characterization. i also watched mike flanagan’s ‘midnight mass’ and read john milton’s ‘paradise lost’ during the time i was writing this so get ready for some slight spiritual/religious iconography and overtones. hope y’all enjoy, i had so much fun playing around with my writing in this one!!

❧ spotify playlist

⤷ sequel

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

“Okay, so I’m thinking she could accidentally be pushed into oncoming traffic—”

“And who exactly would be doing this accidental pushing?” You cut Jeno off with a scoff.

Currently, you were laying on your back on your bed, head hanging off the end of it and phone in hand. Your best friend, Lee Jeno, was on the other end of the line, jokingly scheming to get you a job at his workplace. Jeno somehow worked as a legal assistant at the best civil law practice in your city, and you, on the other hand, were unemployed. This was what you got for taking an extra year to get your master’s degree to become a paralegal instead of immediately jumping into the workforce after undergrad.

That was where you and Jeno had met: Intro to Philosophy on your very first day of college as two bright-eyed freshmen with surprisingly similar career goals and the same taste in 00s pop punk bands. Now you were a year and a half past graduating with your bachelor’s, and six months past your master’s. And what had that extra effort gotten you? Many, many interviews that all ended the same way: You’re “an incredible applicant,” but “too educated” for the pay of the position and/or “too inexperienced.”

Jeno, on the other hand, had declined your suggestion to further your education together and instead landed himself a legal assistant job right out of college. So now here you were, living off the remnants of your student loans and savings as you desperately hunted for a paralegal job.

Your best friend’s elaborate plans to get you a job at his firm would typically make you laugh, but this time you couldn’t even muster up a chuckle. Earlier today when you checked your bank accounts during a break from emailing out your résumé, you were confronted with the fact that your savings were running out; you didn’t have enough to even get you to the end of your lease in six months.

“God will, duh,” Jeno said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His current plan was centered around a junior partner’s paralegal dying of a myriad of mysterious causes, and apparently this time involved divine intervention too.

“Oh, right, of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious about the fact that Yejin needs to go, though. I have no clue how she’s still employed. And you would be the perfect fit for Ms. Haseul, she kind of does a little bit of everything, but her main focus is general corporate representation. Wasn’t that what you specialized in for grad school?”

“It is, yes.”

“Then there we go!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jeno.”

You sighed. All this talk about a job that you’ll never have was bringing down your spirits. “Anyway, I have half a leftover pizza in the fridge calling my name right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye, Y/N! I’ll keep my ears peeled for any sign of dissent in the ranks so you can slip your way in!”

“Right, bye.”

Hanging up, another sigh tumbled out of your mouth as you tossed your phone somewhere further up your bed. Truthfully, you weren’t hungry in the slightest, you just wanted to get out of that conversation. You brought your hands to your face to rub circles against your temples and closed your eyes; you were getting a headache. Hanging upside down off the foot of your bed certainly wasn’t helping, but you couldn’t be fucked to move at this point.

A moment of self-pity later and you opened your eyes with all intentions to get up and take your migraine medication, but you froze when you were met by a dark shape. Squinting, it took you a second to process that the shape was someone’s legs and shoes, and you let out a yelp. Startled, you went to twist yourself around to face whoever was in your room, but just managed to fall off your bed instead. You very narrowly avoided snapping your neck, landing on your shoulder instead, eliciting yet another yelp, but this time one of pain.

Scrambling to your feet, you were now face to face with the intruder. It was a man, younger, maybe around your age, donned in all black. Black shoes, black slacks, black suit jacket, and black vest underneath that was buttoned but with a neckline cut plenty low enough to show a good expanse of his chest. He had an eerie beauty to him: his face just bordering on gaunt with pronounced cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a hint of bags under his eyes as if he had just woken up from a night of restless sleep. But he didn’t seem to have recently awoken, very much alert and well put-together in every other aspect. His black hair was perfectly styled back from his face save for one stray lock towards the middle, and his eyes were so dark they reminded you of black holes, threatening to sweep you away forever into a cold unknown. He had more piercings than you could count in the moment, silver and the odd jewel adorning his ears. The vest showed off four or five separate silver chains around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” You breathed out, desperately trying to blink away the vertigo from your sudden change in orientation.

The man was between you and the doorway, his body language not indicating that he was blocking your way out intentionally. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his pants as he cocked an eyebrow up at your question. He seemed entirely relaxed and yet the air around you still felt as if it were growing colder by the second.

“I should be asking you that. What the hell am I doing in your apartment?” He repeated your question back to you, amusement in his tone as he studied you from head to toe, then back up.

“What?”

“I was summoned by someone. I’m not summoned often, usually Eros or Aphrodite are at the beck and call of humans.”

The names made your head spin, “Eros? Aphrodite? Like, the Greek gods?”

“Yes, of course.” One of his hands left his pocket, the many rings along his fingers glistening in your ceiling fan lights as he went to push the stray lock of hair back from his face. “Humans are always wishing for love or beauty or fame. Not as often are they wishing for my gifts, or at least not with such an intensity that I’m inclined to entertain those wishes.”

Something about his candor inclined you to ask, “Who are you?”

“I’ve had a couple names. Pluto, and you probably recognize me as Hades. But you can call me Jaemin.”

His words made your heart thunder in your chest once again. You wanted to tell yourself that this guy was crazy, but he sounded so assured and calm that it gave you pause. Not mention that he had just appeared in your home out of nowhere.

“Hades? God of the Underworld? In my apartment?”

“The very same. Please, call me Jaemin. As long as I can call you Y/N.”

“Oh, you know my name already,” you stated weakly.

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

He took a step towards you. “And yet here I am.”

Another step. “I was brought here by a desire, your desire. So, what do you really, really want, Y/N?”

His words dripped off his tongue and wound their way through your mind. “A loved one back from the dead? The death of an enemy? To die yourself? So much money you could never spend it all in one lifetime?”

Another step.

“No, none of those,” you shook your head vigorously, feeling like every sense of yours was alight with his proximity to you. Every sound was deafening, your skin tingled, and the scent of cinnamon and citrus danced around you. One more step and he’d practically be on top of you. “I don’t want any of that.”

Another step. He was right in front of you now, his startlingly cool breath washing over your face as he asked, “Then what do you want?”

“I just—” your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms as you struggled to find the words. “Want to work at Kim & Moon.”

Jaemin’s head cocked to the side as he studied your face, “Why?”

“It’s the best civil law firm in the city. I know it’s where I belong, if I could just get a job there, I know I’d do well.”

“This job? Does it pay well?”

“I-I don’t know,” you confessed. “Jeno hasn’t ever told me how much he makes, but that’s only part of why I want to work there. If all I cared about was paying my bills, I would’ve taken the first job at any sleazy ambulance chaser’s office I could find. But I’d be wasted on something like that. I’m smart, well-studied, and I’ll be good at what I do. I just know it.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, I like that.”

Then all at once, Jaemin was no longer in front of you, and you felt like you could breathe properly again. He dropped himself onto your bed, settling in to recline leisurely against your headboard, legs crossed at the ankle.

“Alright, I’ll grant your wish,” he declared, slipping one of his rings off to roll it along his knuckles. The silver band caught the light and nearly distracted you from his words.

Pulling yourself out of your momentary trance, you immediately said, “But I didn’t ask you to—”

“Of course you did, or I wouldn’t be here. Do we really have to go through this again?” His eyes were fixed on the ring. “Now do you want that job or not?”

“If I say yes, what do you want in return? I doubt Hades himself is in the business of charity.”

“Smart. There will be an exchange, obviously.”

“Then my answer is no, I don’t want to be selling my soul or something.”

Jaemin suddenly flicked the ring up, watching as it did one, two, three flips in the air before landing in the palm of his hand, “As lovely as I’m sure your soul is, I’m not particularly interested in taking it.”

“Well then what would you want from me?”

“A third of your life.” He said it simply, as if you two were talking about him borrowing a cup of sugar, not your life.

“Wh—”

“Let me finish,” he instructed sternly, firm gaze once again on you. “Spend two-thirds of your year here, then spend the remaining third of it with me.”

“If I take four months off work I won't be able to keep the job you get me.”

“It doesn’t have to be consecutive. Give me your nights and I’ll call it even.”

“Why? Why me? Why would you give me so much for just… hanging out with you?”

He shrugged, “I’m tired of spending all my time with dead people.”

Despite his casual tone, you swore you saw something much sadder flash across his face for a moment. It was gone as soon as you had registered it, making you wonder if you just imagined it. When you remained quiet, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought, he stood up and crossed the room to once again stop just a mere inch or two in front of you, “Do we have a deal, Y/N?”

A chance to use your degree and skills like you’d always dreamed, just for hanging out with a god every night? It sounded... not quite too good to be true, but definitely too easy. You couldn’t remember Hades being portrayed as a tricksy sort in the myths, and everything Jaemin had done tonight—aside from appearing in your room out of the blue—made you think that you could probably trust him.

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, looking up from where you had been twiddling your thumbs anxiously to his hauntingly beautiful face. “Do we have to do anything to make the deal official or whatever?”

“What, like a kiss?” He grinned at you mischievously. “Since you asked…”

“Jaemin!” You scoffed, feeling like he was teasing you now.

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Anyway, a handshake will do just fine,” Jaemin held his right hand out in the small space between your bodies.

You took it, feeling the cold from his fingers seep into your own, and gave it one firm shake. Before you could take your hand back, he’d tightened his grip and turned it over. His other hand came up to slip a ring onto your ring finger. It was the same silver band he had been playing with before, and it magically changed size to fit your finger perfectly. Jaemin bowed slightly, bringing your hand up to press a feather-light kiss to the knuckle of the very finger he’d just put the ring on. His lips were cool like the rest of him, but you still felt warm at his actions.

“There,” he straightened back up and let go of your hand finally. “That should do it.”

You looked down at the ring he’d just put on your finger. It was a simple silver band of medium width that reminded you of your father’s wedding band.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

“Yeah—” you cut yourself off when you brought your eyes up to see that Jaemin was gone. Staring at the empty space where he just was, you murmured, “Bye, Jaemin.”

That night you dreamt of a man cloaked in shadows guiding you to a tree, instructing you to pick the golden fruit that was growing on it. You gazed at the fruit, in a daze, mesmerized by their beauty. They were so inviting, the man’s voice soothing, and you lifted a hand up towards one.

You groaned against the bright sunlight streaming in through a crack between your curtains. Directly on your face. You threw your left arm over your eyes to block it out as you continued lying in bed, letting your mind and body wake up gradually.

Memories of last night’s visitor came back to you, and you sighed. Surely it was a dream. A weird, weird dream that your mind conjured up in an attempt to fulfill your wish for a job.

But when you squinted your eyes open and brought your right hand up enough to look at your fingers, the silver band that sat there let you know that it was real. You’d been visited last night, by Hades, who said he’d grant your wish for a job in exchange for a third of your life. And you said yes.

The loud sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand prompted you to roll over and grab it to look at the caller ID. Lee Jeno.

“Yeah?” You couldn’t even muster up a proper greeting as you picked up, still bogged down by sleep.

“Y/N, great news!”

You glanced at the time on your phone before bringing it back up to your ear, “Jeno, it’s not even 9:30 a.m., why are you calling me? You can’t be on lunch.”

“I know, but as soon as I heard, I had to tell you!”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“There’s a job opening at the firm! You have to apply!”

That woke you up.

“An opening?” You asked, shooting up into a sitting position.

“Jo Haseul, the junior partner at the firm I’ve been telling you about, her paralegal won the lottery and quit on the spot. No two weeks’ notice, they’re urgently hiring her replacement. I’ll text you the firm administrator’s email for you to send your résumé to!”

“That would be great, thank you, Jeno.”

“Of course!” He said brightly as another phone began ringing in the background. “I’ve got to go now, Ms. Kang is buzzing me.”

“Right, thank you again.”

“Bye!”

“Bye,” you brought your phone down to see he had already ended the call.

As you went to grab your laptop from the foot of your bed to begin drafting that email, your eyes got caught by the silver ring on your hand.

A week later and you were walking into your first day of work at Kim & Moon. The firm administrator, Jeong Jaehyun, was showing you around, and finally stopped his tour in an open-floor plan portion of the office where a grouping of eight desks were. A couple of them were empty, the others filled by various men and women hard at work, and also Lee Jeno.

“Y/N!” Jeno waved at you enthusiastically from where he was on the other side of all the desks, and you lifted your hand to give a small wave back.

“Oh, you know Lee Jeno?” Mr. Jeong asked as he guided you over towards your friend.

“Yes, we were in the same undergrad program.”

“Good, it should be easier to settle in with a familiar face nearby.” The administrator smiled as he gestured to the empty desk behind your friend. The one beside it was occupied by another young man incredibly focused on his screen, headphones in as his fingers flitted over his keyboard and he fervently typed out a court document.

“This is your desk, Ms. Y/L/N. Ms. Jo, your attorney, is on a call right now but she has been informed of your arrival. I’m sure she’ll meet with you when she can. In the meantime, please acquaint yourself with your workspace. Your computer is already logged in, and all of your passwords are on the paper right there. Is there anything you need at the moment?”

“No, no. Thank you so much, Mr. Jeong,” you bowed your head politely to him.

“Of course. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” He pointed to the landline sitting on your desk next to the computer monitors, “I have a quick-dial button right next to Reception’s. Buzz me if you need something.”

“I will, thank you.”

And with that, Jeong Jaehyun took his leave of the pod that you were in. You sat in your chair, taking in the sparse supplies on your desk: two computer monitors, keyboard, mouse, a landline phone, a couple pens, and one sheet of paper laid across your keyboard. It was a list of your login credentials for your computer, work email, and the firm’s file management software, along with Mr. Jeong’s extension and quick-dial button name.

You turned back around to where you knew Jeno was already waiting for you. Your friend was practically vibrating with excitement in his own desk chair.

“This is so exciting!” Jeno exclaimed, momentarily drawing the attention of all the other employees in your vicinity before they went back to whatever they were doing. He continued on much quieter, “I told you you’d kill it at your interview.”

“Right,” you nodded, trying not to think about the silver ring on your right hand. “Thanks, Jeno, I’m excited to start.”

“I’ll give you the rundown of everyone at the firm, come here,” he scooted his chair over to make room for you to roll yours up to his desk.

His fingers quickly flitted across his keyboard and mouse to pull up the firm website. Hovering over the tab labeled ‘Our Attorneys,’ you saw a list of names drop down. He clicked on the first one, Kim Chaeyoung. It pulled up a profile, the picture showing a very determined older woman, her arms crossed over her chest as she very resolutely stared down the camera.

“This is Kim Chaeyoung, the ‘Kim’ in Kim & Moon. She’s the most senior attorney at the firm, and mostly does corporate compliance and medical malpractice law. She just stepped down from being managing partner at the end of last year.”

He clicked the next name on the list, Moon Taeil. This time a man was on your screen, a bit older than you, but not by too much. No more than ten or fifteen years for sure, quite young to be a managing partner at such a large firm. His gaze wasn’t quite as intense as Kim Chaeyoung’s, but it held an intelligence and wisdom clearly beyond his years.

“Mrs. Kim stepped down to let this man, Moon Taeil, take over as managing partner. Something about wanting younger blood in charge but…” Jeno looked around the pod before he dropped his voice to a whisper so soft you had to lean in to hear him, “The rumor is that Mrs. Kim is going to announce her retirement at the holiday party at the end of this year.”

“And what sort of law does Mr. Moon do?” You questioned.

“Mostly insurance litigation. He tends to get the nastier incidents though: shootings, stabbings, fires, the odd dog bite.”

You then went through the senior partners before getting to the first of the junior partners on the list.

“And here is Jo Haseul, your attorney. She’s the most senior of the junior partners, and rumors also say that she’s going to be made a senior partner by the end of this year.”

“You love your office gossip, don’t you?”

You studied the woman on screen. She was younger than you had expected, a fierceness in her eyes that both intimidated you and inspired you to follow her wherever she led.

“This isn’t even the juicy stuff, wait until you hear about the affair Mr. Noh supposedly had with his assistant in the 80s,” Jeno scoffed, then turned his attention back to the woman on screen. “Anyway, Ms. Haseul is Mrs. Kim’s protégé. She mostly does general corporate matters, medical malpractice, and the occasional pro bono representation for women in need. Restraining orders, child custody, divorce, whatever comes in the door. If you really want to get to know her, ask about those cases.”

“She sounds incredible.”

“I told you you’d be perfect for each other.” Your friend then pulled up the next junior partner, “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s Mrs. Kim’s son but you’d never be able to tell by how they act around each other. All business. I think he doesn’t want people to assume he only got his position because of his mother, but nobody who has actually spoken to Mrs. Kim would ever think she’d do something like that. She’s got some serious integrity.”

Jeno was about to move on to the next attorney profile, a ‘Qian Kun,’ when you heard a ringing from behind you.

“Oh, that’s you, Y/N!”

You quickly wheeled yourself back over to your desk, picking up your desk phone after the third ring, “Y/L/N Y/N speaking.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” a woman’s voice was on the other end, and when you glanced at the caller ID, you saw ‘Jo Haseul’ across the screen. “This is Jo Haseul. Please come to my office now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m down the hall. Ask another assistant if you need help finding it.”

“Will do, thank you.”

She hung up, and you rushed to stand up. Grabbing one of the pens you saw earlier, you frantically scanned for a notepad to write with, but there wasn’t one on hand at your desk. You whipped around to face your friend, “Jeno, do you have a notepad I can use? Ms. Haseul wants to see me.”

“Here,” he handed you a notepad slightly bigger than your hand, spiral-bound at the top.

“Thank you!”

“The attorney offices are down that hall,” he pointed. “And Ms. Haseul’s will be on your left.”

“Got it, thanks!” You hurried in the direction he gestured.

Thankfully, everyone’s names were engraved on metal nameplates on the doors, making it easy to know when you had stopped in front of your attorney’s. Rapping your knuckles against the wood, you waited for a response.

“Come in.”

You entered already bowing, “Y/L/N Y/N, ma’am. It’s an honor to be here and I am very grateful for the opportunity to work with you.”

Jo Haseul appraised you for a moment from where she was sat behind her desk. She then nodded, “It’s nice to meet you. Now please sit, Y/L/N.”

“Yes ma’am,” you quickly sat in the armchair she had gestured to.

After brief introductions, Ms. Haseul gave you the rundown of the kinds of cases she tended to deal with—which generally lined up with what Jeno had told you earlier, her management style, workflow, and an overview of the duties you’ll be expected to fulfill as her paralegal. At the end of it, you left with pages of notes, a stack of papers in your arms, and your first tasks to do for her.

Stopping at your desk, you didn’t even sit as you organized the papers into three stacks: to correct, to file, and to copy. You picked up the last stack of things that Ms. Haseul wanted copies of, then turned to your friend, “Hey, Jeno, where’s the copier?”

The assistant sat at the desk beside yours was the one who spoke up in response, his headphones set aside now, “Oh, I’m going there right now, I’ll show you!”

“Thanks, Yangyang,” Jeno said, then nodded for you to go along with the other man.

Yangyang grabbed his own paper before leading the way out from the desks. He took off in the opposite direction from the offices down a different hallway, “It’s down this hall, first door on the right.” He then opened said door to reveal a room with four large copy machines in it.

“I’m Liu Yangyang, by the way,” your coworker introduced himself, stopping in front of one machine. “I’m Qian Kun and Dong Sicheng’s legal assistant. They’re Ms. Haseul’s associate attorneys that work under her so you and I will overlap quite a bit. Sicheng usually handles corporate matters with Ms. Haseul while Kun does the med mal portion.”

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Yangyang.”

“You too, Y/N. And I’m sure you’ll meet my attorneys at some point today. I apologize in advance, and yes, they are always like that. Kun’s a workaholic who would be here until two in the morning if somebody didn’t send him home, and Sicheng… you are allowed to say no to him, and I encourage it, actually. Booksmart but doesn’t quite get social cues. I’ve seen him accidentally sweet talk his way into having an assistant pick up his dry cleaning before.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I had to intervene to ensure feminism wasn’t set back fifty years,” Yangyang scoffed.

“Women everywhere commend you for your service to the cause, Yangyang,” you nodded solemnly, to which your coworker snickered.

“The dude’s wicked smart but dumber than a box of rocks. Associates, you know?” He shook his head then returned to instructing you about the machine.

After Yangyang had shown you how to use the multipurpose machine—scanning and uploading, printing, copying, faxing—he took the copies that he had made and left you there. Nobody was at the other copiers, making you the only one in the room. You took a deep breath to compose yourself after having so much information thrown at you from all sides. Right now, at this moment, all you needed to do was make a copy.

Putting the first document in where Yangyang had shown you, you’d just started tapping the touchscreen through to the copying option when a dark figure appeared at the edge of your vision. Your head snapped up to look at the man leaning against the wall beside the copy machine you were at.

You hadn’t seen Jaemin since the night you’d made your deal. You’d spent the entire next night anxiously waiting for him to appear, but he never did, and you eventually gave up and fell asleep. He didn’t come any night after that, and you kind of thought he might’ve forgotten about you, or maybe didn’t really want you to hold up your end of the deal. Realized that he could find better company than you.

But here he was, in your workplace, smirk on his face and delight in his tone, “Surprise! I came to visit you on your first day of work. I’m so proud!”

First rolling your eyes at the sarcasm in his words and the fake tear he wiped away, you then fervently glanced towards the door to the copy room, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m checking on my investment,” he answered coolly.

“What, me? You can check on me at my home tonight, not at my job on my first day of work! Somebody could walk in, how would I explain you?”

“Nobody’s coming.”

“The deal was that I would give you my nights. Sun’s still up.”

“Yes, you’re doing just fine,” he nodded as he adjusted his black tie, seeming satisfied with his ‘check in.’ “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

You immediately flopped down onto your couch when you got home that night. That was the most work you’d done in a while; you were tired both physically and mentally. But it was a good sort of tired. You finally had a job.

“Hi, honey, how was work?”

You shot up at the voice, knowing exactly who it was. Jaemin was poised in your armchair, half a smirk already on his lips. He was in all-black again, though a slightly different suit from last time, his slacks and suit jacket had thin dark grey pinstripes, over a black silk dress shirt with the top three buttons open.

“Oh, uh, it was good,” you said.

Silence fell over you two, and you started fidgeting uncomfortably as it dragged on. Finally, you said, “So... what do you want to do?”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that, but no. I just got home.”

“Let’s get dinner then. Where would you like to go?”

“Uhm...” you wracked your brain for some places nearby. “There’s a ramen place down the street. Let me change out of my work clothes first, hold on.”

Re-emerging from your bedroom in more casual clothes, you saw that Jaemin had moved from his spot on your armchair and was instead standing, gazing out the window. And again, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn he looked... lonely.

“I’m ready,” you announced yourself. It felt wrong to keep looking at him like that.

Jaemin turned around, focusing a dazzling smile on you, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

The place you were thinking of really was just a couple blocks down the street. Mumbling a thanks to Jaemin as he held the door open for you, you were immediately met with a packed restaurant. It was seat-yourself, and you managed to spot a small table for two in the very back corner, right beside the entrance to the kitchen. Guiding Jaemin over to it, you felt your face turn warm as he pulled your chair out for you.

The menu was a singular piece of laminated paper taped to the tabletop, and your eyes skimmed it. You ordered the same thing every time at this point, but it was something to look at other than the god in front of you. Speaking of, he was a god. Did he even need to eat?

“Jaemin.” You said his name as you looked up from the menu.

His eyes flicked up from where they’d also been reading the options, “Hm?”

“Do you even eat, like, normal food?”

“I can if I want to, I just don’t need it to survive like you do.”

“Oh, I see. And do you... like it?”

“Quite.”

It was then that a familiar waiter came up to your table, “Hi, Y/N! It’s been a while. Almost didn’t recognize you at a table instead of the bar.”

Typically, you would come by yourself and sit at the bartop to eat alone alongside all the other solo patrons. You rolled your eyes at the slight jab, “Thank you, Chenle, I feel so welcome.”

“Aw, you know you’re one of my favorite regulars,” the young man snickered.

“Yeah, whatever. Sorry I haven’t been by lately, I didn’t exactly have the funds to eat out.”

“That’s okay. But you’re back, does that mean that you found a job?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Congrats!” He then focused his attention on the man across from you, “Hi, I’m Zhong Chenle.”

You moved to introduce the two before Jaemin could open his mouth, afraid of what he would’ve said. “Chenle, this is Jaemin, a... friend of mine. Jaemin, this is Chenle, he’s a server here.”

“And I’ll be serving you two tonight. So, what can I get you?”

After taking your orders, Chenle took off to put them in. You shifted in your seat awkwardly. What were you and Jaemin even supposed to talk about?

“You usually sit at the bar?” Jaemin questioned.

“I’m not an alcoholic, despite how Chenle made it sound,” you scoffed. “I usually come by myself, and the bar is the quickest place to get your food and get out. And that way I don’t take up any tables that groups can use.”

“I feel honored that you brought me here, then.”

You searched his face for any hint that he was teasing you, but all you found was sincere curiosity. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you changed the topic, “So why did you show up tonight? You didn’t come all last week.”

“Well, I had to hold up my end of the deal first.”

“Right, that... makes sense.” Realizing that you hadn’t even thanked him for whatever he’d done for you, you added, “Thank you, Jaemin. For you know, the job.”

“You’re welcome.”

Chenle returned then with a small bottle of soju for each of you, informing you that your food would be ready soon.

“So is it everything you’d dreamed of? Working at Kim & Moon?” Jaemin asked before lifting his bottle to his lips.

“Today was only my first day but... yes. I’ve already learned a lot, was listened to when I spoke, and the partner I work for seems like an incredible woman so far. It’s wonderful.”

“I hope it stays that wonderful for you, Y/N. I’d like to see your eyes light up like this often.”

Looking down at the green bottle in front of you, you twisted your ring around your finger nervously. You didn’t know what to say back, your heart fluttering around in your chest. Jaemin was charming, too charming for your own good, and you sort of felt like you really shouldn’t have expected any less from a god.

“Are you curious?”

You snapped your head up to look at your companion, not even attempting to hide your confusion at his words, “About what?”

“What I did, to get you the job.”

“I mean, I am. I assume you had something to do with Yejin winning the lottery? You’re the god of everything below the Earth, including precious gems, gold, silver. The god of riches, wealth. In the modern day that would translate to how we view wealth and riches now, since I’m not really out here buying my groceries with rubies and gold coins. Right?”

Jaemin’s obsidian eyes practically glittered as he listened to you speak, his lips curling up at one corner before he took another swig of his soju. When you were finished, he set the bottle back onto the table to answer your question, “Hit the nail on the head.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you did that instead of killing her or something horrible.”

His head jerked back as he looked at you with bewilderment, “Now why would I do that? I’m the god of the dead, not death. If you wanted her dead you’re talking to the wrong deity.”

“I don’t want her dead, that’s my point. That’s what Jeno was joking about on the phone before you showed up; I didn’t want you to get any ideas.”

“I don’t really find it fun to just push people into traffic.”

“So you were listening to—” You cut yourself off as you saw Chenle approaching with your food. Not a conversation to be having in front of your normal human waiter.

After he had left your table again, you returned to what you were saying before, “So you were listening to our conversation.”

“Can’t help myself, I’m nosy when it comes to the humans who summon me,” Jaemin admitted.

“So what does Hades do for fun then?” You asked lightheartedly, slurping at some of your broth.

“While I don’t necessarily enjoy pushing people into traffic, I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all. See what they spend it on, who they spend it on. Themselves mostly, sometimes others, trying to get people to be their friends or lovers simply because of what they’ll buy them. I’ll watch them do what humans do best, use and abuse the gifts that were given to them. And then once they’ve been sucked dry both in their finances and their souls, find out how they try to move on.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” You set your spoon down, voice wavering. “Watching and waiting for me to end up like that?”

Jaemin took a pause, shifting forward in his seat before responding, “One of my favorite things about humans is how resilient you are. Always trying to bounce back. It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point, when you have no more bounce left.”

An absolutely devilish smile played across his features as he seemed to take delight in the notion. He didn’t exactly answer your question, but the lack thereof felt like enough.

“Why?”

“Because it’s different for every person, and always further than I think it’ll be. Even after so long, knowing that humans can still surprise me, it’s refreshing. Makes me think that…”

You blinked at him, waiting for him to finish. He was definitely well aware that he had your rapt attention, basking in the drama he had created by pausing. His eyes settled on you firmly, holding eye contact as something softer entered them.

“Maybe you’ll surprise me, too.”

Jaemin came back to your apartment with you after you’d decided you were full. You hadn’t had much of an appetite after that harrowing conversation over dinner, and he’d left you with a lot of thinking to do. It wasn’t every day that you heard a god’s perspective on human lives—on toying with human lives, watching for their eventual breakdown in the aftermath of the ‘gifts’ he gave them. If that’s what it did to them all, it seemed much more like a curse to you.

And you were of course thinking about whether it would happen to you too. You hadn’t wished for riches or wealth directly, definitely not so much that it would have the same effect on your life as winning the lottery. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t worried. And the idea of Jaemin watching you every step of the way, waiting to see when you’d slip up, when you’d meet your breaking point, made you shiver instinctually.

“Are you cold?” Jaemin’s question broke the silence that had been hovering over you two since you started the walk from the restaurant back to your apartment.

“Oh, no, I—”

But he had already shrugged his suit jacket off and laid it over your shoulders. There was no residual body heat in it, but it did help block out some of the breeze blowing past you. You hadn’t noticed the temperature at all, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

“Thanks,” you muttered, wrapping the jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smelled faintly of spiced citrus.

“No worries.”

Back in your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed staring up at your ceiling as you gave yourself over fully to the existential crisis you were descending into. But you still had a god to entertain.

A glance at the change in time on your stovetop clock let you know that you were only a couple hours into your commitment. You hoped he didn’t expect you to stay up all night with him. Leaving Jaemin in your living room once again, you changed into pajamas in your bedroom. If he was going to be with you every night from here on out, you were at least going to be comfy for some of it.

Jaemin was back in the armchair he had appeared in at the beginning of the night, one knee crossed over the other and a book in hand. You paused behind him on your way back into the living room to peer over his shoulder, trying to read the title at the top of the page he was on.

“The Turn of the Screw?” You questioned, walking around him to plop down onto your couch.

“I found it on your shelf,” he gestured to the built-in shelves in the walls around the recess that held your TV. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out, I haven’t touched it since I had to read it for a ghost literature class like… four years ago.”

“Ghost literature class?” Jaemin lowered the book to rest on his leg while he regarded you with an eyebrow raised. “Did you go to school in the Underworld or something?”

“It was actually called like ‘Ghost Stories and Haunted Fiction of the 19th Century’ or something. The students just called it ghost lit. We read all these spooky stories, including The Turn of the Screw,” you explained, then looked around your living room. “I have a few more of them around here somewhere. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein— I can’t remember the full reading list, but they’re scattered around.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised the book back up to continue reading intently.

Since he seemed occupied for the moment, you pulled out your phone to distract yourself.

A couple hours later and you let out your first yawn of the night. You’d thought that Jaemin was so enraptured by the book that he wasn’t paying any attention to you. The chuckle he gave from across the room proved you wrong, however. There was definitely nothing funny in that story. You threw him a scowl, but he neither looked up from the book nor said anything.

Shifting in your spot to get comfy again, you returned to the article that you’d been reading on your phone and your guest was quiet once again. Another yawn split your mouth, and the words on your screen swam in your vision as your eyes teared up.

“Tired, Y/N?” Jaemin’s eyes still hadn’t left the book as he continued, “You should go to sleep, early day at work tomorrow, right?”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I thought I’d finish this book, if that’s alright with you. I’ve got about… thirty, forty pages left.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you were surprised both that he was encouraging you to go to sleep during the time you’d agreed to forfeit to him, and that he wanted to finish the book.

Standing up from the couch, you shuffled into your kitchen to fill up a glass of water. After knocking back your nightly medication, you placed the water on your nightstand and went into your bathroom to do your nighttime routine. You found yourself hovering at the threshold between the hallway that contained your bedroom and bathroom, and the living room. It felt weird to just go to bed with someone else in your home, at least not without saying goodnight to them.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat.

Jaemin turned to look at you from over the back of the armchair, “Yes, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to…” you felt the words catch in your throat. Pushing through your awkwardness, you twisted the ring around your finger as you forced the words out, “Goodnight, Jaemin.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled at you before turning back around to face his book, “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, you retreated into your bedroom for the night, falling asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The man of shadows was in your dreams again that night, drawing you to the tree with the golden fruit. His voice once more invited you to partake in picking the fruit, and your hand inched up, up, up, towards one. Your fingers had just wrapped around the fruit, ready to pluck it off the branch, when you woke up.

When you awoke the next morning, you went through the motions of your morning routine, strolling from your bathroom out to your kitchen, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth. You continued brushing your teeth with one hand as you grabbed the freshly popped toast from the toaster to put on a plate. As you went to lean over the kitchen sink to spit the toothpaste foam out of your mouth, your eyes got caught on something in the living room, which the sink overlooked. There was a small black pouch sitting on the coffee table, on the corner closest to the armchair.

After wiping your mouth off, you walked over to your coffee table, intrigue building as you picked up the velvet drawstring pouch. Looking around, you were only greeted by your empty apartment. This wasn’t here last night. Or at least, not before you went to sleep.

Pulling it open, you gently shook the contents out onto your palm. It was a silver bracelet, intricate filigree running along the band that was inlaid with gorgeous green and blue gems.

Jaemin’s words from dinner last night echoed in your head.

‘I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all… It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point…’

A foreboding feeling colored your vision, and you rushed to tuck the bracelet back into the bag and throw it onto the table.

When Jaemin came that night, you were cooking dinner in your kitchen. He appeared there with you, leaning against the counter next to your sink as you were standing over the stovetop.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greeted you.

“Hello, Jaemin.” You steeled your nerves, giving as nonchalant of a nod as you could towards the living room, “You left something here last night. It’s on the coffee table.”

The god regarded you with a tilted head, and you felt his eyes on your empty wrists, “That was for you.”

“I didn’t ask you for anything like that.”

“I know. It was a gift.”

“The job was plenty, Jaemin.”

He was silent as he continued to watch you cook. After a grueling couple of minutes of absolute silence, his eyes burning into you the whole time, you finally turned to properly look him in the face. Throwing on a smile, you informed him, “Dinner’s ready. Ravioli, would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

You set two places at your dinner table before plating two portions of the pasta. Jaemin was still in his place next to the sink, observing your movements.

“Go ahead and sit, I’m just going to grab a couple glasses,” you gestured towards the kitchen table.

Without even waiting to see if he’d obey, you bustled over to a cabinet and took out two wine glasses, then grabbed a bottle of white wine you’d been meaning to finish off. When you turned back to the kitchen table, you were pleasantly surprised to see Jaemin waiting there patiently, fidgeting with his silverware. Setting the two glasses down, you noticed that Jaemin’s silverware was in different places than you had put them in when you hastily set the table. The fork was on the left of the plate, the knife and spoon on the right with the knife directly beside the plate and the spoon on the other side of the knife. Yours on the other hand were in the haphazard places atop the napkin that you had put them earlier.

“Apologies for the subpar fork placement,” you said, uncorking the wine to begin pouring it out first for Jaemin.

“Oh, it’s just a habit,” he explained. His tone then turned as teasing as yours had been, “My apologies for making you think your fork placement was anything other than above par.”

You then poured for yourself as you continued the banter, “Yeah, you know, I really pride myself on my utensil arranging skills. My feelings have been gravely wounded. I’ll never recover from this.”

“Then would you consider taking this,” he procured a small black pouch from his pocket, and you had a suspicion as to exactly what was in it, “as repentance, with my sincerest apologies?”

A bitter sigh came out of your mouth at him ruining the perfectly normal moment you were enjoying, “Jaemin, I told you I don’t want any more gifts from you.”

The way you spat out the word ‘gifts’ was apparently a lightbulb moment for him as he set the pouch down on the table and all playfulness dropped from his face. Disinterested in whatever he was going to say to try to convince you to take it, you picked up your fork, using the side of the tongs to cut one of your raviolis in half.

“Y/N…” he said your name almost wistfully, leaning forward towards you earnestly. “I really do just want you to have it. It’s not a test or a ruse, just… a token.”

“A token of what?” You snorted, spearing half of the ravioli that you’d just cut and bringing it up to your mouth.

“My affection?”

You choked momentarily on the pasta in your mouth, chewing and swallowing it as quickly as possible and taking a sip of your wine to wash it down. Jaemin still hadn’t touched his food, utensils undisturbed as he waited for you to collect yourself. When you searched his face for a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes, anything to indicate that he was being less than truthful, you found none. You were just met with deep open pools of black in his eyes, his mouth set in seriousness, and his hand once again holding the pouch back out to you.

“Your what?”

“I know you heard me.”

“Yes, and now I’m asking for clarification.”

“I find you fascinating, and not in the morbid kind of way like I described to you last night. I’ve found myself starting to become fond of you, and I wanted to show that to you with a… present.”

“What, like getting your puppy a new chew toy because they’re so darn cute?”

Jaemin chuckled, “Not quite. But still, will you please accept it, Y/N?”

You thought it over for another moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. He was being sincere, you were sure of it. You’d caught brief glimpses of the kinder side to Jaemin just in the few times you’d met him: when he’d leant you his suit jacket walking home last night, telling you he was hoping you’d continue being in love with your job, the gentlemanly peck he’d left on your fingers the night you’d made your deal. And now, as he patiently awaited your answer.

“Alright,” you agreed, taking the small bag from him. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Thank you for letting me give it to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Pulling the bracelet back out of the pouch, you saw that it had a hinge mechanism on it that you couldn’t manage one-handed, and held it out to the god sitting in front of you, “Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” he took it, opening the band up with ease.

You held your right hand out towards him, and he brought the open bracelet up around your wrist. But you weren’t watching the way his deft fingers put it on around your wrist, the tips of them brushing over the sensitive skin at your pulse point, leaving coolness behind. You were watching his face as he focused on the task intently, his brows furrowing in concentration then relaxing after the bracelet had clicked shut. A small but tender smile took over his face, his eyes softening as he turned your hand over palm down, thumb running up your ring finger until it reached the silver band that resided there.

Your skin buzzed in the wake of his touch, an electric cold. You could hear your heart thudding in your ears and hoped that he didn’t have supernatural god hearing or something and could hear it too. If he did, he gave no indication of such. He withdrew his hands, leaving you more dazed than you should’ve been at the minimal contact you had. Jerking your hand back to your side of the table, you turned your gaze down at your food, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks were.

A light laugh came from Jaemin, but you couldn’t force your eyes back up to him, knowing that his were already on you.

That night you dreamt once more of the man cast in darkness, leading you to the tree of golden fruit. This time when he encouraged you to pick one, you grasped at the fruit with two hands, pulling it right off the branch with a firm tug.

Just about one month into your… arrangement with Jaemin, you were rooting through your fridge for something to make for dinner when there was suddenly a cool breeze on the back of your neck. Except you were indoors.

Spinning around, you were immediately met with the god extremely close to you, and let out an exasperated sigh, “God damn, Jaemin, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I can’t help it if I make your heart race,” he grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye making your heart pound in a different way that it had been.

“Yeah, because you jumpscared me,” you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge doors to then lean back against the appliance. “Anyway, it’s not looking like I have anything to make for dinner. You okay with eating out tonight?”

“More than, I was actually hoping you’d let me take you somewhere tonight.”

“Where?”

“My place. You’ve been such a gracious host this whole time, it’s time I repay the favor.”

“Your place, as in... the Underworld?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged nonchalantly, an enticing grin on his features. A grin that invited you to follow its owner to places you’d never been before. “I promise you’ll come back.”

“In one piece?”

“Of course.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued, that you hadn’t tried to picture what the Underworld looked like. All you could come up with was the standard image of hell: flames, pitchforks, eternal torture. But now you were getting an invitation to go there with Hades and come back alive.

“And I’ll be back in time to go to work in the morning?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Alright, sure,” you finally acquiesced. “I’d love to, thank you for inviting me.”

Jaemin offered his hand out to you then, and you placed your atop. He gave yours a light squeeze, “Just focus on me, Y/N. Just look in my eyes.”

“Okay?” You agreed despite your tone pitching it up into a question, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do that.

Nevertheless, you settled your gaze on his eyes, even as he drew you in closer by the light grip on your hand. You gave him an awkward half-smile, unsure of what exactly to do as you just stared him directly in the eye. His dark eyes had a calming effect, however, as you felt your breathing even out and your heartbeat slow. This close to him, and being able to unabashedly look at him, you were entranced by the unearthly quality to his beauty. It should have been disquieting, this spectral vision in front of you, but you just found yourself drawn even closer in body and mind.

Then suddenly everything around you was darker, as if someone had dimmed your kitchen lights. The air was cooler too, and you had the suspicion that you were no longer in your kitchen. But you were still looking at Jaemin, just like you said you would.

He was looking right back at you, unflinchingly, and a fond smile crossed his lips before he announced quietly, “We’re here. You can look.”

And you finally tore your eyes from him to take in your new surroundings. It was dark, just like you’d noted before, as if it were nighttime. The room you were in had black floors, black walls, and at the very tippy top of the black vaulted ceiling, a black wrought iron chandelier with flames glowing... blue? But you couldn’t focus on the flickering up above you as Jaemin’s fingers entwined with yours and he gently tugged you towards the other side of the room.

“Come on, this way.”

It looked like you were maybe in an entrance hall of some sort. It was then that you spotted a large black throne adorned with silver detailing and embellishments at the front of the room. Jaemin kept walking right past it, though, down an adjoining hallway.

Your wide eyes that had been taking everything in turned downwards to your hand that was holding Jaemin’s. His skin was the usual coolness you had come to expect, and your fingertips brushed against the multitudes of rings on his fingers. Seeing the lone silver band on your hand, the one that he was holding, made your face hot for some reason.

You passed through another doorway into a dining room. It contained a large dining table crafted from dark walnut wood, the twelve high-back chairs around it made of the same. A deep red table runner went across the length of the tabletop, matching the upholstery of the chairs. A feast was already laid out, and place settings for two of the seats were prepared.

Jaemin let go of your hand to pull out a chair for you. You thanked him quietly as you sat down, eyes still scanning over the food options. He sat in the chair caddy-corner to yours, at the head of the table.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” Jaemin encouraged you as he reached forward to grab the bottle of wine that had been on the table as well.

“Everything looks... so good,” you said, not sure what to try first.

He uncorked the bottle, pouring the red wine into your glass first, then his. When he put the bottle down, you still hadn’t moved, too overwhelmed with all the delicious-looking choices.

“Do I need to make your plate for you?” He teased, already standing and grabbing your plate.

“This is good, you’ll probably like this one, oh you’re going to love this one, everyone likes that, mmm definitely not that,” he mumbled to himself as he loaded up your plate with food after food.

Your heart did flips as you looked up at him, the simple kindness of his actions making you feel warm despite the coolness of the Underworld.

Jaemin set your plate back down in front of you between your utensils, spoon on the far right, then the knife beside the plate, and the fork on the left. You waited for him to prepare his own plate of food, then finally be seated. When he’d finished scooting his chair up to table, he looked up from what he’d been doing, eyes catching yours, and a small, affectionate smile crossed his lips before he grabbed his wine glass. Then a wide, charismatic grin overtook his features as he held his glass out towards you, and you followed his lead, picking yours up to clink them together.

“To one month of… you and I. Thank you for agreeing to come here tonight, Y/N.”

‘You and I.’ His words both squeezed your chest and made it feel airy, like someone was inflating a balloon inside of it.

“Thank you for hosting tonight, Jaemin. And here’s to one month of…” you took a sharp inhale as you stumbled through your mind for any other word but couldn’t find one in that moment. “Us.”

You saw Jaemin’s pale lips softly, silently repeat the word before pulling into an alluring smirk.

And you each took a sip of the wine before digging into your food and kicking off the discussion. Over your month of dinners and nighttime socializing with Jaemin, you were used to your conversations meandering between the casual catching up of your workday to the serious contemplations of life and the universe. After all, if you were dining with a god, you were going to pick his brain for some philosophical inquiry. But on the days where some of the medical malpractice or domestic pro bono cases had hit you exceptionally hard and you wanted to leave well enough alone, Jaemin let you keep the topics light and surface level, keeping it at office gossip and the like.

Tonight though, with the special venue on your mind, you immediately delved into the existential, “So what are humans to you?”

“How do you mean?” Jaemin arched an eyebrow at your question.

“You’re a god. You’ve lived for thousands of years. You’ve seen millions of humans live and die. Surely, we all just kind of… blur together for you. Seem the same. Inconsequential.”

“No, not at all.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m here,” you teased before returning to your debate. “Most of us live and die without ever leaving a lasting impact on the world. Not that I think that’s necessary for having lived a meaningful or good life, I think that making even one person smile means that someone lived a good life. But in relation to you, a god, surely that makes us all indistinguishable from one another.”

“Is a play bad because it ends? Is a flower no longer beautiful because it will wilt? I think that humans and your lives are so intriguing because they’re finite.” He was as impassioned as ever when getting into your metaphysical dialogues— voice strong with resolve, leaning forward towards you earnestly, brow set just the slightest not with anger but determination, and hair falling into his onyx eyes that looked into yours without hesitation. “An incalculable but unquestionably limited amount of time, one chance, and each of you choose to live differently.”

“You still think that every human life is different from all the others?”

“Of course.” Apparently sensing that he hadn’t convinced you yet, Jaemin continued with an example, “Just look at you and your friend Jeno. Sure, the two of you converged pretty closely in college, but he made the choice to begin his career while you made the choice pursue higher education. Your two lives aren’t the same.”

“There’s also another major difference between the two of us.”

At the imploring tilt of his head, you deadpanned, “Only one of us made a deal with Hades for a third of our life.”

“An astute observation, Y/N,” Jaemin chuckled, relaxing back in his chair now that you’d changed up the tone of the conversation.

When both of your plates and glasses were empty, Jaemin took you by the hand once again to guide you from the dining room, as he apparently wanted to show you something. You emerged onto a patio of some sort, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. In front of you was a tree maybe ten or fifteen feet tall, an elegantly thin and sloping trunk, and along its many branches were round golden fruit the size of your palm. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that came from you as you took in the dazzling sight. Everything about the tree was normal from the texture of the brown bark to the dark green leaves, and even the dappling of the outer shell of the pomegranates that grew on it looked real, aside from the gilded color. It was magical, and you were happy just to know that something so beautiful existed.

“Thank you for showing me this, Jaemin,” you said, turning to look at the god who had stopped beside you.

You thought that he’d be looking at the scenery too, but his eyes were on you. He had a familiar look on his face, a small, tender smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, dark eyes holding a latent warmth like coals after a fire, and you felt tempted to get even closer to indulge in it.

But instead, you steeled your nerves to ask, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Your tone wasn’t as accusatory as your words were, it was a sincerely curious question.

“Like what?” Jaemin was quick to reply with a question of his own, keeping his attitude light but genuine.

“You keep smiling at me with this soft little smile.”

“I keep doing it? When was I doing it before?”

“When we first got here, when you sat down at dinner tonight, and just now, when you brought me out here.” It had made your heart go haywire every time you noticed it, so you were able to list the instances from tonight off the top of your head. But that wasn’t all, there was a reason why it was imprinted into the back of your eyelids like a burned-out LCD screen, “It’s like… like… you want to kiss me.”

“I do,” Jaemin declared, eyes never leaving yours, voice never wavering, so damn sure of himself. Even as you were here in front of him feeling like you were nearly ready to rip your hair out from just a few little smiles from him.

He was always like this. So charming, so smooth, playfully talking around your questions. Pulling you along with him, dancing with you through your conversation. You had to meet him head on, even if it felt like you were going crazy doing so. You did it during your dinners, you could do it now too.

“Is that why you’re smiling at me like that?”

“Do you want me to? Kiss you?” He took a step towards you. For a brief moment he was all you could see, all dark hair, dark eyes, and silver earrings.

“I want to know why you look at me like that.” You stepped back from him, wrapped in the heady smell of his cologne. Cinnamon, bergamot, an earthy scent too maybe? Your head was swimming with it, but you needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

“And I want to know if you want me to kiss you or not.” Another step, once again narrowing the distance between you.

“I asked first, Jaemin,” you poked your pointer finger against his chest as a warning. “An answer for an answer.”

He stayed put, seeming to be fighting a delighted smirk from his face as he looked between your face and the finger you held up defensively between the two of you. Jaemin’s features relaxed as he clasped his hands together behind his back, looking into your eyes earnestly, “All of those times that I’ve been looking at you tonight, I was thinking to myself, ‘It feels like she’s come home.’ You just looked like you belonged here, in my home, with me. It felt like I belonged with you. And that made me want to kiss you. That’s why.”

Of all the answers you had been expecting, that hadn’t quite been one of them. Grand declarations of love were a faraway possibility, sure, you’d seen movies before. That’s not what this was, though. This was both more and less. You hadn’t anticipated for Hades’ answer to be so simple yet all-soul-encompassing as the idea of coming home. While everything tonight had definitely been new and unfamiliar to you, you hadn’t been intimidated or uncomfortable in any way. With Jaemin at your side, you’d been able to take it all in with wonder and an open mind, knowing that you had him right there watching over you.

“I believe you owe me an answer now too, Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice was quiet, low, meant only for you. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Your gaze fell to the finger you had to his chest, your right hand. It had lost all the force you started with, limp and simply resting against him. You could see the silver ring there, and lower on your arm was the bracelet he’d given you, both pieces of jewelry glinting in the hazy light afforded in the Underworld. You briefly wondered if they had come from here, from deep under the Earth; if they’d come home tonight, too. The god in front of you remained silent, waiting for your response. If there was one thing Jaemin was good at, it was waiting— after he’d given you his final push.

Then you finally looked back up at his face, into the sunken obsidian black that greeted you there. That ever-stubborn lock of raven hair was hanging between his brows, and you had a sudden and smitten urge to fix it. But you had something more important to do in that moment. After all, he’d given you his answer, now you owed him yours. And you’d made up your mind.

Your mouth had barely started forming around your answer before it was captured by Jaemin’s in a kiss that was equal parts tender and ravishing. It felt like he was trying to devour your ‘yes’ right off your tongue and keep it all to himself. Admittedly, your head had started nodding before your vocal cords could work.

If you thought you were swimming in spices and citrus before, you were drowning in them now. Cinnamon, oranges, and… cedar. Your hand that had previously been poking at his chest was now crumpling the collar of his dress shirt, the other hooking a finger in one of the belt loops at the front of his slacks to yank him closer. His own hands were doing their part, too. One cupped your cheek while the other held you by your waist. The sweetest nectar was being dripped into your veins, and you hungrily took more and more with each wanton kiss from Jaemin.

When his lips finally parted from yours, you couldn’t help but steal just one more kiss. He let out a breathy chuckle as he clasped a hand over the one you were grasping at his shirt with to gently pull it off, his thumb then rubbing slow circles into your palm. His hand that had been on your cheek dipped to gently grip your chin, and as he looked at you, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m home,” you promised.

The shadowy man was back in your dreams that night, and this time the golden fruit was already in your two hands. He was encouraging you to break it open, feed on its juicy flesh that he promises will taste so good.

You woke up before you could follow through on the decision you’d already made.

⤷ series masterlist   ⤷ blog masterlist

[wingingthenight]

Munday Questions // ✿ What makes you happy? ♛ What are three things you like about yourself? ❧ What is your favourite comfort food? (Any of these you feel like!)

munday asks! || accepting

✿ What makes you happy?

oh man, many things!! my cat, my friends, well made video games, bears, good art, tea, and my little guys here on this blog.

♛ What are three things you like about yourself?

uuuuuuuuhhhhhh, let's say my sense of humor, my hair, and my playlist making skills!

❧ What is your favourite comfort food?

salmon!! anything with salmon, it's simply my favorite. generally with asparagus and/or brussels sprouts and/or potatoes.

[heartthrummed-a]

i was hella in hq brainrot but then i heard the first few notes of mystic fragrance and suddenly i am nothing but arashi thoughts

[distortedbeat]

top 5 song associations :   Kyouka Jirou / Earphone Jack

Pushover - Manafest "I'm living a good life, why can't you leave me alone? You don't know me, no, you don't know me. I am not a pushover! You can't fill these shoes, you can't make me move. I am not a pushover!"

Empty Walls - Serj Tankian "Don't waste your time on coffins today. Don't you see their bodies burning, desolate and full of yearning? Dying of anticipation, choking from intoxication? I want you to be left behind those empty walls, taunt you to see from behind those empty walls."

Kaikai Kitan - AmaLee Cover "Ah, it feels so right to reclaim though we break all the rules for the future we've wrongly obeyed. Heaven? Hell? It's tempting. Promise me that you will never throw away your life, against these hollow promises you'll shine!"

Chronos - Cepheid "Slow the fuck down, just hold a minute! My life's still spinning out of control! Moments pass by while I'm still tangled, I cannot keep up, I feel alone! Time's still moving, a chronic nightmare I can't escape from, I can't obscure. Holding onto the hands of time but the hour hand just keeps moving on."

Second Chance - Shinedown "Please don't cry one tear for me, I'm not afraid of what I have to say. This is my one and only voice, so listen close, it's only for today. Well, I just saw Hayley's comet; she waved, said "why you always running in place?" Even the man in the moon disappeared somewhere in the stratosphere!"

tagged by .  @kibonosentoki

tagging . uhhh you with the eyes, i'm tagging you lmao

[mcrrymurdcr]

here go tags

[distortedbeat]

tags real quick

[misshoneybee]

⟣ 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

— 𝑉𝐼. 𝐼 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝑆𝐼𝑇 𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝑊𝐴𝐼𝑇, 𝐺𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter V — Chapter VII

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Previous Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, therapy, discussions of grief and loss, supportive!Bucky Barnes, bonding and fluff!

❧ Wordcount | ~5.8k

❧ Author’s Note | Carolyn was based off my old therapist Kat. She was a bitch and my favorite therapist ever. I miss that woman, lmao.

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

I’d live and die for moments that we stole, On begged and borrowed time, So tell me to run, Or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become ( ivy | evermore )

March 8, 2024

Once a week for the foreseeable future, Maggie’s Friday afternoons were booked. Leaving work with the canvas tote that held all of her planners and files hiked over her shoulder, she’d found a routine that made her a little more willing to go to her weekly therapy appointment. It was like clockwork; at a quarter until four, she’d sign out of her office, procrastinate for another ten minutes before finally leaving, eventually descend the elevator and begin the three-block walk to the upscale private practice, only stopping once to pick up a very large, too-sweet iced coffee.

The walls were a serene hue of ocean blue that was meant to be calming but only reminded her of a pair of eyes that she’d loved, not long ago. Every shade of the color palette and piece of décor had been carefully selected in an attempt to create a ‘soothing’ and ‘comfortable’ environment. How the fuck could someone be soothed or comforted when they had to rehash every shred of trauma that they’d endured in their life to someone with a clipboard and a flat affect as they listened ‘nonjudgmentally?’

Her mandatory attendance was on behalf of the Stark Relief Foundation; any employee who’d been impacted by the blip or battle that had taken place last autumn had been made to see a therapist for at least one year, at which point they’d be reassessed and instructed to continue or told if they could taper the sessions off.

Maggie wasn’t a stranger to therapy; she’d had one in high school who’d quickly given her two diagnoses of generalized anxiety disorder and obsessive-compulsive personality disorder after two sessions before writing her a prescription for Zoloft and agreeing to see her again after a month. After the death of her parents, she’d seen another who’d cried after Maggie had explained her history before suggesting bikram yoga and deep breathing for two hours every day.

Suffice to say, she was zero for two and had quickly lost hope. If her work didn’t hinge on the condition, she wouldn’t have been in therapy. Dr. Carolyn Bouchard was a middle-aged woman with dark red curls and deep espresso skin who had a penchant for calling Maggie on her shit. They had developed something of a love/hate relationship over their ten sessions together, but she’d come to respect the older woman.

Maggie had lied through her teeth, trying to say what the therapist needed to hear to clear her, and Carolyn had made a list of all of the contradictory statements she’d accidentally made. Slowly, the older woman had shoved a crowbar in the tightly shut doors of her brain and wrenched them open. At least she hadn’t cried over their last few sessions. Progress was progress.

As a lull fell over their conversation, her eyes traced a bead of condensation down the side of the clear coffee cup that rested on a little coaster that had been placed on the table that separated the doctor and patient. Twenty more minutes and she could go home and order dinner, because she was always far too lazy to cook following her sessions; then she could put therapy out of her mind for at least the next six days.

Carolyn always switched out the mugs she used, some kitschy and others boring, but she never went without a steaming mug of some herbal tea during their sessions. Even from a few feet away, Maggie could smell the spearmint and lemongrass. In their first few sessions, she’d offered some to the younger woman who’d politely declined in favor of coffee. She could tell that Carolyn had needed to refrain herself from chastising Maggie about the excess caffeine that, very obviously, only worsened her anxiety.

“Would you ever consider putting yourself out there again someday? Dating?”

Narrowing the multi-lane highway of her mind into a two-way street, she shook her head, quietly uttering a simple, “No.”

Even if the question had struck her, Maggie didn’t react. That wasn’t even something that she’d considered since Steve had left. It all felt wrong. Of course, she still looked at people and found them attractive and understood the appeal of having a relationship, but she hadn’t thought about herself with someone else. After everything she’d gone through, everything she thought that she and Steve would someday have, how could she move past that?

How could she see it with anyone else?

“That seemed like a pretty quick answer.” Readjusting the forest green frames of her glasses on the bridge of her nose, Carolyn prodded for her to continue, “Why is that?”

Wasn’t it simple? After all their weeks together, she had to know. It was just stupid therapist code to make Maggie spell out every decision she made and emotion that she had. How could she put herself out there when she already knew how love was supposed to feel? How could she search for something that she already had?

“I…” Maggie trailed off with a sigh, before taking a sip of her coffee and giving her therapist a small shrug, “I had it.” Finally meeting her eyes, Carolyn raised an eyebrow and silently prompted her to continue so she explained, “I had that sort of perfect, epic love and it was wonderful, but I don’t…” Shaking her head, her words were firm, “I think that was it for me.”

“Why is that?” Taking a page out of her book, Maggie raised an eyebrow at the question. Entertaining the stubborn woman’s reluctance, she redirected the question, “Do you think that sort of feeling can only come once in a lifetime for a person?”

Sometimes she wondered about how the concept of soulmates worked or if they were real. Was it possible to have found one who actually had another? What if Steve had been hers but his had been Peggy? What if one was all that you got? What if you didn’t ever meet them because the world was large, and life was long? How was that fair?

But what were the odds that someone came across that same love more than once? What were the odds that she could find someone who held a candle to Steve and how he’d loved her? Perhaps that was unfair; comparison was the thief of joy or some bullshit. Then again, she thought about love…and if he’d loved her as much as she believed he had, would he have still left?

That was something Maggie wasn’t ready to think about, then or ever.

Slowly, she shook her head, “I think it’s improbable that you’d get it more than once.”

“Mm.” God, she fucking hated when Carolyn let out that short, little, judgmental hum. It made her feel like she’d answered incorrectly. How could an opinion be incorrect? She was the one that had asked. After scribbling something down and ignoring the way Maggie stared daggers at her clipboard, she switched topics for the time being, “Okay, and what about intimacy?”

“I’m a big girl, Carolyn.” Maggie gave her a wry smile, sitting back in her chair as she crossed one leg over the other. At the older woman’s insistent gaze for her to continue, she explained simply, “I can separate sex from dating and love and all of that.”

She’d never really needed a romantic connection to enjoy sex. Did it make it better? Certainly. Was it an end-all-be-all for her? No. Nick, Ben, and Steve aside, all of her other sexual partners had been some variation of friends-with-benefits. They’d served their purpose; when she was in graduate school, she hadn’t been looking for a relationship, she’d just needed to scratch the itch. It was biology.

Sex was the last thing on her mind nowadays. Maybe she did miss the intimacy sometimes, someone to hold her close and whisper into her ear and fall asleep with at night, but it would pass. As she contemplated it, getting another partner seemed more and more like a daunting task. That required vulnerability and she already felt like an exposed nerve so, for the time being, the vibrator in her nightstand was the one for her.

“Circling back to when you said you had that perfect love,” Maggie couldn’t help the apprehensive expression that crossed her face at Carolyn’s tone as she asked simply, “Do you really think it was perfect?”

“I guess—” Maggie started but Carolyn hadn’t completed her question.

“Do you think you’re romanticizing it because it’s easier to compartmentalize it that way? If you don’t have to have feelings about it?”

In Carolyn’s defense, Maggie had told her not to pull any punches and she knew her therapist was good at calling her on her bullshit. As it turned out, she was so good that Maggie had found herself stunned at the question. For someone so self-aware, Maggie hadn’t thought about that. Is that what she’d been doing?

Was she putting their relationship on some type of pedestal? Of course, it hadn’t been totally perfect—or maybe it had been until it very suddenly wasn’t. Maggie had always been good at taking shortcuts like she was trying to hack her feelings into submission; perhaps she’d become so good, that she hadn’t even noticed she was doing it. It made sense, though. If she didn’t have to dissect any complex emotions, she didn’t have to feel or think about the pain as often.

Though her brain was screaming, Maggie could only stare at the woman across from her as she asked blankly, “Excuse me?”

“You’ve told me that you like things to fit into boxes. Do you think that’s what you’re doing now?” Silently, Maggie berated herself on not knowing when to shut the fuck up. She should have never disclosed that little nugget of knowledge to the clinician because the hammer had fallen and the nail had just been hit on the head. As she stayed quiet, Carolyn removed her glasses to clean them with the cloth on the table beside her, “Maggie, you’re refusing to grieve for him. I see this in a lot of widows—”

Her tone had never been quite so venomous as she snapped sharply, “I am not a widow.” With her jaw clenched, she could feel her hands shaking as she clasped them together tightly in her lap. Steve wasn’t dead; he was gone and there was a very significant difference. Shifting in her seat, Maggie shook her head as she denied, “I don’t need to grieve him! I had closure; I knew it was over when he left!”

“Grief doesn’t give a shit about closure.” Carolyn shot back, point blankly. Setting the clipboard aside, she leaned forward as if she were trying to break through to Maggie, “People are widowed every single day because of things like terminal illness. They knew what. was happening and they were still widowed. Just because you saw it coming doesn’t mean you can just move past what happened. It’s not just grieving the end of your relationship; it’s grieving the future you didn’t get to have.”

With no defense left, Maggie could hear how immature she sounded as she pointed out, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Shaking her head, Carolyn picked up the clipboard again as she countered, “You know it’s not.”

“You know what? I think I’m done for today.” Standing from the big armchair that she’d sunken into over the course of the last half-hour, she grabbed her tote from the floor and half empty coffee from the table and she gave the woman a sharp nod. Flatly, she called from the doorway, “Have a great afternoon.”

“Maggie, you need to—”

Closing the door behind her, she muted the end of Carolyn’s reproachful sentence. Maggie didn’t need to do anything, no matter what she told her; she could feel how she wanted, when she wanted and that was fine. She was fuming; it was a wonder that there wasn’t steam coming off of her as she made the five-block trek to the ferry stop through the streets that were cold with the last whispers of winter as spring came around.

Recalling the trip home was almost impossible; all she could focus on was keeping one foot in front of the other and not letting out a frustrated scream every time she thought about what Carolyn had said. A widow? She was not a widow. Steve hadn’t died—he’d left. They’d broken up. They’d mutually decided what was best for both of them.

Well, perhaps not both of them.

Either way, it was too late and there was no undoing what had been done; she was moving forward. Maybe she’d ask human resources for another therapist recommendation; surely Carolyn wasn’t the only one that had been certified by the SRF. The five-letter word wouldn’t stop bouncing around her brain as she disembarked the little boat or stopped by the bodega or climbed the four flights of stairs to her apartment.

Maybe it was because it had felt disrespectful to those that had actually been widowed; what Pepper had gone through was unimaginable. She hadn’t made the decision to lose her husband, it had been out of her hands, but Maggie had made a choice. Maybe it had been the wrong one, but it had been hers to make.

And Steve had made his. And that had been that.

Before long, she’d changed into her pajamas and made the cup of noodles that she’d bought at the bodega before climbing out on to her fire escape. Carefully replacing the window screen behind her, ignoring Alpine’s protesting meows of being left behind inside, she looked out down the street as she sat on the metal grates.

It was Friday and evening was quickly approaching so the city that never slept was going to stay awake as everyone celebrated the beginning of the weekend. The street was illuminated with a deep orange light from the sun as it quickly went down. Further down the block, she could hear a busker playing some song she didn’t know on a violin. The string melody that bounced off of the brick buildings was strong and sorrowful as it floated into her ears and made her want to cry.

This New York—the lively one with so many people and stories—was something that she and Steve had never gotten to experience together. He would have loved it; she was certain. Perhaps that’s what Carolyn meant, about grieving what they never got to have together.

It was easy to grieve the end of a relationship. It had been something she’d lived and experienced and knowing that it was over was one thing. She’d done it with her parents and Tony and Natasha, but it felt completely different to realize that everything she and Steve had planned would never come true. The golden retriever, the four kids, the little house on the beach—none of it would ever come to fruition. Not for them.

For just a moment, she let herself mourn the life she’d never get. No, she’d never know what the names of their kids would have been or how he would have looked once he’d gone gray, but she never realized she could miss something that she’d never had. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she took a shaking breath as she tried to calm herself down.

That had been her dream but that was the beautiful thing about dreams, wasn't it? She could always just find another. Maybe it would take time, maybe it would take her across the world, but someday, maybe she could find something else just as beautiful and hopeful.

March 10, 2024

Even if she was mad at her therapist, she couldn’t deny that some of her recommendations were actually helpful; even a broken clock was right twice a day. Maggie spent the weekend to herself, trying to practice ‘self-care’ and ‘compassion’ as she strolled through a farmer’s market alone. Without a doubt, she’d spent way too much money on artisan soaps and vegetables that would probably go bad before she had a chance to eat all of them, but it brought her some joy, so she ignored the pitfalls.

Sunday had been spent cleaning and rearranging and reorganizing everything in her apartment. Finally, she hung up all of the pictures and prints that she’d bought and strung up a bunch of lights that lit the whole place glow with a pleasant, golden glow. After she’d moved the cat tree for the third time that afternoon, much to Alpine’s chagrin, she’d finally called it a day on the housework front.

There was one more recommendation that she had left to follow for the day, and she loathed it. Though the sun had gone down over an hour before, she knew she could still get it over with. Ensuring her phone and key were secure in the tight waistband of her leggings, she made her way to the secondary stairwell that was seldom used. Another eight flights of stairs, and a pair of burning quadriceps, finally put her out on the roof of her building. It was silent, or as silent as the city could be. No one ever visited the unfinished area because it wasn’t really a marketable space. The ground was concrete and had rust stains from when it would rain, there were a handful of dead plants that had been placed there by tenants who’d long forgotten them, and it didn’t offer much in ways of a view.

Regardless, it served its purpose for Maggie. In the middle of the wide open, concrete plane, she picked a spot and sat down. Squeezing her eyes shut, she used her hands and slowly lowered herself down until she was lying flat on her back. This was the worst part of her week. She’d rather verbally spar with Carolyn for another hour, than do what she needed to for ten minutes. With one last deep breath, she opened her eyes and took in the inky blue sky that was dotted with only a handful of bright stars.

Once upon a time, Maggie had loved doing this.

She hadn’t realized how much the initial attack on the compound had affected her until she’d moved back to the city. When she’d been out with Poppy, she’d caught sight of a plane which had thrown her into a spiral as she remembered the giant spaceship that had hovered above the compound before bombarding it with missiles.

After that, she’d come to realize that she couldn’t seem to look up at the sky without flinching. It was as though every time her eyes even dared to look up, she imagined the large ship and the missiles, and it forced her to recall everything that had ensued, in almost perfect detail. Disclosing the tale to her therapist had left her with a recommendation to slowly take steps to reconcile the present with the past.

There wasn’t even a small chance that she would look up and actually see the gigantic spacecraft, but she needed to continue to expose herself to those similar conditions so she could come to terms with that fact. For that reason, she had spent time staring at the sky every single Sunday for the past month and a half. She’d been timing herself; the first day she’d tried it, she’d only succeeded at staring at the heavens for about two minutes before tears had clouded her vision. Slowly, though, she’d been able to do it for longer and longer periods of time.

Just a week before, Maggie had lasted for fifteen minutes and as a soft ding came from her phone, she realized that she’d surpassed her goal yet again. Her hands still shook but the panic had receded; she no longer felt as though she couldn’t breathe or that familiar dread that sent cold sweat down the back of her neck. She didn’t feel the way the bangs had rocked her entire body or how the loud explosion made her ears ring anymore. It wasn’t quite peace but maybe someday, it could be.

With a hand on her stomach, she paid close attention to her breathing and counted each slow inhale and exhale. She didn’t know how much more time had passed when she heard the heavy metal door to the roof creak open and a familiar voice before she sat up, “Maggie?”

With a furrowed brow and a tone that came off slightly more accusatory than she meant for it to, she asked, “What are you doing up here?”

The roof had only a few functional lights that gave off an unflattering. orange-yellow glow, but Bucky could make out her familiar silhouette with ease as he walked across the roof. With a small shrug, he stopped right beside her, “Just, come up here to think sometimes. What are you doing up here?”

Laying back down, Maggie gave him a half shrug as she stared past him to the sky and simply responded, “Therapy.”

His brows drew together. From the occasional mention, he knew she had been required to see a therapist as well, but this was unusual. Maybe she went to one of those holistic people who talked about being one with the universe. Curiously, he started, “Why—”

“When…” She cut him off before doing the same to herself. If she could talk about that sort of extraterrestrial trauma with anyone who would understand, it would probably be Bucky. She sure as hell couldn't talk to Poppy about it. But Bucky? He’d seen and heard it all before.

“When Thanos came back, after Bruce brought...everyone back, I remember looking up through the windows to the sky back at the compound. I just saw this massive ship and there was a split second before the missile hit when I thought…it was all for nothing. That even though they’d gotten the stones, we’d all die anyway, and he’d still win. I just—it’s like, every time I look at the sky, I can’t stop seeing that stupid fucking spaceship and feeling those explosions.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she carefully avoided his eyes staring down at her, “It’s supposed to be like exposure therapy. The more I make myself sit here and watch the sky and convince myself that every plane isn't a spaceship…the easier it’s supposed to get.”

He’d heard about that before, exposure therapy. Feeling a little bad, Bucky realized that he’d never even thought about the effects that the battle would have had on Maggie. She wasn’t a soldier; she’d never signed up for war, but she’d had to experience it anyway. In some ways, he understood that better than most. Clearing his throat, he motioned to the door behind him as he started, “Oh, I can—”

Cutting him off, Maggie murmured softly, “You can stay.” Meeting his eyes, she felt so bare despite the layers of clothes and emotional armor she’d clad herself in. She could hear the little voice in her head as it continued, ‘Please stay. No one else has but you could.’ Being exposed and vulnerable wasn’t easy, especially not for her, but she’d slowly found herself becoming comfortable in sharing that piece of herself with him. It was pretty miraculous, though maybe it was because he’d already seen her at her worst…twice.

After a second, she added awkwardly, “If you want.”

Looking down at his neighbor that he’d reluctantly come to care for, he smiled. Her short curls had fanned out around her head on the concrete floor, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink from the chilly evening air; she had a familiar beauty that reminded him of girls that he’d known decades before and sometimes he found it difficult to look away. Exhaling a soft chuckle, he laid down beside her.

In a comfortable silence for several more minutes, he looked at the sky with her before she finally spoke again, “I miss being able to see the stars.” The back of their hands brushed but neither moved; the warmth from his right arm pressed against her left was comfortable as she murmured, “In Ukraine, I could see them so clearly because we were pretty far away from any big cities. Even back home—” With a quiet inhale, she caught herself. That wasn’t home anymore; Brooklyn was. Correcting herself, she continued, “back upstate, you could see them really well.”

She regretted not spending more time watching the stars in the years she’d lived there. The compound had been so secluded, far enough from the city that she could see the stars but not too far that she ever felt alone. Maybe Steve or Natasha would have watched them with her; she’d never know but slowly, she was becoming more okay with that.

“I can remember them in Russia.” Bucky’s words came out more stilted than he meant for them to. It wasn’t something he enjoyed talking about; he avoided it in most circumstances, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t know who he was or what he’d done. “They’d…send me out on these missions and I’d do surveillance at night and between how bright the moon was and all of the stars, you barely needed a flashlight.”

In the months that she’d known him, he’d never spoken about his time with Hydra, but she didn’t want to push it any further. She couldn’t help but silently preen though, that he’d actually felt comfortable enough to talk about it with her, even if it was just to tell a little anecdote. Somehow, Bucky had come to trust her and unsurprisingly, the feeling was mutual.

From just a few inches away, he could hear the way that Maggie’s shallow breathing hitched as the anxiety slowly began to bleed through her body from the prolonged experience of staring at the vast, empty sky. Perhaps she’d reached her threshold for the evening. Hesitantly, Bucky carefully intertwined their fingers, hoping to maybe remind her that she was safe, before he whispered in a low voice that was thick like summer air, “You're not alone, Maggie.”

A shuddering inhale was pulled through her rosy lips at the unfamiliar and unexpected, but not unwelcome, touch. At the quiet, surprised sound, Maggie felt him begin to remove his hand from hers, but she squeezed it tightly as she murmured, “Thank you.”

A hot tear slipped down her cheek, but for once, it wasn’t from sadness; it was strangely bittersweet. Keeping her hand in his, she basked in the warmth that spread up her arm and through her body. It would be a slow process, but she could even feel it melting away the stratified layers of ice that had encased her heart. It was nice to know that no matter how she felt, she knew there was someone else who understood; she wasn’t alone.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Maggie finally asked the question that had been on her mind since her appointment two days earlier, “Do you ever feel like therapy is doing jack-shit?”

A snort of laughter broke free from Bucky’s chest, and she grinned. She could feel his arm shaking hers as he agreed, “All the time.” Rolling his eyes, he added annoyedly, “Mine has me making amends.”

Brow furrowed, Maggie’s eyes stayed on the sky as she asked, “Like Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“Huh?”

Letting out a silent exhale of a laugh at his confusion, she clarified, “It’s one of the steps of recovering from alcoholism or addiction. You’re supposed to make amends with people you’ve hurt.” Pausing, she turned her head to look at him, only to find his grey eyes already staring back at her. Before, she would have shrunk under his intense gaze but not anymore. Giving his hand a squeeze, Maggie softly added, “And yourself.”

“Yourself?” Bucky’s voice was quiet but curious as he waited to hear her out.

Nodding silently, she was keenly aware of her breathing. His face was so close to hers; she could count each dark lash that framed his expressive eyes as he stared, waiting for her to tell him more, “You stay accountable, but you give yourself permission to actually forgive yourself. To move forward.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, and she paused before adding pointedly, “To be kind to yourself because you aren’t what you did.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded slowly as he listened to her explanation. It wasn’t often that people were willing to tell him things that could make them uncomfortable, but it seemed like Maggie didn’t have that fear; he liked that. Earnestly, he quipped, “Your therapist sounds more helpful than mine.”

“Oh no, that wasn’t her.” Maggie’s unamused voice was flat. At his quirked eyebrow, she continued, “I learned about that in school. Carolyn says I’m not grieving well.” Rolling her eyes, she was hard pressed to hide the irritation in her voice as she added, “It’s not like it’s a fucking assignment or like I’m being graded on it.”

“What do you mean?”

With a snort, she observed, “She thinks I’m a frigid bitch.”

Bucky’s voice was mildly alarmed as he sat up, just a little, “She called you—”

Waving him off, she shook her head dismissively, “I read between the lines.”

Maybe she hadn’t called Maggie a frigid bitch, but Carolyn certainly had noticed that the younger woman wasn’t keen on processing all of the emotions that she’d spent so long bottling up. She wasn’t only in therapy to process what exactly had happened on that October afternoon; there were years of baggage that she’d been carrying around and needed to unpack. It was a slow process.

As he let out a belly laugh, she turned her face back to the night sky with a little smile of her own playing on her lips. She’d spent a lot of time over the past two days thinking about grief. For years, all of her training had taught her that there were five distinct stages, but she’d never wished so badly, that they were linear. Instead, as it happened, some overlapped, and others were skipped and some reappeared once she thought they were gone; it was draining.

It had taken time for her to realize that denial wasn’t pretending that he hadn’t left but rather pretending that she would be fine despite it. Sometimes, she still found herself there; thinking that she didn’t need help or that she was okay. Anger had been popular; she was envious of a woman that she’d never meant and full of rage at herself and Steve. Slowly, that stage had waned, and she was grateful that it hadn’t made another reappearance.

Bargaining had passed quickly. After he’d left, she’d soon realized that nothing could bring him back. No matter how hard she cried or what she offered the universe, he was actually gone. Depression was a dangerous game and it seemed as though it was constantly there, just skulking around in the background of her mind. Regardless of what she did, there was always a little static sound of hopelessness that filled her brain. Hopefully, it would fade.

The final stage was acceptance. Understanding that everything that had happened, had actually happened for a reason. Exploring new paths. Making plans. Moving on. That would take time, though maybe it was beginning to overlap with the other stages as well. She’d made plans and explored new paths though she still couldn’t find it in herself to search for the reasons that everything had happened or to move on entirely. She was only human, after all; she needed just a little while longer.

Carolyn was wrong; she was grieving. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious to her, but Maggie could feel it in herself; isn’t that what mattered?

With the hand that wasn’t still holding Bucky’s, she pointed to one of the particularly bright stars that was visible to the naked eye despite the city’s light pollution, “That’s eta piscium. You can’t really see all of Pisces though.”

“Pisces?” His eyes followed a straight line from her finger to the sky, easily finding the twinkling spot of light that she’d pointed out.

“The astrological constellation, the fish.” Maggie prattled off, squinting futilely as if she could see the rest of the constellation if she concentrated hard enough, “What’s your sign?”

“Huh?”

Letting out a soft giggle at his confusion, Maggie approached the question from another angle, “When’s your birthday?”

“Uh,” Clearing his throat, he mumbled off-handedly, “Today.”

Sitting up quickly, she let go of his hand. Maggie ignored the head rush from the sudden change in position as she all but squawked, “What!?”

“Don’t really celebrate it.”

Ignoring that, even though she felt similarly about her own birthday, she shot back, “Aren’t you turning like a hundred and six?”

“Think so.” He looked at her with a mixture of apprehension and exhaustion as he sat up.

Mocking him teasing, she rolled her eyes, “Think so? Shut up.” Hopping up, brushing off the black cotton that clung to her legs, she offered him a hand as she nudged, “Come on.”

Accepting it wearily, and comically because it wasn’t as if he needed help up, he cautiously asked as he followed behind the woman who strutted off towards the door, “Where are we going?”

“We’re doing a movie night.” Maggie called back over her shoulder determinedly as she continued, “We’re ordering pizza. And I’m getting cake—”

Cutting in, Bucky frowned, “I don’t—”

“Do not say that you don’t want or like cake.” Her sharp words held no heat as she refused to even entertain the objection, “It’s your birthday.” The short woman was firm as she held the railing and descended one of the flights of stairs, “And I know you like sweets because every time you come over, my cookie stash mysteriously gets smaller.”

“Dammit, Alpine.” A smile twitched on his lips as he stayed hot on her heels. In his defense, growing up during the Great Depression had meant that sugar was a luxury that wasn’t afforded to many. Then, during the war, it had been rationed which meant that any sweet was a rare occurrence. When he’d realized how widely available it had become, he no longer felt bad for having the sweet tooth he’d developed.

Shooting him a playful glare as she turned to head down another set of stairs, Maggie let out a twinkling laugh, “Stop blaming my cat!”

“Well, it’s gotta be him.” Bucky defended himself innocently before adding, “Or Mrs. Kirsch.”

Mrs. Kirsch was their neighbor down the hall who fawned over how ‘handsome and strong’ Bucky was every time she saw him. He found it embarrassing while Maggie was wildly entertained; either way, she was almost seventy and had a bum hip so the likelihood of her breaking into Maggie’s apartment to steal baked goods was slim to none.

“Obviously it’s one of them and not the only visitor that I ever have with opposable thumbs.” Shaking her head, Maggie silently handed her key to Bucky so he could fight with her door’s lock; she really needed to remember to call the super.

Opening the door and gesturing her in with a little flourish, he grinned, “Glad we’re on the same page.”

With a reluctant smile, she started, “You’re such a—”

Cutting her off as he shut the door behind them, he shrugged, “I know.”

[misshoneybee]

⟣ 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑆𝐸 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝐹𝐴𝑇𝐸 ⟢

— 𝑋𝐼𝐼. 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝐿𝐿 𝐴𝐿𝑊𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊 𝑀𝐸

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XI — Chapter XIII

❧ Pairings | Post-Infinity War!Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, angst

❧ Wordcount | ~6.2k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

It's never too late, To come back to my side ( Dorothea | Evermore )

July 17, 2021

Steve’s old room had been transformed into something of a guest room since they’d packed up his things and carried them down the hall, turning what was once Maggie’s room into their room. The bedding had been replaced. The art that was on his walls had been taken down, replaced with generic prints that almost reminded her of a doctor’s office, as they combined their décor and created something of a gallery in their new quarters. It had only been six months, but it was hard to remember a time where she hadn’t awoken without him by her side.

There’d been no need to visit the typically empty room but, this week it was serving its purpose to house Poppy as she came to visit Maggie so they could belatedly celebrate the blonde’s thirtieth birthday. Natasha and Steve had come to adore Poppy almost as much as Maggie did, so when she’d asked if it would be alright to have her stay with them for a brief period as she transferred labs, they’d easily agreed.

A pillow flew across the bed and Maggie ducked out of its flight path, allowing it to smack the wall behind her and fall to the floor with a dull thud. Poppy’s tea green eyes were wild as she hissed, “And you didn’t tell me!?”

With a huff, Maggie grabbed the pillow from the floor, giving it a quick fluff, and replacing it on the bed with the rest of the plush cushions as she rolled her eyes, “I swear to god, Pops, if you don’t keep your voice down…”

Apparently, their tried-and-true routine of waiting until they were together again in person to spill all of their pent-up drama was negated when one of them got almost-proposed to. In her defense, she hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone since that winter morning, but Poppy was always the exception.

Poppy shot her an irritated glare as she hung up another blouse, “He’s in the living room, he can’t hear me.”

Maggie flopped down on to the bed, watching as her friend moved about the room and unpacked; though she was only staying for a week, she’d packed as if she was moving in permanently.

“The serum enhanced his hearing so—”

“God, what I’d give to run labs on that man.” The blonde sighed with a forlorn look towards the door.

“Please stop talking about experimenting on him.” With an incredulous look, Maggie took a page from her friend’s book and chucked another throw pillow at her as she continued firmly, “He’s my boyfriend, not a guinea pig.”

Rolling her eyes, Poppy picked up the pillow and tossed it back to her friend who tucked it behind her head, “Still, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t actually a proposal.” Maggie pursed her lips, her eyes trained on the ceiling as she carefully continued, “It was…a pre-proposal.”

“A pre-proposal?” Her typically chipper voice was flat with doubt as she halted her actions.

Maggie was doing what she did best, by reframing the situation to rationalize it. To compartmentalize it. To tie a neat bow around it. “He wasn’t asking, technically. He was just…asking if he could ask.”

Hanging up the last blouse from her bag, she zipped the now-empty suitcase, slipping it under the bed before lying beside Maggie. The mattress sagged, shifting them closer. “And you said no?”

“No!”

“Mags, not saying ‘yes’ is basically saying no.” Poppy sighed, resting her head on the brunette’s shoulder as she began, “Answers to questions like that are always a dichotomy—”

“Please don’t bring dichotomies into this.” Maggie grumbled, hugging a pillow tight to her chest as she continued staring above, absentmindedly counting the ceiling tiles.

Poppy’s specialty was laying things out in the most clear-cut ways; she envied her friend’s bold, brash way of always making the right decision. It wasn’t as if she was reckless; she just simply knew what she wanted and how to achieve it.

With a soft nudge to her side, Poppy pressed, “Why didn’t you say yes?”

Tucking her face into the pillow, that no longer smelled of Steve but rather detergent from its months of disuse, Maggie let out a muffled groan, “I don’t know.” She’d replayed the conversation every day since it had happened, and she always came to the same conclusion. Of course, she knew why she hadn’t said yes; it was simple.

If she’d said yes, she didn’t know what would come after. Saying yes was a gamble and she was keeping all of her cards close to her chest, not allowing anyone the chance to get close enough to see them, not even Steve.

In her life, she’d embarked on a handful of journeys that led into the unknown but, for now, she was content with the way things were. She was happy. What if ‘yes’ changed everything? What laid beyond its precipice?

“I was scared.”

“Why are you afraid?” A hand slipped into her’s, the presence bringing her a welcomed comfort, “You love him, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Maggie didn’t hesitate; she wasn’t completely certain of many things, but that? She was.

She hadn’t said no because she didn’t love him enough to say yes; the way she felt for him was the only thing that had kept her from running away completely. If there was any doubt in her mind, she would have dropped everything and run to the most remote village that she could find in the far northern reaches of Canada. “I feel like I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop because things are so good right now. What if we don’t work out? What if he changes his mind? What if we want different things?”

Poppy could feel the swirling storm brewing within her small friend and cut her off, “And what if none of that happens?” Turning on her side, she propped her head up on a hand and waited for her friend’s coffee eyes to finally meet her’s before continuing firmly, “Mags, I love you, but you spend so much time and energy of being afraid that bad things will happen, that you don’t even entertain the possibility of the good.” Her eyes softened, “You didn’t think that he felt the same. way, but he was pining for you, and you just wrote it off because you overheard half of a conversation months before.”

Rolling off the bed, Maggie sat up, ignoring the rush in her head from her body’s rapidly changed position. She made her way to the window, dropping her forehead against the warm glass. The late summer sun that had peaked in the afternoon bounced through it, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. It made her long for days spent by the ocean, her toes dipping into the cool refuge of crystalline water after the assault from the white sand that felt like coals underfoot.

It made her long for simpler times when decisions didn’t change the trajectory of her life, when they didn’t affect anyone aside from her.

With a half-hearted shrug, Maggie murmured, “It’s easier to prepare for the worst, than to get hurt because I let myself hope for something.”

“Maggie, good things happen.” Poppy reminded her gently, sitting and propping herself up with her hands. “Life isn’t just full of bad things.”

She always was the eternal optimist. Even in the darkest of times, Poppy always hoped for the best. Her sunny disposition was blinding as it guided her, extinguishing the darkness in its way as she moved through life. Where she was a stellar nebula, being birthed after millions of years to bring about something radiant and hopeful, Maggie felt as though she was a neutron star—the collapsed remnants of something that was once bright and held so much promise before the fight snuffed it out.

As she turned back to Poppy, poised to respond, she spotted a familiar picture on the nightstand that forced her mind to go blank. Her full lips were pressed into a line as she closed the distance in two strides, placing the frame face down in the drawer below with a quiet sigh. She hadn’t even remembered removing the photo from where it had rested in their room, carefully set on the windowsill with a handful of other framed photos from she and Steve’s lives, separate and together.

He’d likely spotted it first, removing it so Maggie didn’t have to think about it. It was from the Christmas before; in a gaudy, holiday sweater with bright crimson lipstick, she was holding Morgan while flanked on each side by Tony and Pepper. She’d loved that picture, printing it as soon as she’d gotten home from their annual dinner. Now every memory with Tony felt like a dent had been put in it; something had lain in the shadows, and she hadn’t even known until it got her like a monster in the dark.

“Have you talked to him?” Poppy watched Maggie as she sat back on the bed, crossing her legs as she pulled a pillow back to her chest. It felt almost juvenile, but it brought her some sort of comfort.

Unlike the not-quite-a-proposal proposal, Maggie had called Poppy the morning after she and Steve had silently returned home. The tears had long run dry and she was finally able to get the words out as she talked to the girl across the globe about everything from the day before.

“Nope.” With a shake of her head, her eyes fell to the pattern on the duvet. It was an inoffensive plaid with variously weighted stripes in shades of brown and beige. She traced a finger across the intersecting squares as she went silent once more.

She hadn’t spoken to Tony since she’d walked out—or technically, since she’d been carried out. It definitely hadn’t been one of her finer moments. Any calls from Tony had gone unanswered on her part, Pepper’s had only been returned by a short text permitting her to know their pseudo-niece had gotten home alive. Though separated by less than ten miles, there was only radio silence on the line.

“How do you feel now?”

A humorless exhale of a laugh came from Maggie’s nose. That certainly was the golden question; the one she still wasn’t even certain of the answer itself. Two months had passed in the blink of an eye, Thursday night dinners with the Starks had been replaced with an extra hour training in the gym with Natasha until her muscles cried for reprieve. She’d run on a treadmill, her tennis shoes pounding against the belt as if the stationary steps could actually take her away from her problems.

“I’m still angry—just, so fucking angry that he didn’t tell me.” With a defeated shrug, she found Poppy’s inquisitive eyes, full of compassion and nonjudgement as she listened to Maggie, “I mean, why tell me at all if he was going to wait this long?”

She raised an eyebrow. Like a therapist, there wasn’t any inflection behind her question as she prompted her friend, “Do you wish he hadn’t told you?”

“No.” Maggie’s immediate answer was short thought not unkind. No matter how badly it had hurt to be told, she’d never regret knowing what she knew now. Maybe pain was her punishment for her never-ending search for answers to everything. “I guess…I’m almost glad because now I get it. You know? I know that there was a reason they went in—it wasn’t just reports or bureaucratic shit. They wanted to help.”

The blonde was cautious as she prodded gently, “Do you…blame him?”

Leaning back against the wooden headboard, Maggie knew if she bit the inside of her cheek any harder, she’d chew a hole through it. That was another question she’d been turning over in her mind since that night. Was it his fault that her parents died? She’d almost told him as much. But as time passed, and they got further from that night and she had time to reflect on the myriad of emotions she’d been burdened by, she wasn’t sure that she felt the same.

“I don’t know.” She hesitated, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, “It’s hard because they wouldn’t have gone there if he hadn’t asked but he didn’t know what would happen. He couldn’t control that and…” She trailed off, feeling her face grow warm as the familiar sensation of tears prickled her eyes again.

“And?” Poppy took her hand once again as if the appendage could offer Maggie some strength to carry on.

Squeezing it, grateful for her supportive presence, Maggie’s voice broke as she admitted, exhaustedly, “I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of being angry and sad and hurt all of the time.” With the cuff of a sweater that she’d stolen from Steve, she swiped the few errant tears that had fallen. Absentmindedly she mused that if she didn’t stop with the constant crying, she’d be looking into ways to remove those pesky tear ducts. With a breath, she steadied herself and her quiet voice as she shook her head as if getting her thoughts in order, “I miss them but I’m just—I’m not ready yet.”

“That’s okay. You know, you don’t owe anyone your forgiveness, Mags.” Poppy wrapped her lithe arms around Maggie and pulled her in tightly, the pressure from the hug giving the brunette a welcomed wave of comfort as she murmured, “You don’t have to be the strong one.”

She’d told her as much a hundred times over; perhaps one day, it would stick. “I know.”

“Good.” With a gentle kiss to the side of her head, she pulled back and shot Maggie a wide, thousand-watt smile, framed by her always-pink tinted lips, “Now, let’s go drink.”

Maggie couldn’t help the bark of laughter at the change of pace; Poppy never failed to make her feel better. Standing from the bed, the blonde pulled her to her feet as she tossed the pillow back to its rightful home. She bumped the taller woman’s slender hip with her own as they made their back to the living quarters, “I’m not dancing on the table with you and Natasha again.”

Rather than waking up refreshed and ready for the blank slate of a new year on New Year’s Day, Maggie had awoken after noon and promptly stumbled to the bathroom where she’d revisited just how much she’d imbibed the night before. She’d remembered calling her boyfriend a ‘beefcake,’ which made her wince in embarrassment, and little else aside from it. That was remedied when Natasha had, so graciously, made sure that Steve took photos of the holiday festivities; one of which immortalized the three women on a table, giggling as they danced together clumsily.

“Au contraire.” Poppy tapped the tip of Maggie’s button nose as she reasoned with an almost sly smile, “It’s my birthday and that’s one of my wishes now.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie started down the hall, “Technically, it was yesterday—”

“Technically, you’re a stick in the mud.” Poppy cut her off, ever-so-mature as she poked her tongue out at her oldest friend.

“I’ll show you a stick in the mud.” Maggie grumbled as they made their way back into the living area.

November 12, 2021

Her phone was ringing somewhere beneath the mass of blankets that she was engulfed in, the cheery ringtone muffled through the thick layers of fabric. Sitting up on her knees, Maggie sifted through the covers, finding remotes and the like before Steve found the phone in question, tucked behind a cushion, with a triumphant smile. It faltered when he saw a familiar name on the caller ID as he quickly handed the device to its rightful owner.

Her brows drew together as she looked at Pepper’s contact photo taking up the entirety of her phone’s screen. It was half past seven on a Friday—this wasn’t just another call trying to mend the fence that had been broken months beforehand. She wouldn’t be calling this late unless something was wrong, and Maggie felt her blood run cold.

She hadn’t seen Tony in six months; aside from being out of the country, it was the longest stretch of her life that she’d gone without speaking to him. In fact, she’d all but disappeared from the Starks’ lives. Only once had she had a short conversation with Pepper when she called to bring Morgan her birthday gift; there was no reason to punish her for something she hadn’t done, and Maggie would be damned if she missed the second birthday of the closest thing she had to a niece.

Needless to say, tensions still ran high but that didn’t stop Maggie from immediately selecting the green icon and pressing the cool glass to her ear as she nervously prompted, “Hello?”

“Maggie! Thank god.” Pepper’s voice, though all business, was flooded with relief. There was a slight twinge of hurt; had the older woman really thought that she’d let the call go unanswered? She bulldozed on, not giving Maggie a chance to respond before she asked, “Would you mind watching Morgan?”

‘Now’ went unspoken but it was unquestionable. She stumbled from the couch quickly; Steve watched her face with concern as her eyes darted around the room, unable to find anything to focus on as she agreed before asking anything else, “Of course. Is everything okay?”

Both parties knew what she was actually inquiring about; was Tony okay? No matter what happened, or how it pained her, he was one of the closest things to family that she had left. What if it was his heart? Or if there’d been an accident? What if the last thing that he heard from her was that she blamed him for something that she’d since slowly come to terms with?

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

Maggie felt the familiar shroud of guilt begin to drape heavily over her chest, weighing her down as she got up to go change into something more suitable than another threadbare shirt she’d stolen from Steve. While his collection had shrunk, her’s had grown considerably; though he complained, she knew it was only for show. When he did the laundry, the pieces she’d snuck away always somehow miraculously ended up back with her things.

Maggie had put the phone on speaker as she closed the door behind her, “My uncle broke his hip so Tony and I—”

“Oh.” She truly hadn’t meant to cut Pepper off as she let out a relieved sound, but she couldn’t help it as some of the nauseating anxiety faded into the background.

Tony was okay and Maggie almost wanted to cry. He was fine.

Shaking her head as she jumped to pull on a pair of leggings that she’d yanked from the drawer, Maggie quickly continued, not wanting to leave Pepper hanging in limbo, “No, yeah. Yes, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Pepper sighed softly, Maggie could hear the relief coloring her words as she parted with a quick, “You’re a lifesaver.”

As soon as the three beeps signaled the end of the conversation, she’d shouted down the hall to Steve, telling him the plan as she continued to change, brushing the tangles from her hair which had been shoved into a messy ponytail hours earlier. Without question, he’d begun getting ready to come along and Maggie felt a thrum of gratefulness wash over her. Without needing to ask, he was willing to give up his Friday night to babysit with her.

Shoving down the warmth in her stomach that the thought had created, they’d left less than five minutes later and arrived at the Starks’ cabin just ten after that. Late autumn and early winter had begun their annual dance as the leaves dried up and fell to the ground, starved of nutrition that the frozen ground refused to provide. Occasional snow flurries that swirled through the air as they walked up the familiar wooden steps reminded her that the solstice was quickly encroaching on them, prepared to bring about the wrath of winter.

The storm door allowed the couple to see inside as Pepper pulled on her coat, crouching down to envelop her daughter in a tight hug, “We’ll be back when you wake up, okay?” Pepper nodded them in over Morgan’s shoulder before pressing a kiss to the tiny brunette’s hair, “We love you.”

“Love you, Mommy.” Her little voice mumbled before she turned to Tony and threw her arms around him as well, “And Daddy.”

Pepper stood up, her voice quiet as she approached the couple in the process of shucking off their coats as the cabin’s warmth permeated the layers they’d adorned before leaving their home. Cautiously, she gave Maggie’s forearm a soft squeeze, “Thank you so much, again.”

“It’s no problem.” Maggie gave a small nod, her smile tight as she met Pepper’s worried eyes.

Shuffling through the camel leather tote on the back of the couch, Pepper continued explaining quietly as Tony sent Morgan into her toy room for a moment, “She’s ready for bed but we usually don’t put her down until half past.”

“Got it.” With a sharp nod, Maggie avoided looking at Tony, keeping her eyes downcast; it wasn’t as though she was angry. Not anymore. There was so much she wanted to say but it wasn’t the time. She had a job to do. “Call us if you need anything, okay?”

Pepper embraced her tightly as Tony ducked outside without a word, “Will do.” With one last reassuring squeeze to her shoulders, she followed her husband out. A few seconds later, Maggie heard the crunching gravel as the heavy tires began their journey. Letting out a breath, she popped her head into the toy room where Morgan had been momentarily banished to.

Her eyes landed on the little girl who was in the middle of having an important discussion with her toys. On one side of her was the giant bear in a top hat that Maggie had given her for her birthday and on the other resided the stuffed version of the Stark family pet, Gerald the alpaca. Her little face was creased in concentration as she murmured to her friends.

“Hey, little dove.” With a gentle knock on the doorjamb, she greeted her goddaughter softly.

Keeping the theme between Maggie and Tony, she’d bestowed Morgan with her own avian nickname almost a year earlier. She was quite the peacekeeper despite being so young, so a dove seemed fitting for the youngest Stark. It had been months since she’d seen her, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty—she’d grown so much, and Maggie hadn’t been around for it. 

“Magpie!” Her eyes lit up as she stood carefully, her little legs carrying her as quickly as possible to the woman across the room. Thanks to Tony, she was almost certain that Morgan had no inkling that Magpie wasn’t actually her given name. As she jumped towards her, Maggie hoisted the pajama-clad toddler up and hugged her tightly.

Running a hand over the girl’s slightly tangled hair, Maggie exhaled softly as she pressed a kiss to her temple. Though she was still hesitant when it came to wanting children of her own, Morgan never failed to make her second guess the decision. She was only two years old but far too clever for her own good; she kept everyone on their toes as she followed in her dad’s footsteps.

“Steeb!” Pointing over Maggie’s shoulder with a chubby finger, she spotted Steve as he lingered in the doorway. At two and a half, her vocabulary wasn’t quite flawless; her consonants still got jumbled resulting with b’s in place of v’s and w’s in place of r’s but she always got her point across. With a toothy smile, she waved at the man who returned it with a chuckle; he adored the little girl as well.

That was another reason that she’d begun to rethink her choice although they’d consciously avoided the topic of children when it came to them as a couple. It still felt too early though they’d already begun to approach their second anniversary. However, she couldn’t deny that watching Steve interact with Morgan, as he tossed her into the air and caught her just as easily as they pretended that she was a bird or gave her piggyback rides, made something flutter in her chest.

Maggie nodded, a smile tilting up the corner of her lips as she agreed, not bothering to correct her, “Yep, that’s Steeb.”

Morgan’s tiny hands came to Maggie’s cheeks, squishing them as she made her godmother look at her, her cocoa eyes focused intently. She frowned, her voice soft and slightly disappointed, “Mommy and daddy had go.”

“I know, honey.” Maggie’s expression matched that of the little girl. Something that she didn’t miss from her childhood were events like this; ones where her parents would have to leave quickly to take care of some emergency and she’d be left with a sitter. As an only child, like Morgan, it had been quite lonely sometimes.

Determined not to allow the little girl to feel the same as she had, Maggie adjusted her on her hip as she carried her into the living room, whispering conspiratorially as if she didn’t actually have another hour before she needed to be tucked into bed, “Your mommy said you’re all ready for bed but what do you say about a movie?”

With an overenthusiastic gasp, Maggie watched as the light came back into her eyes, immediately demanding her most recent favorite movie less-than-eloquently, “Beauty Beast!”

Ten minutes later, after they’d piled on to the couch and had begun the old movie, Morgan had managed to squeeze herself between the couple with a content smile as she watched Belle spin through the field, singing as she declared her thirst for adventure. Morgan sang along quietly, her little voice carrying the melody from having heard it so many times.

Hugging the stuffed dog to her chest, she gently poked her current caregiver’s arm to get her attention. Her whisper wasn’t exactly quiet as she observed, “Magpie, you Belle.”

“Am I?” Maggie raised an eyebrow, finishing as she’d braided the little girl’s hair. A sly smile crossed her face as she tied off the plait with the scrunchie she kept around her wrist, nodding towards Steve, “Does that make him the beast?”

The tittering giggles that came from Morgan gave them their answer and Steve feigned offense before giving an animated roar and descending upon both Morgan and Maggie with a barrage of tickles. It seemed as though everything he did made Maggie picture what their life could be like together and it was becoming harder and harder to still want the same things that she had wanted all those years before.

It wasn’t long before Morgan had fallen asleep as they watched the movie; by the time Belle was being serenaded by Lumiere and his friends before dinner, she’d already drifted far off into the land of dreams. Peeling her from the couch, Maggie carried Morgan up the stairs to her room, careful not to wake her lest she be resistant to the unloved-by-children routine of bedtime.

Tucking her in beneath the heavy quilt that decorated the small bed, she pressed a kiss to her forehead, the lavender baby shampoo tickling her nose. Standing to find the lamp switch, she spotted a miniature gallery decorating the wall; photographs from the little girl’s short life were lined up like exhibits in a museum. Her hand drifted over the frame that surrounded a copy of the same picture that had been in her own room back at the compound.

Maybe that was the sign she’d been looking for. Reaching down on to the bedside table, she made sure the monitor was connected to the one downstairs before turning out the light and closing the door quietly behind her. Resting her back against the door, she shut her eyes and let out a long, resolved breath; she knew what she needed to do. Descending the stairs, careful to avoid any of the squeaky floorboards, she returned to the living room.

Maggie had to stifle a laugh as she spotted Steve, dozing off as his head nodded back uncomfortably against the couch. Reclaiming her spot beside him, she slowly coaxed the half-asleep man to lay down. She slid to the side, leaving room for his long legs as she rested his head against her thigh. Absentmindedly, she played with his hair, running her fingers through the dirty blonde locks. Though her eyes were on the screen, her mind was anywhere but.

It was hours later when she realized that, at some point, she must have fallen asleep as well—especially if the bouncing idle screen on the television and the crick in her neck were anything go off of. A quiet jingling from keys and steps on the porch outside the door roused her completely before she finally heard the lock disengage. Checking her phone with light-sensitive eyes, she squinted at the four digits at the top of her screen that revealed midnight was fast approaching. Almost four hours had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.

Maggie looked over her shoulder as the couple slipped into the cozy home. With a small smile, she kept her voice soft, “Hey.” Tony headed into his workshop turned office silently as Maggie carefully extracted herself from the couch where Steve was still asleep, not wanting to wake him quite yet. There was something she needed to do. “How is everything?”

Pepper lingered at the base of the stairs, her hand resting on the railing as her fingers drummed against it distractedly, “It’s okay. He was in surgery when we got there but everything’s straightened out now. He’ll be good as new, soon.” Her smile was tired, and her strawberry blonde hair had been tied back into a haphazard ponytail in the chaos; their drive into the city and subsequent hospital excursion had certainly taken a toll. Her eyes darted up the stairs, before she asked, “How was she? Any trouble?”

“Nope. She was an angel.” Maggie couldn’t help but smile; as far as children went, Morgan was by far one of the easiest to care for. She was certainly far more easygoing than Maggie had been at that age. “We got through half the movie before she fell asleep,” She looked over to see Steve still laying on the couch, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath, “then he actually knocked out before it ended too.”

With a quiet laugh, Pepper began her ascent up the stairs, “I’m going to go up and check on her, but thank you so much, Maggie.” She squeezed Maggie’s hand softly, her cornflower eyes soft as she continued, “It means the world.”

“Anytime.” Maggie nodded.

Before she could turn to go look for Tony, his voice sounded from across the room, “Maggie?” He stood in the doorway, waiting as her eyes found his. He nodded, a silent invitation into the room behind him.

Following him, she felt her heart begin to beat harder, tucked away behind her sternum. They were both silent as she took a seat on the couch, picking at the dry skin around her cuticles; she’d imagined this conversation too many times, but she never knew exactly how it would play out. She never quite got to the end of it in her head.

“I don’t even know how to start…” Tony began, trailing off as he leaned against his desk, playing with a pen he’d plucked from it. Shaking his head, he exhaled and met her eyes, “I’m so sorry, Mags. I know I’m not great at this—”

A snort of a laugh cut him off as she sarcastically observed, “Apologizing? You? No! Really?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted the cattiness that she’d allowed to swim to the surface.

“Maggie…” There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes as they talked over one another while she quickly tried to backpedal.

“Sorry, that was mean.” Pressing her lips together, she looked down at her hands and an awkward lull hung over them following her apology; it really wasn’t going the way that she wanted it too. Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, her voice was still soft as she began, “I’m sorry for what I said that night. I was surprised and upset…” Biting the inside of her cheek to stop more tears from coming to her eyes, her words were firm, almost blunt as she admitted, “You didn’t kill them.”

“It’s my fault they were there that day.” Tony took an uneasy breath, shaking his head as he looked down at his hands, “That was on me.”

“You couldn’t stop that thing from crashing into their building.” Maggie insisted; it was something that she’d also had to come to see in the months leading up to this moment. Tony hadn’t known what exactly the job had entailed when he called the Halls. He hadn’t been the one that half-collapsed the building. How could he have known what the intergalactic threat would be?

“I didn’t know how to tell you, Maggie.” Tony sighed, giving her a helpless shrug as he continued earnestly, “I always wanted to, from the moment it happened. Every time I saw you, I wanted to tell you, but I was always waiting for the right time and when you came over, I just—” His voice cracked and he cut off, shaking his head before finding her eyes. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

‘Too,’ like he’d lost her parents; some of his oldest friends.

As she looked at them, she realized just what her anger had cost her. It had only been six months, but he looked so much older; the lines under his eyes seemed deeper, there was more gray speckling his sideburns and beard. He looked so tired. In that moment, she felt the last whisps of her anger begin to fade away.

It wouldn’t turn back time. It wouldn’t bring her parents back. It was useless.

One of the last things that she had left was right in front of her and she didn’t want to take him for granted anymore. The tears that had nipped at her heel finally caught up to her and she wiped her eyes.

“I know. But I promise, you won’t lose me. I just—I needed some time.” Maggie gave him a half smile, reaching out for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze when he took her’s, “I forgive you but promise me, that’s it.”

“I promise.” He nodded firmly. Tony knew what she meant. There were no more lies, no more secrets; he wasn’t keeping anything else from her. Not anymore. Pulling Maggie in, he wrapped his arms around her; his eyes shut tightly as he let out a breath that he’d been holding for almost half a year. “Love you, Magpie.”

“Love you too, Stork.” She murmured, the tension leaving her body as she hugged him back. With one last pat to her back, he let her go and they shared a quiet smile. Maybe things weren’t normal, maybe they never would be, but they were better than they had been.

She took a step towards the living room before she hesitated, turning back to look at him. The words fell from her lips before she could second guess herself, “I know it’s not exactly the same but…now you know how Steve felt. Why he didn’t tell you.” She raised a hand, stopping him as he began to cut her off, “You don’t have to forgive him, especially not for my sake. But it takes a lot more energy to be upset with someone that you love than to forgive them.” She gave a small shrug, the sad smile from earlier finding its way back on to her lips, “I know from experience.”

Tony’s expression was weighed down, conflicted as he shook his head, “Maggie…”

“I know, I know. It’s not my business.” Maggie nodded; of course, she knew it was a gamble to bring it up, but she couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that she had to. It was only natural that she still wanted to restore the burned bridge between the old friends, “Just think about it.”

Steve was waiting by the door, holding her coat when she spotted him. His hair was still messy from his accidental nap and an involuntary smile grew on her face, “Glad to see you’re awake, Sleeping Beauty.”

“I think that’s a different movie.” He chuckled, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek as he helped her into the heavy coat she’d worn earlier. Opening the door to venture out into the cold, he gave Tony a curt, but not unkind, nod, as he murmured to Maggie, “Ready?”

She nodded, lacing her fingers with his before turning back to Tony with a hopeful if not slightly nervous smile, “Dinner Thursday?”

With an expression to match, he quietly agreed with a small nod, “We’ll see you then.”