#But by the time it was fixed what we needed to measure had gotten a chance to oxidize and that ruined our numbers

[madredhattie]

shoves my head into a pillow and screams

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part IV)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, death 

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood plan for the future. Things don’t quite go as planned. 

word count: 5.1k 

author note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I will not lie—this part was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it at least three times, and I am still not sure if I’m absolutely satisfied. Fair warning, I’m putting our lovebirds through the ringer, but do not worry—I’m a girl who loves a happily ever after. Also, no smut in this part, but stick around for part five. Happy reading!

part i can be found here, part ii here, and part iii here.

“Have you lost your mind?” 

You could not have heard him correctly. Surely Benjicot Blackwood had not just asked you to marry him, while you were half naked. 

You hurried to adjust your dress and cover yourself in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of dignity and propriety in this moment. Had you not been overwhelmed by the day, had you not been so taken off guard, you might have responded a little more kindly to a proposal from your beloved.

Benjicot laughed as he watched you try to gather your wits about you. He followed your direction, adjusting his breaches so that everything was tucked back into its proper place.

Once you were both decent, Benjicot reiterated, “I am quite serious. We should marry this evening.”

You shook your head, mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he was saying, what he was asking. For years, you had watched Benjicot from afar. Watched the way he grew into a man, into someone that people feared and respected in equal measure. Being with Benjicot was always your dream. The one you had tucked away in your heart for years, never to see the light of day should you dare to do the most dangerous thing in all of Westeros—hope. 

And now he was asking you to marry him. You felt unbalanced, unsteady. Your head and your heart were at war. 

You managed to get off the bed. Needing a moment to collect yourself, you put some distance between you and Benjicot and moved back across the room to the fireplace. 

When you turned back to Benjicot, you saw that he had not moved. His eyes were fixed on you, that predatory gaze locked onto your form, waiting for your response. 

That look in his eyes never failed to make you squirm. The weight of that stare made you think he could hear every thought in your head, all your secrets and dreams. 

You sighed, breaking eye contact and said, “You know that our families will never allow it.”

Benjicot stood then, and slowly stalked toward you. With each step, you felt your heartbeat pound louder against your chest. You had thought that the longer you spent in his presence, the more you would become used to him. But you could not deny the effect Benjicot had on you, on your body. 

Benjicot took your hands in his, and pulled you against him. Placing your hands on his chest, he rubbed his thumbs over the scrapes you had gotten earlier in the woods. Had that only been this morning? Time seemed to hold no meaning in this room. A prison that now felt like a sanctuary. 

“That is why we must marry tonight.” Benjicot smiled, and then placed a kiss on your brow. “By the time they find out, it will be too late.” 

You pulled back, just enough so that you could look at his face. “And do your really expect your father and Black Aly to welcome me into the family with open arms?” 

Benjicot was still smiling, still so sure of his plan. “They will once they see how happy we are. How much we love each other.” He shrugged before continuing, “And we would not be the first Blackwoods and Brackens to marry. Others have done it in the name of peace.”

“But our families do not seek peace now!” You practically shouted, frustration coloring your tone. “We are on the brink of war, and our families stand on opposite sides.”

You tried pulling away, but Benjicot tightened his arms around you, stilling your struggle. Whatever good humor Benjicot had was slowly leaching from his features. “You know as well as I do that Queen Rhaenyra is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.“Of course I agree with you, but that does not change the fact that my father will disown me if we do this. I will never be able to return home.”

Benjicot pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin,“Would that be such an awful thing?”

You felt your heart jerk at his question. The idea of never seeing your family again, of never being welcomed home, of never eating your cook’s fruit pies or riding through the moorlands outside of Stone Hedge on a misty morning, or gods never visiting your mother’s gravestone, was enough to send a wave of nausea through you. 

You hid your face against his chest. “My father was not always the most loving, but he is my father. For all the faults you may find with him, he has never been cruel to me.” 

Benjicot felt the shift in your mood, could practically feel the sadness and desperation radiate from the points where you touched. He knew the sacrifice he was asking you to make was no small thing. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort the turmoil within you. 

You could not stop the tears even if you wanted to. You did not wail, did not scream at the unfairness of your situation, did not rail against the old gods and the new for cursing your families and subjecting them to an endless blood feud. For what else could this ancient, hateful grudge between the Blackwoods and Brackens be except for a curse? 

Even if you could convince your father to bless a marriage between you and Benjicot, any children between you would be enlisted to the war. Generations of prejudice had proven that. It was no matter that the Bracken or Blackwood on the other side would be a cousin. No matter that no one could remember how the hatred between your two families even began. No matter how senseless the bloodshed would be. 

This was your and Benjicot’s world. You could not run from the truth of your situation, could not hide from your fates. Not if you wanted your love to withstand.

And even though the thought of never going back to Stone Hedge was devastating, the thought of never seeing Benjicot again was unthinkable. Never hearing his voice or his laugh. Never seeing his smiles. Never having him hold you in his arms. You could not bear the separation, not after having a taste of what your life could be like together. 

Your tears slowed and your breathing evened out. Whatever doubts that had plagued your mind were banished. Resolution steeled your spine. You took a fortifying breath and lifted your head from Benjicot’s chest. With a watery smile on your face, you said, “I accept your proposal, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Benjicot’s joy was infectious. Smiling wide and bright, he lifted you into his arms and kissed you with such a reverence that left your breathless. Gods, you loved this man. Wanted him again and could not imagine ever being parted from him. The very thought of being separated was enough to send a panic through you. 

You wrapped your arms around Benjicot’s neck and tangled your hands in his hair, your tongue in his mouth. You felt his joy in that kiss. And you let that joy into your heart. Let it fill and warm you. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be happy. 

The impossible dream was becoming a reality. 

When Benjicot had proposed, he did not have an actual plan. He did not have any rings or a marriage cloak. As a Blackwood, he preferred to have a ceremony before the old gods in front of the ancient, colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. 

Because there were no clergy associated with the old gods, the current Lord Blackwood usually performed marriage ceremonies at Raventree Hall. But seeing as his father would likely oppose the marriage, that left Benjicot with few options. With a little convincing, or in Benjicot’s case, a little threat of bodily harm, the maester finally agreed to perform the ceremony. 

You could not stop smiling as Benjicot snuck you out of your rooms. With each passing hallway and corridor, you felt your excitement grow. You could barely contain your glee as you clung to each other, arms linked and hands intertwined, as you made your way into the godswood.  

The maester stood before the weirwood tree, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns to light the way. Hundreds of ravens were to be your witnesses. On any other night, feeling the weight of all those eyes watching you might have felt unsettling. But nothing could spoil this moment, nothing could come between you and Benjicot— 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” 

Every muscle in your body tensed. Panic settled in your chest, and you felt your stomach drop. 

Black Aly stood at the edge of the godswood, her bow and arrow knocked and poised to strike.  

You felt the world shift. One moment you were standing beside Benjicot, and the next, Benjicot stood in between you and Aly, putting himself in the way of the arrow that had been aimed at your chest. 

“Lower the bow, Aly.” Benjicot’s voice was hard and low. You watched as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger, ready to draw the blade at any moment. 

Even from a distance, you could see Aly roll her eyes at Benjicot’s actions, but she did not lower her bow. “Do not overwork yourself, nephew.” 

You grabbed the back of Benjicot’s cloak, pulling slightly as if to hold him back. You glanced wearily back and forth between the Blackwoods. Two warriors preparing to battle. The last thing you wanted was for there to be violence. For surely a duel between Bloody Ben and Black Aly would be a fight for the ages. 

Benjicot’s body was tense as yours. He did not truly believe that Aly would hurt you. Aly was tough but fair, and underneath her brash attitude and hostility, she had a gentle heart. But he would not risk you. Would not allow anyone to threaten or harm you. Not when he had the ability to protect you. 

Benjicot pulled out his dagger. “Put the bow away, Aly. I will not ask again.”

You wanted to step in between them like you had done in the fight with Aeron. But this situation was different. This was two Blackwood who were taking the measure of each other, testing how far the other was willing to go. You could not intervene, even if the sight of an arrow pointed at Benjicot was enough to send your blood running cold. 

After what felt like hours, Aly lowered her bow. Sighing, she returned the arrow to her quiver. Only then did Benjicot sheath his dagger. 

“You sure have a flare for the dramatics, nephew.”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the woman who had an arrow aimed at my betrothed.”

Your heart fluttered at the word. 

Aly huffed out a laugh. “Is that what she is to you? Your betrothed? I do not recall your father agreeing to any such arrangement.” 

Benjicot remained in front of you, a barrier between you and Aly. “I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”

Aly stood with her hands on her hips, eyes directed toward the heavens. She looked as if she were searching for patience amongst the stars. When she cut her gaze back to Benjicot, you could not miss the look of pity that flashed across her face. 

“Benji, you know that you cannot marry her.” 

You reached for Benjicot’s hand, needing his touch and warmth to ground you in this moment. Whatever happiness you had felt, whatever joy that you had shared, was now slowly falling through your grasp. 

Black Aly would never allow you two to marry. Not like this. 

But Benjicot’s stubbornness was no light thing. “I love her, Aly. I will marry her, and you cannot stop me.”

Just as Aly was about to respond, you saw her face pale and expression grow uneasy. And when you heard the voice behind you, you understood why. 

“You would be wise to reconsider that position, son.” 

If you had thought you felt panic before, that was nothing to the sickening feeling that plagued you now. 

Because standing on the opposite side of the godswood, directly across from Aly, was Lord Samwell Blackwood. Benjicot’s father, and your own father’s sworn enemy. And with him stood a dozen Blackwood guards, each looking between you and Benjicot with expressions that ranged from disbelief to disgust. 

You had never been formally introduced to Lord Blackwood. He was a rather tall man, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. His close-cropped beard was the same. Like Benjicot, his gaze was enough to send a lesser man cowering. And right now that gaze was cold and enraged and fixed on you and Benjicot. 

If Benjicot had not been holding your hand, you would have been trembling. The two of you were trapped. 

“Are you so eager to start a war, Benjicot?” Lord Blackwood asked, his tone was like ice. “For some Bracken wench?” 

You felt Benjicot’s hand tighten around yours, almost to the point of pain. One glance at Benjicot told you that he was furious. His glare held that feral edge, and he was close to snarling. Bloody Ben was backed into a corner, and he looked itching for a fight. Even if that fight was against his own father.

“You will mind how you speak about my lady, father.” Had you not been so fearful for your life and his, you would have thought that declaration rather romantic. 

Lord Blackwood did not look impressed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you and your lady have brought to our door, Benjicot?” 

“We wish to marry, father.” Benjicot glanced at you as he said, “We love each other.” 

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lord Blackwood as he motioned for his men to stand down. “That does not change the fact that she is a Bracken. You cannot simply marry her without expecting there to be consequences.”

“I am prepared to accept any consequence if it means we can be together.” The surety in Benjicot’s tone was enough to ease the fear that had gripped you since you had been discovered. You could help but give him a small smile. 

A smile that Lord Blackwood did not miss. “And you, Lady Bracken?” Lord Blackwood sneered. “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this marriage? Your father will seek retribution for this little act of rebellion. Are you prepared to have blood on your hands?” 

Now you were the one who squeezed Benjicot’s hand. Lord Blackwood terrified you, and so did his words. You did not wish to be the cause of another fight between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, did not want to send anyone to their death because you fell in love with someone who was never meant to be yours. 

Benjicot nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you what strength he could. With him standing at your side, you found the courage to meet Lord Blackwood’s gaze. “Whatever trials and tribulations may come our way, Lord Blackwood, I am prepared to meet them with Benjicot as my lord husband.” 

Even without looking at him, you could feel Benjicot’s eyes on you as you held your own against his father. Could feel how proud he was of you for defending your future together. 

Taking another breathe, you could not help but add, “You speak of my hands becoming bloody,  but I could not think of anything more fitting for a woman betrothed to Bloody Ben Blackwood.” 

The silence in the godswood was deafening. 

Every person and creature seemed to be holding their breath for Lord Blackwood’s response. You did not dare break eye contact with him, determined to hold your ground and prove yourself worthy of being Benjicot’s wife. 

Lord Blackwood finally moved his gaze from you and back to Benjicot. “We will treat with Lord Bracken tomorrow. Offer him a parley. You will ask his permission to marry his daughter. You will accept his decision, no matter what he says.” 

“Father! You know he will not—”

But Lord Blackwood had heard enough. Holding up his hand, he demanded silence. “Those are my terms, Benjicot. Be grateful I am allowing this much.” 

A weariness had settled over Lord Blackwood’s features. Although he was still a man in his prime, in that moment, he looked aged and tired. As he turned to leave the godswood, he said, “We stand on the brink of war. The Targaryens are at each other’s throats since King Viserys passed. Soon House Blackwood will be asked to choose a side, and you have allowed your foolish heart to guide your choices.” 

You could tell Benjicot wanted to protest, wanted to push back on his father’s orders. He knew as well as you did that convincing your father to allow the two of you to marry was going to take an act of the gods. 

And even though Benjicot knew when to pick his battles, knew when he had lost a fight, he could not help but have the last word. “There are worse things to be guided by than one’s heart, father.” 

Benjicot’s words gave Lord Blackwood pause. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might reprimand Benjicot for his lack of respect. Only when Lord Blackwood continued walking out of the godswood did you feel like you could breathe again. 

The Blackwood guards followed their ledge lord, leaving you, Benjicot, and Aly in the presence of the ravens. You could have collapsed from exhaustion. You felt wrung out from the day. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, and your body was protesting. 

Aly approached and stopped just short of you and Benjicot. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Benjicot rounded on Aly, and with animosity in his voice, he asked, “Why did you stop us?”

Aly stared at Benjicot like he had grown a second head. “We’re trying to prevent a war, Benji. Had the two of you married, Bracken would have shown up here with a thousand men seeking your head. You might love each other, but is that love really worth the lives of hundreds? Thousands?” 

“You are overreacting—”

Aly shoved at Benjicot’s chest. “And you are being an idiot! Use your head, Benji. If you had married in secret, the Brackens would have stopped at nothing to avenge that insult. You know that, even if you are too blind to see it.” 

With a softer tone, Aly continued, “Be grateful your father is supporting you in this. He could have just as easily returned her to Stone Hedge. You have a chance.”

Benjicot scoffed. “A chance? Do you really believe—”

“Enough.” You cut Benjicot off before he could say another word. You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “My father may hate Blackwoods, but he is not unreasonable. We will convince him.” 

You could tell that Benjicot was struggling to control his temper. He was still running hot from the confrontation with Aly and his father. Bloody Ben was lingering too close to the surface. You pulled his face toward yours and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nothing more than a gentle peck, but enough to distract him. 

When you pulled back, you could see that some of the edge had worn off. Benjicot’s face was calmer, less hostile. “I love you, Benjicot Blackwood. I do not plan to give you up without a fight.” 

Benjicot smiled at your words, the soft smile he reserved just for you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “My brave girl. I pity any man who would dare cross you.”

You held each other for a moment before Aly cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’m going to escort little Bracken back to her rooms.” 

With a quick kiss to your head, Benjicot released you and said, “Sleep well, my lady.” 

You did not want to leave Benjicot, but you knew there was no way Aly was going to let you stay with each other. As you followed her out of the godswood, you could not help but take one last look at Benjicot. 

You nearly stumbled when you saw him. Beneath the ancient weirwood tree, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by ravens, stood Benjicot. His head bowed as if in prayer. 

You did not have to guess what he was praying about. You only hoped that the old gods were listening. 

The only neutral territory acceptable to both the Blackwoods and the Brackens were the boundary stones near the old windmill. The day was overcast and cold, with the wind tearing through the cloak Aly had lent you.

Aly had not left your side since collecting you from your rooms that morning. You and Benjicot had been kept separated for the entire journey. You had asked for him, begged Aly to allow you two a moment alone, but she had refused. Lord Blackwood was keeping both she and Benjicot on a tight leash until this matter was settled. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had tossed and turned the entire night, too anxious to close your eyes for fear of what your dreams may hold. You might have been confident with Benjicot the night before, but in truth, you had no idea how to convince your father to allow you to marry. 

The Brackens had arrived first. 

A host of about fifty men had gathered on their side of the boundary stones. A sea of red and gold with a few horses scattered in the mix. You did not miss how all the men were armed with swords at the ready. 

And in the front, seated atop his favorite war horse and adorned in battle leathers, was Amos Bracken. Your father.  

Amos Bracken was not as tall or built as Samwell Blackwood, but you knew your father to be a proficient swordsmen and respected fighter in his own right. You had no doubt that should this come to blows, he would hold his own. 

Aeron stood beside him. A united front against their perceived enemies. And while your father’s face was blank of all emotions, calm and controlled, Aeron’s disdain for the Blackwoods was clear for all to see. 

The Blackwood host equalled that of the Brackens’. You had ridden to the neutral ground on the back of Aly’s horse. You had tried to spot Benjicot all morning, but there were too many men, too much chaos. The closer you got to the boundary stones, the more you felt Aly tense in front of you. 

When you finally stopped, Aly directed you to the front of the vanguard. She had drawn her bow the moment your feet hit the ground. 

Your first sight of Benjicot sent your heart thumping. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times. But that was the only sign that Benjicot felt uneasy. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth was fixed in a smirk, like this meeting was an every day occurrence. He showed no fear. 

Aly stopped you slightly behind and to the right of Benjicot. You saw the moment when your father and Aeron spotted you. Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Aeron’s face twisted into a mix of shock and disbelief. 

You swallowed down the fear and anxiety. Swallowed down the nausea that threatened to upend your breakfast. Swallowed down any uncertainty you felt. You had to present a strong front to your father and his men. Otherwise, they would pounce on any hesitation and demand that you be returned home. 

Lord Blackwood broke the silence first. “Amos. A pleasure as always.”

“Cut the shit, Blackwood,” Lord Bracken snarled, “and return my daughter to me.” 

The words were not unexpected. You tensed as Aeron shifted his hand to the sword at his side, stomach twisting as he gripped the hilt. 

You exhaled a long breath and fixed your gaze on your father. “I am well, father. The Blackwoods have treated me kindly.”

Lord Bracken’s face darkened, and you instantly regretted speaking. “I do not want to hear a single word from you.”

Your cheeks flamed at the dismissal, but you refused to lower your eyes. Refused to cower before your family. “Then I am sorry to disappoint you, father.”

“You insubordinate, ungrateful—”

“Lord Bracken,” Benjicot interjected, stopping your father from insulting you further. “I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You did not so much as breathe as you waited for your father to respond. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

The longer you waited, the more panic seeped into your veins. But when your father finally responded, you wished that he had not. 

With a sneer on his face, your father glared at Benjicot when he said, “I would sooner feed my daughter to one of those Targaryen dragons before marrying her to some Blackwood cunt.” 

You had felt like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You had never seen such hatred on your father’s face. Had never heard his voice sound so cold and cruel. You knew that he hated the Blackwoods, but to sentence you to death rather than let you marry? 

You looked at your father like he was a stranger. 

You heard angry shouts and curses behind you from the Blackwood host. Felt that the bloodlust in the air had upped a notch. 

Lord Blackwood held up a hand to silence his men. “Careful, Bracken.” 

“My daughter was taken by your son. Subjected to gods knows what. I will not be careful, Blackwood.” 

“That’s not true, father!” You shouted, launching yourself to stand before your father. You had to find some way to convince him, some way to get him to listen. “Benjicot and I are in love. Please, just listen to us.” 

Your father scoffed. “Love? Between a Bracken and a Blackwood? Do not make me laugh.” 

The Bracken host jeered at your father’s word, laughing and snickering at the very idea of you and Benjicot being together. You even heard a man call out, “Blackwood whore!” 

You did not see Benjicot move. Did not see him reach for the dagger at his hip. Did not see him launch the blade into the air. 

But you could not miss the dagger embedding itself into the man’s throat. Could not miss the splattering of blood or the final wheeze of breath the man took before falling to the ground. Dead in the blink of an eye. 

A scream tore from your throat. You whipped around to look at Benjicot and found Bloody Ben instead. His eyes held that crazed, feral look, but there was no smirk.

Every Blackwood and Bracken standing in that field un-sheathed their weapons. 

“You may insult me all you wish, Bracken!” Benjicot called out, moving forward. “Call me a cunt. Call me craven. I do not care.” He stopped next to you and took your hand. "But I will cut down any man who dares to say such vile insults to my lady. Of that, I promise you.”

Your father did not look pleased by that declaration. If anything, he looked more enraged than before. “You violate the terms of this parley, Blackwood. You have spilled Bracken blood. I have the right to demand your head. But I will settle for the return of my daughter. Now.” 

You were close to tears. Nothing you or Benjicot said moved your father. He was determined to hold onto his hatred, to see the Blackwoods in the worst possible light. But you could not give up—you had to try. 

“Father, please,” your voice broke at the words, “I know that the feud between our families has lasted for a millennium. I know that the thought of a Blackwood and Bracken being together, of loving one another, is inconceivable to you. I know that this is not the life you wished for me. But I have lovedBenjicot since I was a girl.” You took a quick glance at Benjicot to give you strength. “And he loves me. I humbly ask you to grant our union.” 

Your father refused to look at you. Refused to acknowledge your words or pleas. You clutched Benjicot’s hand tighter. For you knew what was coming. Knew that your father was about to crush whatever hope you still held onto. 

Ignoring you and Benjicot as if you were insignificant, he directed his words to Lord Blackwood, “I do not give my blessing to this marriage. Return my daughter to me or we will have war.” 

Your vision swam and your ears began ringing. Somewhere in the distance you heard Lord Blackwood sigh and give the command. Your hand was ripped from Benjicot’s, by whom you did not know. You felt as if the entire world had spun off its axis. How had everything gone so wrong? 

One moment, you were standing next to Benjicot, his warm hand against yours, and then in the blink of an eye, you were on the other side of the boundary stones, with Aeron leading you away.

You felt as if you were disconnected from your body. Aeron’s arms were around you, guiding you. You were vaguely aware that he was trying to say something, speak to you about what had happened. But you felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness had settled over you. 

Only when you heard Benjicot call out your name did you snap. 

You shoved against Aeron, tried to run back across the boundary stones to Blackwood land, back to your love, but Aeron held firm. You struggled against him, screaming and hitting and kicking, but your strength was no match for his. 

You looked across the field to see Benjicot being held back by three men. He was snarling and raging, but the men held firm and forced him to his knees. You watched as Aly tried to speak to him, tried to calm him down. 

But there was no calming Bloody Ben. Not now. Not when his lady had been taken from him. 

When Benjicot saw that you were watching him, saw that you were struggling against your own constraints, he stopped. His eyes were wild and fierce and held the promise of retribution. With laboring breaths Benjicot shouted across the field, “I will come you for you, my lady!” He vowed. “I will always come for you!” 

You sobbed at his words. Sobbed for the happiness and hope that you had felt only hours before. Sobbed for the future you might have shared together.

For the second time, you were forced to leave Benjicot behind in this accursed field. Only this time, the heartbreak was so much worse. You had gotten a taste of the impossible dream, gotten so close to getting everything you wanted.

Your dream had become a nightmare. 

final author note: I know! I know! We have to suffer before things get better. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you babes xx

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

@crownofdecitreadingrespectfully

@someblessedgal @devildelilah

@reallyweridgirl @majocookie

@mack-devereaux @maximizedrhythms

@silverwingxox @credulouskhaleesi @poemfreak306

@atomicshepherdalmondpizza

@jevoislavieenrouge

[socialc1imb]

*gripping the new au tightly* oh no, oh no not again. Fuck. Guess I don't need sleep. I need to make art. I got to hear more about Soul's reaction, or Mind waking up after having just been shot and being like "well shit what do you mean this didn't go according to plan?"

Will I be scouring this for as much angst as I can possibly create, yes yes I will. Time to draw some stressed Heart after hearing Mind scream from the pain. Bullet wounds are no fun, even less fun to pull the bullet out if it gets stuck.

Soul's immediate reaction? Fucking fury.

The vessel had always scared Heart. Soul could be bitterly vicious and stern, violent when he needed to be, and he had only gotten worse in the past two dozen loops.

To think that he had once been considered a friend was a foreign concept. He hadn't been a friend in a long while, much less anything at all. It's true that he had given up trying, and it left him naught but more than a shell of an already incomplete man.

Yet, this shell's anger was a palpable force, bringing an already trembling Heart to his knees with just a vicious glare.

Mind—oh Christ...Mind—moaned softly from where he lay in a pool of quickly growing navy blood. He writhed and cried out, clenching at the hole he had helped Heart rip into his chest, and clean through, for good measure.

This is for the best. This is going to fix it all, Heart had to repeat to himself, as he apologized over Mind's pained screams and moans. Now, as Soul moved steadily towards him, the trident scraping against the ground, screeching as the heavy metal prongs dug triple divots into the hard flooring, Heart repeated the words. Over and over again, This is for the best. We fixed it, this is going to work.

There was no hesitation. No pause. Not even the decency to ask 'what have you done?' like Heart had anticipated to hear.

No. No, instead, Heart was met with the sole of Soul's converse slamming into his nose.

Heart screamed, begging Soul to 'WAIT—!'

Soul did not, in fact, wait. He kicked Heart back down when the half tried to sit back up, ignoring the way Heart held his hands up in surrender.

"Soul! No, please! You have to understand—!"

He could taste his own blood in his mouth. Soul had surely broken his nose. Mind wailed somewhere in the distance. Heart's ears were ringing.

"Please, Soul! It was our plan! We had to—"

Soul slammed his foot down on Heart's ribs, pinning him to the ground. Heart gasped, feeling something in his chest crack and bow. His heart skipped a beat and pounded erratically. Heart sobbed and begged Soul to listen.

"Soul—!"

The back end of the trident was sharp, and you'd never have expected it until it was used on you.

Heart screamed, arguably louder than Mind had, though it was hard to tell, as Soul had effortlessly flipped the trident around backwards and plunged it into his face. By the time Soul was gearing up for the next eye, Heart was already screaming.

He lost consciousness mere seconds before the trident touched his other eye, though the pain was not lost in the swirling oblivion.

[sturniyolos]

can u please do a fic or blurb or like headcannons for !singer reader x chris sturniolo? (i love ur writing omg)

You asked & you shall receive 💖. [thank you for the compliment I love you baby]

Singer!Reader x Bf!Chris

Mentions of SFW + NSFW.

SFW 🪐

- When you told Chris about your plans for an upcoming world tour, this man was already prepared. He had people measuring you for different costumes, already had stadiums on the phone, and even had an RV ready when you guys were still in the US.

“The agency and I are thinking about starting a world tour, but I’m still undecided.” You tell Chris, unsure of how he would feel. You didn’t know if he wanted to come or if he just wanted to stay back with his brothers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Ma, this is huge for you. I gotta start packing and film pre-made videos. I’ma start calling people, aight?” Chris exclaims, picking you up and kissing your face all over.

“Chris, it’s not official. We were just thinking about it, alright?” You say, grabbing his phone from him to make sure he doesn’t spoil anything as this isn’t the first time Chris told the world about a secret you were planning.

“I’m just sayin’ baby, if you need people, you know who to find.” Chris says, pointing at himself. You scoff and roll your eyes playfully.

- One day at soundcheck, you were feeling a bit overwhelmed. You were on a time crunch and your staff was making you feel more stressed out. Chris in the stands was noticing how you were messing up lines you never mess up. How you were losing your balance and how you kept fiddling with the mic stand. He decided he had enough seeing you like this.

“Y/N, c’mon. We’ve been doing this for almost 30 minutes, let’s get going alright?” Your manager states. You must admit, you were giving everyone a hard time— making the audio guy replay the backtrack maybe 30 million times. You just didn’t know why you kept messing up your favorite note that you did. You started to feel anxious and that’s what made you get less and less confident. You see Chris in the audience chairs stand up. You already felt like shit making everyone’s day longer, and you felt more like shit when [you thought] Chris was over your shit too.

“Hey, I think everyone should take a 15. It’s been a long morning, alright?” Chris grabs your mic and speaks into it while interlocking your hand with his. You look up at him, silently thanking him.

“I don’t think so, she hasn’t gotten-.” Your manager starts to speak.

“Alright, 15 starts now. Be back by 11:30 everyone.” Chris says in the mic, while putting it back in the mic stand. Chris and you make your way backstage as you sit on the couch.

“I don’t know what’s happening, I’m sorry you had to see that. I just don’t-.” You start, almost on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey. Take a deep breath and relax, okay? You have so much time to prepare. It’s better you take your time and be here all day rather than cramming everything together and not be happy with the performance, aight?” Chris states, holding your check into his hand.

You start leaning into his hand, holding his hand that was on your cheek.

“What would I do without you?” You say, looking into his eyes.

“The real question is, what would I do without Ms. Popstar.” Chris says, leaning in for a kiss.

After Chris’ pep talk, you became more confident and fixed your corrections asap.

- At your concerts, you had intermissions. This is when you would interact with fans, read different posters, or even answer questions. Chris loved being backstage when you got ready, but once you were on the stage, he loved being in the audience. He loved you spotting him and would getting butterflies in his tummy when you smile or even blow a kiss at him.

“Thank you, everyone!” You state into the mic, the audience yelling in return.

“While we do a 15 minute intermission, I want to see the different posters yall made so can we see them please?” You ask the cameraman, and everyone putting up their signs as fast as possible. You try reading the ones in front row first, and you notice Chris holding a sign.

“Can we please have a zoom in on this front row right here?” You state, smiling as you wait for the cameraman to zoom in on the poster.

“I HAVE BLUE EYES & A WHITE JACKET ON. DO YOU THINK WE’D HAVE GOOD BED CHEM?”

You read the poster as Chris is smiling on the side of it. Everyone in the stadium is screaming and even laughing. You start laughing into the mic, making everyone record.

“This guy in the audience is really cute. My manager will have you backstage with me later.” You state, blowing a kiss at him.

As the cameraman is still on Chris, he looks at the camera and blows a kiss at you. You can never get tired of this man.

NSFW 🕸️

- As you were writing in your songbook for your new music, Chris was in your bed, bored and horny out of his mind. He couldn’t deal with the fact that your in the smallest shorts known to man, paired with a crewneck cut on the neckline.

You were writing in your songbook. Erasing after writing after writing after erasing. You hear small footsteps making your way from behind you. You start to feel small kisses on your neck, getting deeper everytime a new kiss begins.

“C’mon baby, I-I’m busy.” You state, rolling your head back as he gets deeper into the kiss.

“Ma, you been here all day.” Chris says, making love bites into your neck.

Chris starts to trail his hand down your waistband of your shorts,

“You really want me to stop?” Chris whispers in your ear, knowing your answer already.

“N-no, please.” You say, easing his hands into your underwear.

“You want me to stop, but you’re soaking?” He says, smiling while doing so.

“Come’ere, I’ll take good care of you.”

You never ended up finishing that song.

- After concerts, you’d be so exhausted and so overworked, but you would never turn down sex with Chris. But this man will never let you do the work, he always wants to make you feel good, even if he doesn’t even cum. He gets pleasure on making you feel good.

Chris lays you on your shared hotel bed. He kisses you deeply as he chokes you softly. You moaning as a result.

“C-Chris, I’m so tired. Please.” You say, in between kisses.

“Did I ask if you were tired?” Chris asks, rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip.

“No, but I don’t want you to be doing all the w-“. You start, but he stops you.

“So, if I didn’t ask, why you worried about it, hm? Let me make you feel good, you did so good today mama.” Chris exclaims, kissing down your neck, to your chest, to your pretty thighs.

Chris starts taking off your bottoms, looking up at you for your okay. You nod as he continues. He begins placing kisses on your clothed cunt, you moaning as a result. He starts pulling down your underwear, leaving your cunt exposed. He pushes your legs against him, so your knees are in a triangle-like shape.

He starts licking your soaking hole, looking up at you. You throw your head back, moaning curse words over and over.

“You like that?” Chris asks, slowly inserting his long, slender fingers into you.

You couldn’t even answer, the pressure being too much and moans were the only thing coming out of your mouth.

“I know ma, I know. You’re being so good, you know that?” He asks, while licking and slurping your pussy even faster.

“Ch-hris, I’m cl-fuck.” You state, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Let me hear you baby, give it to me. Cum in my mouth, you deserve it.” Chris states. And that was your breaking point. As you finish, Chris is still eating you out, trying to get all the juices you have and leave you empty.

You look down as you see Chris wiping his mouth, and make his way to you.

“Sweet as always.” He says, kissing you.

- Right before you got on stage, you and Chris got into a little argument. The argument was so small, yet you were being petty like always. After the concert, you and Chris were just bickering back and forth. One thing led to another, and now your back is arched with Chris fucking you mercilessly.

“Yeah? You wanna act like a brat? Be my fucking guest.” Chris exclaims, grabbing your hands and placing them behind you.

“F-fuck, Chris. Oh my God.” You yell, unable to take his cock anymore.

“C’mon baby. We don’t wanna ruin that pretty little voice, huh? You’re gonna take this shit.” He says, whispering into your ear.

“Imagine what your fans would think about their favorite singer being a brat who likes being used. You like that huh?” Chris asks, pulling your hair so your head goes up from the pillows.

“Chris, p-please. You’re too b-big, fuck.” You state, putting your hands behind you to touch his stomach, trying to make him stop.

“Ion give a fuck mama, take it.” He whispers in your ear, fucking you even faster. The sounds of you struggling, to skin clapping, to Chris’ groaning was all that was heard in the hotel room.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you. Yeah, you want it? You want everyone to know you’re a cumslut, yeah?” Chris says, kissing down your back.

“Chris, I’m sorry fuck.” You say looking back at Chris, making dead eye contact with him.

“No. We gon stay here all night to you learned your lesson, yeah?” Chris states, flipping you guys over so you’re in missionary.

Long story short, the next day when you did your concert, you had to sit in a chair for the duration of it.

——————————————————————————

[callofdudes]

Happy National Women's Day (yesterday, woops) Celebrated with a platonic story for y/n, Laswell, and Farah.

Readers gender is not specified. This isn't beta read because my eyes really hurt today for some reason.

You had just gotten back from a mission followed by Farah's forces and accompanying assistance of one Alex Keller. After getting back the guys were pretty tuckered out. Price and Simon going for a smoke and Johnny going for a long snooze in his bed. Missions usually left you exhausted.

However, this was the week that Laswell got a much needed break from her work and she wanted to spend it well.

She was sat on the couch, watching you and Simon quietly talk. Farah was cleaning her goggles, frowning over a small scratch in the top corner of the lense.

She could see the stress on Farah's face, and just from your posture she knew you needed a break as well. So when Simon got up to use the bathroom she leaned forward.

"What do you two say we get out of here for a couple days?"

You looked up curiously. "What do you mean?? Get a hotel or something?"

She shook her head. "Camping. My brother has a cabin up in the mountains where his buddies and him go climbing. We could go spend some time out there."

"Would it be quiet?" Farah asks.

"Most likely, it's not a big place. The spot we usually go isn't touristy either."

Farah looks to you. "I've never been camping outside of missions."

"If we can get a place with room for three and not get eaten alive by mosquitoes and the like, then yeah."

Laswell nods. "It's a cabin, so I don't think you'll have to worry too much about mosquitoes. But it'll just be the three of us." Laswell stands, stretching and grabbing her coffee. "We'll head out tomorrow after you're packed."

So the next morning you and Farah brought out your backpacks to Laswell's car. She only had a small vehicle but it was enough to fit all your supplies. Laswell brought her climbing gear, and enough food to last you a week at the cabin.

Once you were all ready to go there was one person you had to say goodbye to.

"Simon it's ok, I'm not going to be gone that long, only a week."

"A week... What am I supposed to do until then??"

"Hangout with the guys, take some time off to relax your feet. Read your book. You'll be ok."

Simon grumbled and looked over at Alex who was staying with them. To Simon's dismay.

You smiled softly, and fixed his sweater hoodie. "Only a week." You wrap your arms around him and he hugged you back, squeezing you for good measure.

Soon enough you packed in and set off on your journey. Farah plugged her phone in and played music from the passenger seat. "Any song requests??"

"Remember that one song you played the other day? With the guitar solo?"

Farah smiled and put the song on, and you jammed away in the backseat. Laswell put her son blocker down and set you off to the nearest coffee shop. Because what's a road trip without coffee?

She took the tray from the man at the drive through window and handed Farah her iced coffee and you your drink. “There you go.”

“Thank you mom.” You smiled and leaned back.

“Of course. Now, it’ll be a bit of a drive.” But you guys were ready for that.

You drove for the rest of the day. As you got closer to the mountains, Farah and you both pointed out a fair bit of wildlife you saw along the roadside.

Farah’s entire day was made by seeing baby ducklings going for a dunk in a small pond with their mom.

Laswell pointed out a few deer on the way, and soon you reached the place. Driving up the road and parking in front of a rather nice little cabin. It was old, with a couple swinging shutters and the frame would need some repainting.

“This is nice.” Farah looked around the grassy area behind the cabin that led up into a large hill. A small fire pit set up around some trees and a stone pathway up to the stairs.

“How did you get this place again??”

“My brother rents it most of the summer for his rock climbing. They come every few weeks.”

“Cool.”

Laswell nods, opening the car door and putting her park pass in the window. She tossed you the keys. “I'll go tell administration we’re here so they don't freak out. You two and get the first pickings.”

You and Farah smiled at each other softly. “Thanks laswell!” You called and grabbed out your stuff. You unlocked the house and you two headed inside. In the small entry way was a couple buckets full of wood and a shelf of paper and some lighters.

A tiny kitchen area and a gas stove. It was a cozy little place. Heading into the next part of the cabin there was a small bench, a cabinet with some games and a bed tucked against the opposite wall.

The back bedroom was separated by a curtain, inside being another two beds.

You and Farah looked at each other. “you can have either, I don't mind.” She said softly.

You were quiet for a moment. “You want the one by the window??”

“I'd like that.” She admitted.

You nodded and tossed your stuff on the bed in the corner, and let Farah have the bed next to the big window looking out at the field.

Laswell came back with a bag of some firewood and her climbing equipment. Taking dibs on the bed in the other room and getting comfy.

After which she promptly started on some dinner because she was starving. Until then you two opened her tray of fruit from the cooler and snacked away.

“So where do you usually go rock climbing, Laswell?” Farah asks.

“We usually go up one of the old trails. There's an open section of land that shows off this huge rock face. It's the perfect climb. I think it'll be easy enough for you two.”

“We’re capable Laswell.” You chuckle. You could smell the food waft through the cabin. She plated up, and came over to set down two plates for you two. You moved over on the bench allowing Laswell to sit down, and you all dug in.

Talking and laughing as the sun starts to go down on the field, the food being quickly devoured. Laswell brought out brownies as dessert.

You gasped softly. “Are those….”

Laswell smiled and ruffled your hair. “She said they're all yours.”

You eagerly popped the lid off and snatched one to dig into. “Oh Farah, you gotta try one. Her wife makes them the best.”

Farah smiled softly and reached in and took one out. “What's in it, Laswell??”

“Hm? I have the recipe list here if you want to look at it.” She took it from her bag and passed it over. Farah read through it before biting in, humming happily. “Oh, oh these are good.” She took another bite.

“Can I just…” She slid the recipe back toward herself and Laswell nodded. “All yours”

Farah tucked it into her pocket and you two devoured the brownies. Laswell’s wife was the best, always asking what sweets you guys would like best and sending Laswell out to work with a box or two for you guys.

Eventually you all headed to bed. You crawled into bed and rolled over, falling asleep.

Farah pulled the blanket over her shoulder, and opened the window to look out at the darkness. The cool breeze on her face.

She sighed softly, and closed it. Flopping down and rolling over again. She looked into the darkness, trying to arrange the blanket to try and get comfy.

When she couldn't, she leaned over and grabbed the flashlight off the nightstand, flicking it on low. She went over to you, standing at the edge of the bed for a bit before poking you.

“Y/n?” She whispered. You mumbled softly and opened your eyes. “Farah?”

“I'm sorry… I can't sleep.” She whispered.

You smiled softly, and rolled onto your back. You pulled the blanket back to allow her in. “Come on.”

She pursed her lips and flicked the light off. But she crawled into the bed. You gave her some more blanket and closed your eyes again. Farah laid next to you, sighing and slowly closing her eyes.

She held out her hand and you linked your pinky with hers. Helping her relax and fall asleep.

The next morning Laswell was up first. She got dressed and needed a coffee. She pushed the curtain to the second room open and smiled softly when she saw you and Farah curled up, pinkies still linked.

You two could sleep in.

She tied up her hair and went to the kitchen to put hot water on the stove and look through the food bag for what to make for breakfast.

The sound of the kettle woke you up, slowly rubbing your eyes and sitting up. Farah felt you stir and also opened her eyes. “Hmm…??”

“It's ok, you can keep resting if you want.” You assure, and crawled out around her. You scratched your stomach and headed out to the main room.

“Well good morning.” Laswell greeted you.

“Mornin…”

“Coffee??”

“Please.” You nodded.

You sat down at the bench, and heard the curtain shift. “I'm gonna change.” Farah gave you the heads up.

Laswell handed you your fresh coffee. “What do you feel for breakfast??”

“Eggs??” You gave her the innocent best child ever look. “Please mom??”

“Tell you what, find the carton in the cooler and I'll see what I can do.”

Farah filled up her water bottle as Laswell made breakfast, checking her phone. She snickered a little from across the table.

Without further incentive you rushed to the cooler and dug around for the eggs, bringing them to her.

She chuckled and saw Farah come out from the back room soon.

“What are you chuckling about?” You teased softly.

Farah turned her phone and showed you a photo of Alex around a corner with a blurry Ghost in the background.

“You think he's dead yet??”

“Knowing Simon and Johnny… maybe.” You snickered.

“Those three are going to kill each other.” She fully smiled briefly before looking down at the accompanying texts.

“Well, he's still alive but accidentally took some of Ghost’s gummy worms it seems.”

You cringed a little. “Ooh… ouch. I'll have to talk with Simon to make sure he didn't hurt Alex too badly.”

You both have a chuckle over it and Laswell brings you your eggs.

And without hesitation you dig in, humming happily to have your stomach full of food and happy.

“How long is the hike to the rock face??”

“Not long. Fifteen minutes at most. And I've got all the gear for you.”

“Awesome.”

“Now that you've got some fiber in you, let's get going.” Laswell fills her water bottle and grabs the bag of equipment.

“I can carry it for you??” You offered, but she shook her head. “I got it.”

You headed out down the road and hiked up the trail into the mountains. Seeing the tall trees and smelling the fresh air. Feeling the gentle breeze on your warm skin.

Laswell led you up and off the main path to a small outcrop. And there it was. A tall rock face up the side of the mountain with clearly outlined passages and handholds from how much it had been traversed.

Laswell secured her hair and handed you your gear. You and Farah got snug and comfy. Laswell set up the ropes and pegs in the ground to hold you three.

Chalking up your hands.

“You ready, princesses??”

“Hey!” You huffed, rushing after Laswell. Farah chuckled under her breath and found a small ledge to slide her hand into. And you three started to climb.

Farah scaled it fairly easily, though it definitely felt easier when under the pressure of a mission.

You found another handhold and pushed your foot up, feeling around until you could find a spot to slot your shoe in. Securing the tie on your belt.

“You doing ok Farah??”

“A little sweaty.” She wrung her wrist out.

“Let's pause for a minute.” You secured your line and tugged it a couple times before taking your hands off the rocks, keeping your feet in place to keep you from spinning.

Farah did the same, wringing out her wrists and wiping her sweaty palms on her hips.

“Need some more powder??”

“Yeah, thanks.”

You grabbed it off your belt and handed it to her, letting her resupply, and you did the same.

“I bet Laswell is already at the top.” You chuckled.

Farah looked around, trying to spot her. “Oh she probably is.”

“Let's catch up then, hey?”

Farah nodded, and you continued to climb until you reached the top.

And as you suspected, Laswell was already at the top. “You're fast.” You pushed yourself up, shaking out her legs, looking back down at where you came from.

“Oh.” You wobbled a little, stepping back. “It's best not to look down for a minute.” Laswell tipped and looked out at the edge of the cliff. The sun showed out from behind the clouds. It casted down over the lake and reflecting off of the water.

Farah took out her phone and got a picture of the view. Motioning you and Laswell to get close.

You wrapped your arm around her, keeping your hand just off her waist as she attempted a simple smile. Catching the moment with you three.

“Now I'm gonna tell Alex about the fun we’re having.” She chuckled, and put her phone away.

“Maybe I could bring Simon here.” You wondered aloud. You threw sat around the cliff on a small blanket, drinking from your water bottles.

“Hey, I just remembered.”

Farah and Laswell looked at you curiously.

“Happy National Women's Day.”

The two smiled. “That is today, isn't it?” Farah said, and Laswell nodded.

“It is. I almost forgot.”

“I mean, we got the Barbie movie.”

Farah smiled. “I got to see it with some of the girls from my group. Their families said I could come with them.” She fidgeted with her water bottle. “We want to go with Miss Farah.” She remembered them saying.

Laswell looked out at the cliff. “I remember dragging John out with my wife and I.”

You snickered. “Uh oh, how did that go??”

“Oh I think he fell asleep.” She snickered. “It's not his typical movie. But hey, he gave a kicker of a review afterward in the car home.”

You looked down at your hands, looking at all the roughness to your hands. Your battered knuckles and the dirt under your fingernails.

“Do you guys ever feel pressured to look or act a certain way??”

A moment of soft silence went by, letting the breeze drift between you three. “Yes. I think it comes with the territory… but even though I have respect, I still feel mentally challenged a lot to prove myself.” Laswell said.

“Like some of the men in my charge can't understand how I could be as smart as them or understand how to handle pressuring situations.”

"But... Recently a lot of the pressures and beauty standards have been pushed by other women. Which, is sad, considering a lot of them think we need all this stuff done to look pretty or be wanted. But it just isn't true."

You nodded. “Yeah…”

Farah sighed softly. “It feels pressuring every day, to have to dress and act a certain way. Follow a certain code or I won't be respected. I had a man tell me I wouldn't ever have a voice if I didn't have a husband to speak for me.”

You frowned, but nodded. Farah fidgeted a little. “But you know what? I did find my voice. And a voice for many other men and women who couldn't speak before.”

She smiles. “And for every bad person I meet, I've met ten more amazing men I know I have in my corner.”

Laswell nods. “I second that.”

You smile more, happily raising your water bottle. “To the women, and all those who support them.”

You clinked your water bottles and took a large sip. “I'm glad I get to spend the week with you guys. I know it's gonna be awesome.”

“We’re going swimming next.” Farah says quickly.

Laswell and you laugh. “Swimming is next on the list then.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I adore what y’all do here and refer to your posts often for fic recs. Anywho, do you have any recommendations for fics that are ‘locked’ or only available when you are signed in? I feel like there are a few hidden gems that are right under my nose. Thank you!!

Hi! As far as I'm aware there is no way to search for locked fics specifically, so I've pulled some from the depths of my bookmarks...

A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone (E)

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me."

Tornadoes in England by the_moonmoth (E)

Midnight vigils, soft epiphanies, and a monumental hammer waiting to fall. What did you call a feeling so big you couldn’t see the edges?

Measure A Year by theinkwell33 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale are punished for their role in averting the apocalypse, and are stripped of all miracle privileges for an entire year. This ordinarily wouldn’t be the worst punishment in the world, were it not for the fact that they’ve already swapped bodies in their effort to prepare for the worst. Unable to switch back without miracles, they’re forced to live as each other for an entire year. It goes about how you’d expect.

The Next Time We Wed by seashadows (T)

“Guys, I’ve looked at the marriage license,” Anathema said, “and I’ve gotten copies of our notices and everything. The names on the documents aren’t Newt’s and mine anymore. Apparently they never were. They’re yours.” When a drunken attempt to help a friend gets Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally married, their decision to fake it instead of fix it changes their relationship in a way neither of them realizes the other wants. Over the course of a few short months, two supernatural beings discover that there are plenty of things they don’t know about each other, two humans finally get married (again), and everyone learns how to be a little braver.

The Saint of Lost Things by jessthereckless (E)

Cats, technology, Biblical misprints, immaculate ball sacs, Leonardo da Vinci, a weekend in Paris, and a thing that happened in Florence. Absolute fluff.

With you, with me by NohaIjiachi (T)

“Oh, shit,” Crowley muttered, but it came out more like ‘ohkjfd—‘ The man— A bloody priest was still keeping his umbrella over Crowley. The fabric of his button-up had darkened on his shoulders, now throughly drenched. He could see more details, now, and Crowley stared. The priest had round, gentle features, and a shock of hair so blond it looked white collected in messy, soft curls. There was some sense of deep-sedated sadness in his grey-blue eyes, as he looked down at Crowley. “I’d imagine that you need to get back up on your feet, then, son,” the priest said, sounding somehow tired. “You can’t stay here.” “…I have nowhere to go,” Crowley replied, feeling like his tongue was double in size in his mouth. It was a lie, and wasn’t one at the same time. He could technically go anywhere he wanted, as long as the Bentley stopped pouting at him for getting high again, but he had nowhere to go.

- Mod D

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Like a Podium - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 790>

Today was the day you had been waiting for for weeks. You were waiting for your boss to knock on the door of your office and tell you you had gotten the promotion you had so desperately wanted for ages.

It was either that, or you waited all day until you heard that someone else had gotten it. Charles had also been waiting on this day. If you didn't get it, he didn't know what he would do with himself. Seeing you upset broke his heart into a million smithereens and, what made it worse, was that there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was hold you and be there for you. 

You hadn't typed so much as a letter on your screen, as every time you heard footsteps past your door, you sat bolt upright in hopes of the door opening. Lunch had gone by, with no word from anyone.

You and a few other coworkers were all on edge for the whole day, but now it was getting bad. You were sat back at your desk, your knee bouncing up and down and your hands shaking. You wanted it so badly.  

The door finally opened and your boss stepped in. "Hey, can I talk to you in my office for a minute?" he asked, and you nodded as you stood and smoothed your skirt out.

As you walked through the office, people looked at you. 

You sat down on the black, leather chair in front of your boss' large, oak desk. You could see yourself sat where he was one day, getting to make people's days like he could be about to do to you. 

"We know you haven't been here very long, but we have found your work to be to an excellent standard," he started, leaning forward on the desk. "But, we would like to offer you a promotion," there was nothing more that needed to be said.

You spent about half an hour, discussing pay rises and office changes. You felt on top of the world. As you left the office, a grin plastered on your face, some people looked at you with congratulating smiles, others side-eyeing you with disdain and jealousy. 

You were even allowed to leave early for the day as a small reward for your work. You hopped in the car as you slowly drove home, formulating a plan of how you would tell Charles. 

You decided to tell him that it had gone horribly wrong, and you were going to try and cry. Looking at yourself in your car mirror, you stared at your reflection until your eyes were watering. You rubbed them a bit as well to try and make them a bit redder.

You ruffled your hair for good measure as well. Silently, you walked through the door, before hearing footsteps approach. "Hey baby, how'd it-" he started, before his eyes fell on the redness of your eyes. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, rushing up to you and wrapping his arms around you. You pretended to sniffle against his shoulder as he pulled you in tighter. "You're going to hate me," you mumbled into his shirt. 

"No, baby, I could never hate you for anything like this," he said, his heart shattering into millions of fragments. Pain coursed through his veins as he looked at you, eyes red raw and mascara streaming down your cheeks. 

"You're going to hate me because-" you started, but were cut off by him pushing you out of the hug and holding your face in his hands. "Baby, I could never hate you-"

"Charles, you're going to hate me because I'm a fucking liar. I got the promotion," you beamed at him, watching as his face turned from comforting sadness to elation. "Holy shit, I'm so proud of you!" he yelled jumping up and down.

You leapt on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "You're amazing!" he said into your neck. "I am at your service, your promotion-ship," he said, putting you down and bowing at you. 

"I'm so happy," you smiled, hugging him again.

"How does it feel?

"It feels like whenever you get a podium or a win. It's pure happiness and adrenaline and excitedness," you told him, his smile growing even wider. 

"You deserve it more than anything, baby," he said, sitting you down on the couch. "What do you want for dinner? You can have whatever you want,"

"What's the most expensive place we know?"

"If that's what you want, then that's what my girl will get," he smiled fondly at you. His smile lit up every room and there was no problem it couldn't solve. This was the feeling of being on the top step of the podium, and you were never coming down.

|masterlist|

[afewproblems]

WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again. 

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price. 

And it's theirs. 

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow. 

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her. 

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing". 

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?" 

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has. 

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes. 

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"  

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife. 

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this". 

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner. 

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had. 

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door. 

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears. 

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!" 

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out. 

Steve should have told Eddie the truth. 

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor. 

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window. 

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

[readyforthegarden]

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas - JTK

Synopsis: A cozy winter night at home with Jake, baking and listening to music, and a small competition when the gingerbread is ready!

WC: 3337

Warnings: None! Just fun fluff!

A/N: We are back with some sickening sweet Christmas and holiday cheer with our favorite guys!!

Josh’s Holiday Fic // Sam’s Holiday Fic // Danny’s Holiday Fic

The sweet and spicy scents of ginger, cinnamon and clove wafted in the warm air of the kitchen, filling your senses. Jake was humming along to Bing Crosby crooning from the speakers, smatterings of flour smudged on his old t-shirt and face. You were just as marked up with the fluffy white powder, and even worse, powdered sugar as you measured out enough powdered sugar for the royal icing.

“Are you sure we couldn’t have gotten that bucket of powder mix?” you asked softly, picking up the small jar of cream of tartar and measuring out what you needed. You had already done the laborious job of sorting out egg whites, when you remembered that a popular baking brand had pre-made powder to avoid it all.

“Because babe,” Jake persisted, using all the strength he had in his arms to roll out the deep brown dough. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the long scar on his arm visible as he pushed the pin across the dough. “It’s not as strong as the real stuff you make yourself. We want these to last until New Years.” 

“No, you’re gonna pick all the gumdrops off of mine by Christmas Eve, let the roof cave in, and tell me Sam did it.” you shot Jake a joking side-eye as he paused his rolling to shrug with a soft chuckle. 

“You know me too well.” Jake moved from his counter station to yours, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing the ruler and sharp knife, beginning to measure out the house pieces on the dough. “Although this year I was gonna blame Rose.”

“You’re awful!” you laughed, shaking your head as you turned the mixer on, mixing up the sugary glue. “I wouldn’t believe any slander about that dog, she’s too sweet.”

“Eh, it’d be worth the try.” Jake was now bent at the waist, placing a level on top of the dough. The first time you spent the holidays with Jake, you had nearly fallen on the floor laughing at how intense the guitarist was about making gingerbread houses. He kept a pencil tucked behind his ear like a contractor, ready to write down his measurements for optimal cookie structure. You decided to take it just as seriously, and a competition broke out between the two of you. 

Every year, now, before the Christmas party you hosted, you and Jake spent a full day on making your houses and decorating them to the nines. At the party, friends and family left votes, dropping gumdrops into a bowl in front of whose house they liked best. 

“Well be prepared to lose this year, Jacob Thomas.” you snipped, taking a rubber spatula and scraping down the sides of the mixing bowl, making sure every bit of powder got mixed with the egg whites perfectly. “I have so many ideas, my gingerbread house is going to blow your mind.”

“I saw that bag of decorations you tried to hide in the back of the pantry.” Jake quirked an eyebrow at you when he straightened up. “You think all that color is gonna beat me?”

“I know it is.” you replied coolly, turning the mixer back on. “Just you wait, everyone is going to vote for mine and you’ll get a pity vote from Josh because mine blows yours out of the water.”

“The pity vote will be from Danny, first of all,” Jake argued. “And secondly, you’re the one who’s going to get the pity vote when my five-star ski chalet wins.”

“Ah, we’re going chalet this year?” you grinned as Jake revealed his secret. “Isn’t that what you did last year too?”

“Hey, and it won last year.” Jake rebutted. “Don’t fix what ain’t broke.”

“Mm, well, we’ll see if your chalet is any match for an old school classic.” Moving from the mixer, you dampened a few paper towels, wringing them out in the sink before returning to your station, stopping the machine and lifting the head, letting the icing drip from the whisk attachment before taking it off. You placed the towels overtop of the icing to keep it from solidifying while you began helping Jake measure and cut out gingerbread pieces. 

The two of you worked in silence, letting the classic holiday tunes fill the air. Sometimes Jake would start humming again, quickly cut off as he slowly sliced into the fragrant dough, the need to focus outweighing his love for music. Once you both had a few sheet pans loaded up with gingerbread, Jake put the first tray in the oven. While it was baking, he uncorked a bottle of riesling, pouring two glasses and handing one to you. 

“To another Kiszka Cookie House Competition.” He raised his wine glass towards you, and you reciprocated, daintily clinging the rims together before taking your sip. 

“Competition aside, this is my favorite part of the holidays.” you told him, setting your glass on the flour covered counter. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, coming close and wrapping your arms around Jake’s waist. “The smell of the spices with the lights, and music…it makes everything feel like home.” Jake set his own wine down and brought that hand up to your face, brushing your hair back and cupping your face. His other wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. “You make everything feel like home, Jake.” 

“It’s easy when you do the same for me.” he replied softly. “When we’re out on tour, I don’t get homesick for this place, I get homesick for you.” Jake’s toffee brown eyes glimmered at you, a tug at the corner of his lips revealed a sincere smile as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“Jake, that’s so sweet.” you pouted up at him when he pulled away. “But I’m still gonna kick your ass this year, and you can’t swoon your way out of it.”

“It was worth a shot.” Jake still kept his arm around you, holding you tight as Silver Bells started playing, Elvis’s cover. “I love this one.” he lowered his voice, matching Elvis’ pitch as he sang along. It was rare Jake sang loud enough for people to hear, even you. Instead of drawing attention to it, you rested your head on his shoulder as he sang along, swaying the two of you around in the spot you stood. Relaxing, you nuzzled your nose in the side of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice against it. You practically melted against him as he rested a cheek against the side of your head, singing directly in your ear.

“City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style. In the air there's a feeling of Christmas. Children laughing, people passing, meeting smile after smile. And on every street corner you hear,” Jake was about to sing along to the chorus when he was cut off by the oven timer. Regretfully, he pulled away from you, pulling on an oven mitt and opening the oven door. He pulled out the tray, and your mouth immediately watered. 

“Are you sure we can’t just eat the gingerbread all night?” you whined, watching him set the tray on the oven and take off a mit, gingerly poking at the confection to test its doneness. Once satisfied, he put a new tray in the oven and set the timer. You retreated back to your riesling, while he grabbed his ruler and knife again, beginning to trim the rounded edges of the baked gingerbread before it cooled completely. 

After baking so many trays, everything was finally ready, and you grabbed your bag of goodies from the pantry. The dining table was cleared off completely for this, and now instead of placemats and a centerpiece, there was a cheap holiday tablecloth, with stacks of cooled, hardened gingerbread and bowls of royal icing placed upon it. You dumped out your grocery bag as Jake took a seat at the table, placing a small cardboard tray in front of your seat and his. 

“Your house is going to look like a rainbow threw up on it.” he jabbed with a laugh, making you stick out your tongue at him.

“My candy cottage will be a masterpiece. Yours is going to look cliche and boring, so there.” you retorted with sass, sticking a hand on your hip. “Now stop yapping and focus on your own house.” Jake raised his hands up and started reaching for gingerbread squares. 

The both of you worked quietly, intently focused on the construction of your houses. Jake’s level was back out, and more often than in previous years, he had to snatch it away from your side of the table as you snuck it away to make sure your building was level too. Every so often, you and Jake exchanged little glances and smiles, letting the other know you were still happy to be in their company, though the furrowed brows and concentration could indicate otherwise. 

As the clock ticked on, your holiday playlist looped, Jake’s soft hums occasionally filling the air as you both started decorating around the houses as the icing set and joined the cookies together. 

“All of this candy is making me hungry.” you huffed as you cut small pieces of flat, rainbow colored sour candies into little squares for a pathway. Looking at Jake, who was dipping small pretzel sticks into melted chocolate for ski poles, you continued. “Should we order a pizza?” 

“Sure, I need to take a break and let this chocolate harden up.” Jake wiped his hands on a paper towel next to him before picking up his phone. “The usual?”

“Mm, can we get extra mushrooms this time?” Jake nodded. 

“Of course, darlin’.” Jake paced a bit while he called the pizza place, placing the order for delivery. He came back to work on a few more things for his house until the doorbell rang. You kept yourself busy, making a classic red sled out of some twizzlers before he came back. “Okay, temporary pause on the gingerbread to eat pizza, drink wine and watch a movie.”

“Ooh!” you set your sled gingerly down on the cardboard, wiping your hands off as you hopped up, going into the kitchen to grab some plates and napkins. “What movie are you thinking?”

“Mm, let’s see….how about Rudolph? Short and sweet so once we’re done we can get back to work?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” you rushed to follow him to the living room, insisting the only lights be from the TV glow and the christmas tree. Settling onto the couch, you got a slice of pizza and plated it for Jake, then another for yourself as he joined you, picking up the remote and turning it on. Once he had settled on Rudolph, you both dug into your dinners, watching the poor young reindeer be picked on.

“One year,” you began, snuggled into Jake’s side, the pizza box half empty and long forgotten once you had scooched a little closer to him. “I was so upset about how everyone treated Rudolph, I cried and cried about it. It was so bad my parents went out and got me this little Rudolph stuffed animal, so I could hug him and make him feel better.” you blushed, admitting the tale of your childhood to Jake. 

“Aww baby,” the arm he had wrapped around your shoulder pulled you tighter to him. “You’ve got such a big heart.”

“I just don’t like anyone feeling hurt or left out.” you shrugged. Jake nodded, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

“That’s one of the many, many reasons I fell in love with you.” he murmured into your hair. “You care so much about making everyone happy, making sure they’re loved. I’ve made it my mission in life to make you feel it too.” turning your face, you pressed your lips to his before settling back into his side to finish the movie. Cleaning up once it was done, the both of you perched yourselves back at the dining room table, beginning work again and letting the hours tick by.

“Here you go, Rose, a special Christmas cookie, just for you.” you smiled as you held out the snowflake shaped dog treat you had baked early in the morning. Neither you nor Jake slept the night before, finishing your gingerbreads at around 6am. Once the bottle of riesling had been emptied, you both moved onto coffee, and come morning, were too wired to try and sleep. “For being such a good girl all year.”

“She’s a good girl every year, isn’t that right?” Sam gave Rose a few pets as she munched on the treat. “Santa Paws is definitely going to spoil her rotten.”

“I’m glad, she deserves it.” you laughed. “Can’t say much for her owner, however.”

“Hey!” Sam gasped, looking taken aback, though a smile broke his faux offense. “I was very good this year!”

“That’s not what a little birdie told me…told me all about your tour shenanigans…I think some of those were definitely naughty.”

“Like what?”

“Something about a hot tub in Spokane?”

“God dam-Danny!” Sam looked around for the tally, curly headed man at the party. “He wasn’t supposed to tell you!”

“Oh Sam,” you laughed. “I’m sure Santa will leave you something, he always does.” you winked at him, giving Rose another pet before leaving him to wrestle with his conscience. You worked your way around the party, playing the hostess with the mostess as you made sure everyone was having a great time, drinks were flowing and more importantly, gumdrops being dropped into bowls.

The dining room table had been cleaned up and reset, your gingerbread creations sat plum in the middle, the two bowls and one in the middle filled with gumdrops rested there. Around it were various hor devours, deviled eggs, charcuteries, veggie trays and more little finger foods. You had been pleased on your first go around that your bowl had seemingly more gumdrops in it than Jake’s, but as the night wore on, his steadily grew.

“Get ready to lose, my darling.” Jake mumbled in your ear, his breath scented with the tinge of whiskey and coke. “Everyone loves a chalet.”

“Oh, you’re the chalet?” Josh asked, looking up from his small plate. “I thought that was hers.” he reached into Jake’s bowl, fishing out his gumdrop and placing it into your bowl.

“Josh!” Jake scoffed. “You can’t revote once you’ve already voted!”

“Absolutely I can!” Josh proclaimed. “You guys need to label these.”

“The point is to vote for the house you like the best, not the person.” you shrugged. “But thank you for your vote.”

“Any time,” Josh winked at you before grabbing an olive off his plate and popping it in his mouth, patting you on the back as he walked away.

“That’s cheating.” Jake said, looking at you. “You should forfeit gracefully now.”

“Oh you wanna win by forfeit?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem like a very dignified way to win.” Jake sputtered for a few moments, trying to reason around your jab. “Doesn’t seem like winning will feel very victorious if you think one measly little gumdrop from your brother is gonna change the results…it looks like you’re winning so far anyway.”

“Okay fine,” Jake nodded. “But if I catch any more people switching their votes, I’m calling it.”

“Fine, if you catch them.” you turned quickly to leave, Jake placing his hands on his hips. 

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?!” 

“You’ll just have to stand there and watch the bowls all night to find out, won’t you?” you called with a sassy smirk over your shoulder. “Love you!”

As soon as Jake realized you’d just been playing with his tipsy paranoia, he rejoined the party, keeping close to you should you actually tell people to go change their votes. Eventually he forgot about it altogether when Danny started patting out a beat to the song playing, and Jake picked up one of the many guitars around the house, turning down the speaker volume as he and his brothers put on an impromptu Christmas concert.

Ending with Silver Bells, which Jake requested to play  specifically for you, Josh clapped his hands and announced it was time to see who won the gingerbread house contest. The entire party squeezed into the dining room, where his parents took the bowls to the ends of the table, pushing back platters and beginning to count out the gumdrops.

“I think Jake was right,” you muttered to Danny. “His chalet is going to win again.”

“Hey, the bowls looked pretty even.” Danny squeezed your shoulder. “And if it helps, I voted for your candy cottage.”

“It does help, thanks Danny.” you leaned into his side, giving him a squeeze before turning back to watch the counting. Once it was done, Josh pulled out a chair, stepping onto it and clearing his voice.

“Karen, what is your count for the chalet?” he gestured to his mother.

“Twenty-one gumdrops!” Karen announced. Everyone clapped and Jake looked triumphantly at you across the dining room. Josh hushed the small crowd, before gesturing to his father.

“Kelly, what is your count for the candy cottage?” Kelly looked around, letting the anticipation build for a moment.

“Twenty,” he announced. Jake’s victorious ‘yes!’ could be heard under his breath as you deflated. “Twenty FOUR!”

“What?!” you nearly screamed. “Don’t play games!”

“Twenty four gumdrops, read it and weep!” Sam had bent over, quickly counting the candies laid out in front of his father. “Candy cottage wins!” you bounced up and down excitedly, hugging Danny and anyone else who was close enough. Jake made his way around the table, holding out his hand.

“Congratulations, darlin’.” he smiled softly. “A victory well fought for.”

“Thank you.” you shook his hand, giggling as he pulled you into a hug. “It was a tough battle.” 

With the excitement of the competition being over, family and friends started to leave, only a few lingering to help clean up before making their exit. Once alone, you and Jake loaded the dishwasher and put away leftovers, and tidied up a bit, tossing out any leftover plates, napkins and cups. 

“This year's party was the best one we’ve had, I think.” Jake declared quietly, sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to him. You were quick to fill the spot, tucking into his open arm and cuddling up. 

“I do too.” you agreed. “I love throwing this party, but I like this part even more.” Jake looked at you as if you were crazy.

“What? The part where we clean up while exhausted?

“No! The part where the last person leaves, and it’s just you and me again.” you explained softly. “Sometimes when parties like that end, it feels really sad, that all that happiness and energy is gone. But with you, it’s different. I don’t feel sad that the party ended. I feel excited because I get to have you all to myself in the quiet.”

“Hmm, I like that.” Jake smiled, showing his pearly whites. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling back into the quiet, the glow of the christmas tree illuminating the living room. After a few moments, Jake spoke up again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I voted for your house.” you pulled back from Jake, someone who was always known to vote for himself in the competition. 

“Really?” he nodded. “Why?

“Because yours was better.” he shrugged simply. “And I wanted to see your face light up when you won.”

“Oh Jake!” you launched yourself at him, smattering kisses all over his soft face, cherishing the laughter that spilled from his lips as you did so. When you finally settled, he took your face gently in both hands before pressing one last kiss to your lips.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’”

“Merry Christmas, Jake.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf @madneedshelp @musicspeaks

[themculibrary]

BAMF! Peter Parker Masterlist

a terribly real thing (ao3) - idyllic_dae T, 6k

Summary: What even happened? As he searches his memories, he discovers that there’s nothing there that relates to his current predicament. The last thing he can recall is coming home from school on a Wednesday. After that… Nothing. No reasons as to why he fell asleep in a puddle, which is disconcerting.

He exhales shakily, then tries to think about this logically. What does somebody do when they find themselves inexplicably in the middle of the forest?

Blood and Bone (ao3) - deadvinesandfanfics pepper/tony M, 40k

Summary: Peter… wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten here.

The room was dark, and silent, except for the repetitive thump-thump of a heartbeat from somewhere beside him. It sounded like Mr Stark’s arc reactor, with a soft tick accompanying every second beat: that, and the smell of motor oil and fancy cologne.

His head throbs, and his muscles ache. He feels like he’s just lost a fight with a brick wall, or several. There’s crusted blood on his upper lip as well as his temple. He can feel it matted in his hair, and he wants nothing more than to take a shower right now.

Looking around a little more, Peter realises that he doesn’t even know where they are. The room is nearly pitch black which makes it impossible to make anything out. He thinks he’s tied to some sort of cheap plastic chair; his hands are bound behind his back with a mess of rope and some thin metal handcuffs - so he assumes his identity is safe. No way whoever this was would leave him in just metal handcuffs if they knew he had his powers.

Then, a huff of noise off to his side.

“Mr Stark,” he blurts, panicked. “I think we might’ve been kidnapped.”

Desperate Measures (ao3) - blondsak, seekrest mj/peter T, 13k

Summary: Waking up in the medbay, groggy and weak but otherwise okay, Tony instantly realizes two things.

First, that he should almost certainly be dead—yet he isn’t.

And second, that Peter isn’t here—even though Tony knows there is nothing in the world that could have stopped him, not when Michelle had been hurt too.

At least, nothing short of his own death… or something far too close for comfort to it.

With growing dread Tony lifts his head to stare at Michelle who stares right back, her expression as grave as he’s ever seen it.

“What did he do?”

Fifty-Two Hours (ao3) - Eccentric_Grace T, 5k

Summary: "What did you do?" Tony asked blankly, staring at Ross with something incomprehensible, unholy, monstrous under his skin. "What the hell did you do to him?"

He looked over the kid again, feeling bile in his throat. Peter's knuckles were scraped and bruised and bloody red– he put up a fight, there wasn't a doubt about it.

'Please keep fighting,' he thought. 'C'mon, kiddo. We'll make it out of here. I'll fix it.'

or: tony and peter get kidnapped. tony tries his best to keep calm.

Five Times Tony Tries To Protect Peter (ao3) - Anonymous T, 12k

Summary: “I’m literally a superhero!”

Plus one time where Peter saves them all.

he gives his heart to strangers (ao3) - TheRoomWhereItHappened347 G, 10k

Summary: Peter loved New York, he really did, but there were many days when he doubted saving its citizens were worth it.

People needed saving but their pride stopped them from thanking him, or JJJ's scathing reports placed perceptions in their heads that weren't true. Thankfully, there were days when some people made all his suffering worth it.

Alternatively: 5 times Peter Parker saves New Yorkers and 1 time they save him.

it's always who is spider-man, never how is spider-man (ao3) - i_regret_thatpersonalityquiz harley/peter, wanda/vision, pepper/tony T, 176k

Summary: "Stay?"

Peter finally looked down to see Harley Fucking Keener, Iron Lad, the boy who had caused his shoulder to be throbbing in pain all night, looking away with a slight tint to his cheeks. Peter opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out.

And he sat back down.

OR: Peter had been living on the streets, dealing with your average homeless vigilante stuff. Things got a bit more complicated when the Avengers started to chase him down.

i wake up to the cold reality (and not a thing has changed) (ao3) - im_your_mom_now T, 49k

Summary: Tony paused mid-sentence, eyes darting to the crowd. Everyone's heads were turning left and right with confusion, wondering who the hell would boo Iron Man. He continued, "To international concerns over unsanctioned actions and consequences by—"

"This guy sucks!"

"—enhanced individuals and members of the Avengers to create a system of accounta—"

"Show us your tits!"

"Okay, who the hell—" Tony gave up and lifted a hand above his eyes, blocking the light to see the crowd better. His eyes scanned each person's face, trying to locate the shit that kept interrupting his speech, and followed everyone's gazes to the ceiling. He froze as his eyes fell on a red and blue clad vigilante sitting in the beams.

Spider-Man looped his legs around the beam he was on and swung to hang upside down. Cupping his gloved hands around his mouth, he shouted, "Tell a joke!"

_

OR: The Accords dehumanize and discriminate against enhanced individuals. Spider-Man isn’t very happy about this. (Spider-Man happens to also be a foster kid who is in dire need of a mentor.)

let's see how far you've come (ao3) - Stackthedeck T, 6k

Summary: “Do I look like a kid to you?” Peter interrupts.

Tony scans over Peter’s eyebags and stress gray hairs and the work bag he still hasn’t shrugged off because he has to be somewhere in an hour. He flinches at the scars on his face, the bruise on his cheek instead, his gaze lingers on his hands, strong and calloused, with grime under the nails.

“No,” Tony says, “no, you don’t.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” Peter says, “longer than you, longer than the Avengers, long enough to stop counting the years.”

(The Veteran hero Peter Parker Civil War rewrite no one asked for!)

lies do not become us (ao3) - graye T, 13k

Summary: Following the trip to Europe Peter is having nightmares. Which is normal, except they're different. Instead of abstract versions of what happened things are suddenly lucid; he's been essentially re-living past traumas for months, and the dreams don't even touch on what happened in Europe. It isn't until Beck finally makes an appearance in one of these nightmares that Peter realizes maybe there's more unfinished business than he thought.

-

His breaths quickened, it was getting harder for air to get in. In and out. Breaths by the sixes—

Wet hands. He had fallen in a puddle. He looked into the water and his reflection was changed. He was Spider-man now. The original one, the one Tony made fun of. Underoos. It was covered in blood. Torn and battered. The blood wasn’t his.

No. No no no no no—

Thick green smoke rose from the ground. It masked everything and he could only see a few feet in front of him. The sky was gone. Only the graves and him were left. Alone. He whipped his head around. Left and right. Nothing. His breathing turned ragged. There was nothing behind him either. He turned his head back and—

He was there.

Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain (ao3) - BeanieBaby peter/wade, steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 90k

Summary: A really long redemption story.

The Imposter (ao3) - multiworlds111 tony/pepper N/R, 5k

Summary: Tony and Pepper had traveled into the city for a few emergency meetings, but they promised they’d be back for dinner and left Happy in charge. Peter can’t find him, though, and he was just sitting on the porch and frowning a few moments before. As the tingle grows stronger, Peter feels adrenaline flood his system, along with a fair amount of fear. There is something foreboding about the soft sway of the branches in the breeze.

OR: Peter and Morgan are playing in the front yard when something triggers Peter's Spidey sense.

The Devouring Storm (ao3) - blondsak, mysterycyclone mj/peter, ned/flash T, 98k

Summary: The city is unusually quiet tonight. Oh, sure, he’s had his usual crimes: muggings, drug deals, a few break ins. Nothing special. Nothing that could possibly explain the thread of tension winding through him, slowly tightening like a noose. Ever since last night, his spidey senses have set off at a low, maddening hum, distracting him, needling him, filling him with a restless energy that’s robbed him of restful sleep. He’s used to dealing with his super powered anxiety, but this feels different somehow. More ominous. And what’s weirder is that other people seem to be a little more wary, a little more on edge than usual, too. Cops, firefighters, even one of the guys Peter caught snatching a purse commented on it from his web cocoon on a street light.

“You feel that, Spidey? The city’s all weird tonight. Feels like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting on something.”

the most chaotic of kidnappings (ao3) - OnlyForward G, 5k

Summary: a group of kidnappers decide to kidnap peter parker stark, the heir to stark industries, because he’s only a child and can't do them any harm. they are, naturally, extremely wrong.

feat. nicknames, badass peter and a healthy dose of scaring the hell out of everyone who cares about him.

tldr: don’t kidnap peter parker stark. this is why.

those bambi eyes (ao3) - WhyShouldEye T, 12k

Summary: The struggle was real when it came to keeping a secret identity. Especially when the identity was kept from a group of superheroes made up of a retired agent, a retired assassin, a retired super-assassin, a super soldier, a couple military men, some geniuses and a literal god.

Peter thought he would be able to keep his name and face away from the spotlight until he was at least old enough to drink. He hoped that his Parker Luck would hold out until his twenty-first birthday, maybe even past that. But a villain crawling out of the woodwork and a couple of life-threatening injuries were quick to change his plans.

Hopefully, he could just flash those Bambi eyes and get it over with.

Under the Impression (ao3) - Assayist T, 26k

Summary: Fourteen years old looks a lot different in person than it does on paper.

When he actually meets the kid behind the Spider-Man mask, Tony Stark starts to doubt. Can he really drag a kid into the dangerous world of professional superheroes? Even if it might be their only chance to save Captain America & Co.?

[bre-meister]

Hey

I hope you are doing well. Okay since you did ask. How about a short story where Claire comes back after the events from revelations 2 and Leon teases her about Neil that he was right about him all along. Just a fun little story, please?

Thanks for the kind words! So I guess this could be considered a continuation of the fic I wrote about Revelations 2. I hope I made it fluffy enough.

“You can say it, ya know.”

It’s dark in their room when she speaks. They’re in bed having finally turned in for the night after putting both of the children to bed. Isabel had been hardest to sleep in their room for the night - a habit she’d picked up while Claire was gone and had kept once she’d gotten back. Claire was loathe to take away this comfort from her daughter but it was a habit that did not need to be reinforced.

Not to mention this was the first time since she was discharged from the hospital about a month ago that she got to sleep in her own bed with her husband alone. Just the two of them. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying the comforting feeling of being held by him without another small body between them.

“Hmm?”

He seems so relaxed. One arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around her shoulders. She’s pressed so deeply into his side that she feels the rumble in his chest before she hears it.

“I told you so. I know you’ve probably been waiting to say it. I think I’m finally ready to admit you were right about Niel.”

“I don’t know what upsets me more, the fact that you think I’d say that or the fact that I can’t really say it.”

“What do you mean?” She shifts in his arms slightly so she could better see his face. He’s looking at the ceiling when he answers.

“I was totally convinced that Niel had a thing for you and I think past experiences proved me right there.” Claire snorts but Leon continues,

“Never would have guessed he was a money hungry, egotistical bastard that would quite literally sell out all of his employees to the very same people they were fighting against.”

They’re both silent and for a moment. Claire thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep. Finally taken over by the exhaustion of the day.

“Actually, what makes me the most angry is that I didn’t see it coming. I was so preoccupied with our dumb little dick measuring contest that I never realized what he was doing.”

“None of us did and we worked with him every day.” Claire traces her hands across his chest hoping that the small patterns would offer him more comfort than her words.

“No sense in dwelling on it now.”

Her hands still. She sits up slightly so she can look down at him, pleasant suprise written on her face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“I don’t know. All that time we spent not knowing where you were or if you were ok? I guess I just decided to stop worrying about things that don’t matter, that I don’t have control over. Life’s to short and we’re reminded of that everyday in our line of work.”

The arm he’d previously been using to hold her comes up to tuck a strand of her short hair behind her ears.

“I don’t want to spend all my time thinking about what I should have seen or done when it comes to that weasel,” he continues. Voice quiet and sincere in the dark,

“I’d rather think about you and our girls. All the ways I’m going to spoil you,” the hand in her had stills, fingers wrapped gently around a strand he’d been toying with.

“How beautiful you look with short hair.”

She smiles and hopes that he can see it in the dark. It’s the first time he’s directly acknowledged her new haircut. She’s shorn it off in their bathroom last week but had finally broken down yesterday and went to an actual salon to let someone fix the uneven ends.

She liked the new look and felt a small burst of appreciation that he did as well. It was a small bit of change that she could control after the island - cutting her hair. She knows Leon understands why as well. It’s one of the many things she loves about him.

“I love you,” she whispers as she settles back into the side of his body. Not wanting to speak too loudly for fear of ending this moment between them.

He plates a kiss on her hairline and returns the sentiments with his lips still on her skin.

“I don’t think I say that enough.”

“You say it everyday,” she giggles.

“Not enough.” She can feel the earnest love in his voice.

“Well, you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

[amaristheowlcat]

I'm reposting this poem we wrote and wanted to share. We deleted it by error while wanting to delete a reblog we had just posted on the wrong blog, featuring a moody rant about our life that relates to the poem. So I'll re-reblog it on the correct blog once I have posted this re-edit of the previous poem post. To stay true to the idea of the initial post, I'm going to reiterate what the one who posted it said on it. One of us initially had realized we hadn't posted our poetry on this blog ever since we've gotten to work back on poems after a long time. This was a false statement : we had already posted some of it, a bunch of months ago. They also had pointed out this poem is not finished and that we needed to work on a few things but that it was already good to us on its own like this.

-Aranis

As Clear As Muddled Time, As Wide As A Millenium Mind

Time, O Time, so elusive you are. Some of us call you a fixed measure. A constant flow, dimension with truly no par, But I know you have a changing feature. You trick and you tock, and everyone Dances, runs or walks to your sickly rule Some yet say you are a changing one, Time. O Time, this theory nary a one fools. ‘Cause change on this Earth is imperceptible When it comes to you, Time. O Time. Help me, bless me. Everyone runs when I walk, walks when I sleep. Why is it that you are so flexible. For me, Me alone it seems, you flow slow. Curse me, wound me, Time. Who do I get To know ? O, Time. In disarray you show Up. Not on time, which you have me forfeit. Stretch and stretch, Time, O Time. Blur and blur, Time, O Time. Span and Fade, Time, O Time. Time, tell me : do I live with anyone other than my fogetful, tired, self  ? Time, your blessing and curse I loathe and love : insignificant are daily hurdles, Time. O, Time, when my mind allows, you run far. But ne’er allow present to matter.

[novastories]

What Am I

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “What Am I” by Why Don’t We.

Summary: After a long first day of training for Bradley and Peyton, Aurora decides to spend time with her siblings and Bradley.

Warnings: Mentions of near death experiences, language, but mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Halfway through the story! Some of these chapters will be a bit shorter since we are in movie plot, but I have put my own spin on it…so enjoy!

Also the first official chapter as Nova! 🦋

Thank you as always @reginleight for beta reading and editing the chapter! And a super thank you to @callsignmeiga for making the text messages for me 🥹

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Lucille -> Aurora

Jake -> Aurora

—

Aurora rolls her eyes at the text when she hears the front door to her house open. CJ lifts his head up from her lap, the both of them lounging on the couch together. Bradley and Peyton walk in, looking a bit tired from training. 

The pair moved in the day after their reunion at the Hard Deck. As they didn’t have many things to move, they made themselves at home and the house has since become more lively for the first time since Aurora had moved in. She was very happy that they were both able to move in and didn’t realize how much she had truly missed them. It was as if the house had become more like a home with the three of them together in it. 

“I take it training was not great?” Aurora asked. Peyton simply walks to the kitchen without a word while Bradley, still in his flight suit walks to the couch and plops down next to CJ and Aurora. 

“Your dad is the instructor,” Bradley sighs, petting CJ.

“Huh?” Aurora gave him a confused look. “I thought he was part of the mission?”

“Apparently he’s going to be instructing the other naval aviators on how to do the mission. He and dumbass over there broke the hard deck today during a dick measuring contest,” Peyton walks back in, leaning against the door frame and drinking a beer he’d gotten from the fridge.

Bradley cringes, knowing what was coming.

“You broke the hard deck?! Are you nuts?!” Aurora reprimanded, fixing Bradley with a scathing look.

“In my defense, he started it.”

“Seriously, B?” 

“He pulled my papers, Ro. I can’t just let that go,” he whispers, sinking into the couch. CJ walks over and settles down next to him, trying to comfort Bradley. 

Aurora and Peyton look at each other and sigh. They knew what their father did was bad. The twins still to this day don’t understand why he did it. Aurora reached for one of Bradley’s hands to comfort him, getting his attention as those two made eye contact.

“Look, I know he was an asshole for pulling your papers. Pey and I understand. But in order to make this mission a success, you need to not kill yourself. I need you both to come back to me. Please B,” Aurora pleads to him.

Bradley sighs, knowing he would do anything for her. 

“Fine, okay. I will do my best to not get so mad at him,” Bradley reluctantly agrees. 

“And?” Aurora smirks at him.

Bradley chuckles. “And to always come back to you.” 

Aurora beams at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead immediately causing him to blush at her actions.Turning to give her attention to CJ, Aurora hadn’t even seen what she just caused but from the corner of his eye, Bradley could see it didn’t slip Peyton’s attention from his spot in the doorway.

“Simp,” Peyton mouths at him, while Bradley uses his left hand to flip him off.

“Well, how about we go get some tacos and hangout at the lookout spot for today?” Aurora suggests, knowing the boys would need to go out and let loose before another tense day tomorrow. 

“I’m down,” Peyton responds while Bradley nods in agreement. Aurora beams at both of them.

“Wonderful. Now, go get washed and changed please. You stink of sweat and jet fuel,” she chuckles as she heads into her room to change out of her sweatpants and oversized shirt.

Bradley and Peyton look at each other.

“She’s talking to you asshat,” Bradley stands and gestures to Peyton, dirty from repairing a jet.

“Or she’s talking about you shithead,” Peyton retorts.

“Both of you. You both stink,” Aurora calls out from her room.

—

Golden Trio (aka The Mitchell-Benjamin siblings)

—

“So you’re telling me, you went undercover for a case as a bartender, for 5 days?” Amelia questions Aurora, who was taking a bite of her taco. Aurora held a hand up as she finished chewing and swallowing a bite.

“I’m lucky it didn’t go any longer. Many agents have gone undercover for like a year if the case goes that long,” Aurora responds.

Currently, Aurora and Amelia were sitting next to each other, across from Bradley and Peyton on a picnic bench, CJ sitting next to Amelia as she fed him scraps.

The spot they were at looks out at the beach of San Diego, a place that the twins had discovered growing up in the city. When Bradley would visit, they would always go hangout at this spot to get away from the parents, then soon they showed it to Amelia and they deemed it the lookout spot, never really showing it to anyone else.

They had bought a bunch of tacos from a taco truck on the way to the lookout after picking up Amelia in Bradley’s Bronco. It was a nice day out, the sun was setting as they ate their food and got to listen to Aurora's stories about being an NCIS agent, having never told them much from past correspondences.

“Do you think you’ll miss the action?” Peyton asks, taking a sip from his drink.

Aurora hesitates for a bit to think about it. She had yet to tell them about the one case that she was still recovering from. She knew she’d miss the action, it was all she knew for 3 years but on the other hand, she had lived the agent life she wanted to. She was good. But she was ready to actually spend time with her family.

“Yes and no.” Aurora chews the inside of her cheek.

“I miss my team. I miss being on the field. But it was the right move to come home. Spend time with mom and, of course, you Ames. I’m glad it all lined up that you both are here too.”

Aurora gestures to Peyton and Bradley, but both were busy stuffing their faces with tacos. Amelia gives them a disgusted look, while Aurora laughs at them. 

“Sowwy, wha id yo ay?” Bradley asks Aurora, mouth still full as he speaks. Aurora chuckles at his confused expression.

“I said, I’ll miss it but I’m just glad to be here with all of you,” she reiterates.

“Yeah, it really worked out,” Bradley says after swallowing his bite and smiling at Aurora. She blushes while Peyton and Amelia give each other a knowing look across the table.

They were the biggest shippers of Bradley and Aurora, but both knew why they were hesitant about being together. That didn’t stop them from scheming behind their backs on ways to get them together.

“How long are you both stationed for? Are you leaving after the mission?” Amelia asks. Peyton and Bradley turn to look at each other and shrug.

“Not sure yet. The mission is already intense, and we just started training,” Bradley responds.

“Yeah, Bradley sucked today, and it was only dogfighting,” Peyton adds on, as Bradley gives Peyton the middle finger. 

“I mean, they brought all the top graduates of Top Gun, that in itself is already saying something,” Aurora defended Bradley a bit.

“Yeah, but I mean he really sucked today, like I’ve seen him better when he’s doing test runs,” Peyton says, egging Bradley on.

“Okay, Mr. Mechanic. Where’s your pilot license?” Bradley accuses.

“You know I can cut the fuel line to your jet, right?” 

“Okay ladies, break it up,” Aurora interrupts the two. Amelia chuckles at their small banter.

“What have you got, Miss NCIS Agent?” Peyton taunts his twin.

She glares at him. “A knife, a forensic best friend to help hide or destroy your body, another best friend to help me hide, while the rest of my team helps clear my name when I get blamed for your unexpected death.”

Bradley and Amelia burst out laughing as Peyton pales at Aurora’s sentence.

“Fine. You win, for now.”

Aurora smirks at him, knowing she won that round.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Hangman?”

Peyton sputters out his drink while Bradley slaps him on the back. Amelia giggles.

“Nothing, nothing is going on,” Peyton wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Really? Because the first time I brought you up, he blushed,” Aurora smiles at him.

“Oh, Peyton does the same thing!” Bradley chimes in, earning a slap on the arm from Peyton.

“Nothing is going on. Whatever he said, it’s nothing anymore,” Peyton sighs.

“What happened?” Aurora was confused. Hangman looked like he liked Peyton a lot, and would ask about him whenever he and Aurora would text from time to time.

“He doesn’t want anything but sex from me.”

“Woah, dude! There’s a child here,” Bradley blurts out.

“I’m a lot more mentally mature than you, Bradshaw,” Amelia points out.

Bradley sticks his tongue out at her, to which Amelia puts up her middle finger.

“What do you mean?” Aurora wonders, ignoring the two.

“He doesn’t want a relationship. He’s scared about dating someone like me.”

“A guy?” 

“No, being with someone also in the Navy. He’s worried that it’ll mess up his career. Especially with our family’s reputation.”

“If anything, Hangman is very open about being bisexual,” Bradley rolls his eyes.

“So he doesn’t want to date you because you’re a Mitchell?” Amelia snorts.

“Pretty much.” Peyton replies.

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I know. I just…I want to move on, but I really like him.”

“I’m sorry, Pey. He really seems like he likes you.” Aurora comforts her twin.

She was going to have a word with Jake later. Probably smack some sense into him when she sees him or threaten the asshole with her knife, whichever comes first.

“Apparently not enough,” Peyton grumbles, finishing his drink. 

“I’m bored, I’m gonna skate around.” Getting up to throw away her trash, Amelia grabbed her skateboard and was about to wander off.

“Please be careful, Ames,” Aurora tells her.

“Always! Pey, want to come with me? I’ll teach you some basics.” 

Amelia gives her best fake smile. Peyton looks at her confused, until Amelia makes a face that Peyton finally understood to give Aurora and Bradley some alone time.

“Oh, yeah! Sure! I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a skateboard!” Peyton gave his best smile as he stuffed the rest of his taco in his mouth and threw away his trash.

“Wait, since when?” Aurora looks at him confused.

“Since, like forever! Amelia is going to teach me how to do an Olive!”

“You mean Ollie?” Amelia corrects him.

“Yeah, that too!”

Aurora and Bradley look at Peyton in disbelief as both he and Amelia leave to go do some skateboard tricks on an even road, while CJ follows them.

They both throw away their trash then sit back at the table, but this time Bradley sitting next to her as they watch the sunset. 

Bradley faces Aurora, who was keeping an eye on Peyton, Amelia, and CJ. Smiling, he could see how much love Aurora holds for her family. Plus the fact that she moved back to San Diego, and gave up a successful NCIS career in Washington D.C. in order to be home, it really warmed his heart. 

Turning her head, Aurora catches Bradley staring at her.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Becoming self conscious, she grabs a napkin and begins wiping at her mouth.

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just…I just still can’t believe you’re here right in front of me.”

Aurora chuckles as she puts the napkin down.

“I missed you, a lot.” Bradley confesses, reaching his hand over to Aurora’s so they could hold hands.

Aurora smiles and interlocks their hands. “I missed you a lot too, B.”

Bradley looks down at the charm bracelet. It still looked brand new, as if it was just yesterday he had given it to her that Christmas day when they shared their first kiss. He soon noticed a new charm on it.

“That’s new,” he points out, simply curious at the charm.

Looking down at it, Aurora realizes the charm he pointed out was the North Star charm given by her NCIS team.

“It was a goodbye present from my team when I left last week.”

Bradley looks up to see Aurora’s eyes glaze over a bit.

“Hey, you okay?”

Aurora was drawn out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You miss it?”

“Oh yeah, I loved being shot at all the time,” she sarcastically answered.

“But you were safe, right? No like bad calls or close to your death bed?” Bradley worriedly asks.

Aurora hesitates. Was she ready to tell him about the cases where she would get hit by stray bullets? Or the time she almost got blown up because she refused to leave Ziva’s side when Ziva was disarming the bomb?

Probably not the time her and McGee got stuck in an elevator and almost fell to their death? The case where Tony had almost got them caught undercover was not one she wanted to relive. Or the time that she was in Abby’s lab and inhaled a bad toxin, leaving her bedridden for a few days? Surely she couldn’t tell him about the case where she took a bullet for Gibbs. Or the case where she was tortured. 

“No, I’m fine, B. I loved my team, but I think it was time for me to stop running into gunfire,” Aurora brushes off her thoughts. That was a problem for another day.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. And that you’re safe.”

“Worried about me?”

“Always for you, princess.” Bradley says, kissing her hand causing Aurora to blush.

“This mission is going to be an intense one, isn't it?” Aurora asks Bradley after a few minutes of silence, besides the ocean waves crashing and the speaker they were playing music out of from Bradley’s Bronco.

“Yeah, I think so, darling.”

“Promise you’ll be safe. That you all will come back home. Including Jake.”

“So it’s Jake now?” Bradley turns to her.

“Jealous?” She smirks at him. Bradley shook his head.

“No way.”

“Don’t worry,” Aurora leans her head on his shoulder. “You’ll always be my knight in shining armor.”

Bradley chuckles. “And you’ll always be my princess. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we all come back safe and sound.”

Aurora hums in content with Bradley’s answer as they go back to listening to the waves and the music.

Just a distance away, Peyton and Amelia high five. Seeing the two being close and having a moment for the first time in a while was a win in their books. 

“So, who do you think is going to win that bet the parents have placed on those two?” Amelia asks, throwing a stick for CJ to fetch.

“Oh, mom for sure! They all had to change their bets when they didn’t get together in high school.” Peyton replies.

“Let’s hope they get together soon. For everyone's sake.”

- - -

If you would like to be on the taglist or removed, please let me know! 

Taglist:  

@callsignmeiga

@sqrlgrl22

@luckyladycreator2 

@purplevortexx

@my-obsession-spn

@oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo

@shanimallina87

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@fandom-princess-forevermore

—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

[keldae]

The Mistletoe Trap

Drastic times called for drastic measures. Or that's what Jonas insisted from his precarious perch atop a pilfered desk chair that he was currently standing on, in the middle of the dorm lounge, stretching to drive a thumbtack into the dorm ceiling. “Trust me, this will totally work!”

Lana dubiously looked up at him, arms crossed and blonde eyebrow raised. “Are you sure it won't just make things awkward with them?"

“Even those two idiots have to clue in with this!” Jonas hopped off the chair and stepped back to survey his handiwork. “I mean, this is a central element in every cheesy romance movie set around Christmas. Guy encounters girl, guy and girl both look up and realize they're under thr mistletoe, guy and girl kiss, guy and girl realize they're in love…”

“And are you an expert in Hallmark movies?” Lana asked, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes.

“I have a mother who's obsessed with those movies,” Jonas answered. “I learn things by osmosis. Besides, you only need to see one Hallmark movie to figure out the plot for all of them…”

“You're not wrong,” Lana conceded. She looked over her shoulder as Koth emerged from his room, shrugging his jacket on. “What do you think? Do we have a chance of setting our favourite idiots up with this?”

Koth craned his neck to look up at the mistletoe and frowned. “Isn't it supposed to be in a doorway, instead of the middle of a room?”

Jonas groaned. “I spent long enough fighting to get it to stay up there without falling! Can't we break tradition just this once?”

“Nope. If we're doing a mistletoe set-up, we gotta do it right.” Koth jumped up on the desk chair and pried the thumbtack, with its precious burden of mistletoe, out of the ceiling. He paused and dubiously eyed the little pin. “... This will be a pain to stick into the doorframe.”

“Nothing some tape can't fix,” Lana said with a nod. She hurried down the hallway to her room, and returned a minute later with a roll of tape in her hands. “Just don't use all of it, mind.”

“You're the best.” Koth dragged the chair over to the entrance of the dorm lounge and clambered back onto the seat. “Am I centre-ish?”

Jonas stepped back and tilted his head. “Bit to the left… no, no, my left… smidge more… there, that's about as centred as you're gonna get. I'm too lazy to find a measuring tape to make sure.”

“Works for me!” Koth started taping up the mistletoe, making sure to leave most of it dangling in the doorway. “How's the rest of the decorating coming along, do you know?”

“Mako and Vette were working on what they say will be the most epic paper chain to grace a dorm floor,” Lana said. “And I think Kira and Xaja are in charge of paper snowflakes. A pity we have no space in here for a tree…”

“Or budget,” Jonas added. “Being that we're all broke college students.” He watched as Koth jumped back down from the chair, mistletoe in place, then grinned. “Shall we find covert watching positions so we can observe our handiwork?”

“Great, give them both performance anxiety,” Koth snorted. “They'll both appreciate that so much.”

Jonas snorted a laugh. “That's why I said covert, moron.” He sharply looked to the front door as he heard the sound of a keycard on the security panel. “Quick, that might be them!”

The trio scrambled for the shelter of the couches, and by unspoken agreement, all pretended to be intently interested in their phones. They could hear the sounds of two pairs of feet coming down the hallway, around the corner, and pausing at the entrance to the lounge…

“Oh, hell no,” Thexan's voice sounded. “Go ahead, Arcann, I insist.”

“Why do you insist I–?” There was a pause before Arcann groaned. “Ah. Yeah, there is no way in hell I'm kissing you, Thexan.”

Suppressing her disappointment that the intended targets weren't the ones who had arrived first, Lana looked up. “You know you two would have gotten a pass, right?” she asked. “Being literal brothers and all.”

“I dated a girl in high school who was really into a particular subset of the Supernatural fandom,” Thexan answered. “And I don't mean the Destiel shippers. I've had trust issues ever since I caught her quizzing Arcann on some very personal questions.”

“Ewww.” Jonas looked up from his phone. “Yeah, valid. Now shoo so we can wait for the actual targets.”

“You mean the two who were walking back from the cafeteria?” Thexan grinned. “You guys are not subtle at all about this. I mean, waiting for them?”

“Subtlety isn't working!” Koth complained. “We gotta go for the obvious now.”

“I still say we should lock them in a closet,” Arcann commented as he dropped his book bag by Jonas’ couch. “Or set up a blind date for each of them.”

“If they haven't figured it out by spring break, we'll try the closet,” Lana promised. “By then there should be enough sexual tension pent up…”

“What are we talking about with sexual tension?” A horned head poked itself into the lounge, a huge grin on its face.

“I thought I told you to fuck out of here and not come back again last week, Gault!” Lana snapped, amber eyes flashing angrily.

“I'm an invited guest!” Gault protested. “Hylo said I could come in!”

“Not if you two are going to lock me out of my room for three hours while you have sex and then have a blow-up fight!”

“That was one little argument–”

“At one in the morning, that woke both me and Torian up,” Koth interjected, scowling.

“So the timing wasn't ideal,” Gault said with a shrug. “Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep.” He glanced upward and grinned. “Awww, but you lot can't be that hard-up about it! Look what's on the ceiling!”

“Not for you,” Jonas interrupted. “It's a trap for Theron and Xaja!”

“We’ll break it in for them!” Gault cheerily grinned, then darted through the lounge to Hylo and Lana's room, pounding on her door.

Lana sighed in frustration, jaw visibly clenched. “If he turns up dead one day, I had nothing to do with it,” she growled.

“We'll help with the alibi,” Koth nodded, watching as Hylo emerged from the room with her brow wrinkled. The frown turned into a grin from the Mirialan as she followed Gault under the mistletoe; the Devaronian took the opportunity to dip Hylo for a passionate kiss.

“Get a room!” Jonas hollered over when the kissing didn't seem to abate after a few seconds.

“And not mine!” Lana added indignantly. “Again!” She looked over at Jonas. “I'm much more sympathetic toward Theron now…”

“I don't lock him out that often!” Jonas protested. “And the one time I did led to him meeting his soulmate, so…”

Gault finally straightened up from the kiss and let Hylo up to catch her breath. “See? We're wingmaning for you, Lana–” His eyes suddenly went wide, and he booked it for the safety of the front door, fleeing Lana's wrath as the blonde started to get to her feet.

Hylo watched her boyfriend escape, then shrugged at Lana. “He's not wrong?” she said with a little chuckle. “It's just his way of helping – and look at that, I need to be in the library right now!” She fled after Gault, with a bit of a laugh, as Lana snarled something entirely unprintable at her back.

“... The library?” Thexan asked as the door slammed shut behind the couple. “She hasn't set foot in the library since term started!”

“You'd know, considering you live there,” Arcann commented.

“Very funny,” Thexan muttered, then looked over as the front door opened and closed again. “Is that finally them?”

“Get over here in case it is!” Koth hissed. “Act natural!”

“Gawking is natural, for having just watched Hylo and Gault apparently make back up,” Arcann commented with a grin. Still, he sat down on the arm of Jonas' couch, as Thexan hurried over to flop beside Koth. Still grumbling, Lana sat back down and scowled at her phone like it was responsible for her roommate woes.

And not a second too soon – Theron Shan was the next person to poke his head into the lounge, not realizing he was directly under the mistletoe trap. “Well, don't we look conspiratal,” he commented, looking at the cluster of students on the couches. “We planning evil things here?”

“Just concerning my roommate and the douchebag she's dating,” Lana grumbled. “Do you know of a good place to dump a body?”

“Xaja says she watches true crime shows,” Theron suggested, as the aforementioned redhead popped up beside him. “You got an idea for a good place to dispose of Gault or Hylo?”

“I owe Hylo one for that troubleshooting with my car the other week, so I can't help murder her,” Xaja said. “Gault, on the other hand, I can definitely help dispose of.” She paused, frowning at the widening grins being sent at her and Theron. “... What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“Theron could help with that, if you do,” Jonas innocently suggested.

Theron promptly sputtered in mortified indignation. “I – what?!”

“Look up,” Thexan said with a smirk.

Both Theron and Xaja glanced upward – a second later, Xaja squeaked, her cheeks going as red as her hair. “Is that… which one of you assholes hung up mistletoe?!” Beside her, Theron seemed to be at a loss for words, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.

“Doesn't matter,” Koth said, grinning impishly. “To quote from the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie – just kiss!”

“It needs to be cleansed after watching Hylo and Gault make out under it,” Lana added in a mutter.

“But– we're not–!” Xaja yelped. “Hylo and Gault are at least a thing! Theron and I aren't!”

“Being a ‘thing’ isn't part of the mistletoe rules,” Arcann retorted, laughing. “Or are you two chicken?”

“We aren't chicken!” Theron piped up, indignant despite the flush to his cheeks. “We just… uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “... Which one of you assholes had this idea?”

“Does that matter?” Jonas all but cackled. “Kiss her already!”

Theron softly groaned, then turned to look at Xaja, who seemed to have become very focused on a random spot on his hoodie shoulder. “Erm… listen, I'm sorry about this…” he started to say.

“No, uh, it's… it's okay. It's definitely not your doing.” Xaja looked up from her visual examination of his hoodie, still bright red. She hesitated, then glared in the direction of the couches and the pair's eagerly-watching audience. “Do you fuckers have to sit there and watch like that?”

“What, do you have performance issues?” Jonas grinned evilly. “I'm reasonably sure Theron won't care about that–”

“Forget Gault – I'm murdering you,” Xaja growled. She looked back up at Theron. “You can look forward to a single room next semester.”

“Works for me,” Theron agreed, giving Jonas a malevolent glare. He shifted awkwardly, then quickly stooped to give Xaja a brief peck on the lips, seemingly before he could lose his nerve.

“Awww, come on!” Koth complained. “That barely counted as a kiss!”

“If you dumbasses weren't fucking staring at us…” Theron snapped.

Koth sighed dramatically. “Fine, if we all look away, are you two actually gonna kiss properly?”

“You know,” Jonas commented, “if you're the one with the performance issues, Theron, I'm sure Xaja will be happy to help you out with–”

“I will kill you dead, Balkar.” Theron glared at his roommate and former best friend, then caught Xaja in his arms and stooped to give her a dramatic, lingering kiss. She squeaked as she was pulled into his embrace, then seemed to wrap her arms around his neck and return the kiss, apparently trying very hard to ignore the whistles and chorus of “Awwww"s from their dormmates.

They finally came apart after a few seconds, seemingly trying to regain both breath and coherent thought before Xaja looked over at their audience. “Happy now?” she growled, more than a little bit of bite in her tone.

“Immensely,” Lana answered with a little laugh. “Now shoo so we can wait for our next victims. If that pre-med student Archiban comes in here next with this week's girlfriend…”

“We hate you all,” Theron announced, as he and Xaja tried to make their way to their respective rooms with as much dignity as they could muster. “Sleep with one eye open until the end of term.”

Jonas laughed, then as the pair vanished into their rooms, sobered up slightly. “I'm gonna die, but this was totally worth it.” He looked over at Arcann and Thexan. “Hey guys, can I crash with you for the rest of week so Theron doesn't kill me in my sleep?”

“As long as you're prepared to deal with Arcann's snoring,” Thexan said with a grin. He paused, looking at the mistletoe contemplatively. “... Did we overdo it?”

“Nah.” Koth laughed and stood up. “Someone got a picture of that, right? Kira will be so pissed that she missed it.”

Jonas grinned and flourished his phone. “Sending it to the group chat as we speak. And if they aren't dating officially by the end of winter break, I may smack Theron upside the head until he comes to his senses and asks her out.”

[sapphim]

/ / nexus mods profile / / sapphimods tutorials / / tag directory / / character directory / / ko-fi / /

main: @vaxilmores

mod updates free of my bullshit: @sapphimods

faq ☆

↳ tag: #faq

↳ see also: #modding tutorial, #modders resource, #troubleshooting

Right now, most of my focus is on DA2 mods and modding tutorials. I am happy to answer modding questions, especially as they pertain my area of interest.

If you can't figure out where to begin with a mod, or if you have been following my tutorials and have gotten stuck at a certain point in the process, and you haven't been able to find a solution elsewhere, I may be able to help. All I ask is that you be understanding that this is something I volunteer to do with my free time!

If you need troubleshooting help with one of my mods, please do not contact me on anon! It makes it difficult and tedious on my end to get the information I need. Either leave a comment on the Nexus mod page (that is what it is there for!) or message me off-anon. I promise I don't bite.

☆ What's your opinion on Veilguard?

↳ I have none. I haven't been following development.

☆Will you be modding it?

↳ Nope! I hate Frostbite, and my graphics card is older than Inquisition, and also, I hate Frostbite.

☆ How did you/How can I get started modding?

↳ I got my initial start fiddling with others' mods that I had downloaded, fixing minor bugs or tweaking them for personal use, which introduced me to the process without having to start from scratch.

My general advice for getting started is to pick something small in scope to work on, where you will be able to start testing it in game in short order. Being able to see results from your work is key to maintain motivation. However, if this doesn't interest you and there's a bigger project that you're super enthusiastic about, go for it! It is all about the enthusiasm.

Just remember that modding is all trial and error. Sometimes you'll try something and it won't work and you'll have to spend a lot of time figuring out what went wrong. Don't get discouraged when this happens. The mark of a seasoned modder isn't that you stop failing, but that you get better at powering through the failures.

For Dragon Age Origins (and DA2) I have compiled some resources to get started here.

☆ What tool do I need to make mod [x]?

↳ I have a list of tools here that I have used for modding. However, I think often a better mindset to start is "how do I make mod [x]?" Once you know where to begin, you'll have a better idea of what tools will be required.

☆ Do you take requests or commissions?

↳ I do not take requests, unless I have specifically solicited requests for additions to a specific mod.

I am open to the idea of taking commissions for mods of the type that I usually post, but I would have to talk through the idea to get an idea of the scope before I could quote a price.

I do not create mods for Frostbite games anymore.

I will not accept commissions for mesh/model/armor mods, which seem to be the type of mod commission people most often try to solicit.

☆ I have a question about mods for Inquisition or Mass Effect or [other game]!

↳ I can try to answer general knowledge questions or give my opinion on a matter, but I haven't modded Frostbite games like Inquisition or Andromeda for years and I'm too out of touch to answer any specific modding questions.

These days, most modding discussion seems, for better or for worse, to take place on Discord servers, and that is imo your best bet for finding people available to answer questions. So I strongly recommend questions be directed to a server such as the Frosty Toolsuite, DAI Modding, or Mass Effect Modding discord.

For good measure, here's a link to the Dragon Age Origns Modding discord for Origins/DA2 mods.

☆ Can I message you off-tumblr?

↳ Yes, you can DM me on the Nexus, or if we are mutual members of a modding discord server, you should be able to find and DM me from there.

☆ Solas/Abelas/Fenris/Orsino is taller than the other male elves in the game, right?

↳ No. ♡

☆ Are you sure?

↳ Yes. ♡

[foxwithapen]

The days flowed into each other at that castle. If there was a clock in any of the rooms he was allowed into, he hadn't found it yet, so his only knew the passing of time from the sky outside the window and the progress he'd gotten on his dress.

He'd forgot to bring any patterns, so he was left to using one of the dresses he'd brought with him as a refrence. And despite his lack of expertise, he was already fond of the dress. It may have been rough around the edges, but the fabric was a beautiful green, it was soft, silky, and most importantly, it was his. That dress was one of the few things that kept him together those first few days.

But one day, that routine changed. The large wooden doors that led into his wing of the castle squeaked open, as if they were too heavy for the person pushing it. The sound made Luigi jump, his sewing needle slipping out of his hand and getting lost in the plush carpeting under the sofa. That would be a pain to find later.

Usually, when delivering his meals, the servants would knock three times on the door; sometimes more if he didn't get there in time, but he wasn't exactly busy with any one thing. But they never opened the doors on their open, and especially not without a knock.

He was still searching for the mysterious visitor when a small voice piped up from behind him.

"Woah, what's that?"

The tips of small horns poked over the side of the couch, before Bowser Junior pulled himself onto the edge of the couch. Luigi jumped, but pulled himself together; if he was going to be here for who knows how long he should probably be respectful to the son of the Koopa King himself.

"Oh, it's an, uh, it's a dress I've been working on."

Junior scooted closer, poking at the fabric with one of his claws, thankfully not causing any rips or tears. "You made this?"

Luigi gulped, but the genuine look of interest in Junior's eyes filled Luigi with a strange sort of pride. "Yeah. It's not done yet, a-and it's a little rough, but—"

"Could you make me one?"

Luigi thought he'd heard wrong at first. "You...you want me to make you a dress?"

"Yep! They're really pretty."

"Well, alright then." Luigi couldn't contain his broad smile. "I-I'll need to get your measurements though. Can you sit still for a moment?"

Junior nodded as Luigi rummaged through his sewing kit for the small measuring tape he kept there. "Did dad trap you here?"

Luigi sat up suddenly, whacking the back of his head against the couch. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that!"

"He told us not to come in here...but normally when he tells us to not go someone it's because he's hiding presents there. But instead, you're here." Junior fixed him with a curious stare. "I thought you and dad don't like each other."

Luigi had to muster up a shaky laugh. "Well, I wouldn't say we don't like each other. He-he's been good to me so far. I-a, I'm just not supposed to leave this area."

"So you are trapped?"

"No! No, I mean, it's nice in this area. I've been keeping busy, you know." Luigi scribbled down Junior's measurements before the numbers slipped out his head. "But, uh, don't tell anyone you've seen me, okay? Especially not your dad."

"I can do that!" It wasn't even a second later when Junior added, "What about my siblings? I'm sure they'd want to meet you."

"As long as they don't tell your dad."

"We can do that!" Junior hopped off the couch, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. "See ya later, Green man!"

Luigi couldn't help but smile slightly in return. "You too, Junior. You too."